Authors: Clare Jayne
IT HAD BEEN nearly two months since he had last laid eyes
on Miss Daventry. She had apparently not been at home when he called on her in
Edinburgh - something he was not certain he believed. After that she, her
mother and Mrs Gallerton had vanished to their country estate and there had
been no word or sign of them since.
It was enough to drive a man mad. He paced
up and down his library until a tentative knock upon the door distracted him.
“Yes?”
His Tiger stepped through the door, with an
expression that said he expected to be killed on the spot for coming inside the
house.
“You have news?” Brightford asked, all his
focus upon the fidgeting boy.
“She’s back, sir. Miss Daventry. The whole
family, I mean. Their carriage is there and one of the maids confirmed it.”
At last! Brightford thanked the boy and
strode upstairs to change into a more suitable outfit for calling upon a young
lady. Twenty minutes later he was being announced at Mrs Daventry’s home.
He stepped into the drawing room to the
unpleasant sight of a room full of people.
“Brightford.”
“Alex?” He shook his cousin’s hand, the
expression on Alex’s face that of a man entirely happy with his life. Well, that
was excellent, but could not Alex have given him a chance to be similarly content
before reappearing?
He belatedly bowed to the ladies present,
tearing his gaze from Miss Daventry to respectfully acknowledge the others. Good
lord, was that vivacious, stylish woman Miss Harrington? Or rather, Mrs
Fenbridge. No wonder Alex was beaming all over the place.
There could be no hope of speaking
privately to Miss Daventry now so he reluctantly exerted himself to be
charming. He feigned interest in the sights seen in London during the honeymoon
while Miss Daventry spoke only to Mrs Fenbridge.
Just as it felt as if the situation could
get no worse the butler stepped into the room: “Mr Wrackley,” he announced.
* * *
Amelia closed the bedroom door behind her
so she and Lottie could have some privacy.
“Oh, you look so lovely,” she said, taking
in Lottie’s extravagant travelling outfit and feathered hat. “Have you bought a
lot of clothes?”
Lottie laughed. “I have. I would have been
content with a couple of outfits but Mr Fenbridge insisted that I have an
entirely new wardrobe provided by the best modiste in London.”
Amelia sighed in delight.
“Oh, it is not that that matters. He has
been so kind and wonderful. I am happier than I have ever been in my life.”
“You love him,” Amelia realised. How had
Lottie fallen in love
after
getting married? Would that happen to her if
she accepted Mr Wrackley? Was she worrying about what to do unnecessarily?
“I do,” Lottie was saying, leaning back in
the chair, sophisticated and radiant. “I did not understand what love really
was until I met Alex. And what of you? How many gentlemen have asked you to
marry them?”
“Just Mr Wrackley,” she confessed.
“So you have turned him down?”
“Not yet. He is a good man but I do not
love him. Do you think that could be enough?”
Lottie frowned. “What of Mr Brightford? I
thought your true feelings were for him?”
“That is immaterial. I do not believe he
ever intended to propose to me.”
“Then how dare he pay court to you the entire
time he was at our estate. What was he thinking?”
Amelia swallowed, the subject still almost
too painful to contemplate. “I suppose he was bored and wanted a brief
dalliance.”
“It is unbelievable.” Lottie shook her
head. “Are you absolutely certain of this?”
“I know that he wrote to Mr Wrackley to
convince him to resume his courtship. Could he possibly have done that if he
wanted to marry me himself?”
“I think you will have to tell me exactly
what both men have said to you,” Lottie responded.
If anyone could help her resolve this it was
Lottie. So Amelia made herself comfortable on her chair and did exactly that,
explaining all that had been said and her own feelings and conclusions on the
matter. Then she turned to her friend for a solution.
“You must confront Mr Brightford,” said the
woman who resembled Amelia’s old friend Lottie but sounded far more confident. “Either
he did wish to marry you and botched everything in the worst way imaginable or
he did not, in which case I think it would be entirely reasonable for you to
slap him again. Hard.”
“I HAVE NEVER seen you looking so well,” Brightford told
his cousin as they began a game of billiards. Alex and Mrs Fenbridge were
staying with her parents for a few weeks after their honeymoon, catching up
with friends and family; some of their family, anyway, as apparently Nathan and
Harrington were thoroughly settled at Alex’s estate and keeping everything
running efficiently there.
“Marrying Lottie is the best thing I did in
my life,” Alex said. “She is perfect.”
Brightford wondered what it said about his
character that perfection sounded a little dull to him. But then all ladies
seemed dull in comparison to Miss Daventry. Even her mourning clothes could not
diminish her beauty and she seemed more composed than she had at Alex’s estate,
perhaps now beginning to put her grief behind her. He recalled the frivolous
girl she had been last year and thought she had matured into a strong-willed,
kind, intelligent woman. Now would be the perfect time to ask her to marry him –
if only she did not hate him so much.
Alex took his shot and the balls scattered
across the table. “I gather you do not wish to marry Miss Daventry after all,”
he observed with a note of criticism in his tone.
“What makes you suppose that?” Brightford
demanded. “I could not get near her. She has been away in the country this
entire time.”
“That does not seem to have stopped
Wrackley.”
Brightford lowered his billiards cue. “What
do you mean?”
“Apparently he proposed to Miss Daventry some
while ago and has an interview with her tomorrow morning to hear her reply.”
Brightford put down his cue and headed for
the door. “Forgive me for deserting you, Alex, but I can’t lose her now.”
He ordered his carriage to be brought to
the front of the house, keen to leave. He could be happy with no one but Miss
Daventry and he had to resolve whatever had gone wrong between them.
* * *
Amelia had been enjoying a good morning
until Mr Brightford arrived. Having spent her stay in the country wondering if
they would have to sell the estate, she and her mother had returned here to be
told by their man of business that her father had made an investment he had not
known about, which meant they were far better off than they had thought. They
were still far from wealthy but they could manage on the money now.
She and her mother had only just returned
from this meeting when Mr Brightford had appeared, clearly in a bad mood, and
asked with the barest of civility if she would accompany him on a drive around
the park. She had been tempted to say no but was too curious as to his reason. Besides,
she had thought of him a good deal while she was away and it was pleasant to
once again see his face even if he was scowling… Why was he scowling at her
when he was the one who was in the wrong?
“I understand that Mr Wrackley is to see
you tomorrow to get an answer to his proposal. I was not even aware he had
asked.”
The hateful man spoke accusingly as if she
were the one who had behaved cruelly, not he. Indeed, it was almost enough to
convince her to accept Mr Wrackley. At least that gentleman could behave in a
courteous manner. He had accepted without complaint that she did not feel able
to answer his proposal until she returned to Edinburgh from the country and his
devotion was all that a woman could wish for. If only her emotions were not
just as muddled as they had been two months ago. And the cause of that
confusion dared to sit there demanding answers.
“I am not aware that the matter could
possibly be considered your business,” she informed him in her most quelling
tone.
He glared at her. “You astonish me, madam.”
She returned his glare, more furious by the
second. “Since you have not made me any offer yourself and I am given to
understand that you have no intention of doing so…”
“What are you saying?” His shock changed
her emotions in an instant, hope coursing through her. “If I had had the
opportunity to do so, of course I would have made you an offer. How could you
possibly doubt it?”
Amelia’s knees went weak and it was
fortunate that she was sitting down in the carriage. Unaccountably, she had an
inconvenient desire to burst into tears. She took a deep breath and spoke as
calmly as she was able. “I was informed that you had encouraged Mr Wrackley’s
courtship of me.”
“Well, yes, I did.”
She gasped. “Then your behaviour, sir, is
utterly incomprehensible!”
“Not in the least,” he responded in a stiff
manner. “It was my fault that he did not make you an offer when he first
visited Edinburgh. Since my opinion about you then was wrong, my honour
demanded that I inform him of the fact.”
“Your honour? What of your duty not to make
me utterly miserable? And how calmly you speak of having thought me
cold-hearted and mercenary as if it were the tiniest of mistakes.”
“The failure was not all mine,” he
objected. “If your behaviour had been more demure…”
From between gritted teeth she managed to
demand, “Take me home now!”
He did so, neither of them saying a word to
each other during the journey. Finally, as he handed her down from the carriage,
he said, “My words did not come out as I intended…”
“Indeed?” she queried sweetly. “Perhaps you
should take lessons from Mr Wrackley: I have always found him to be most
eloquent. Should you see him today pray do inform him of how much I look
forward to our conversation tomorrow. Good day, sir.”
She marched up to her door which their
butler opened instantly. Ignoring Mrs Gallerton’s voice coming from the drawing
room Amelia ran up to her room and shut her door behind her, flinging herself
down on her bed.
How dare he criticise her for not being
demure
?
She sat up and put a hand over her mouth as
the more important fact sank in.
He had always meant to ask her to marry
him.
“I AM SO glad that you are back to help me sort out the
disastrous mess of my life.”
Lottie smiled at the melodramatic
statement, although she did not blame Amelia in the least for feeling like this
given what she had just revealed about Mr Brightford. They were sitting in the
sewing room with the rain beating against the window and the fragrance of
cooking bread wafting in from the kitchen. It was almost like old times, except
that Lottie was not the timid creature she used to be. In the whole time they
had known each other Alex had never once criticised her; on the contrary, they
were in agreement on every subject and he complimented her on everything she
did. His love gave her the confidence to speak her mind and to take pleasure in
every part of her life.
“At least now you know that he was
genuinely courting you,” she said.
Amelia grimaced. “And was apparently so
confident of himself that he threw a rival at me for his own amusement.”
“I am sure that was not the case,” Lottie
said, “although Mr Brightford’s idea of behaving honourably is rather vexing.”
“And his feelings clearly change from one moment
to the next,” Amelia exclaimed, still clearly furious from her conversation
with the gentleman in question earlier today. “A few months ago he apparently
hated me.”
“A few months ago you also loathed him.”
“That is not… Very well, that is pertinent,
but must he be so tactless? Has he no idea at all of how to conduct a
courtship?”
“Apparently not.”
“Well, I am still tempted to marry Mr
Wrackley just to pay Mr Brightford back for his unchivalrous behaviour.”
“I believe that if you did so you would be
injuring yourself as much as him.”
“Oh, I do not mean it,” Amelia relented,
“but I regret that I have given Mr Wrackley hope all this time when I must now
find a way to turn him down. I believe he also loves me.”
“I am certain of it, although he too has
not always acted as he should.”
“Which is also Mr Brightford’s fault.”
Lottie saw the annoyance simmering again in
Amelia’s expression and was heartily glad that her own relationship with Mr
Fenbridge was free from such a tempestuous side. She was beginning to wonder if
Amelia and Mr Brightford’s relationship would ever reach a happy conclusion. Perhaps
it would have been better for them both to have never formed a tendre.
“How is your mother?”
Amelia brightened and smiled. “She has been
much more her old self ever since we visited you for your wedding. She still misses
Papa, of course, but I believe we are both moving forward with our lives now. Have
you seen anything of your brother?”
“We returned home for a week before coming
to see you. I believe Benjy is nearly as happy with Mr Nathaniel Fenbridge as I
am with Alex. They are very much in love.”
“That is wonderful.”
“It is and good luck, like bad, is supposed
to run in threes,” Lottie insisted, determined her friend should find
happiness. “It is now your turn.”