Lois Menzel (19 page)

As Celia rose to go upstairs and change, the butler appeared at the door bearing a silver salver upon which reposed a sealed note. “This has just been delivered for you, miss, by hand. There is a footman in the hall waiting to carry an answer.”

Celia took the note and broke the thick wax seal. The message inside was brief:

Miss Demming,

It is imperative that I speak with you on a matter of some importance. I know you have plainly stated your desire not to see me, but I beg of you, for the understanding I feel we once had, to drive with me tomorrow in the park. I could call at ten o’clock if that would be convenient. My man will wait for your reply.

Walsh

“Is it something important?” Ursula asked when she saw the puzzled frown on Celia’s face.

“It is an invitation from Lord Walsh to go driving tomorrow morning,” she replied, then turned to the butler and said, “Tell his lordship’s man that ten o’clock will be fine.”

At precisely ten o’clock the following morning, a dashing high-perch phaeton drawn by a handsome pair of grays pulled up before 17 Brook Street. Celia was ready and waiting, her mother more than pleased with her for accepting the invitation. Robert exclaimed when he saw Ursula seated with the Demming ladies in the salon. He said he was delighted to see her in Town and hoped she would enjoy her visit.

When Celia was settled comfortably in the carriage, Robert dismissed his groom, and they set off at a spanking pace for Hyde Park. Celia made no comment about the servant’s dismissal since it was obvious they could have no private conversation while he was present.

“Thank you for coming,” Robert said.

“I almost said no,” she replied honestly. “But the way you worded your note, it would have been churlish to refuse.”

“I have all these things I want to say to you,” he began. “I have gone over and over it in my mind, and I have not been able to decide quite how to word it—quite what to say. Sometimes I am convinced I should say nothing at all, simply let you go out of my life, which is what you say you want.”

“But I am not in your life, my lord.”

“No. And that is just the point. I want you to be.”

“I don’t know what you mean.”

“I am not sure I do, either. The only thing I am sure of is that I destroyed our relationship when I kissed you. And I should regret it. But I don’t.”

“You told me the kiss did not mean anything to you.”

“That was a lie. I said it so that you would think there had been no commitment on my side, so that you would be free to make a choice based on
your
feelings alone. I truly thought you would stay with Tony if you believed there was no attraction on my side.”

They entered the park. There were some gentlemen riding but very few carriages at this time of day. Robert allowed his horses to walk at a leisurely pace.

When she said nothing, he continued, “I need to know, and I am praying you will tell me, why you broke your engagement to Tony.”

“Did he not tell you?”

“He said you told him that though you loved him, you were not in love with him.”

“That was the truth.”

“And was it only a coincidence that you told him this the day after I kissed you?”

“No. It was my attraction to you that made me realize I would be marrying Tony for the wrong reasons. But it made everything much worse that you were his brother, someone he trusted, someone I trusted.”

“Is there anything I can do to win back your trust?”

“I don’t know. You put me in an untenable position. The last thing I ever wanted to do was keep a secret from my intended husband, but how could I tell him something that would hurt him and at the same time threaten the relationship between the two of you.”

“I know. I felt the same way. That is why I told him what happened between us before he left for Italy.”

“You told him? How did he react?”

“Not at all in the way I expected. Apparently he had done a great deal of soul-searching himself and had come to some conclusions. I thought he would be angry, but he was not. He seemed surprised, but said he suspected that something had happened to make you realize you were headed on a course you could not finish. He said you pointed out to him that neither of you had verbally pledged your love to the other. He felt you were wise beyond your years for knowing that had meaning. He also said that though he felt you would have had a good and happy marriage, you were probably right in thinking that you both deserved more than merely good and happy.”

“He is the most amazing man.”

“You will get no argument from me.”

A few moments passed in silence, and then he asked, “Would you like to take the reins?”

“No. Thank you. I am enjoying watching you. You must feel wonderfully free to be able to drive again.”

“I do. And not only to drive, but to ride and walk. I have spent hours strolling about the Priory grounds looking at things I thought I might never see again. Do you like that carriage rug?”

Celia ran her fingers lightly over the rug the groom had placed carefully across her knees to keep her warm during the drive. “It’s lovely, beautifully woven.”

“Pierre made it. He sent it several weeks ago along with a letter written for him by a friend of your father’s. He was most appreciative of the goods you sent. It was thoughtful of you to remember.”

She was surprised. “But we agreed to send them, did we not?”

“We did, but after all that happened, I thought perhaps . . . but I should have known better, for you are a woman of your word.”

“I try to be.”

“Will you drive with me tomorrow?”

“I cannot.”

“The next day, then.”

“No. Not then, not ever again.”

“Celia, you admitted you were attracted to me. Could we not give that a chance? See where it leads?”

“It would never work.”

“Because of Tony?”

“Because of him, and because of the gossips. I am sick of hearing the whispering that goes on, first after my fall down the stairs and then after my broken engagement. If I gave you the least encouragement now, everyone would say that I had dropped Tony in order to set my cap at a title. I could not bear it. And you are not immune from gossip, either. Would you like it if they whispered that you had cut Tony out in order to secure my dowry for yourself?”

“I think that is unlikely. It is not as if you are an heiress—”

“But I am! My dowry is eighty thousand pounds.”

“Good God! How is that possible?”

“I thought you knew. I thought Tony would have told you. Twenty thousand is from my father, the same as my sisters. The other sixty is from my aunt, who was also my godmother, and after whom I was named. She died three years ago and left her fortune to me.”

Suddenly he laughed, but there was no mirth in the sound. “What a tangle!” He pulled the horses to a standstill and turned to face her on the seat. “So what you are telling me is that we should not explore what we felt for each other that day in the maze because we are afraid of a little gossip.”

“There is something else,” she said quietly.

“What?” he asked, immediately alerted by the tension he heard in her voice.

“I know about Mrs. Drew.”

“How could you know?”

“From a lot of little things that added up.”

“Celia, that all happened a
long
time ago.”

“But you still go to the cottage every Sunday morning.”

“I go to see Alan, to spend time with him. Is that so hard to understand?”

She was somewhat relieved to think that it was the boy and not the beautiful mother that he called regularly to see, but she could not keep the tears from her eyes as she asked, “And you pay for his lessons with the rector, and you keep him on the home farm where you can watch over him and train him one day to be an estate agent?”

“Yes. Those are my plans for him. I feel I owe him that at least. Do you think I should do any less? I wish I could do more.”

“But don’t you see that it is not all in the past. Alan is very much part of the present.”

“You are right. He is a living reminder of a skeleton in the family closet.”

“Please try to understand—”

“You need say no more,” he interrupted. “I do understand.” He started the team again and set them at a trot toward the park gate. “I have tried for the past ten years to safeguard the honor of my family name. But I know, and have always known, that honor once lost is lost forever.

“And there is something else I know, that I was not going to tell you, but I think now I will, since I may never get a chance to speak privately with you again. I am in love with you, Celia. I knew it that day in the maze, but I denied it because I wanted what was best for you, and I believed you to be in love with Tony.

“I wish I could tell you that I would send Alan away, and his mother, and any other reminder of the disgrace that descended upon my family the day he was conceived, but I cannot do that. I made a promise to myself that I would do everything in my power to right that wrong. And I made that promise long before I knew you.”

There was a long silence as he turned the horses into Brook Street. His declaration of love had come like a bolt of lightning from a clear sky. It was the last thing she had ever expected to hear from him. “I do not know what to say to you,” she said almost inaudibly.

“You don’t need to say anything. I wanted you to know. There is one other thing. My mother does not know about Alan and his mother, and it would hurt her a great deal if she did. If you could keep what you have learned in confidence, for her sake, I would be in your debt.”

“I will never speak of it. I promise.”

Robert’s groom was waiting at the house when they pulled up, and he ran to hold the horses. Robert alighted, then reached up to help Celia. He kept her hand a moment after she was safely down. “If you ever need a friend, anytime, for any reason, I hope you will think of me.”

Ursula and Celia were together in the sitting room busy with their needlework. For once Celia was occupied with what her mother considered an appropriate task. She was monogramming handkerchiefs for her father. Lavinia had gone down to Richmond to spend two days with her sister. Celia had declined the invitation, saying she would be happy to have a few quiet days at home to visit with Ursula.

“You wrote me that the facility for orphans in your parish was inadequate,” Ursula said, “but you did not go into detail. What was it like?”

“It was dreadful. More like a stable than a suitable home for children. There were very few windows, and the ones there were, were small and dirty, with no curtains or coverings of any kind. The woman in charge was slovenly and lazy. The only fireplaces were downstairs where the matron and other adults slept. The only heat the children got was what happened to seep upstairs between the cracks in the floorboards. I went with my father the first time, and he refused to let me go again until the place had been cleaned up a bit.”

“How did you accomplish that?”

“The building was on a piece of property belonging to Lord Sewell, who is by good fortune a friend of my father’s. We convinced his lordship that the woman in charge would be better off elsewhere and then found a widow from the village, whose children are grown, who was interested in taking on the project. My father and Lord Sewell both sent over some men to work, and in a very short space of time they had swept out all the dirt and grime, cleaned the windows, patched the walls, and mended broken glass. Then everything got a fresh whitewashing. I could not believe how much brighter it was when I was permitted to go again.

“At about this stage of the process, my eldest sister, Amelia, who is married to Sir William Lane, began to take an interest in the work we were doing there. Her husband donated brick and masons to build new chimneys and install fireplaces in each dormitory. He even agreed to supply coal for heating. Then Amelia began to gather volunteers from the neighborhood—men to teach the boys crafts, and women to teach the girls to sew and cook. Everyone has been so generous with their time and money. I do not think they ever meant to ignore the plight of those poor children; I just think they never knew how bad it was for them.”

“So your sister is watching over all in your absence?”

“Yes. She was wonderful. When Mama insisted I come to Town, Amelia said I should go, for she would see that all our plans went forward.”

“You would be pleased with the progress Kitty is making, especially with her mathematics,” Ursula said.

“Yes, I know. I saw Emily last week at the opera. She said she was grateful that you could take over for her and that she would relieve you of the task when she goes home at the end of May.”

“I was more than happy to do it. Kitty is such a biddable child.” Ursula stood up suddenly, set her work aside, and walked restlessly to the window. “That is not entirely true. What I really wanted to do was come up to Town like you and Emily so that I could be close to John, see him again.”

“John Hardy?”

“Yes. A day or so after you left the Priory last November, he asked me to marry him.”

Celia clapped her hands together, her embroidery forgotten. “I knew it! I knew he cared for you! And you admire him, too, despite the way you fuss and fume at each other.”

“I did not accept him.”

“But, Ursula, why not?”

“It is a long story. I have been longing to confide in someone. I almost went to Robert, but I am relatively certain I know what he would say. I wanted a female opinion. I trust you to give me honest advice and keep my secret.”

Then, while a chill rain fell outside the sitting room windows, Ursula poured out the whole story: how she and John had argued the night of the party at Walsh Priory, how he had later proposed, how she had admitted loving him, and finally how she had driven him away with her confession of illegitimacy.

As Celia listened, her heart went out to her friend. She realized that all these months, while she had been heartsore over her break with Tony and her feelings for Robert, thinking she must be the most miserable woman in the world, Ursula had been suffering in a similar fashion.