Lois Menzel (16 page)

“I could not, for I had to think things through. It took me some time, for I have been very confused. Some things, though, I have sorted out, and I want to tell you, so that you will understand how I have come to this decision.

“From as early as I can remember, my goal in life was to marry well. It was all my mother cared about. Having five daughters was quite daunting for my parents, I think, and they were determined to see us all suitably established. I did not care much for most of the men my mother thought would be a good match for me. But that first night I saw you, I thought you were wonderfully handsome. I was so flattered by your attention. But when I look back now, I can see that it was the idea of marriage that I was enamored of, the chance of marrying better than my sisters.

“What I did was wrong, sinfully wrong, for I led you to believe I had feelings I never had.”

“You never said you loved me,” he said.

She smiled sadly, finding it interesting that he had noticed that omission. “Nor did you ever say it to me. Perhaps that fact is more revealing than anything we have said so far.”

He kissed her then, a sweet, sentimental kiss that she suspected would be the last she ever received from him. She felt one moment of chilling panic. What if she was wrong and was throwing away her one chance at happiness?

When the kiss ended, she felt the tears standing in her eyes and struggled to hold them back. “You have taught me so much, Tony, in these past weeks. You have given me the courage to stand on my own, make my own decisions. For that, and for so much more, I will always love you. It breaks my heart that I cannot love you the way you want me to.”

“We will talk again,” he said, “but if you don’t mind, I would like some time alone to think about all you have said.”

She nodded and started to leave the room. As she reached the door, his voice stayed her. “Celia, thank you for being honest with me. I know it was difficult for you.”

She smiled thinly, and then left without speaking. Back in her room she sat and wrote to her father, telling him to expect her home in a few days. As soon as Lady Walsh was informed of her change in status, Celia would send down for her trunks and put her mind to the business of packing.

When the appointed hour came for Celia to meet with Wexford, she stayed in her room, but she could not get him off her mind. She had come to look forward to the time she spent with him, even though he was often moody and sometimes cross. She wondered who would read to him now, or indeed, if anyone would. At least now that she was leaving, she would not have to explain to Tony why she no longer met with his brother.

She was waiting when Ursula called in the early afternoon to collect her for their scheduled trip to the children’s home. She felt a pang of guilt at leaving her work there. There was much she wanted to do that would now be left undone. She had barely started her lessons with Kitty, and the child had so much to learn. Celia felt guilty about asking Ursula to take on this task when she already had so much to do.

Celia’s first words as they rode off together were of the party. “I was worried when you left the other night without saying good-bye.”

“I was tired,” Ursula replied simply. “I am not accustomed to such activity and such late hours. I should have found you to say good night. I’m sorry.”

Her tone was clipped and formal, and Celia felt she was not hearing the whole story. This explanation did not reveal why Ursula had left her boots behind, or why she had felt it necessary to leave her partner in the middle of a dance.

“Ursula, there is something I need to tell you. It is not common knowledge yet, but I know I can trust you to keep it to yourself until Tony has told Lady Walsh. I have broken my engagement; I will be leaving Walsh Priory in a few days.”

Ursula pulled her horse up and turned to look at Celia in astonishment.

“I know you are surprised,” Celia said. “I am still rather in shock myself, but I believe it is the right thing to do.”

“But Tony has been so happy. He will be devastated.”

“I think in time he will come to see that although we are very fond of each other, and in many ways well suited, we were not meant to be together.”

As they rode on, Ursula lapsed into silence until Celia spoke again. “I regret more than I can say that I must leave my work with you and the children. I have enjoyed it so much.”

“The children will miss you. I will miss you.”

“I will write, and perhaps sometime you can come to Yorkshire to visit me. And I want you to let me know when Mrs. Forbes runs low on cloth. I will send more whenever you need it.”

“Don’t you need to see her today?” Ursula asked as they rode into the village.

“Yes, I do. I have the measurements for a coat for Will and a dress for little Virginia.”

“I must stop at the smithy,” Ursula replied. “My horse has a loose shoe. I will come back for you.”

Ursula rode on as Celia dismounted outside Mrs. Forbes’s cottage and tied her horse to a gnarled apple tree beside the path.

The cottage was of moderate size, solidly constructed of Chiltern flint. Celia found Mrs. Forbes expecting her. There was hot water for tea on the hob and fresh biscuits on the sturdy hand-hewn table.

Mrs. Forbes was plump and rosy; Celia had never seen her without a smile on her face. She knew everything that went on in the village and was an excellent source of information. If someone was ailing, if a new babe had been born or a cow lost, she always seemed one of the first to know.

“Sit you down, Miss Demming, and I will pour you a hot cup of tea after your chilling ride.” Although the ride had not been long, the day was cold and the warmth of the cottage welcoming. Celia wrapped her icy fingers around the steaming teacup Mrs. Forbes set before her.

“I have a coat here for you, miss, all finished.”

She set a carefully stitched wool jacket on the table near Celia, and Celia handed her several coins. “You do such beautiful work, Mrs. Forbes. Sally will be delighted with this.” The woman beamed at the praise, and Celia took a scrap of paper from her pocket. “I have the measurements for another coat and a dress.”

Mrs. Forbes dropped the coins in a small clay pot on her fireplace mantel then took the piece of paper and perused it carefully. She could read enough to write her name and had learned to cipher some in order to make clothes to measure.

At that moment someone knocked on the door, and Mrs. Forbes went to answer it. Alan Drew stood outside. Mrs. Forbes hurried him in to close the door against the cold.

Alan smiled and greeted Celia, then handed Mrs. Forbes some mending that he said Mrs. Browne had asked him to drop off on his way past her cottage.

When he was gone, Celia said, “What a good-looking boy.”

“Aye, he takes after his father and no mistake.”

“I did not know Mr. Drew. Was he a handsome man?”

“Lord love you, miss. There’s not a soul in the village what believes that boy was sired by George Drew. He’s the image of young Lord Wexford about the eyes. Sounds like him, too, if you’ve got a sharp ear.”

“Lord Wexford is Alan Drew’s father?”

There was so much shock in Celia’s voice that Mrs. Forbes refilled her teacup and prepared to calm her ruffled sensibilities. “He couldn’t a been no more than nineteen or so at the time, miss, and young lords is known to be wild in their salad days.”

“But Miss Browne told me that Mrs. Drew was gently born. Surely Lord Wexford would have married her if he was responsible for her . . . situation.”

“Gentle born, yes, but no proper match for an earl’s heir. She was the squire’s daughter, his only child and such a beautiful girl, with all that long dark hair hangin’ past her waist. I remember seein’ her in Lord Wexford’s company often in them days. And I remember, too, her sudden marriage to a man no one had ever heared of—from Norfolk I think he was. The babe arrived about seven months after, but big and strong and like no early babe I ever seen.”

Through the tiny window facing the street, Celia could see Ursula trotting her horse down the road toward the cottage. She rose from the table, collected the coat, and thanked Mrs. Forbes for her efforts.

“Thank you, Miss Demming. It’s pleased I am to have the steady work.”

Celia and Ursula rode on to the children’s home together and found plenty there to occupy them. It was not until much later in the day that Celia had leisure to think about all Mrs. Forbes had said.

She found it hard to credit that Wexford would compromise a young girl and then refuse to marry her, but she had to admit that it all made sense. She had heard firsthand Wexford’s reaction to the idea of the boy working in the quarry, and she suspected that it was Wexford who paid young Alan’s tutoring fees. She had seen the rent roll and knew that the widow Drew paid no rent. Celia also knew that Wexford made regular visits to the Drew cottage. Had he renewed his relationship with Mrs. Drew now that her husband was gone?

After all the hours they had spent together, Celia felt she had come to know Wexford fairly well. Faced with his behavior in the maze and the revealing information from Mrs. Forbes, she realized that she had been naive.

Before dinner Tony and Celia talked again. He told her he had already spoken with his mother and that they intended to put the story about that he and Celia had decided they would not suit. Celia shuddered to think what her own mother would say when she heard such tidings, but there was nothing she could do to prevent it. Lavinia was still in Hereford with Sophia, but Celia found that she did not have the courage to write to her mother herself.

“Would it be possible to say nothing until after I have gone?” she asked Tony. “I do not think I could face all the questions.”

“When are you leaving?”

“I thought the day after tomorrow, if it is not inconvenient.”

“Must you go so soon?”

“It would not be right for me to stay, not under the circumstances.”

“Then we will tell everyone tonight that you are going home to Yorkshire, but we won’t tell them why. That will give you the opportunity to say good-bye. After you have gone, I will tell them what we decided . . . if you are sure this is what you want?”

Hearing the hope in his voice, she said as gently as she could, “I am sure. Very sure.”

“I will let the coachman know. What time?”

“Nine o’clock?”

“I will be escorting you, of course.”

“You need not come, Tony; it is not necessary.”

“I won’t hear of you traveling all that distance alone. I intend to see you to your father’s door, every single step of the way.”

“Thank you. I will appreciate having your escort.”

She had not relished the idea of traversing half the country with only Wylie and Lord Walsh’s servants in attendance. She knew her mother would never approve of such an arrangement, but she had not dared to hope that Tony would be willing to accompany her. He was, without doubt, the most honorable gentleman she had ever known.

The following day was almost entirely consumed by Celia’s departure plans. She had tied up as many loose ends as she could. Ursula and Leech would work together to see that Mrs. Forbes was kept busy with wool cloth and measurements. Emily Crowther, whose residence was only three miles from the children’s home, had offered to take over for Celia in teaching Kitty to read and write. She had also agreed to keep knitting socks, so long as there was a need.

On her final evening Celia said good-bye to everyone at dinner, saying, most truthfully, that she hoped to see them all again very soon. No one seemed eager for cards or charades; instead they sat talking of the coming holidays and of hunting and of the London Season that would start soon afterward.

In the midst of Lord Matlock’s recounting of a hunt story involving a particularly clever fox, the door opened and Wexford entered. He stopped just inside the door as all attention turned toward him.

“Excuse me for interrupting, but I was wondering, Miss Demming, if you could step up to the book room for a few minutes. There are several things I need to be clear on before you leave in the morning. It will take only a moment or two, I promise.”

She knew instantly what he was doing, approaching her in public so there was no way she could refuse him without appearing uncivil. She forced a smile to her face, hoped it looked genuine, and said pleasantly, “Of course, my lord, I would be happy to.”

Celia had cause to be thankful when Lady Walsh then added, “Perhaps it would be best, my dear, if you retired after you have finished with Wexford. You have an early start and a very long day tomorrow.”

“Yes indeed. I think I shall. Good night, everyone.”

After another round of good nights and good-byes, Celia left the room with Wexford. No sooner had the door closed and the footman moved out of earshot than she said very quietly, “How dare you? You must know I have no wish either to see you or speak with you.” They started up the stairs; she offered him no assistance.

“Tony told me before dinner,” he said, “that your engagement is ended, that you had decided you would not suit. Obviously I had to speak with you. I apologize for my method, but I knew you would not come if I sent for you.”

“How astute you are, sir.”

“Celia, please. We need to talk about this. It is clear to me from what Tony said that you did not tell him what happened between us.”

“How could I tell him? You know how it would hurt him.”

They had arrived at the book room door. She opened it and walked inside. She resisted the impulse to guide him as he reached for the frame to feel his way and followed her. He closed the door firmly.

“Hurt him?” he said. “Don’t you think breaking the engagement has hurt him? He loves you. You love him. Don’t throw that away.”

“None of this is any of your concern, my lord. What Tony and I decide—”

“Of course it is my concern. It was my behavior that precipitated this hobble, was it not? Or has something else happened that I know nothing of?”

“No, there is nothing else,” she said quietly.

He took an impulsive step toward her, reaching out to her as he did so. She took a step back, staying beyond his reach. “Celia, we can get past this. Don’t throw it all away because of one impulsive kiss.” He folded his hands together and gripped them till the knuckles showed white. “I don’t know why I did it. It did not mean
anything
. Tell Tony, or don’t tell him, or I will tell him if you like, but don’t leave him because of me.”