Joan Smith (20 page)

His wife and daughter exchanged a meaningful look. “I’ll speak to ‘Relia,” Marie said, and the two of them went in search of her.

It was Marie who did the talking. “I knew it!” she said. “I warned Nick, but he wouldn’t listen to me.”

“I think it’s sweet,” Aurelia said.

“Simpleton! What if Nick is diddled out of his inheritance? He has scarcely
a
feather to fly with of his own. Only seven hundred acres, and a little house with thirty rooms. And he hasn’t the wits to make use of his connections. Letting Willie waltz off to Paris on a posting that should, by rights, be his. He knows you are dying to go to Paree. I would not sit still for it if I were you, ‘Relia. Upon my word, I would not.”

“She has her heart set on a wedding,” Mrs. Townsend said, looking across the room at Nick in an appraising way. “We have spent over a hundred pounds on the gown.”

“It need not be wasted,” Marie said, her eyes turning to Willie, who came sidling forward.

“This is a bit of a shocker for you,” he said. “I had no idea this was in the wind.”

“Then you are a bigger fool than I took you for,” Marie said, in her anger. “I warned Nick—”

“He can be headstrong,” Willie said.

“He can be a demmed fool, but that is no need for us to be.”

Nick watched the group from his uncle’s side. After Goderich and Mrs. Lipton were installed in chairs at the edge of the room to watch the dancing, he joined the Townsend ladies, who greeted him with a noticeable chill.

At midnight the wassailers came around with their bowls trimmed in evergreen garlands and sang in the New Year.

“Here’s to our horse and to his right ear,

God send our master a happy New Year;

A happy New Year as e’er he did see,

With my wassailing bowl I drink to thee!”

* * * *

After they had left, champagne was served and the New Year greeted with the old traditional songs, sung in a circle. Goderich and Mrs. Lipton were given special chairs in the middle of the circle. Goderich smiled and tapped time with his toe, and while he didn’t join in the singing, it was obvious that he enjoyed hearing it.

Jane stood across the circle from Nick. She had thought that if anything would bring this wedding to a halt, the shocking announcement of Goderich’s marriage might do it. She had a fair notion it was the likelihood of Nick’s inheriting the title that was his main attraction to the Townsends.

It was odd, too, that Nick was taking it so well. Surely he ought to be feeling just a little put out at this engagement. But he obviously wasn’t. He looked as happy as he had the evening he arrived with his fiancée on his arm, just over a week ago. Was it the possibility of losing out on Clareview that had finally resigned him to marrying his heiress? He was being more attentive to Aurelia than usual, and hardly glanced at herself at all. That easily he had forgotten those magical moments in the conservatory. It was all very confusing.

A late supper was served after the champagne and singing. Goderich was too fagged to join in; he was escorted upstairs, but Mrs. Lipton remained. Jane sat with her and Pelham, trying to join in the merriment, but her heart wasn’t in it. When Nick suggested more dancing after supper, she excused herself and went upstairs with her aunt Emily.

“I had no idea you and Goderich were so close,” Jane said.

“I doubt anything will come of it, Jane. He took the notion he wanted to become engaged, and I went along to keep him happy. It is unlikely I will ever be removing to Clareview, if that is what distresses you.”

“I am not particularly distressed, just surprised. Shocked, in fact.”

“You weren’t the only one! Did you see the neighbors stare! Who did take it very well is Mr. Town-send. I hope—feared he might take a pet, but it is no such a thing. I heard him speaking to Nick just before we left. He was saying something about raising hops here at Clareview, and inquiring about the local hunt. It seems the wedding will take place after all.”

Jane listened and said, “Was that what you hoped to accomplish by this engagement? To get Aurelia to beg off?”

“We had to do something, but it didn’t work. It seems Nick is stuck with her. Well, he has made his bed, and now he must lie in it. I’m sorry, Jane.” She gave Jane’s fingers a consoling squeeze.

Jane was already inured to the fact that she had lost Nick. She had only one question to ask. “Was your engagement to Goderich Nick’s idea?”

“I hope you don’t think it was mine! I stood out against it as long as I could, but when I realized how very much he wanted out of this marriage, I had to give in. I fear there is no hope of Aurelia calling off. Townsend has decided he wants to grow hops here at Clareview, and won’t let her.”

That was Jane’s little consolation. Nick didn’t want to marry Aurelia. She thought he wanted to marry her. Why could he not have delayed his offer to Aurelia until he had come home for Christmas? Too late now .

“Leave it until morning, Pillar,” Nick said.

The neighbors had gone home, the guests who were staying at Clareview had gone to bed, and most of the party debris had been cleared away. Nick just wanted to sit alone in front of the grate and brood.

The announcement of Goderich’s marriage had been his last hope. Refusing to get married at St. George’s Church and honeymoon in Paris hadn’t done it. Making Willie as eligible as time allowed hadn’t done it. The devil of it was that he knew Aurelia didn’t want to marry him any more than he wanted to marry her. Townsend, of course, was the crux of it. Nick had observed from a little distance the hurried discussions between the Townsends when Goderich’s marriage was announced. He had seen Aurelia’s sulks and the dark looks Marie shot in his direction—and he had seen Edward Town-send shake his head adamantly.

Townsend had taken the notion that he wanted to raise hops at Clareview. He spoke of “snapping up” another few thousand acres nearby. Nick had said, without being asked, that he had no intention of running a brewery.

“I should say not, lad! You are too noble a specimen to stick behind a desk. We can put you to better use.”

Put him to use, as if he were one of those donkeys in the barn, eating its head off. A long future of life with the Townsend ménage paraded before his eyes. He and Horace, slipping off for a bottle in the library. Oh God! He wished he were back in Spain. And worst of all was losing Jane. Happiness dangled an inch before him, like a shimmering mirage, unattainable. He extinguished all the lamps and sat in the dark, gazing into the grate, seeing her flaming hair dancing in the ever-changing pattern of the fire, and her eyes staring at him accusingly.

For a long time he sat, while the level of wine in the bottle beside him lowered. Finally he dozed off. When he awoke, the fire had dwindled to embers that glowed through the white ash. By their dim light, he drew out his watch and read the hour. Four o’clock. He wondered what had awoken him. The chiming of the long-case clock, perhaps. He rose, yawned, and stretched. Wide awake now, he decided he wanted a drink of brandy, to induce sleep, for he knew it would be a long, hard night once he was in his bed. He would take the decanter from the dining room upstairs with him.

From the dining room, he heard a whispering sound, followed by a snicker of laughter. It came from the grand staircase. Who could it be? Then a lower voice spoke softly—a man’s voice. The servants sneaking downstairs to snitch a bottle of wine? He didn’t mind that, but if one of the footmen was carrying on an illicit romance, he had best give him a lecture. “Marry the wench if you love her, fool!” he would say.

He trod softly along the hallway toward the staircase as two dark forms slipped into the Gold Saloon. That was really too encroaching! If the servants were using the best saloon for clandestine romance, he would turn them off. There, limned in a ray of moonlight and the soft glow from the grate, he discerned the tall, bulky form of a man dressed in a greatcoat. Willie! Now, what the devil
...

He looked at the woman, recognized the high poke bonnet of his fiancée, and froze to the spot. She was wearing a pelisse, and carrying a bandbox. It couldn’t be—surely it was not an elopement! As he watched, with his heart pounding in joyful hope, Aurelia went forward and placed a note on the mantel of the fireplace.

“I don’t know what Papa will say, Willie,” she said.

“Your papa is a realist. What can he say, when the deed is done?”

“Marie will calm him down. She has promised to have my gowns sent to Paree. Oh, Willie, I feel so sorry for poor Nick. His heart will be broken.”

“Hearts mend, my darling. All’s fair in love and war. Come, the carriage is waiting. I told my groom to have it at the door at four on the dot.”

He took her hand to lead her into the hallway and out the door, while Nick stood with a smile stretching from ear to ear. He could not suppress his joy. One victorious peal of laughter rang out. He wanted to run upstairs to awaken Jane and tell her the news. As this was ineligible, he went to the mantel and picked up the note. He read it by the dying embers of the grate. “Dear Nick: Willie and I are going to London to be married tomorrow by special license as he has to leave so soon for Paris.”

Not Gretna Green? He was surprised, but delighted that no possibility of chasing after them was necessary. They would be in London by daybreak, and hopefully married before anyone could reach them. “I am sorry, but I love him too much to let him leave. I hope you will try to understand. Regards, Aurelia Townsend. P.S. We will be pleased if you would visit us sometime in Paris.”

He replaced the note and just sat in the chair, smiling and uttering silent thanks to whatever kind deity had heard his prayer and answered it.

Abovestairs, Jane was in her bed, but she was not asleep. She had lain in the darkness with dry eyes, thinking of the future as she stared across the room at the rectangle of lighter gray against the darker wall, formed by moonlight seeping through the window curtains. After what had happened in the conservatory, she had given up all thought of marrying Pelham. He had not pursued his first tentative mention of marriage, and she was glad of it. She would probably become a spinster, like Lady Elizabeth.

After hours of futile repining, she was just dozing off to sleep when she heard muffled footfalls in the hallway, and the surreptitious opening of a doorway close by. Aurelia’s room, was it? She rose up quietly from her bed and went to the door to listen. Perhaps Aurelia was ill. She opened her own door a crack and saw Mrs. Huddleston going into the room. If Aurelia was ill, her sister would tend to her. Jane went back to bed. Slight rustling sounds continued to come from Aurelia’s room, and an occasional soft giggle. The sisters enjoying a bit of gossip. Very likely they could not sleep after the party either. It must be nice to have a sister
....

It was some time later when she heard a different sound, coming from beyond her window. What could it be at this hour? She went and opened her curtains. A carriage and team of four were being driven out of the stable. It was difficult to tell whose carriage. In the shadows, they all looked alike. But who could be leaving in the middle of the night? The team of four suggested a long journey. Curiosity made sleep impossible. She returned to listen at the door, and was just in time to hear Aurelia’s door open.

“Well, I am off, Marie. Wish me well,” Aurelia said.

She was off? Off to where?

“You are doing the right thing, my dear. An elopement—so romantic. I shall talk Papa down from the boughs, never fear. Mama is on our side, so all is well. Off you go, now.”

An elopement! Jane remembered that Nick had suggested it, but she never imagined Aurelia would consider such a thing, when St. George’s was already booked and that expensive wedding gown under construction. How had he talked her into it? And why? Was he afraid Townsend would not let him marry Aurelia, after Goderich’s engagement? Impetuous fool!

The tears that had refused to come earlier came now in abundance. She threw herself on her bed and had a good cry. When it was all over, she put on her dressing gown and went downstairs to see if they had at least left a note. Her hope—or fear— was that Nick would have left a special note for her, and she did not want to have to explain that to anyone.

She crept quietly down the stairs and along the  marble hallway to the Gold Saloon. From the doorway she discerned the white note propped against a pair of brass candlesticks. There seemed to be only the one note. She hastened forward. It was not until she was nearly there that she saw the dark form in the chair and uttered an instinctive yelp of shock.

“Oh! Who is it? Mr. Huddleston?” She could think of no one else who might behave so oddly. She assumed he was drunk, as usual.

The head turned, and she saw Nick, smiling at her.

“Nick! But you—Aurelia—I thought—” She looked around for Aurelia, but they were obviously alone. “Where is she?”

“On route to London to marry Willie.”

“Willie!” she said, on a trembling breath of rising euphoria. “I thought you were eloping!” She was weak with relief. The awful nightmare was over. She wanted to pitch herself into his arms and hang on to him for dear life.

Nick rose and gazed at her dear familiar face, with a tousle of curls falling to her shoulders. She looked, at that moment, like the girl he had foolishly left behind when he went off to Spain. He just gazed, storing up this treasured moment in the bank of memory. Her wobbly smile told him all he needed to know. Then he took her hand and drew her to his side.

“No, it is the tradition for the Morgans to marry at St. Peter’s church, in Amberley. It is also the tradition for us to make a love match.”

“Then you don’t mind that she’s marrying Willie?”

“Mind? My dear girl, I have moved heaven and bent earth to bring this match off.”

“You
got Willie the post in Paris?”

“Mea culpa.
I also catapulted Uncle into an engagement he scarcely comprehends, to say nothing of Mrs. Lipton, who was obliging in the extreme. I think you know why.”