“I am sorry, Mr. Thornhill. You find me in ill spirits today. I ought not have come down. You are correct,” Cecilia said, glancing at her mother.
“Perhaps you did not have much choice. I only called to make sure you were feeling better and to tell you my uncle and cousin will arrive this evening. I always escort Miss Nefton about when we meet, so I am afraid I will be much occupied. Will you be…” Mr. Thornhill stopped at the announcement of Mr. Mainmount.
Cecilia directed her attention toward him. If she looked at Mr. Thornhill she would cry. Obviously he did not like her anymore and was trying to let her know. But she did not care for him, did she?
After greeting Mrs. Higham and Mrs. Wilcox, Mr. Mainmount approached them. Cecilia smiled up at him, indeed he was an attractive gentleman, his blue coat showing up his dazzling cerulean eyes which so contrasted his black hair. The two gentlemen greeted each other and Mr. Mainmount apologized for interrupting.
“Perhaps I should come back later? I only wished to give you these flowers from the fields we were to ride to today.”
“Thank you, Mr. Mainmount. That is most kind,” Cecilia said as she accepted his gift. Her mother came to fetch the bouquet so it might be put in water.
“It is you who are kind. I have met one of your callers on my way in. You have got rid of Mr. Gottersham it seems, sparing me the inconvenience. I thank you,” he said, making a bow.
Cecilia tittered, though it was wrong of him to say such things. It had always been thus with Mr. Cateret as well. Clearly, Cecilia thought, Mr. Thornhill was offended, for he stood, rigid and frowning, and, bowing to them both, said his farewells.
Taking that gentleman’s place on the sofa, Mr. Mainmount continued in his mocking tone: “I hope I have got rid of him. Do you have any other callers hidden about whom I can offend?”
“No, sir, only yourself,” Cecilia replied, masking her disappointment at Mr. Thornhill’s departure.
“Ah, yet how can I insult myself? I have already done so and I fear you as well. Can you forgive my behavior of Monday eve? I let my feelings overwhelm me. There, I have well wounded myself,” Mr. Mainmount said with a mixture of contriteness and jesting.
“I will forgive you, then.” Cecilia laughed. “Take care not to do it again. I would not wish you to have to quit your own company because you so outraged yourself.”
Mr. Mainmount chuckled and continued their conversation. Eventually, they agreed to meet again tomorrow, as Mr. Mainmount had rescheduled the riding party for then. Cecilia was none too pleased that only Mr. Borden, Fanny, and the Harfoots, Mr. Mainmount’s sister and her husband, would join them. However, she still wanted to go, for she and Mr. Mainmount would go on horseback while the others went in the Harfoots’ carriage. Cecilia had not thought she would enjoy the pleasure of a ride while in London and she was happy to have a favorite diversion, if only for an afternoon.
Upon the morrow, Cecilia recovered her bloom, though she was not wholly restored in spirit. However, she tried to be pleased and she was, at least with her appearance. A Pomona green petticoat under her dark green riding habit, trimmed in black and buttoned up the front, smart black half boots, and her favorite small felt riding cap with ribbon streamers made her feel quite cheerful as she surveyed herself in the mirror. Perhaps her spirits would recover as well once she was out riding, though she had to admit she had rather Mr. Thornhill escorted her than Mr. Mainmount. Cecilia supposed she must put him out of her mind, much as she tried to do with Mr. Cateret; apparently neither gentleman returned her feelings, of either love on Mr. Cateret’s part or a warm regard on Mr. Thornhill’s.
Her mother’s and aunt’s words echoed in her head, reminding her to give Mr. Mainmount a fair trial before deciding against him. Certainly she preferred him to the other gentlemen who had shown an interest in her, save Mr. Cateret and Mr. Thornhill, of course. Yet how could she marry Mr. Mainmount?
Silly girl, he has not proposed, Mama and Aunt Higham are being presumptuous
. Reminding herself of her chief objective, enjoyment, Cecilia went downstairs to greet the waiting Mr. Mainmount.
Cecilia felt much more herself as they passed from the city into the surrounding farming community. Mr. Mainmount was an accomplished rider, even more so than Mr. Cateret, though he had not even as good a seat as Wil. Still Cecilia wished she could see Mr. Thornhill in a more proper ride than his reckless one. He was surely a very fine rider. Yet she could not dwell on this long, as Cecilia’s mind cleared and her limbs lightened to be out on such a bright day, the sun warming her as it did the fields. It was the scent of earth and bloom, the breeze rippling through the long grass, the sparrow flitting about, which so cheered her, as such small delights did.
However, she was soon disconcerted when she noticed the carriage carrying the rest of their party had disappeared from behind them. She and Mr. Mainmount had been well ahead and she had been enjoying herself so much she could not remember when she had last spied the carriage. Stopping to inquire of Mr. Mainmount what ought to be done, she met with his laughter at her concern.
“Oh, they will catch up, Miss Wilcox. I told Mrs. Harfoot where they should meet us. It is just ahead and we can stop there and wait for them.”
This they did, though it did seem to be taking a fair time, so Mr. Mainmount suggested a walk while the groom attended the horses. Cecilia hesitantly agreed; she was more uneasy standing waiting than with the possibility of some seclusion with Mr. Mainmount. After all, she reasoned, they were out in the open, what could happen? As they strolled among the trees, Mr. Mainmount remarked how again he found her beauty captivating.
“You quite capture the spirit of a wood nymph today, Miss Wilcox, though in blue you are as a naiad. Yesterday, so sad you seemed when I entered, I believed you Persephone, that maiden of the spring, sitting upon her unwanted throne in the underworld, sorrowful yet still lovely.”
“And who would be Hades, then, you or Mr. Thornhill?” she replied playfully to his serious compliment.
“I suppose he has more the temperament to be king of the underworld, but I should rather if it means I may steal you away and make you my bride,” Mr. Mainmount said with that mixture of intentness and sauciness he sometimes affected. Stopping to look at her, Mr. Mainmount was struck by her loveliness. Her riding habit, though quaint, somehow suited her in her combination of innocence and buxom beauty. He knew others, like his sister, criticized her for being out of fashion and too artless, but Mr. Mainmount found her charming, especially the little v in the cut of her habit which left the smooth curve of her throat and that delicious hollow beneath bare. Seeing his appraising gaze, Cecilia colored, further enticing him, and looked away.
“Surely not, sir. Would you deprive the world of the eternal spring and summer Persephone brings?” Cecilia deflected, attempting to keep the conversation from herself.
“Does not the earth need winter? The pleasures of that sequestered, cold season would be rewarding if you presided at Upton Park.”
“Yet Persephone’s affection was ever divided. It was never wholly her husband’s. Surely you would not want such a wife,” Cecilia said, hoping he would understand her meaning.
“It was her mother Persephone missed. I know that is not what you mean,” Mr. Mainmount said with a smile. He continued more seriously as Cecilia rubbed her arm. “Half a heart’s affection would be enough if she would be mine.” Clasping her hands and gazing at her, Mr. Mainmount made to continue but Cecilia spoke first.
“I like it better when you are amusing, sir,” Cecilia said, trying to sound firm while attempting to remove herself from his grasp. Perhaps being alone had been unwise. The stillness of the country scene for once unnerved her.
“Please, Miss Wilcox, let me say…”
“Miss Wilcox!” someone who sounded like Mr. Thornhill called.
“I am here,” she replied. Mr. Mainmount released her and she turned to see it was indeed Mr. Thornhill, striding through the trees toward them. She edged her shoulders back and smoothed her habit.
“Excuse me, I did not mean to intrude,” Mr. Thornhill said, his voice like the chill breeze which blew. He bowed to them and then studied Cecilia with an inscrutable gaze. “Did you wish me to leave, Miss Wilcox?”
“I do,” Mr. Mainmount said in an angry undertone, which Cecilia chose to ignore.
“No, not at all, sir. Good day to you. We were just walking to pass the time until our party found us. We were separated along the road,” Cecilia said, vastly relieved, yet wondering what he was doing here. Perhaps he sought her out, perhaps he…her thoughts were interrupted by Mr. Thornhill’s reply.
“Yes, my cousin, Miss Anna Nefton, and I happened to be riding along the other road when we came across the Harfoots, Miss Higham, and Mr. Borden. Though Mrs. Harfoot was certain her brother would find them, Miss Higham was anxious someone should look for you. As no one else seemed willing, I offered to search for you myself.”
“Thank you, sir. I am sorry you and your cousin were waylaid.”
“Yes, you need not have troubled yourself, sir. Shall we?” Mr. Mainmount said curtly, taking Cecilia’s arm to walk back to the horses. Mr. Thornhill walked on Cecilia’s other side, ignoring Mr. Mainmount’s rudeness.
“It was no trouble, Miss Wilcox. My cousin does not mind such interruptions. She considers them little adventures, which she always finds most amusing.”
“I look forward to making her acquaintance,” Cecilia said, though she was actually anxious of it, lest her belief that Mr. Thornhill preferred his cousin’s company to her own proved true.
The three remained silent as they mounted their horses and rode out to meet the rest of the party. Cecilia’s assumption that Mr. Thornhill was an excellent horseman was borne out and she was disturbingly stirred by the sight of him astride his steed. He appeared even more handsome and commanding than ever, yet Cecilia was taken aback by the strength of his presence. There was no giddiness, no fluttering in her stomach as she felt with Mr. Cateret and even sometimes Mr. Mainmount. What she did feel was most confusing, from a security in his presence to the deep, gripping sensations in her stomach when he was near. However, she reminded herself, she was in love with ‘Ret, was she not? Surely one could not love two men at one time?
Cecilia bit her lip, pondering over her own feelings. Perhaps she did have some flaw in her character, as her mother and aunt seemed to think, perhaps it was she who was fickle or a trifler, but she had not experience enough to know it. Thinking of a favorite poem, she turned her thoughts, knowing she was only upsetting herself.
Cecilia felt she had much to hide as they rejoined the awaiting company. While Miss Nefton seemed friendly enough, Cecilia was upset by the obvious affection between the cousins and the sight of them together, looking such a handsome couple. Miss Nefton, while similar in coloring to Mr. Thornhill, was a delicate creature, from her elfin ears to her tiny feet. Yet she too was an able rider, her delicate appearance belied her abilities. Cecilia also noticed she was very stylish and genteel; Miss Nefton too wore a green habit, but hers was in the military fashion and she had the latest beaver hat with a large plume contrasting strikingly with her light hair, yet complementing her green eyes. Certainly she commanded the attention of the gentlemen. Cecilia was perturbed it was Mr. Thornhill’s and not Mr. Mainmount’s attention which she envied Miss Nefton.
Fanny and Mrs. Harfoot were vexed by the whole situation, complaining of being cold and deprived of the promised picturesque walk. Mr. Mainmount determined they could go on and he would escort Cecilia back to town, but Fanny objected, saying she had rather go home and rest. She even urged Cecilia to join them in the carriage, though it would be a crush. Mr. Thornhill suggested they all ride back into the city together, as he and his cousin were ready to return home as well and his uncle’s town house was on the opposite side of Portman Square from Mrs. Higham’s. Everyone agreed to this plan, except Mr. Mainmount, who remained silent.
Mr. Mainmount attempted to ride near Cecilia, but was thwarted by Miss Nefton, who claimed a desire to make Cecilia’s acquaintance. She was very polite, again much like her cousin, and drew Cecilia out a little, though Cecilia was unusually subdued. She could not seem to keep herself from gazing at Mr. Thornhill, even if it was only his back she viewed, and was abashed when Miss Nefton noticed.
“My cousin is a very able horseman, is he not, Miss Wilcox?” she said in a confidential tone, leaning over to address Cecilia. “Yet it is not surprising. He is a very competent man in general. We are always glad of his company, my father and I.”
“Yes, I have no doubt of it. I am sure he takes great pleasure in your company as well,” Cecilia replied, trying to keep the bitterness out of her voice. Miss Nefton merely smiled prettily and the two fell silent as they reached the bustling din of the city.
Chapter Eight
S
omehow Cecilia managed to get through the rest of the day and evening. She had to endure her mother’s scolds, who believed Cecilia was not giving Mr. Mainmount his due, as well as a dinner party at a friend of her aunt Higham’s. She could remember virtually nothing from the evening save the lump in her throat, tightness in her chest, and bright, false faces of the other guests. As she lay limply numb in bed that night, she saw that Mr. Mainmount would indeed propose to her if given a chance but she still did not believe she could accept him, for she had always wanted to marry for love.
Cecilia felt as though she was adrift on the river, swiftly moving further away from any hope of love; she would be swept under by the swift current of Mr. Mainmount’s desire and her mother’s determination. If only she could return home and live as she always had. Yet Cecilia knew this was impossible, for her mother would make her miserable, she would harry her to death. Also, Cecilia was no longer the girl she had been. First Mr. Cateret and now Mr. Thornhill stirred feelings in her she could not forget, though she tried to. She stared at the shadowed ceiling, listening to Amelia’s whiffling breathing until numbing sleep overcame her.
The next afternoon, after a walk with Amelia and a small luncheon, Cecilia, though still upset, had to almost laugh at herself. It seemed utterly ridiculous to become so despairing over, what, really? She had been mistaken; she was young and inexperienced, surely that must account for it, not some innate fault in her character. So she had experienced disappointment in love. She ought to try to learn from it so she might become wiser, not let it defeat her. Thinking of Wil and her father, she knew she must rally herself. It would not do if they were upset by her behavior. If she did not think so much she actually enjoyed Mr. Mainmount’s company. Again she reminded herself that is all she need concern herself with--the evening’s enjoyment. Surely it would be an enjoyable evening, as she would go with Mr. Mainmount, Amelia, and Mr. Dryden to the Royal Opera House. They all shared an appreciation of theatre, though Cecilia believed this must be the only commonality between the four of them.
Somehow she managed to dodge all Amelia’s questions and pretend to be light-hearted; she did not wish to burden her cousin only a few days before her wedding. No doubt Cecilia would not see Amelia for a very long time as she and Mr. Dryden would leave almost immediately for the continent. She did not want to dampen their last days together with her tears. What if she had accepted Mr. Cateret that day on the hill? Perhaps she too might be joining Amelia on her journey. Yet such a thought sickened her. Mr. Cateret probably would not have married her, she would be ruined, her family and friends distraught.
Even if he had intended to marry her, what kind of life would they have, living in London or some strange city, with no one but each other? More likely she would have no one for she assumed Mr. Cateret would find women enough to flirt with anywhere he went. Yet why was she even considering Mr. Mainmount, then? Were they not alike? Would not Mr. Mainmount leave her to enjoy the pleasures of London? Surely they would reside with his parents, a thought which made her shudder. Why had she not listened to Mr. Thornhill and Amelia before she became so embroiled? It was too late now and Cecilia realized she had been doing what she had been trying to avoid: thinking.
Cecilia did not understand how anyone could think much less enjoy the performance at the theatre. The Opera House’s classical, imposing façade belied its chaotic and noisy interior. Between the dandies strolling up and down trying to vie for attention, the shouts from above, and the distant voices of the actors, Cecilia felt as though she had entered some strange performance in which everyone took part.
She exhaled in relief when Mr. Mainmount escorted her to the lobby for refreshment, though the crowd and noise there was not much better; at least she was not trapped in a seat. As they stood, Cecilia unable to take in anything but the brightness and noise, she was shocked when there before her stood Mr. Thornhill, his dazzling cousin on his arm. Her diaphanous white gown and emerald ornaments in her hair showed her to be even more stunning than Cecilia had first thought. Mr. Mainmount seemed to think so too, as he gazed at her quite intently before greeting them. Cecilia, who had been pleased with her appearance earlier, in her blue silk gown trimmed with tiny pink roses along the hem and train, matching those in her hair, now hugged herself, as Mr. Thornhill gave her a quick appraising glance before turning his attention back to his lovely companion.
Cecilia knew they had greeted her and her training made it possible for her to answer in kind without any recollection of what had been said. What she did know was she had a mad desire to set upon Miss Nefton like a harpy; certainly she did not feel like the nymph Mr. Mainmount said she was yesterday. If she had not been so disturbed, she might have accepted Miss Nefton’s invitation to join them in their box, where one could probably enjoy the performance better. As it was, the cousins went on their way, with a cheerful farewell from Miss Nefton and a cool bow from Mr. Thornhill. Turning to Mr. Mainmount, Cecilia grinned at his amused expression.
“I ought to scold you, sir. Instead I ask a question,” Cecilia began playfully, as Mr. Mainmount nodded his assent. “Do gentlemen prefer blondes? It seems those of my acquaintance do.”
“Not I,” Mr. Mainmount said with an arch expression.
“Oh, and what do you prefer?”
“Chestnut hair, a pair of dark twinkling eyes, pretty little nose, full mouth, smooth skin, two delicate ears,” Mr. Mainmount said, stopping his perusal of her face as he briefly glanced down at her suggestive gown, “and a shapely…face. And you, Miss Wilcox?”
“I think,” Cecilia began, pausing a moment, then looking into Mr. Mainmount’s eyes with an expression equaling his own, “a pair of fine blue eyes.” She laughed as he stared at her before narrowing his eyes. She had thrown him and was pleased with this little triumph; he and Mr. Thornhill both had arresting cobalt eyes.
“Truce, Miss Wilcox? That was wounding enough for one evening. You are the victor. What shall be your prize?” Mr. Mainmount said, half jesting, half serious.
“I am not sure yet, but it appears time for us to return to our seats.”
“A thousand pities!” he said as he gazed down upon her. “I await your pleasure,” he finished, leading Cecilia back into the theatre.
Cecilia had little pleasure the next morning as she was bombarded with questions from her family before Mr. Mainmount called to take her to the gallery. Mrs. Wilcox wanted to know how she would answer Mr. Mainmount, as did Fanny, who did not want any unpleasantness for her friend Mrs. Harfoot, while Mrs. Higham and Amelia wanted to know her feelings toward Mr. Thornhill. Cecilia annoyed them all by pleading that she did not know and then going to freshen up before Mr. Mainmount arrived. The four were left arguing amongst themselves for the rest of the hour and Mr. Mainmount appeared most relieved when Cecilia came down soon after his arrival. He was complimentary of Cecilia and she felt pleased by his attention and still could not help but notice how attractive and charming he was, much like Mr. Cateret. Perhaps he could provide an amenable combination of Mr. Cateret and Mr. Thornhill without the complication of her confusing feelings for those gentlemen.
She hardly saw the paintings at the gallery, so distracted she was by her own dilemma. Mr. Mainmount must have noticed her inattention as he soon suggested they make their way back to Portman Square. Cecilia agreed, knowing she would get no enjoyment from their outing and hoping for resolve to her situation.
When they reached Mrs. Higham’s it was gloomy and grey, clouds scudded through the sky. Cecilia wondered then at Mr. Mainmount’s assertion that they walk in the park, as she promised yesterday. She agreed, supposing it would be better than the tussle which would no doubt occur if they went inside, for her aunt did not want them to be alone while her mother did. Cecilia felt safe in the park, it being so public and she had been walking there so many times. He led Cecilia to the far side of the park, which gave Cecilia a start for that was where Lord Nefton’s house was. Professing a desire to show her a pretty copse of trees, Mr. Mainmount brought her into the center of them; it was a very private spot.
“Miss Wilcox,” Mr. Mainmount began in earnest, “surely you can have no doubt why I have brought you here.” Cecilia glanced at him briefly before studying her clasped hands. “My attentions to you have been plain. You must know of my fervent attachment to you. Please, make me the happiest of men and consent to be my wife,” he finished, grasping her hands in his. “Will you not look at me, Miss Wilcox?” As she did so, Cecilia saw theirs would be a loveless marriage, for he did not have tenderness in his eyes, only longing and desire.
“I cannot, sir. I am sorry, I am honored by your proposal and your attentions, but we are not in love. It would not do.”
“You must speak for yourself. Do not presume to tell me I am not in love with you. May I ask why I am refused so easily?” he said, unable to mask his anger.
“It is not easy for me, sir. I am sorry if I led you to believe you would be accepted. I did not mean to, my actions and words have been innocent in motive, I assure you. But your family and friends, your past indiscretions, are enough to make me refuse you, even if I loved you, which I do not.” His grip on her tightened and she wriggled her hands in an attempt to free herself.
“You would grow to love me. Has this to do with our mutual friend? I can assure you, whatever he may have said to you, he will not marry you. And as to Mr. Thornhill, he seems quite taken with his cousin.”
Cecilia shook her head to dislodge the image of Mr. Thornhill and his beautiful cousin from her mind. “No, I tell you again I do not believe we would suit. Truly, I am sorry for I do like you but I cannot marry you.”
“Why? Because you do not like my family? I do not like them myself. As to my past, it is no worse than ‘Ret’s. Tell me you have not considered him, or is it that you still do?” Mr. Mainmount said, moving his grip to her arms and forcing her to look at him.
“No, I do not. Please, sir, let me go.”
“No, not just yet, miss. Let me show you my feelings are true. Let me have the same liberty you must have allowed him.” He moved close to her. As he bent down, Cecilia realized he would kiss her and she struggled, turning her face away. He would not be deterred and kissed her cheek.
“You forget yourself. I have never let anyone…” she breathed out as he grasped her tighter, trailing warm lips over her neck and throat. “I will scream, let me go,” Cecilia pleaded. She was horrified, both by the fact that he was being so free with her and that it was not so wholly disgusting to her as it should be. She shuddered; she did not want him to press himself upon her.
The trees rustled as he stopped saying lowly: “I have a pleasant way to stopper your mouth.”
Before he could continue, Mr. Thornhill emerged from the poplars and swiftly pinned both Mr. Mainmount’s arms behind him.
“I believe Miss Wilcox told you to let her go,” he said.
Cecilia stood trembling like the rustling leaves in the bitter wind.
“A lover’s quarrel and none of your concern,” Mr. Mainmount spat out, writhing to free himself.
“Miss Wilcox, are you engaged to this man? Do you wish me to go?” Mr. Thornhill asked. His penetrating eyes bored into Cecilia’s.
“No.” She stepped back and inhaled, hoping to stop the sickening feeling simmering in her.
“I ought make you answer for your interference, Thornhill.”
“Oh? It is you who needs a lesson, sir. I would be happy to oblige.”
“Please, I wish to return home,” Cecilia whispered. She squeezed her eyes shut for a moment, hoping to stop the stinging in them.
“I will take you. Give me a chance to redeem myself. I am sorry if I let my feelings overwhelm me,” Mr. Mainmount said.
“Shut up,” Mr. Thornhill snapped. “You will leave Miss Wilcox well alone or I shall be all too happy to tell your parents of your recent activities.”
“You are bluffing. You are trying to get her for yourself.” Mr. Mainmount writhed, still trying to free himself.
Cecilia shook her head. Mr. Thornhill did not want her.
“Am I? I think they will be quite interested in the gambling debts, the low taverns and other places of pleasure in Covent Garden, and we must not forget the maid at Mrs. Higham’s. She was most talkative. And to think it was rumored you had learned to be more circumspect.” Mr. Thornhill’s voice was low and contemptuous. Cecilia boiled with rage. Even she could guess at the meaning of all this and was filled with the fury not only of his duplicity, but also that of Mr. Cateret and even Mr. Thornhill, as well as her own misguided feelings.
“Do not ever come near me again,” she said, hatred and disgust burned her eyes as she slapped Mr. Mainmount full across his face. She immediately regretted this horrible action and examined her hand, wondering how she could so forget herself.
“You…” Mr. Mainmount began, his face contorted in rage, but he was stopped with a forceful wrench of his arm from Mr. Thornhill, at which he winced.
“I suggest you leave now, Mainmount, before I too lose my temper with you,” Mr. Thornhill said with chilling calm. Releasing Mr. Mainmount with a shove, Mr. Thornhill stepped over to Cecilia and took her arm gently. A yearning to lean into him, to let him carry her away, weakened her. As they moved through the trees, Mr. Mainmount shot a parting sally.