A Matter
of Choice
The first week in town was spent
quietly, only visiting the milliners to order a new wardrobe for Olivia and
various other establishments for all the necessary accessories that would be
needed to complete her stylish London toilette. Mrs. Rutherford had no wish for
her daughter to make an appearance until she was completely rigged out in the
latest fashions. Emily enjoyed the quiet timbre of their life, and once the
week was over, often wished to return to it from the bustle that Olivia's
mother felt constituted life in London. If they were not out visiting, a steady
stream of guests flowed through their parlour. Parties, concerts, and opera
boxes were the order of the evening. If there were not invitations for at least
two or three events per night, Mrs. Rutherford would begin to doubt their
standing in society. During this time, Olivia managed to drop their cards at
Grosvenor Square, and at the end of the week they were graced with a
fifteen-minute visit from Mrs. Lucy Warrington herself.
"So pleased to make your
acquaintance," she said, languidly stretching forth her hand towards Olivia. "I
understand there is some sort of vague family connection between us." All the
time she was taking in the stylishness of her hostess, and the luxury of the
apartments. It seemed to Lucy that this was a good relationship to forward.
"We are not related by blood at
all," answered Olivia gaily, "but we do share a great uncle who is a very dear
old fellow. My brother Percy and I were terribly taken with Cousin James when
we stayed with him at Wortham. You must all be so proud of him!"
Lucy was thrown into a state of
confusion, but answered in an attempt at earning Olivia's good graces. "Of
course James is an estimable young man. Setting aside his own interests to
support his uncle is very creditable. He is a great favourite with me. The last
time he was in town I threw quite a lavish dinner party in his honour. I would
very much like to see him well settled."
"May I present my dear friend,
Miss Sidford. She is also acquainted with Cousin James. We were all a close
little group with our snug dinners at the parsonage every week."
Lucy turned to the quiet girl
she had barely noticed by Olivia's side. Though her dress was quite elegant,
its simplicity had led her to believe the young lady was some sort of companion
to Miss Rutherford. She smiled graciously. "You must be the parson's daughter.
I'm pleased to meet you."
Emily blushed. "My father is
General Sidford. It is through our friendship with Miss Chesterton, Reverend
Chesterton's daughter, that we meet regularly at the parsonage."
"Oh! I do apologise for my
assumption," said Lucy with a titter. "You both have the best of me, for you
have been more in my brother James' company than I have of late. I have not had
the pleasure of seeing him since last spring. How is he?"
"It is above two months since he
left for Bedfordshire," said Emily, "but at that time he was well." She could
not trust herself to say more. She was sure her tremulous voice would give her
away. To hear James' name in conversation excited and unnerved her, and she was
anxious to hear news of him, but she could not bring herself to frame any
question about him.
"Of course! How silly of me! He
is at Tynestead House now, helping our brother George with some urgent estate
problems. It had slipped my mind."
"And what news do you have of
him?" asked Olivia. "We have all missed him dreadfully since he was rushed away
suddenly like that! It was very bad of Cousin George to take him from us
without warning, just when we were all beginning to be so close."
Lucy smiled on Olivia even more
winningly. The girl was positively infatuated with James! Her obvious fortune
was worth holding on to. Randolph would be interested to hear how well James'
prospects were beginning to look. How unfortunate that George had dragged him
off at such an inopportune time. Randolph would have to write him and entreat
him to change his mind about not attending the wedding.
"The captain was sent off to
Burma, you know, of all the ill luck. There again, James stepped into the
breach with no thought to his own desires. I'd say that his only fault is that
he is too unselfish." She gave a light little laugh and shot Olivia a
meaningful look. "I am most certain he misses all those he left behind just as
dreadfully. Did you know that our sister Anne is to be married shortly? To Lord
Branwick! Such an advantageous match! We will be holding a ball in her honour
in a fortnight. Would you and your mother, and of course you, Miss Sidford,
like to attend? I can issue invitations immediately. Do say you will be able!"
"I am so very happy for Cousin
Anne! We would not miss her ball for the world, would we, Emily?" said Olivia
smugly. "Will Sir Arthur and Lady Amelia be present? Cousin Mary, Cousin James?
Oh how I would dearly love to make the whole family's acquaintance, would you
not, Emily?"
"Yes indeed," said Emily,
quickly lowering her eyes. If James were there, what would she do? How would he
react? What would he say when she told him she was no longer engaged to Lord
Ralph? The thought of seeing him again set her senses fluttering. She felt her
cheeks tingling and hoped that her face did not give away all the swirling
emotion that she felt inside.
"Sadly, my husband's parents
will not be able to make the trip. Sir Arthur is a cripple, as you must know,
and Lady Amelia never leaves his side. It is a great pity they will not be able
to see Anne become Lady Branwick. Such a momentous occasion! But dear Mary will
be joining me the day after next to order new gowns for the ball and the
wedding. I am still unsure whether James will be attending or no, but I will
tell Mr. W to write him that you are to be here. That should be an added
inducement!" Lucy gave Olivia another knowing smile.
"To be sure!" said Olivia. "I
would so like to see my dear cousin again. Please ensure that Cousin Randolph
informs him that both Miss Sidford and I will be attending the ball," said
Olivia eagerly.
"You have my word," said Lucy.
She left the house shortly after, feeling quite pleased with herself. She was
certain James would thank her for her interference this time. Upon arriving to
Grosvenor Square, she requested her secretary to issue the invitations to the
Rutherfords and their guest, and then hurried to Randoph's study to inform him
of the new developments. As she made to open the door, she tried to remember
the name of the plain girl that she had invited along with Miss Rutherford.
Never mind -- she was of no importance. All Randolph really needed to know about
was the rich beauty who was apparently besotted with his brother. Marriage to
her would certainly nullify James' need to demean the family name by performing
the duties of a steward. Anne would be most happy to hear about it too!
Lord Ralph paced across his
bedchamber floor. He had never felt this way before. Having Senorita Carmen in
his house every day for almost two months had completely changed his life.
Sophie Farquar no longer tempted him. When he looked at her he wondered why he
had ever strained under the yoke of his engagement to Emily while he was in
Sophie's presence. Her pallid complexion and watery blue eyes were nothing to
the dusky beauty and enchanting brown eyes of the girl who had captured his
heart. The way Sophie was forever throwing herself at him lately made him
realise that she was no different from other assorted bits of muslin he had
entertained himself with the past few years. Maybe sometime in the future he
would set up a dalliance with her - for now he had to prove himself worthy to
win the heart of his desired bride. He meant to be ardently faithful.
His mother had indicated that
she favoured a match between him and Senorita Fuentes, and that was all he
needed to make up his mind. Now what was sending him back and forth across the
floorboards of his compartment was the doubt that she would accept his hand.
She was the daughter of a contessa. She could have anyone she chose. Lord Ralph
knew his own worth. He was undeniably handsome, desirably rich, and he was a
lord of the realm. He could see no reason why any lovely young maiden would not
jump at the chance to marry him, but he had recently suffered a serious blow
that left him with growing insecurity.
Emily Sidford had rejected him,
and he could not fathom why. If he knew, he could counteract it with facility,
but not knowing made him uneasy. Emily was plain. Her father was a general, and
landed gentry, but really - in the large scheme of things - she was a nobody.
And yet she had the audacity to break their longstanding engagement. It is true
that he should glory in his freedom because it now left him open to offer for
the alluring senorita, but it rankled that a girl such as Emily should deem him
undesirable.
The lovely Carmen was always
sweet and demure in his presence, and she appeared to admire him greatly, but
she had never allowed him any advances. He wished he could be certain. He was
about to meet her in the garden and propose, but the thought of rejection was
filling him with trepidation.
He took one last look in his
full-length mirror and was impressed by what he saw there. His golden locks
were tumbled to perfection, his cravat had taken two hours to complete and a
sapphire shimmered in its folds, the royal blue of his coat and breeches
emphasised the brilliance of his eyes. It did not seem possible that any girl
could resist such an excellent specimen of male beauty. He felt his ebbing
confidence return full fold. With a last touch to his guinea curls, he strode
from the room and made his way down into the garden.
Carmen was sitting under a
trellis. Trailing clematis surrounded her; the long, dark leaves and the creamy
stellate blossoms framed her like a virginal Madonna on the canvas of a great
master. Lord Ralph felt his breath become ragged in his throat. She was divine!
As he approached, she looked up and her dark eyes met his. A slow smile spread
upon her face. Lord Ralph knelt at her feet and grasped her hand in his.
"You are a vision of pure
loveliness," he sighed.
She made an attempt to pull her
hand away, and said in a husky voice, "My lord! Why have you thrown yourself at
my feet? Get up, do, before my mother should come and find us thus."
"I care not who witnesses me. I
am humbled by your beauty. You must say that you will be mine for ever, and for
always!" He kissed her hand fervently.
Carmen blushed prettily and
regarded him through her lashes. "Is this a proposal of marriage, my lord?" she
asked.
"Of course it is! How can you
wonder?" asked Lord Ralph.
"My mother has warned me some
gentlemen are not to be trusted, my lord. But I had always hoped I could trust
you."
"You can trust me with your life
and your heart. You already have stolen my own!" cried Lord Ralph with feeling.
"Are they given with reluctance
then, when you accuse me of theft?" Carmen turned her face away, and a lone
tear trickled down her cheek.
"Dash it all! Don't cry my
darling. My life and my heart are given freely. I love you with such passion --
with every fibre of my being. Please say you will be my wife." Lord Ralph wiped
his brow and looked at her in consternation. She must want him, she must! He
could not bear it if she turned him down. His hopes would be so blasted he
would have to offer for Sophie -- she would never reject him. He knew without a
doubt his suit would find favour there. But that was not what he wanted. He
wanted his own dear Carmen, and waiting for her avowal was torturing his soul.
Carmen turned a smile on him. "I
should be most happy to marry you, Lord Ralph. It is the answer to all my dreams.
Come with me; we must ask for my mother's consent."
Lord Ralph let out a great sigh
of relief. "Your mother? We must go to her now?" He looked up at her
beseechingly. "May I not kiss your tender lips first, and then we can speak to
your mother by and by, my love?"
"I can not let my lips touch
yours until this engagement has my mother's blessing," said Carmen demurely,
allowing a little blush to tinge her cheeks. "But until then you may kiss my
hand again." She allowed him to press his lips fervently to the backs of her
fingers, but as soon as he turned her hand over to press his lips upon her palm
she pulled it away. "Have patience my lord, all will be yours in time."
Lord Ralph gulped at the thought and struggled to his feet. Carmen held out her hand, and he pulled her gently up from the bench and led her back into the house. He did not think there should be any trouble with the contessa, after all -- he had Carmen's word that he was the answer to her dreams. How could he ever have doubted her? Emily Sidford would return from London to discover that she had indeed made a grave mistake in forsaking him. Other women understood his worth and he had found one that was ten times the value of Emily. She had none of the alluring charms that were soon to be his to enjoy. Just a little interview with the older lady and then he would finally be able to taste those sweet lips that tantalised him so. Carmen flashed his a warm smile as if she knew exactly what he was thinking.
The next two weeks passed in a whirlwind of activity. There wasn't a day that they were not promised to some excursion or evening's entertainment. Emily dreaded to think of what London was like at the height of the season, because Mrs. Rutherford continually apologised that at present it was so thin of company. The Warrington Ball was to be the culmination of Emily's visit, marking her time in London as a month complete. Olivia begged her to stay longer, but she had received a missive from home ordering her prompt return. General Sidford had finally seen the wisdom of entrenchment. Mrs. Sidford could not stress emphatically enough the need for Emily not to breathe a word of it to a soul. The move to Bath was to be for the General's health alone. It was purely a coincidence that a wealthy merchant had taken a strong liking to Barstow Hall and had begged for the honour of leasing it upon discovering that the owners were relocating to Bath for an indefinite period. Emily was required to help organise the family's removal. She suddenly felt very much like Anne Elliot, needed only to perform all the mundane and unpleasant tasks that her parents did not want to undertake.
They had not visited again with
Lucy Warrington or met anyone else from the family since the invitation. Olivia
and Emily had paid one morning visit only to discover that the ladies were not
at home, and they also returned from an outing another day to be told that Mrs.
and Miss Warrington had called while they were out. Emily had no idea whether
James would be attending the ball or not, but the hope of seeing him was
constantly on her mind.
She dressed with great care in
the new evening gown that her mother had insisted upon before her trip. It was
silk, the colour of fresh sage and shot through with russet threads that
glinted in the candlelight. Her hair was dressed in numerous plaits woven into
an intricate knot on the back of her head. A fine chain of peridots circled her
neck, and small teardrop earrings hung from her lobes. Her cheeks were
delicately flushed in anticipation, and she found that she was trembling as the
footman handed her up to the carriage to join Olivia who was wearing an
elaborate concoction of ivory taffeta, silver net, and seed pearls.
A stream of twinkling carriages
trailed through Grosvenor Square, the sound of the wheels upon the cobbles like
a waterfall cascading to the rocks below. The Warrington house was lit up from
top to bottom, and footmen lined the steps. It would have been quicker to
alight and approach on foot, but they waited in the carriage while the
concourse slowly drew them nearer to the door as the arriving guests were
ushered in. Emily soon found herself upon the stairs amid the glitter of
jewels, spangled shawls, feathers and lush fabrics. Vacantly smiling faces
surrounded her, and voices rose and fell in greeting and furtive comment. The
crowd slowly ascended in an opulent scented mass, and then entered the
ballroom, passed by the receiving line, and dispersed under the glittering
chandelier stars and gold encrusted ceiling.
Emily found herself holding her
hand out to Mr. Warrington, James' eldest brother. He was taller than James,
with a proud air and handsome face that was marred by a look of condescension.
Emily searched his face for something of the one she loved so well, but saw
nothing in the cold blue eyes or set social smile. Only the colour of his hair
and curve of his forehead were anything like those of James. She felt a little
stab of disappointment and continued down the line, greeting Mrs. Warrington,
Miss Anne Warrington, and her fiancé, Lord Branwick. His pale gooseberry eyes
rested upon her for a moment with disinterest before they were caught by
Olivia's more stunning presence.
There was only one more person
in the receiving line. Emily looked past her, and all her hopes drained away as
she realised James was not present. If he were there he would be standing in
his place with his family. She realised how much she had been counting on
seeing him and melancholy settled upon her like a cloak. The gilt walls of the
room started to close in, drawing together all the jumbled noises, bright
lights, and mingling fragrances until they almost overpowered her. The evening
held nothing of interest anymore. She moved to the last person and was suddenly
looking directly into warm green eyes so hauntingly familiar that it was
uncanny. They were a different shade, a smoky moss, but they held all the
warmth and humour of the ones that she loved. The girl had lighter hair, like
dark, rich honey, but her smile gave Emily the same feeling of comfort and
companionship that James' always had.
Emily collected herself when she
realised she must have been staring like a fool. She shook the proffered hand,
whispered a shy greeting and then moved over to the side to wait for Olivia and
her mother. They meandered through the growing throng until Olivia spied some
seats. In no time Mrs. Rutherford met some acquaintances and was deep in
conversation.
"So what do you think of it
all?" asked Olivia. "An amazing crush! It will be recorded as a great success
even though we shall have difficulty dancing in this crowded room. How did you
find the Warringtons?"
"I can hardly say," answered
Emily. "Mr. Warrington seems the gentleman, Miss Anne is very pretty, and Miss
Mary reminded me a lot of her brother."
"You have said very little, but
you have told me you feel as I do. Cousin Randolph was all smooth cordiality
with me, but to you, of whom he knows nothing, he was dismissive. He only aims
to please where he thinks there is something to gain. Quite the gentleman!
Cousin Anne is undeniably attractive, but she thinks very well of herself, and
has settled for a lord that she doesn't appear to care a fig for. Lord Branwick
seems a dull dog. Cousin Mary is very much like her brother. I would like to know
her better." Olivia looked at Emily expectantly, as if waiting for an answer,
but when none was forthcoming she continued. "It is too bad of Cousin James not
to be here! I don't suppose Mrs. Warrington passed my message on to him at all.
I am out of patience with her."
"Perhaps he is only coming for
the wedding," suggested Emily quietly.
"What good will that do?" asked
Olivia. "You will be gone away tomorrow!"
Emily blushed. "He would be
coming to see his sister married, not to see me."
"Emily, I am more than seven,"
said Olivia with candour. "I know you care for him and he for you. I wanted to
bring you together. I had such great hopes of this ball."
Emily turned her head away. She
could not trust herself to speak. It was one thing to keep her thoughts and
feelings to herself, but another to hear them spoken openly by her friend. She
admitted to herself that what Olivia said was true, but there was nothing to be
gained by discussing the matter. "If we are ever to meet again, it will
happen," she said as levelly as she could.
"It is difficult for me to sit
by and watch you suffer," said Olivia.
Emily smiled tremulously. "I am
truly fine -- do not worry about me. I want you to enjoy yourself tonight.
Please, dance."
As if Emily had conjured up a
partner for Olivia with some incantation, a gentleman was at her elbow the next
moment begging for the honour to lead her out. The next set Emily also found
herself solicited, so she danced too. What else is there to do to pass the time
at a ball? Keeping track of the steps and the movements of the dance distracted
her mind from other thoughts. Mary Warrington was also in the same set as
Emily, and when the dance was over they smiled at one another. Mary followed
her from the floor and asked if she could join her.
"Miss Sidford, my sister Lucy
says that you are from Worcestershire and are acquainted with my brother," said
Mary as she sat in the empty seat beside Emily.
"I am. He . . . he has told me
much about you. Your letters always gave him great pleasure." Emily tried not
to look conscious, but she was certain that she was blushing.
"Yes I plagued him with them
every week! Were you well acquainted? Did you attend the dinners at the
parsonage that he seemed to enjoy so much?" Mary smiled warmly at her.
"Yes," said Emily, and then
realising more was expected of her than a one-word answer, she continued. "Ruth
Chesterton is my particular friend and I dine with her often. Your brother's
company is much missed . . . at the parsonage. We were all sorry that he left .
. . but I understand that he was needed at his brother's estate. He is a very
good steward."
"Did my brother talk to you
about his work?" asked Mary.
"Yes he did. I . . . found it
most interesting. I learned so many things that I had never even imagined
before. He -- he loves his work very much."
"Yes he does," said Mary,
looking at her companion quizzically. "I think he is working too hard though.
He was looking very haggard when I last saw him."
"He is not ill?" asked Emily in
concern. A feeling of dismay swept through her. She had lately been thinking of
her own loneliness and not of the pain he must be going through.
"No -- he is not ill -- but there
is something troubling him," said Mary. "I think that he misses Wortham very
much -- and the friends he left behind."
Emily could not meet Mary's
eyes. She looked down at her lap and fingered the fabric of her gown. "I am
sorry to hear that -- but I do know that his . . . his friends feel the same."
Mary looked at Emily's long
fingers and had a sudden inspiration. "Do you play, Miss Sidford?"
Startled by the sudden change of
topic, Emily's eyes flew up, and met Mary's soft gaze. "Yes I do. Why do you
ask?"
"It was just something that my
brother said -- that he had heard the piano played quite beautifully, and I
thought it might be you. He will be coming to London for Anne's wedding. Will
you be able to attend?"
Emily's heart began to pound in
her breast. The nervous trembling that she had felt in the carriage returned.
She made a quick resolve and opened her mouth to speak, hoping that her voice
would not fail her. "Unfortunately I must return to Barstow tomorrow. My family
is going to live in Bath and I need to return home to help prepare. Could you --
could you give your brother a message from me? Could you tell him that our
friend who was engaged to be married . . . has broken the engagement? I think
he would like to know."
Mary was intrigued. She wished
to ask so many questions, but she realised she could not. She had little doubt
who the friend really was, and she knew that she had just been given a key to
her brother's happiness, a key she couldn't wait to use. Her heart warmed to
the girl she had just met, knowing her to be James' choice. She liked what she
saw -- the simple elegance of her dress, her earnest grey eyes, her evident
interest in James -- the fact that she appreciated him as a steward. Oh, he had
been very sly, not telling his sister about Miss Sidford. His letters had shown
his happiness, nothing more. And then something had happened to drive him away.
That much was obvious. The pain that she had seen in his eyes was also
reflected in the grey eyes that now held hers with a look of entreaty. Mary
smiled reassuringly. "I will be sure to tell him at the earliest opportunity.
You may count on me."
Emily sighed. "Thank you."
Reluctantly Mary took her leave. It was Anne's pre-wedding ball and she had to do her part as a member of the family, talking to all the old dowagers in the room and dancing with whomever asked her. She looked back at Miss Sidford, sitting bravely in the turmoil of the crowded room, looking like she belonged rather on a garden bench, and would infinitely prefer it. Mary would prefer it too -- to sit with her in the garden, or take her running through the meadow. She hoped that before too long she would have the chance to meet her again and get to know her like a sister.
Emily leant her head against the
squabs of her carriage as it rumbled along the great road from London to
Worcester. Alice was asleep by her side, wrapped in the new shawl she had
purchased at the Pantheon Bazaar. The countryside flashed by the window that
Emily's face was turned towards, but she saw nothing of the hawthorn blooming
white in the hedges, or the fields lush with young crops. Her eyes were focused
on the space between the window and the world, and the hoof beats of the team
set up a taunting rhythm that only served to remind her that she was being
taken further and further away from James. He would be in London in two days,
and where would she be? Packing trunks? Going over inventories of silver and
linen?
Deep inside she held tightly to
a little kernel of hope. Occasionally she would let it sprout and grow into a
full-fledged image of James coming to claim her now he knew that she was free.
Would Mary remember to pass on her message to James with all the excitement of
the wedding? Would he understand her meaning? She could not have been more
explicit; in fact it had taken all the courage she could summon to say what she
had said. It was only the comfort that she had felt in Mary's presence that had
enabled her to say as much as she had done. She thought of Mary - her smile -
the look in her eyes, and immediately the image was replaced by one of James as
she had last seen him, her name on his lips, and the pain of parting in his
eyes. The carriage creaked and jostled and the wheels continued revolving,
bumping every so often on a rut or heave in the hard packed surface of the
road.
Mary waited long into the
evening for James to arrive. She wanted to impart the message from Miss Sidford
before the morning's wedding, but as the hands on the drawing room clock slowly
turned she heard no knock on the door. No quick step in the hall. She had all
but given him up, and had drifted off into a restless sleep in an armchair by
the fire, when the door opened and he tiptoed to her side.
"You have not been waiting up
for me, have you Mary?" he said as he kissed her forehead. "Go to bed -- you
will have a long day tomorrow."
"I had something particular I
wanted to tell you," said Mary, stifling a yawn.
"Nothing is so important it
cannot wait until the morning," said James. "I am worn from my ride and need to
sleep as soon as can be if I am not to disgrace Anne at her wedding."
"Promise me we will speak
privately at the earliest opportunity."
"I see that it means a great
deal to you. As soon as is possible you will have my undivided attention -- now
we both must sleep."
Mary went upstairs on her
brother's arm, and gave him a hug as he bid her goodnight at her door. The next
morning she hoped to get through her dressing quickly and join him in his
chamber, but Lucy was in and out fluttering about, and begging her help with
the bride as soon as she was ready.
Sitting in the church amid all
the pomp and splendour, Mary vowed that she would have a simple wedding, and
then she laughed at herself when she realised that this was the first time she
had actually ever contemplated getting married. Offering to marry a fat lord
for James' benefit did not count. The other difference would be her choice of
bridegroom. She could never marry a staid older gentleman with greying temples
and protuberant eyes just for his position in society. Actually Lord Branwick
appeared to be a kind, if somewhat boring man, and Mary felt sorry for him to
be saddled with someone as superficial and frivolous as Anne. She also worried
about his young daughter who was so seriously walking down the aisle in the
bride's entourage, carrying a basket of rose petals. The little girl needed a
mother to love her, and her father was marrying someone who barely acknowledged
her existence.
After the wedding, the entire
congregation of the church made its way to Grosvenor Square for the wedding
breakfast. Mary ate a small amount and then searched out her brother. He was in
one of the salons, nodding politely to a brace of be-feathered matrons, but he
quickly excused himself as soon as Mary caught his eye.
Olivia had been just about to
make her way through the crowds to speak to James when she noticed him leaving
the room with his sister. She had meant to tell him about Emily and Ralph, and
all that had happened at Barstow since his precipitate departure, and was
dismayed to see him go. The trip to London was not going as she had planned; Emily
was now gone, and James was being elusive. She sat down and allowed herself to
be included in a conversation that she had great trouble following as her
attention was constantly turned towards the door.
Mary ensured that the library
was empty before she led her brother deep within the room. Her eyes searched
his face. It still had that drawn look of suppressed pain. How she hoped what
she had to say would relieve that expression.
"Is something troubling you,
Mary?" asked James with some concern.
"Not at all, James," she
replied. "Actually I think what I have to tell you will please you immensely."
"You are being very mysterious,"
said her brother. "What can it be?"
"I recently made the
acquaintance of a friend of yours from Worcestershire."
"Do you mean Cousin Olivia? I
saw her at the wedding, but I have not had the opportunity to speak with her
yet. How did you like her? Initially she struck me as being manipulative and I
could not trust her, but her stay at Wortham seems to have improved her."
"Could it be the company she
kept?" asked Mary with a smile.
"If you are thinking there is
some sort of . . . attachment between her and I you are barking up the wrong
tree. I was referring to other friends she made there."
"So was I," said Mary smugly. James
looked at her intently, an odd expression on his face, and she knew she had his
complete attention. "She had a friend staying with her. She came to our ball,
but unfortunately had to leave London the next day. I liked her very much."
"Who . . . was it Em . . .?" He
broke off in confusion, looking very conscious. The colour was rising in his
face. "Stop teasing me and tell me who it was!" he said, looking away.
"It was Miss Sidford," said Mary
gently.
James turned back and gazed at
his sister. There was a soft glow in his eyes. "And I was not there! How did
she look? Did she ask after me?"
"She looked as you do, in pain
but intent to hide it from the world. She gave me a message for you."
Her first words hit him like a
shock, but the next drove all other considerations from his mind. "She did?
What did she say?"
The air was tense between them.
Mary watched James wet his lips and take a deep breath as he looked at her in
anticipation. "She said to be sure to let you know that your friend who was
engaged has broken off the engagement."
"Then she has done it!" he
cried, and he leaned back in his chair and heaved a great sigh. "She is free of
him at last. Now I no longer have to worry that she will throw her life away
for family obligations." He stared at the fire, lost in thought.
"What are you going to do about
it?" asked Mary.
"What do you mean?"
"You are not going to hide
yourself in Bedfordshire any longer, are you?"
"Mary, you do not understand. I
cannot possibly do anything else. I am a steward. The General would laugh at my
suit. And I could not conceivably offer for her when I have nothing but myself
to give. I vowed once that I would never marry for financial gain. I could not
ask her to give up everything for an uncertain future." His eyes looked deep
into the fire.
"James, you are not thinking."
"I have thought long and hard
about this. You must know that it is not easy for me. It is burning me inside
so much so that if I were to grasp that flame, I would feel no worse for it."
"You love her very much, don't
you?" said Mary.
James raised his eyes to her.
They were filled with longing. "More than anyone or anything."
"Does she love you?"
"I do not know. She cares for
me, and is concerned for my welfare. I know that much. She values my friendship."
"Let me ask you this," said
Mary, taking her brother's hands in hers. "It is very noble of you to not want
to marry to make your fortune, but if she does love you, would it really
be fair to ask her to give up her own happiness just for the sake of your
pride?"
James looked at his sister
dumbfounded.
"James, Miss Sidford's eyes
warmed when she spoke of you. When I told her how you have been working
yourself to the death, they reflected your pain. It was not easy for her to
give me that message, but she was desperate that you knew. Why? To set your
mind at ease about her future? I think not. She did it because she loves you
and misses you and wants you back where you belong."
"Mary, how did you ever come to
be so wise?" asked James.
"I know you so well. It is much
easier for me to believe someone would be in love with you, than for you to. I
am more likely to wonder how anyone could help but love you."
James kissed both her cheeks.
His face was alight with hope. "You are the best sister ever," he said
reverently. "I don't know what I have done to deserve you. Now, will you help
me escape from this place as soon as possible? I'm going up to change and pack
my bag; can you see that Sophocles is ready in fifteen minutes?"
"If it means that I have to go
down to the stables in this gown, I will still do it," laughed Mary.
"Let us hope it does not come to
that," said James. "The rustling of your skirts and the sparkling of your
jewels might scare the horses!"
Just over fifteen minutes later,
James met Mary by the back entrance of the townhouse. He was dressed for riding
and carried his portmanteau.
"I had no need to go to the
stables," joked Mary. "The groom was most helpful."
"Wish me luck," said James,
smiling crookedly. "Tell everybody that I was called away on urgent business.
It is no more than the truth."
Mary gave him a fierce hug.
"Give my regards to Miss Sidford. Tell her I look forward to knowing her
better."
"I hope your confidence is not
misplaced," sighed James, but the eager expression upon his face told her all
she really needed to know. Gone was the bruised look about his eyes. His
features were relaxed, his smile natural -- not strained. James slid through the
door and ran down the steps to the tiny cobbled courtyard where the groom was
waiting with his horse. Mary blew him a kiss as he mounted Sophocles and guided
him out into the back lane.
He wound his way through the
byways of London until he found the high street. Soon the jostling city streets
were left behind and it was just James and Sophocles together on the open road.
His mind was racing along paths he had never before let it traverse. Why hadn't
he ever looked at the situation from this perspective before? It had taken Mary
to open his eyes. Suffering the pain of separation himself was one thing, but
causing Emily the same pain was something he had wanted to avoid. Could what
Mary said be true? Could Emily really love him? His pride over her fortune had
been just as bad as his earlier selfishness in continuing their friendship.
Together they rode, man and
horse, every mile that they covered bringing them closer to Worcestershire, and
Emily. Sophocles kept up an unflaggingly even pace without any guidance from
James who was concerned only with his destination and not how he was getting
there. It was as if Sophocles knew exactly where they were going and who they
were rushing to, and his need was just as powerful as his master's.
© 2002, 2003 Copyright held
by the author.