A Gentleman's Daughter: Her Choice (16 page)

“But he does not know, you would not let me tell him…”

“Child, he is a man of experience.” Mr. Wilcox grasped her hands, pressing them between his own.

Cecilia’s throat constricted. “Then why has he not written you? You would not object his writing to me, surely?”

“He has not. I did not wish to tell you…he has other worries just now.” Cecilia frowned, her eyes pleading. “There have been accusations…”

“Of what?” Cecilia studied her father, who looked into the distance.

“That he is a radical, encouraging his tenants to agitate, perhaps funding the men who rioted. Even that he is a traitor, who assisted French spies during the war.”

“No, he would not…” Cecilia gripped her throat before hugging her arms to her chest. He placed a hand on her shoulder.

“I do not believe it either, child. But such matters must be investigated. He--”

Cecilia faced her father. “He needs me, Papa. Let me go to him, please.”

He frowned, his eyes hard. “You are neither his wife, nor his intended. There is naught you can do for him but pray the truth prevails.”

“Someone could accompany me…Polly, Wil, or Mrs. Partridge…even Aunt Higham. I could be of comfort, he must need--” The charges were serious ones, Cecilia knew. Now the wars were over, men, as her father had said, would find enemies here at home. And how easy to make them with so much unrest among workers and tenant farmers, as well as the men returning from the war.

“He has his family and friends. He has not written. I will write and renew my invitation, but that is all. You may not write to him.”

Cecilia studied him again. He had not said…

“I know you well, child. I forbid you from seeing him either. You are not a girl anymore.”

She grimaced.

“I know I call you so, but you are not. You are a woman and you must learn your responsibilities if you wish to enjoy freedoms. I thought you observant enough to understand.”

“But, Papa, he does not know how I feel--”

“Love is a powerful force, both for good or ill. When I am sure you are ready and he is worthy, there will be time enough for you both to speak of such. If he loves you, he will wait.”

“But--” Cecilia twisted her hands. He could not understand.

“No more. You know how you must act?”

“Yes, Papa.” She sighed and they rode to Middleton House, where Cecilia would dine that night.

After dinner, Cecilia begged her aunt to send some word to Mr. Thornhill, but she too refused. Soon Aunt Higham excused herself to join Cecilia’s parents, the Taylors, Mr. Drake, and Polly in a hand of cards. Cecilia leaned against the window frame, attempting to stare out into the night. Only her own frowning, worried face reflected back. She pushed the curtain over it.

“Ceci, what troubles you?” Wil said. He placed a hand on her shoulder. His use of her girlhood name deepened the worry lines in her forehead. She had made him concerned for her.

She smiled and faced him. “Nothing.”

“I know you better than that.”

“Has Papa said naught to you?”

“I have not asked.”

Wil rarely pried into other people’s affairs, unless his concern was provoked. Cecilia studied his large brown eyes, calm yet inquiring. “Papa refuses to allow me to write Mr. Thornhill.”

“Do you miss him so much? You have known him so short a time…I confess I had thought you liked ‘Ret. I had hoped when you were older and he tired of travelling, the two of you would…I prefer to keep my family and friends near. But I am mistaken. Perhaps I do not know you so well as I thought.” Wil’s disappointed smile tore Cecilia’s composure further, soon the rent would widen beyond repair.

“I…I do like him. He is our friend.” She fought the burn of her cheeks and faced the window again. “Have you heard from him?”

“No, but I hope he will join us in a few weeks’ time. It may be our last visit. George Allenby plans to ride over as well. Papa’s wish for a full house may be satisfied, since your Mr. Thornhill will also arrive in two weeks’ time.”

“Yes, and our uncle and cousins.” Now Cecilia could truly smile and hooked her arm through her brother’s.

“I hope you and Felicity will not run us all to ground with your wild antics as you used to.” He chuckled. “Remember when Felicity fooled Mr. Drake into thinking she was you and told him she wished to marry him someday?”

“Do not remind me. Thank goodness Miss Taylor has taken him, or he would never forget it. Felicity best behave or I shall become most unladylike.”

“I understand she has not improved.” Wil’s eyes twinkled. “Do not let her get you into too much trouble.”

“With Mr. Thornhill here, I shan’t pay her any mind.”

Wil faced her, his expression changed to concern. “Do not be quick to give your heart, Ceci. Best to be sure through long acquaintance and experience.”

“I begin to believe you and Papa wish me a maid forever.” She smiled, but her serious tone told her intent.

“Nonsense. Papa is sensible. And I am selfish.”

They laughed. “That you are. Perhaps Polly can reform you.”

“No, she is too kind to point out my faults.”

“True. I suppose it falls to me, then.”

“As you say. Do not falter at your post.”

Cecilia saluted him. “I won’t fail you.” He kissed her forehead. No, she wouldn’t fail.

Chapter Fifteen

T
he next two weeks went by in a flurry of activity. Middleton House and the parsonage had to be readied for new occupants and then Aunt Higham returned to London after a large dinner party, enjoyed by the entire neighborhood. Soon after, the arrival of Cecilia’s cousins was an enjoyment to her, indeed, to her whole family.

She and Felicity shared high spirits and a dark beauty, though Felicity was lither than Cecilia, while Jane was like her cousin Wil, who had the Wilcox looks: light brown coarse hair, fair skin, and fine form. Reverend Joseph Wilcox, more serious than his elder brother, was still an amiable, even-tempered man, like all the Wilcox men; his wife and daughter, Jane, were similar in temperament, though they were more subdued. This quality suited Mrs. Wilcox, for she gained two good listeners, though she, Jane, Mrs. Joseph Wilcox, and her cousin, Mrs. Lisette Carter, were often busy at the parsonage, setting to rights all that had been neglected by others more careless than themselves.

Mrs. Carter’s appearance was unexpected and while Cecilia was at first struck by her stunning beauty--statuesque, with raven hair, striking blue eyes, even features, and a charming, graceful air--she soon prickled with wariness at Mrs. Carter’s cold appraisal of all around her, as well as her cousins’ apparent dislike of her. Cecilia’s mother also frowned on Mrs. Carter, but Cecilia dismissed that, for her mother would not favor anyone with a French mother and more beauty than her own relations.

In the drawing room the evening after their arrival, Mrs. Carter sat with Cecilia, Jane, and Felicity as the three discussed the upcoming house party.

“I cannot abide being alone in my flirtations, cousin,” Felicity declared with an arch expression directed at Cecilia. “Surely as you and this Mr. Thornhill are not engaged, you may indulge with me in a bit of sport?”

Cecilia laughed, but stopped when Mrs. Carter spoke in a cool tone.

“I feel I should tell you, dear girls, that Mr. Thornhill has a jealous temper. I hope Miss Wilcox will not be over friendly with the other gentlemen, or she may displease him. I can see she thinks very highly of him and I would not wish to see her disappointed.”

“Thank you for your advice, but I do not think my cousin will act in any way which might give cause for any gentleman to be so displeased with her,” Jane replied in an even, yet firm, tone.

Cecilia gripped her hands together, for she did not remember anyone mentioning Mrs. Carter had ever met Mr. Thornhill.

“Oh, I meant nothing of the kind. I have seen your cousin is much like your sister, quite innocent, of course, but perhaps apt to be indecorous. I know Mr. Thornhill well and I only wish to help our young friend,” Mrs. Carter said with a smile; it was a smile men found charming but sent a chill through Cecilia.

“I am sure we all appreciate your concern,” Jane replied and they fell silent.

Hateful words lodged in Cecilia’s throat. What a condescending woman, to speak of her as though she wasn’t present. Mrs. Carter rose and glided across the room to join Cecilia’s parents, aunt, and uncle.

Felicity snorted. “Pay her no mind, Cecilia. Mama cannot see it, but Jane and I know well enough Mrs. Carter’s true nature.”

“Perhaps she has changed,” Jane said, though her frown belied her words.

“You saw her with the men we met on our way from London. She is beautiful, but like some antique figurine: cool, detached, yet captivating. She is all too human in her love of clothes, money, and jewels. I wonder why she is here, rather than in London.”

Cecilia’s stomach hollowed. Perhaps Mrs. Carter had designs on one of their male guests.

“Do not fret,” Jane said, patting Cecilia’s hand. “No man worth our notice would attach himself to her.”

From what Cecilia had recently observed of men, she was unsure of the truth of her cousin’s words. A woman as beautiful and charming as Mrs. Carter could capture the attention of nearly any man. Cecilia bit her lip.

***

Cecilia and Felicity took to each other right away and spent many an hour giggling over Felicity’s adventures, either in a corner of the drawing room, or out on their daily rambles. Everyone’s days soon fell into a pattern: the two Mrs. Wilcox, Mrs. Carter, and Jane stayed inside talking and plying their needles, when they were not otherwise occupied at the parsonage or around town, the Misters Wilcox about their business, while Felicity and Cecilia went their own way, often doing just what they had when they had been last together, mere girls of seven and eight. Active though the two were, wading in the stream, walking, for Felicity was no horsewoman, to town or about the countryside, or playing with the dogs on the lawn, they had ample time to talk. Felicity had related most of her adventures in India, including how she had sometimes posed as a boy, which her slim figure made possible. So, as they ambled about the wood behind Middleton House one clear, crisp afternoon a few days after their arrival, Felicity began to question her cousin about her life.

“Cecilia, I am surprised you talk of becoming engaged. Do you not enjoy the freedom of being young and unattached? I certainly have no wish to be married in the next few years, if at all, and we are of an age.”

“I have not felt as free as you, Felicity, nor have I been. Surely you must see how different things are here than what you have described of India. Besides, I love Mr. Thornhill and the life we will have at Lionel Hall,” Cecilia responded, having already taken Felicity into her confidence, at least in regards to Mr. Thornhill.

“Is he your first love? Those usually do not last, you know.”

Cecilia laughed at her cousin’s wise tone. “Not exactly. No, I suppose he is not. That is one reason I know I love him well enough to marry.”

“I am glad to hear it. How many beaux have you had? I suppose not many, considering how few young gentlemen appear to be in your neighborhood. Though Oxford is very close and you said you had been to London last year as well as this?”

“Yes, but I was not out last year.” At this, Felicity snorted. “Perhaps that would not stop you, cousin, but it did me. Besides, I was in love then, but the gentleman did not know it.”

“Does he know now? Is it Mr. Allenby or Mr. Cateret? Then we could have some excitement if one should fight Mr. Thornhill over you!” Felicity laughed heartily, even more so when Cecilia blushed deeply.

“Do not say such things! You will not tell anyone, will you?”

“No, of course not. That is the one thing Jane and I have in common, we do not tell tales on people. Well, unless they need to be told,” Felicity said with a sly smile. “Not yours, surely. Go on.”

“I thought myself in love with Mr. Cateret, but though I still care for him, it is not what I feel for Mr. Thornhill.”

“Do not be so dreamy-eyed, Cecilia, I find it quite irritating. Well, tell me about it, then. There must be a story.”

So Cecilia told her cousin most of what had happened the last two months, which, while it had often been overwhelming, had certainly been the most exciting time in Cecilia’s life. At least it gave her something interesting to tell Felicity, whose tales of adventure made Cecilia feel her life had been somewhat dull, though she had been happy in it all the same, save her mother’s interference and having to act a proper young lady when she did not wish to.

“My, my,” Felicity said when Cecilia finished her tale. “There is sure to be some trouble, if things stand as you say. I suppose I shall not be so bored after all with so many players to observe in your little drama.”

“It is no play to me, Felicity,” Cecilia admonished with a frown.

“More’s the pity. I hope you will not monopolize Mr. Cateret, for I like a good flirtation myself, and Mr. Allenby, if he has not changed, is not the type and your Mr. Thornhill will be too sober by half, I am sure.”

Cecilia could not help but laugh at her cousin’s boldness. “No, he is not. If you like a flirt, then Mr. Cateret will please you. But do not say my Thornhill is dull or I shall call you out,” she said, grabbing a slender stick to mock duel with Felicity, who joined the game with verve.

Upon returning to Middleton House, Cecilia and Felicity, in addition to their aching bellies from so much laughter, were quite flushed and disarrayed, causing comment from Jane and Mrs. Carter, who were also taking in the sunny day.

“You two are no better than you were ten years ago. You had best go and change for dinner before our mothers see you.”

“I hope you do not let gentlemen see you so, ladies. Especially a meticulous man would find it most displeasing.”

“I think I know what pleases the gentlemen of my acquaintance, thank you, Mrs. Carter.” Cecilia tried to smile archly, though she was disturbed by Mrs. Carter’s implication.

“Do you? Please pardon me, I was only trying to help. I do have, after all, more intimate experience with gentlemen than you,” Mrs. Carter replied with half a smile and a flash in her eye.

Cecilia inclined her head, but was upset by this insinuation of Mrs. Carter’s. She could guess what Mrs. Carter meant, though she would not have understood the inference a few months ago. Cecilia had never given much thought to the relations between men and women until the last year or so and even now she knew she did not always understand the talk of affairs and gossip that attended such; there was too much double talk and innuendo for Cecilia’s naïve nature.

That evening, Cecilia enjoyed a pleasant conversation with her cousin Jane; Felicity was in one of her observant moods and did not wish to talk. Jane, though more subdued than her sister, still possessed a keen mind and lively wit which delighted Cecilia, while Jane’s calm manner and maternal concern put her at ease, so like Polly Jane was. Now Cecilia heard about Jane’s experiences in India, which were very different than Felicity’s. Jane expressed her pleasure at being back in England, her true home, especially so near Oxford, where she had spent so many of the first ten years of her life. Like Cecilia, she enjoyed country life, though for different reasons, and was also happy to see its effects on her mother, whose health was quickly recovering.

Cecilia soon discovered Jane and Felicity had more than the one similarity Felicity owned, for Jane expressed her hesitation to marry, if she had the opportunity, for she too did not have a very high opinion of most men. Though they esteemed their father and the Wilcox uncles, they found their brother too zealous, priggish in Felicity’s terms, and other men, while they might enjoy their company, not companions of a lifetime. Neither had seen much, either, outside their own parent’s union, to recommend marriage as an agreeable state, if one’s position did not necessitate it.

Cecilia, who had always thought highly of men in general, more so than she did many women, or at least this was the case in her own family, was a little surprised, though she was used to such talk from her cousin Amelia.

Jane patted her hand. “But I am happy for you and look forward to meeting Mr. Thornhill.”

Cecilia smiled. “He is the best of men, next to Papa and Wil.”

“I suppose I might marry one as amiable and easy as my cousin Wil, but, other than your father, I doubt more such men exist, who are not already wed! Even so, such a man would quickly be snapped up by some martial female.” Jane laughed.

“Not Wil. Polly is just as even tempered and sweet as you and Wil.”

“Thank you for the comparison. I agree about Polly. We are already good friends, as we were those many years ago. I have enjoyed her letters over the years.”

“Yes, between the two of you, the whole neighborhood will be well taken care of, I am sure,” Cecilia said, a merry twinkle in her eye, as Jane laughed again.

“Certainly, for we will let all the children run wild like you and Felicity, then help them get out of trouble or bandage scraped knees while papas are unawares and mamas excuse us because we are such genteel young ladies. And we will coax all the young men of the neighborhood to attend church and give up drink and smoke. Oh, what do gooders you would have us be!” Jane jested, smiling while Cecilia giggled.

“I did not mean that, Jane. Only that you and Polly both take prodigious care of others, though you will not own it. However, you will both have to keep apace if you wish to surpass Mrs. Partridge.”

“So I surmise. With all the strife in this world, I do not see we need surpass that good lady, but only do what we can for others,” Jane said, done with the joking.

“Of course you are correct. You three put me to shame, certainly, but then I have not your goodness. I will try to be a good wife to Mr. Thornhill. If I can do so I shall be happy.” Cecilia blushed.

“I confess some surprise at your choices, for I had thought you more like Felicity, who does not desire such a quiet domestic life. However, I know you have always expressed satisfaction with your country pursuits.”

“I have always been happy out of doors. I did once believe I wanted to travel and have adventures like Felicity, but my two journeys to London quickly disabused me of those notions. I have no taste for city life or travel, in which Mr. Thornhill agrees.”

“I hope you will be happy,” Jane said, as they continued their conversation until they retired. Cecilia was quite content as she went to bed that night, though she woke several times, suddenly nervous to see Mr. Thornhill again after so long a separation.