A Matter of Choice

Chapter Thirty-Seven

Percy entered Olivia's bedchamber resplendent in his new coat, and did a little turn about the room.

"Well aren't you the most tremendous swell!" said Olivia. "Lord Ralph will become purple when he sees that neck-cloth." She turned back to the mirror and affixed a topaz drop to her ear.

"He made the mistake of bringing his best out too early in the race!" said Percy looking very smug.

"You boys are such children!"

"You're still not riding that horse, are you? Is this your new little enthusiasm? How long will being a good, dutiful girl please your fancy? Will it last as long as your desire to hunt with the Quorn? Or will it be a three-week whim, like when you only agreed to dance with blue-eyed gentlemen and left all the others in despair?"

"I was too young to know better then, and I lacked direction. My time here and at the parsonage has shown me what shallow company I had been used to keep, and how foolish were my interests. I have become intimate with people of worth and I have learnt from it. I feel disgust when I think of my superior attitude, how I boasted I would bring those two sap-skills to their knees!" She attached her other earring and continued, "Cousin James is a man of worth and he soon showed me that my pretensions would gain me nothing with him. Ruth Chesterton and Emily Sidford have more on their minds than fashion and hairstyling and trapping a man. They have deep interests and talk of real things. Is it wrong of me to want to be more like them?"

"I know you too well," said her supportive brother. "I don't think it will last."

"Well, I mean it to!" retorted Olivia hotly. "I will not flirt tonight, I promise you!"

"You're on!" said Percy. "And if you have no intention to flirt, why are you dressed so enchantingly?"

"I did not say that I was above showing those two louts what they are missing!"

"I fully intend to show Miss Sophie exactly what she is not missing from me," laughed Percy. "Come, you must be ready now. I will escort you downstairs."

"You are incorrigible!" said Olivia as she rose to join him. Her russet silk fell in soft folds that accentuated her fragile frame. Topazes shimmered at her throat and ears and sparkled amongst her ringlets, but nothing outshone the vivid amethyst of her eyes.

Maude Sidford had not been able to break Emily's decision to wear her slate blue taffeta, so she had resigned herself to its being re-trimmed. Letty had removed all the powder blue ribbon and replaced it with spidery stitches of silver filigree on the bodice and the cuffs of the long slim sleeves. Alice had arranged Emily's hair in a simple knot upon her head, and adorned it with silver netting and scallops of silver chain. At her neck was a cross of sapphires, and from her ears hung little stars. Alice told her that she looked like a princess, and even Emily could not be displeased with her appearance. There was a tingling within her chest that would not leave her, and as she went down to her carriage she was unsure if it was from anticipation or dread.

The assembly hall was brilliantly lit by numerous candelabras, which filled the room with a warm golden glow. The music was light and refreshing, lilting through the various conversations that ebbed and flowed around the room. Sophie ran up to Emily when she entered and latched onto her arm, dragging her further in.

"There is such a crush here! Mind your gown does not get torn; I have already had to pin up two ruffles that were tromped upon. Come, I have found us a situation where we will be in good view." She brought Emily to some chairs where Mrs. Farquar was seated. "Here she is mother to keep me company, now you may be off to your whist!"

"Are you certain you will be alright alone my dears?" asked Fanny Farquar in a voice that showed she expected an affirmative answer.

"We will not be alone, mama," cried Sophie. "Olivia will be joining us presently, and we will not lack for gentlemen, so you will not be needed in the slightest."

On this daughterly observation, Mrs. Farquar took her leave, content in the knowledge that her Sophie was well placed and bound to dance all night. There was nothing she need worry about, if it had even ever crossed her mind to worry.

As the girls took their seats, Sophie turned to Emily and complimented her on her dress. "It looks quite lovely and you have managed to change it so well that I should never have recognised it! What think you of my gown?"

Sophie primped and fluffed up the many frills that adorned her bodice with its wide neckline. It was the colour of foxgloves, and had the same velvety softness. She wore garnets that glimmered in the candlelight. Emily thought that with half the ruffles and none of the frills it would have been lovely, but she told Sophie that the colour was beautiful and very becoming on her, which was the truth.

Olivia joined them shortly, and after their greetings and compliments, the gentlemen arrived and the dancing started. Emily glanced over to James who looked very elegant in his brown coat and cream vest, and she felt that unusual tingling in her chest strengthen. Lord Ralph claimed her for the first dance, and though he had taken great pains with his toilette, she did not notice whether his coat was blue or black, or that he had a ruby nestled in the soft folds of his neck-cloth. Folds which were now causing him considerable mortification. He had not failed to notice that Percy's neck-cloth was tied in an arrangement so intricate he could never hope to achieve it. Or that Percy's tiepin was a sapphire, and matched Emily's jewellery perfectly.

Bertie sidled up to Olivia and said smoothly, "I believe my first dance tonight will be with the most dazzling lady in the room."

"Oh? Where may she be?" asked Olivia, looking about in an exaggerated fashion.

"Directly before me. You must know that I mean you," he sputtered.

"That is very strange, because you have, as yet, not asked me," said Olivia demurely.

"W . . . would you be so kind as to honour me with your hand for this first dance?" asked Bertie.

"I regret to say that my cousin James has already been granted that honour," said Olivia sweetly. She turned to her cousin. "Shall you not lead me out?"

James took her hand and led her to the set. "I thought you were done with your pranks," he said grimly.

Olivia looked a trifle conscious. "I could not resist giving his presumption a set down. I promise to be good hereafter."

"I look forward to witnessing your reformed character," said James with a teasing smile.

"So you are like Percy, and think it is all fudge?" asked Olivia. When James did not immediately respond, she looked up at him to see his eyes quickly return to her. She turned her head and noticed that Lord Ralph and Emily were dancing a little further down the room. "Although, before I completely amend my conduct, I could provide you with some useful assistance in that regard."

"Whatever are you talking about?"

"You have been very sly yourself, cousin, bamboozling everybody into thinking that you were hanging out for Miss Chesterton when in actual fact you are completely infatuated with Emily Sidford. Don't even attempt to deny it; I am more than seven, you know."

"I have never intentionally given anyone to believe that I was fixed on courting Miss Chesterton," said James stiffly. "I have denied it at every turn."

"But it has served you in good stead, has it not?" asked Olivia, cocking her head. "Up until now, that is." She gave him a sincere smile. "Do not look so concerned. I promise you I'll not serve you up a turn; I would rather do you a favour."

"I need no favours, especially your brand of knavery."

"Don't be so high in the instep! I could charm Lord Ralph away long enough for you to further your suit with his fiancée," said Olivia earnestly. "I should like to do it for you even though I should have to encourage his advances."

"Olivia! I have not sunk beneath reproach! What you suggest is preposterous."

"Then, how shall you manage it?"

"I have no intentions of managing anything. I cannot in any way condone deceit, nor will I do anything to break apart an engagement. I would never act in such a dishonourable manner," said James severely.

"Emily has no love for him. I have no idea why she continues the engagement."

"She feels it is her duty and obligation."

"Admirable reasons for marriage!" cried Olivia.

"It is not for me to judge. I can only offer my friendship," said James, studiously avoiding her penetrating gaze.

"Fine and honourable sentiments, cousin, but they are doing nobody any good."

"I hope that I would do nothing to harm her," said James in repressive tones, and Olivia could see that she had pushed the subject to the limit. Continuing in her appeal would only set up her cousin's back. If she were to do anything to help the stubborn fellow, she would have to use other methods. It was suddenly very important to her to prove to him that she had indeed turned over a new leaf. She continued the dance in trite discussion of the music and the company, to James' relief, acting as if their earlier conversation had not transpired.

Sophie had accepted Percy's hand for the first dance, and was very pleased by his attentive behaviour and fulsome compliments. She smiled blindingly at him at contemplated whether or not she should bestow any favours upon him, should the situation arrive. She knew all eyes were upon them, for he was dressed to the nines and she was wearing the most beautiful gown in the room. He had told her so, and she could not but agree with him. The feeling it gave her to know that she was the envy of all the ladies of the room, and the secret desire of all the gentlemen, was intoxicating to the highest degree. Even the fact that Lord Ralph was keeping his eyes trained more on Emily than herself did not disturb her exultation. She could only suppose he was exercising the highest level of fortitude not to ignore his partner in preference for her. When the set came to an end she could not mistake the squeeze Percy had given her hand before he had been required to let it go, or the look of anticipation as she granted him another dance, two sets distant, and elegantly wrote his name on her dance card. There were a number of gentlemen waiting to claim a dance from her when she came off the floor, and she smiled at them demurely, all the while searching out Lord Ralph. She was going to break some hearts tonight - it was inevitable.

Lord Ralph was quick to gain her hand for the next dance before any of her other swains, and Sophie was left to try to fit them into the open spots on her dance card. She purposefully left the waltz open. She had yet to decide which of her two most favoured partners she would bestow that pleasure upon.

Bertie was rather disgruntled about not winning Olivia's favour for the first dance, and after an excruciatingly boring dance with Miss Cordelia, he vowed he would lead her out to the second, but he was foiled by her quick acceptance of one of the various gentlemen who had been flocking around. He instead turned to Emily and said, "I should hope you will dance with me and pay no mind to what your betrothed might say."

"There is no cause for him to say anything," said Emily levelly as she accepted Bertie.

"That is a very fetching gown," he said gallantly as he led her out. "You cast my sister into the shade."

"I know very well that I do not," answered Emily, "though it is very obliging of you to say so."

"It is true! You have an elegance about you that is more becoming than her brazenness," Bertie simpered.

"It will not do for you to attempt to flirt with me," said Emily candidly. "Then Lord Ralph would have reason to complain."

"I can't help myself," he sighed.

"Mr. Farquar, please desist!" cried Emily, turning away her head. "I do not want to regret that I agreed to dance with you." She saw James across the floor, standing up with Ruth, and she felt an involuntary shiver run through her, even though she knew there was no reason for it. She felt a longing stir within her to be his partner, and though she knew he would approach her at some time in the evening for one dance, she wished it could be for more. She missed his conversation, she told herself. She turned back to Bertie who was asking her if anything was amiss, and told him that as long as he comported himself as he ought, she was not averse to dancing with him. He responded with recounting all the latest on-dits, and she struggled to keep up an appearance of attending to him.

Sophie's sparkling laugh rang across the floor from where she was dancing with Lord Ralph, but it did not worry Percy one bit. He knew she was toying with him at present, but that in a short while she would be at his mercy. He strolled over to one of the gaming rooms to while away the time until the next dance. He had a mind to lead out Miss Sidford, and if not make any headway with her, at least give Sophie cause for jealousy.

As the set ended Percy made his way over to the side of the floor with alacrity, but met with no success. Emily informed him politely that she was in need of refreshment, and would sit the next dance out. He attempted to bespeak a dance later on in the evening, and though she had a number of spots open on her card, Emily was unwilling to commit herself. He was left with nothing more to do than procure her some lemonade. On his return he discovered his sister seated beside Emily in the spot he had hoped to claim.

"Percy do be a dear and bring me a glass," cried Olivia after Emily had thanked him. "I am so excessively thirsty."

Percy silently wished his sister at Hades, but bowed gracefully and went off to fulfill her summons. He was not pleased with the bent of Olivia's newest whim. She was being of no help to him in the slightest, rather an impediment, and he wondered what her game was. As long as she did not thrust a spoke in his wheels he did not really care, but he was afraid he could not trust her.

Olivia looked at Emily consideringly and ventured a comment. "I believe you are still worn down from your recent illness."

"Do I look unwell?" asked Emily in alarm.

"You look very pretty, but a trifle pale," said Olivia.

"To own the truth," said Emily, "I am a little fatigued. I have not been feeling quite the thing tonight and that must be the cause of it." She sighed. At least that must explain that odd tingling sensation which, though not truly uncomfortable, was somewhat unsettling. Her nerves must have been affected by her indisposition. She railed against herself for being so weakened by a mere cold. She took a sip of her lemonade and resolved not to let it get the better of her.

"You must take care not to over-tire yourself. You were right not to dance with my brother. I own I am a little tired myself, and I have not the excuse of having been ill, so I shall have to lay it to the closeness of the room."

Emily smiled. She was just thinking that Olivia was being unaccustomedly understanding lately, and more cautious in her behaviour, when she made a remark that flustered Emily considerably. She did not know why it should affect her so much -- she could only but it down to her heightened nerves.

"Do you not think my cousin James is looking very handsome tonight?" asked Olivia. When Emily only looked conscious and did not respond, Olivia continued. "My brother dresses with such style and flair, but I prefer the more subdued dignity of James' tailoring. Do you not agree?"

"Your brother's style is a bit flamboyant for my tastes," admitted Emily.

"Then you prefer my cousin. I can't but blame you -- he has so much to recommend him."

"But -- I did not say . . ." said Emily, blushing lightly.

"Your secret is safe with me," said Olivia. "I only want to help you."

"My secret?" asked Emily, taken aback. "I have no idea what you are talking about."

At that moment, Percy returned with Olivia's drink and there was no more opportunity for private conversation as Percy remained by their side until the next dance started and he was able to claim Sophie's hand once more. Lord Ralph approached and invited Olivia to dance.

"Would you not rather dance with Emily?" asked Olivia.

"I have already led her out. She does not mind if I dance with you, do you Emily?"

"Not in the least. I would prefer to sit," said Emily. "Do please dance, Olivia."

She allowed herself to be led to the floor, but Ralph found her strangely unappreciative of all his cleverly phrased compliments. He decided she must be miffed because he had been so assiduous to Sophie, and so he attempted to appease her by flirting even more outrageously. Olivia looked over to where her brother was dancing with Sophie, and noticed them all at once leave the floor and slip through the French doors that led out onto the balcony.

"Your delicate beauty is driving me to distraction," said Lord Ralph in her ear. "Tell me what I must do gain your favour. Your cruel disdain is searing my heart."

"Lord Ralph," said Olivia sweetly, "the impropriety of your behaviour is shocking and I will not be a part of it."

"Is it improper to desire you?" he asked, attempting to look seductive as he said it.

"I do not know what you take me for. I am not an accomplished flirt like Sophie Farquar who cares not who she hurts with her coquetry," replied Olivia shortly.

"She means nothing to me," Lord Ralph whispered roughly in her ear, certain now that Olivia's attitude stemmed from jealousy. "It is you who lights my internal fire."

"I can no longer dance with you," stated Olivia. "You show such little respect and regard for your betrothed, it sickens me. She is my friend and I will not have her treated this way. She is much too good for you!"

Olivia walked off of the dance floor leaving Lord Ralph stunned, and the other dancers in the figure confused as to what to do with the uneven numbers. Upon realising everyone was staring at him he strode off in fury towards one of the card rooms.

Flushed with her success, Olivia headed for the balcony to see what she could do to upset her brother's well-laid plans. She was not going to be popular with him tonight.

Percy was enjoying himself tremendously. Sophie was all he had anticipated. He had led her out to the balcony where they engaged in a delightful flirtation that both knew was only for show. It had served to tantalise and feed their mounting passion, and now, ensconced in the deep recesses of the shadows, he had her in his arms, her soft body nestled invitingly against his, her warm breath on his cheek. He only had to lower his head to claim her lips.

"Percy!" cried Olivia as she rushed across the balcony. "I had hoped it had not come to this! I am dreadfully sorry, Sophie, if my brother has been importuning you. I shall not tell a soul. I am only glad that I have arrived in time to save you. I do not know what he has promised you, but it all means nothing. He is a sad rake and not to be trusted."

"Olivia! Have your wits gone begging? Go away and leave us be!" cried Percy, but to no avail. Sophie, who was just as disappointed as he by the interruption, tore away from him and threw herself into Olivia's arms, sobbing lustily.

"There, there," soothed Olivia. "I'm sure there has been no serious damage."

"The only damage there will be is when I get you alone later tonight, Olivia," cried Percy in disgust. "I'm devilled if I know what your lay is. I was only having a pleasant tête-à-tête with Miss Sophie. Here is no cause for all these dramatics."

"You told me you had changed your philandering ways; that it was all in the past!" cried his sister. "I knew I should not have trusted you. The moment my back is turned you mislead an innocent girl like Sophie! Please leave!"

"You are clearly deranged," said her furious brother. "Miss Sophie, do not heed her. I was operating under the purest of motives. You completely captivated me, and if I committed any indiscretion, it was only because you are so damned enticing."

Sophie's shoulders shook and she did not answer him. "The poor girl is distraught," said Olivia, giving her brother a look of triumph. "You had best go."

Percy regarded her bitterly and then turned and left, heading straight for the card room and the decanter of brandy. He needed something to quench the fires that were ravaging him. Damn her impudence. What a time to decide to be a ministering angel, righting all the wrongs of the world! He devoutly hoped that Olivia would tire soon from this new diversion.

Olivia stayed a few moments with Sophie, but soon had enough of her hysterics. She gave her a hanky, helped tidy her hair, and told her she would do well to curb such wanton behaviour if she wanted to marry a man of means. "For I know it was not simply my brother's fault that you were in his arms. Be glad that it was I who found you, and not some gabble-monger. Now stop your blithering - you are making your eyes all puffy and your nose red."

This did much to quench Sophie's sobs. She looked at Olivia resentfully and said, "I suppose I should thank you. I don't know how I came to be in such a compromising situation with your brother, but you have to know that nothing untoward happened. He didn't even kiss me." It was difficult for her to keep the regret out of her voice.

"Then all is well," said Olivia reassuringly. "Come, I'm sorry if I was hard on you. Let us return to the dancing; after all, that is what an assembly is for. It is becoming most chilly out here."

It was a somewhat subdued Sophie Farquar who accepted Geoffrey Billingsworth's hand when they returned to the floor, but his stuttering adoration soon put Sophie into spirits again, though she was still quite angry with Olivia for spoiling all her fun.

Bertie attempted anew to claim Olivia's hand, but she assured him that she was promised to Mr. Turnbull, and that surprised young gentleman led her to the floor with some alacrity. Emily was meantime dancing with Lord Ralph once more. He seemed somewhat out of spirits. Every time the figures of the set brought them within range of Olivia and Robbie, Ralph became most assiduous in his attentions toward his partner. Emily knew not what to make of it.

After the dance, Lord Ralph led out Sophie again and Emily decided to walk to the other end of the room in search of Ruth. Near the card room door she was accosted by Percy, who insisted upon dancing with her. He was, by this time, a trifle foxed and would not take no for an answer.

"Please sir, you must believe that I have no intention to dance," said Emily, clearly upset by his insistence.

"You cannot keep putting me off. You promised me a dance later in the evening, and I have come to claim it," said Percy, leering down at her.

"You must excuse me sir," said Emily, backing away.

He reached for her hand and would have dragged her to the floor had they not been interrupted.

"Pardon me, Miss Sidford," came a most welcome voice. "I'm sorry I am late to claim my dance -- you must have quite given me up." James took her hand before Percy could grab it, and without waiting for an answer, led her to the floor. It was not until they were in the middle of the dance floor that they both realised it was a waltz. Emily was looking at James with such an expression of relief and gratitude that it took his breath away. He stood for a moment unsure of what to do, and then threw caution to the winds and took her in his arms.

Neither of them spoke for the first few moments of the dance. James was completely overpowered by the touch of her hand on his arm, the feel of her hand in his, the closeness of her body, the light fragrance of her hair, the look in her clear grey eyes. They were so close. He had held her in his arms before, twice, long ago when they had met so suddenly, but although he had felt something stir within him then, it was nothing to what he was feeling now. There had been no music, no candlelight burnishing her hair. Then he had not been long denying himself the pleasure he was now enjoying. Then he had not been in love. He could do nothing but gaze upon her sweet, upturned face, and swirl about the room as if in a dream.

Emily felt the tingling in her chest rise, and then spread throughout her body to her very fingertips. She could feel the warmth of his arm through his jacket. Her hand that was within his felt so comfortable, as if it had always been searching for that very resting place. He was so close she could smell the sandalwood of his soap, make out the fine stitches of the buttonholes of his waistcoat, and as she looked further up, see each individual eyelash, become lost in the clear mossy green of his eyes. She did not stop to think that she was dancing the waltz, the one dance she had promised to dance with none other than her fiancé. She did not stop to think that she was in a room filled with people and should be careful of what she did. There was no other thought in her head than that she was with her dear friend James and she had never been happier in her life. It was as if the rest of the world did not exist.

James was the first to realise that they must talk, though his first attempt at conversation was hardly stunning. "How are you enjoying the assembly?"

"More than anything," she said and gave him a full, real smile.

"I did not know this was to be a waltz."

"Nor did I. Thank you for your intervention."

"Would you rather I take you to your seat?" James asked hesitantly, not wanting to lose the feel of her in his arms.

"I would rather we danced," said Emily softly.

"Good. I don't think I could have relinquished you," said James, barely daring to speak.

Emily looked up at him wonderingly, letting her thoughts be voiced half-formed, unreviewed, so that what she said startled even herself. "I feel as if I am where I belong." She blushed lightly, but did not avert her gaze.

James looked down, with all his longing and need of her almost choking his words. "You are."

After that, speech was once again impossible; they danced in their own small bubble of light, each wishing the music would never end, and knowing it must. In her arms like that, James felt as if all his arguments were valueless, that his need for her surmounted all other considerations. He could see marriage to Emily as a possibility, a reality, not just a vain and fruitless hope. But as the musicians played the dying strains of the tune, the first thing he noticed was Lord Ralph's steely glare. He was brought back from his dreams with a sinking feeling that started to tear his heart to shreds.

Emily looked up at him, her eyes still clouded within a trance. "Thank you," she whispered.

In defiance of Lord Ralph he brought her hand up to his lips and kissed it tenderly. "Thank you," he said, his voice burgeoning with emotion, and then he turned and walked away, bereft, his empty arms longing for the warmth that had filled them.

Emily looked after him in confusion and awe. She sat in her chair, only wanting to be left to her thoughts, as indistinct as they were. She felt the loss of his presence, but felt a glow within herself that almost made up for it. He could not stay with her -- she knew that - but she no longer understood why. Everything in the room seemed very far away. In her head she heard the melody of the waltz and she felt again the warmth of his arm beneath her hand, and slipped back under the spell of those gentle green eyes.

Chapter Thirty-Eight

"Hold on there, Warrington," cried Lord Ralph. "Just where the devil do you think you are going?"

James stopped and faced Lord Ralph. There were a few other people milling around in the entrance hall, waiting for their outer clothing and their carriages to be brought around, and all eyes turned with interest at the brusque command.

"I was not aware I needed to report my departure to you, your lordship," said James, turning to continue towards the door.

"How dared you to waltz with Emily?" growled Lord Ralph. "And in such a manner?"

"I believe I comported myself decorously," said James. "Now, if you will excuse me, I must claim my greatcoat."

"You had the effrontery to kiss her!"

"I kissed her hand, a chivalrous gesture when thanking a lady for a dance. There is nothing improper in that." James turned again and retrieved his greatcoat from a waiting footman.

Lord Ralph reached out and grabbed him by the arm. "Don't try to fob me off. You were making up to her! I'm not blind -- I saw the way you looked at her. She is my fiancée. If I ever see you near her again, I'll tip you a settler!"

James brushed the hand off his sleeve, anger mounting in his face. "You are a trifle overtaken," he said, noticing the distinct odour of port that emanated from Lord Ralph. "I refuse to bandy Miss Sidford's name in public. It would be best if you would pay her the same respect."

James strode purposefully out the door and into the cold night air. It was done now and there was no turning back. He drew on his greatcoat, and sent a boy for his horse, thankful that he had chosen to ride instead of joining his cousins in their carriage. The pain that flooded his body was difficult to bear, but he did not regret the dance for one moment. It was a memory that he could cherish forever. He would never forget the feel of her hand, the very scent of her, the softness of her skin beneath his lips. It would take all his will to do what he had to do now, but he had no recourse. He had been fooling himself if he had ever thought it could end otherwise.

When Sophocles was brought to him he stroked the animal's neck. "You have to see me through this," he said hoarsely, and then he hoisted himself up into the saddle and rode off down the street and into a maze of lanes, not caring which he took or in what direction it led him. Direction was unimportant. All he wanted to do was get away from the rest of the world and from his troubles - find a place where he could be alone to relive the dance and believe again that all he dreamt was possible. He rode for hours into the night, knowing full well all the time that such a place did not exist.

Lord Ralph found himself left standing in the middle of a room with all eyes turned towards him for the second time that night. He glared at the onlookers and then retreated to the ballroom. Emily was still sitting alone, and he lost no time in joining her.

"What were you thinking, waltzing with that fellow?" he hissed.

Emily looked at him, trying to bring him into focus. What was he talking about, and why did he appear to be angry?

"Waltzing with Warrington!" he repeated. "You do not waltz with anybody but me."

Her brow cleared and she said, "We did not know it was the waltz. Mr. Warrington very kindly rescued me from another gentleman who was importuning me. You would do well to thank him."

"Why did you not leave the floor when you discovered what dance it was?" asked Lord Ralph, not yet mollified.

"He offered to escort me back to my seat, but I thought it would be too embarrassing, under the circumstances."

"You appeared to be enjoying yourself," replied Lord Ralph sulkily.

"It was very nice to waltz, and you rarely ask me," responded Emily simply.

"Now I understand!" cried Lord Ralph. "You were attempting to make me jealous. That is why you were gazing into his eyes so."

"Was I supposed to be staring at his waistcoat? Of course I must look up at him. You are making a great deal out of nothing." She looked at him closely and then continued, "I believe you are in your cups -- you are talking such nonsense. Do go away."

"I rather think I will," sneered Lord Ralph. He left abruptly and soon had Sophie on the floor. At least she appreciated him. He was certain Emily could not but regret sending him away when she saw how well they danced together, or how often Sophie's eyes locked with his.

Emily, however, did not notice any of this display. Instead she pondered what could have been wrong in waltzing with James. It had been the most wonderful dance she had ever experienced. She had felt light and carefree, and perfectly at ease. There had been no impropriety, nothing to be ashamed about. Later that evening, as she lay in her bed, her curtains open to allow the moonlight to silver her room, she could think of nothing else but twirling in James' arms as soft music enveloped them.

Olivia was removing her earrings when her brother unceremoniously entered her room without even knocking. She didn't bother to look at him or acknowledge his presence, but kept on with her task.

"You little thatch-gallows!" he cried, throwing himself upon her bed. "I could have done with ten more minutes on the balcony. I was ready to throttle you; think I still might."

"You are getting to be such a bore, Percy," sighed Olivia. "Get off my bed! Your Hessians will destroy the coverlet." With great lack of concern, she returned her jewellery to its case and placed it in a drawer before starting to unpin her hair.

"Is it wrong of me to want a little fun, stuck here for weeks on end in the country?" Percy pouted and stared up at her canopy, as if the answer to his question could be found there.

"You could make better use of your time. Read a book. Go about the estate with James."

"Aren't you trying it on rather rare and thick? Give over! You'd best not attempt to redeem my character as well as your own. I'll have you know I satisfied myself tonight with a serving wench, so you went to a lot of trouble for naught!" Percy sat up and gave her a lewd smirk. He knew she could see him reflected in the mirror.

"I do not want to hear of your . . . escapades, Percy. I believe the only reason you came to see me tonight was to throw that boast in my face."

"You know me too well, Olivia," said Percy as he ambled out of the room.

James managed little sleep, if any, by the time dawn turned the sky pewter. He was busy writing at his desk, slowly, painstakingly, and did not notice the blush that bled through the east and then faded, leaving the heavens a murky blue that did not bode well for the rest of the day. He washed, but the cold water failed to clear his head. As he dressed, he was intent only in readying himself to go outdoors, not caring if his waistcoat was green or grey, or whether his cravat was tied with a remotely stylish knot. He forced himself to partake of breakfast, but tasted nothing that he ate. Letting himself out of the quiet house, he went around to the stables.

Sophocles greeted him with a low wicker, and he placed his arms around that strong neck, almost breaking down as the horse responded by nuzzling his chest. He curried and saddled his horse himself, and then led him out of the stables and into the open pasture. Dark clouds were already piling in the north, and wind was beginning to whip the topmost branches of the trees by the barn. He allowed himself a gallop across the meadow and then directed Sophocles along the familiar lanes to trample back and forth in front of a certain gate. He prayed that she would come. He wanted to leave her more than a rain soaked letter. He wanted to be able to tell her himself. And more than wanting it, he dreaded it. Besides that, he had to see her one last time, no matter how much it would hurt.

Emily awoke, warmed by a contented glow. She threw off her blankets and ran to the window. Orange still lightly streaked the sky, and instead of turning a brilliant blue, it was darkening. Unpromising. Nevertheless, she felt an urge to go out so powerful that she was willing to ignore her mother's orders. If she went out early enough she might be able to beat the rain. She dressed warmly and then hurried to the breakfast parlour, pleased to see no one else was present. She ate quickly and then, grabbing her cloak and scarf, ran through the back passages and exited from the kitchen.

The path through the park was still muddy in places but she managed to skirt all the worst puddles. She noticed snowdrops peeking up through the grass beneath the trees, and pussy willows furring the hedge. The breeze ruffled through her hair, pulling some strands free of the loose knot she had carelessly made, and she almost ran in her eagerness to be out and free and on her way to see him. She did not doubt that James would be there. She had so much to tell him, so much to share, and she couldn't wait to hear what he had to say too. There had been no time for them to really talk - not since the last time they had met, before she had caught her cold. It was impossible to speak together at the assembly, and somehow, when they had waltzed, conversation had seemed unnecessary. Her spirits were buoyant, and she felt like singing, laughing, and running through the trees. She came upon the gate, breathless and expectant, and there he was, seated on Sophocles with a strangely discomfiting look in his eyes. He slid down from the horse and came close to her. The stiffness of his face caused her spirits to plummet.

"I had hoped to see you," he said, his voice almost breaking. "I had to say goodbye before I left."

She stared at him in disbelief. "But you are coming back soon, are you not?"

"I do not know if I will ever return," he said, and then at the expression of desolation that spread across her face he added impulsively, "You must realise that I cannot stay. To live here and see you married -- I thought I could do it. I thought I could give you my friendship and that would suffice . . . but I have been selfish and I do apologise."

"I don't understand," Emily said plaintively. "Where are you going? Doesn't your uncle need you?"

He looked beyond her at the trees and tried unsuccessfully to keep the emotion from his voice. "Robbie Turnbull can take my place. I will manage Tyneshead for my brother."

"You cannot give everything up." Emily gave him a look of entreaty. Her thoughts were jumbled and disoriented. She only knew that this should not be happening. He could not leave her.

"I have no choice - I cannot stay." He reached into his pocket and pulled out a folded piece of parchment. He handed it to her and for the first time looked directly into her eyes. The pain and longing she saw in his own was almost too much to bear. "Read this," he said, his words barely audible. He turned away, but as she grasped the letter their fingers touched and his suddenly clung to hers. He turned back to her again and his eyes searched her face as if memorising every part of it. He reached out his other hand and touched her cheek, gently tracing his finger down its curve to her chin. "I will never forget you, Emily."

As she watched, he released her hand and mounted his horse. He rode off without looking back. If he had, he would have seen the welling tears course down her cheeks, and heard as in her state of frozen confusion, she called out his name. "James." If he had, all the honour and pride in the world would not have prevented him from rushing back and pulling her into his arms, promising never, ever to leave her. But he rode off quickly before he could see the pain in her eyes, before he could lose his resolution to act as he knew was right, before she could see his barely held composure crumble and the bitter tears that blinded him the whole way home.

Emily clung to the folded paper, crushing it in her grip. She felt as if a shard had plunged through her heart, tearing into her soul. Her insides shattered, her thoughts unclear, she leant against the fence and buried her face in her arms. All she knew was that she had never felt such pain or emptiness before, and with the same slow certainty that the rising sun brings the day, she became aware of a single fact. A mind numbing inescapable truth, and she wondered why it had taken her so long to realise. Why she had to suffer such pain and emptiness before she could understand her own feelings. She was in love. More than that, she loved, deeply and sincerely. Utterly. "James," she called again helplessly into the empty air. "Don't leave me. I cannot bear it."

Remembering the paper she held crushed within her hand, she unfolded it and smoothed the wrinkles. It was still legible.

My Dearest Friend:

If I do not find you here, please know that I waited all day. I must leave and do not know if I will ever return, but you will always be in my thoughts.

I have been selfish and unwise, but I do not regret my behaviour because through it I came to know you, and that is the best thing that has happened in my life.

I thought I could provide you friendship, but I have failed you. I cannot bear living here knowing that one day you will be married - if not to Lord Ralph, then to someone equally suitable - and lost to me forever. I know this is foolish because I have never had a claim on you.

I have nothing to offer. You are beyond my touch. I could never hope to gain your hand, nor would I ask you to give up everything for me and live penniless.

I know it is a breach of propriety to have written to you like this, and I apologise. I am sorry if these honest feelings distress you in any way, and I sincerely hope that this note causes you no pain. I will cherish your friendship forever.

JW

Emily read the letter through and then through again, having difficulty understanding the carefully phrased sentences. Blotting the letters with her tears. She only had one clear thought -- to find James and beg him not to go.

She climbed over the gate and dropped to the lane on the other side. Smoothing her skirts and pulling her hood back over her head, she started walking in the direction he had ridden. She never stopped to consider what her parents would think when they found she was not at home, or how she would present herself at Wortham Lodge, or even what she should do if she arrived and he was already gone. She only knew there was a hole within her that needed to be filled, and James was the only one who could fill it. All she wanted was to be held in his arms and comforted until all the pain went away.

Chapter Thirty-Nine

James tossed the clothes he would need for his trip into his portmanteau; everything else could be packed by one of the servants and sent by carrier. His hand paused over the book that was at his bedside. It did not truly belong to him, but he could not return it. He held it up to his face to catch the dim fragrance of her that still lingered on the pages, and then he tucked it in the bag amongst his shirts. Besides his memories and the handkerchief he always carried, it was all he had left of her. He strapped his case shut with grim finality, picked up a bundle of papers from the desk and then, without a backward glance, left the room that had been his for the past six months. Now he had to face his uncle, and it hurt him deeply that he had to let the old gentleman down.

Sir Edward took the news very well. He did not question James' assertion that his brother's estate had some problems that he felt needed his personal attention. He expressed his thanks to James for all he had done, his willingness to give the temporary stewardship of his estate to Robbie Turnbull, and his hopes that James would manage to return in the future. Lady Warrington kissed James upon the cheek and wished him a good journey, and the two saw him to his waiting horse.

As they returned to the house, Sir Edward said to his wife, "It is a sad business - there is more here than meets the eye. I shall miss the boy dreadfully."

"He has a haunted look about him, but I don't think he will be able to escape what troubles him. It is riding with him."

"You don't think Miss Ruth has rejected him, Felicity?" asked Sir Edward as the sudden thought struck him.

"It is not Miss Ruth, nor has it ever been," answered his wife, a faraway look in her eyes. "No, the situation is far more complicated than that, from what I can surmise."

"Then who do you think? Not Miss Sophie, or his cousin Olivia; I have never seen any sign of interest there."

"It is all speculation, Edward dear, so I do not like to say," returned his wife. "However time will tell, I'm certain of that. His actions today must have repercussions."

"Well, it is all too deep for me," answered Sir Edward, "and if you insist on being mysterious, we had best leave the subject be. I do wish it did not have to happen like this, though I don't doubt young Robbie can handle the business now that James has it so well in order. None of this will change my feelings for him, nor my intentions towards him."

"And we may yet see the dear boy back," said Felicity.

Sir Edward brightened at this idea, and though he returned to the parlour in a slightly more optimistic frame of mind he continued speculating on James' real reasons for leaving until his wife was all but out of patience with him.

James was still in the drive when he met Robbie Turnbull riding in his gig.

"I was just coming to meet you before I did a few errands for my father," he called as he reined in.

"And I was coming out to find you," said James, dismounting and hopping up beside Robbie in the gig.

"I thought we were to meet at your office," said Robbie in some surprise.

"Let this be the office today," said James wryly. "I have an important request to make of you."

Robbie swiftly took in James' severity of expression and haggard look. "Is something wrong? Sir Edward isn't . . ."

"No. Sir Edward, thanks be to God, is in remarkable health, or this would be more difficult for me than it already is. There has been a change of plan, that is all. There are some concerns regarding my brother's estate which I feel need my attention. I would like you to remain here at Wortham as steward in my stead." Robbie started and looked at James even more intently. "I have discussed it with my uncle this morning, and he would be pleased to have you. What do you say?"

"I don't know . . . I hardly thought . . . could I possibly manage it?"

"I spent the greater part of the night laying down all the information I think you will need and explaining some of the correspondence that will be left in your hands." He pulled the sheaf of papers from his pocket and placed them in Robbie's grasp. "Peruse these quickly and see if you have any questions. I am on my way to Tyneshead now."

"This minute?" asked Robbie. "This is very sudden. But I do not want to hold you up, or leave the horses standing in this wind. Everything appears to be well ordered and clearly explained. If I have any questions, I can surely write to you, can I not?"

"Please do. Anything you need I will be most happy to help you with," said James. "I have complete confidence in your abilities, Robbie."

"Thank you, sir. I hope I can live up to your expectations," said Robbie. "But are you certain that you really must leave?"

"It is imperative," said James, and he held out his hand to the younger man. "Good luck. Take good care of my uncle for me."

"I will indeed," said Robbie, shaking his hand vigorously.
As James got down from the gig and remounted Sophocles, Robbie eyed him speculatively. There was much to the story that he was not being told. Nothing his friend had said explained the suffering in his face. What was this sudden problem at his brother's estate? Had an early morning express arrived from Bedfordshire? He waved as James rode off up the drive, and thought of the assembly the night before. There was no talk of James leaving then. He had been in good spirits, though Robbie had detected some tension in him. And he had waltzed with Miss Sidford which had caused a bit of a stir, though for the life of him Robbie could see no reason why the two should not be able to waltz together without setting tongues wagging. Robbie thought about his own dance with Olivia Rutherford and almost laughed out loud at his recollection of Bertram Farquar's expression of outrage. She was older than him, and quality to boot, and Robbie had no illusions about her motives in dancing with him, but he had enjoyed himself just the same.

He stuffed the papers into his pocket and drove on to turn his gig in the sweep. There was no need to go to Wortham Lodge yet. He would finish his father's errands and then visit Sir Edward to formally thank him for the preferment, and ask permission to use the office at the lodge.

Emily had been walking down the muddy lane for quite some time. It was not a road she was accustomed to take, nor was she in the habit of going to Wortham Lodge. She knew the way along the main roads but had to stop at each crossroad to get her bearings so as not to get lost among the lanes. The wind had picked up and was not only blowing her cape quite wildly about so that she had to clutch it firmly around herself, it was also blowing in dark heavy clouds that tinged the morning the colour of dusk. She heard the sound of a horse approaching and looked up, hoping to see Sophocles and James returning, but just as her heart leapt in excitement it fell again in disappointment when she saw that it was a roan and was pulling a carriage. She moved to the side of the pathway to let it pass, keeping her head down for fear of recognition, and hoping the driver would ignore her and continue on his way. The carriage stopped just the same.

"Miss Sidford? Is that you?" came Robbie Turnbull's concerned voice. "Whatever are you doing out in this weather? May I drive you somewhere?"

"Mr Turnbull," said Emily, looking up at him with relief. "I was going . . . have you seen . . . would you know if Mr Warrington has departed yet?"

If Robbie thought this an unusual question to be asked by Miss Sidford in the middle of a deserted lane with a storm fast approaching he did not say, but he urged her to climb up into his gig, and out of the brunt of the lashing wind before the rain began pelting down. When she was seated and he had fixed the rug about her, he answered her anxious gaze. "He has left not fifteen minutes ago. How did you know that he was going away?"

Emily, attempting to hold firm to the last strands of her composure as bitter disappointment coursed through her, said in a tight little voice, "I chanced to see him earlier in my walk. I fear he will be caught in this downpour."

"That he will, but don't you fret, he is accustomed to riding through much worse than this. Now, where is it that I am taking you?"

Emily was suddenly at a loss. There was no longer a need to go to Wortham Lodge, and she could not ask him to take her home; she was clearly not on her way there, besides the last place she wanted to be was home and alone. She needed someone to talk to and comfort her. Mr Turnbull could not take her where she wanted to go, chasing down James on the main turnpike road. Though that was what her heart yearned for her to do, it was unthinkable. "Would it be too much to ask you to drive me to the parsonage?"

"You are on your way to visit Miss Chesterton," said Robbie cheerfully. "I should have guessed." It was only the road she was on that had made him not suggest it before. This was not the most direct route from Barstow Hall to the Chesterton residence. He looked at Miss Sidford's pinched face and swollen eyes. She did not look at all well, but it appeared to be more than illness or cold that caused her to look so pitiful. She seemed completely desolate. He attempted to converse with her along the way to the parsonage, but she was inattentive, wrapped up somehow in her own little world of sorrow that his friendly comments could not breach.

When they arrived, he helped her down from the gig and led her to the door, putting her in the care of a servant before he left to complete his chores. She turned and thanked him quietly, and there was an emptiness in her eyes that he found deeply moving. He walked slowly back to his gig, pondering. It was not the first time he had seen that look today. It was the very look that he had caught in James' eyes before an emotionless mask had dropped over them. His mind suddenly began to make connections that he had never considered before, and though he knew he was still wandering alone in the dark with it, he felt that he was a little closer to understanding the reason for James' hurried departure. His heart went out to his two suffering friends.

Ruth looked up in surprise when Emily was announced into the parlour. She instantly ran to her and clasped hands that felt like ice. Looking deeply into Emily's eyes she saw an intensity of emotional turmoil that she had never before witnessed in her composed friend. She settled her in a chair by the fire and kneeled beside her, rubbing warmth back into her hands.

"Whatever is the matter, dearest?" she asked, compassion ringing in her voice.

Emily could stand it no longer. She collapsed in silent sobbing. "Hold me," was all that she could manage.

Ruth took her in her arms and they sat there on the carpet in front of the hearth as Emily clung to her and cried until she was weak. Finally she raised her head and looked into Ruth's warm brown eyes. "I'm sorry," she said, "but I am lost and I don't know what to do."

Ruth knew better than to say anything. She just pulled her close and stroked her hair. Finally Emily bestirred herself and said, "My parents do not know that I left the house. They will be wondering where I am."

"Sit down and don't worry," said Ruth. "I will send a note that you are here with us, trapped by the weather, and that you will stay to dine." She left the room for a few minutes while Emily stared unseeing into the fire. When Ruth returned five minutes later it did not look as if she had moved an inch. "Can you tell me what happened?" asked Ruth gently.

Emily raised her head and turned her tear-streaked face to Ruth. "He is gone," she said bleakly.

Ruth did not need to ask who. "Gone?" she asked. "Where? For how long?"

"Forever," came the forlorn reply.

"But, what about Sir Edward?" asked Ruth bemusedly.

Emily reached into the pocket of her gown and pulled out the crumpled letter. "Read this."

Ruth smoothed out the creases and began to read. ‘My Dearest Friend.' She looked up at Emily in consternation, "I don't think I should be reading this," she said. "It is your personal correspondence."

"There is nothing there you cannot read," said Emily. "Please do. It is so much easier than me saying it."

Ruth read on, and though it was crumpled and blurred, she was able to make the letter out. ‘I have nothing to offer. You are beyond my touch.' Ruth sighed. That was so like Mr Warrington, not to see that he was anyone's equal, no matter how exalted the lineage, and he had so much more to offer than mere money and title. She had to admit that knowing him as she did, she should have expected this. She had never realised how very deeply he was in love, and it appeared she had underestimated Emily's feelings as well.

"What am I to do?" asked Emily. "I can't chase after him. I can't write to him and beg him to return."

"There is one thing you can do, though," said Ruth. "It may not make your life easier, and it may not bring Mr Warrington back, but it needs to be done nevertheless."

"Would that I had done it months ago!" cried Emily. "How blind and foolish I have been. I thought that I had no choice, that I needed to do what was expected of me. I thought that I would never meet someone I could really love, so it did not matter who I married. I never realised that I was happy to keep postponing the marriage because I did not want to marry Lord Ralph, even then, before I had met James . . . Mr Warrington." Emily heard her own voice, as if from far away, hesitate and crumble when she said his Christian name, but no tears came. There were none left. Inside her was a void, a barren wasteland that she would have to rebuild everyday, one stone at a time. And the first was to break it off with Lord Ralph. She knew not what came after that, only that it would be the foundation stone of her new life, and she was willing to accept whatever came after.

If she could not have what she most desired, a least she would never again accept what she did not want.

© 2002, 2003 Copyright held by the author.

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