His Impassioned Proposal (The Bridgethorpe Brides) (8 page)

The chance he might attend his uncle’s Twelfth Night activities was most assuredly not the cause of her racing heartbeat as she dressed for the evening, choosing a rich green velvet gown and matching emerald earrings, and allowing her maid to weave some holly leaves and pearls into the curls piled on her head.

Stephen was the farthest thing from her thoughts when she turned this way and that before her looking glass. No man of any importance would be attending the rout at Bridgethorpe Manor. She had no excuse for wanting to look far beyond her best. No reason other than wanting her appearance to reflect how she felt on the inside. The new year had begun, and she was determined to make the most of it. A fresh start, and quite possibly the most important year of her life. She was determined to fall in love before summer arrived.

Father wanted to bring out the sleigh for the ride to Bridgethorpe, but the snow two days prior had already melted. Still, the evening air was cold enough to warrant heavy lap robes in the carriage, and the windows were thick with fog.

Bridgethorpe Manor glowed brightly with light from lamps and candles, giving a cheery atmosphere that buoyed Jane’s excitement. Only a few other neighboring families would be joining them, and from the laughter bubbling down the staircase, the Marwicks were the last to arrive.

Hannah rushed to Jane’s side when they entered the large parlor. “You are here! Now my evening is complete.”

Jane laughed. “This will be the last time I hear you speak those words. Soon it will be a gentleman’s name on your lips when you say so.”

“Never. No man will ever come between us. I treasure your friendship so.” Hannah linked her arm in Jane’s and led her toward the fireplace. “Come, get warm, and we can ask Mama when the games will begin.”

And games there were plenty. Charades, of course, as David and Hannah were excellent actors, was followed by the silent
Tableaux Vivants
, a party game during which Jane and Hannah were notorious for erupting into giggles. The disruption was inevitable when Lady Bridgethorpe assigned Jane, Hannah and Patience, Hannah’s next-younger sister, to portray the three witches in the cauldron scene from Macbeth. Wearing dirty, ragged gowns, moth-eaten wool shawls draped over their heads, the three girls assumed the
tableau
described by Lady Bridgethorpe and froze in place while the rest of the partiers tried to guess the scene.

Asking three vivacious young ladies to remain motionless and speechless for any length of time, especially with an audience in attendance and assorted brothers calling out heckling remarks and ridiculous guesses, was an exercise in futility. What began as a sputter from Hannah spread to Patience, who snickered, then Jane giggled. Trying hard to not focus on the other two, Jane closed her eyes, but could hear Hannah’s rapid breathing signaling her silent laughter.

“Shh,” Jane pleaded, too late.

Hannah erupted into loud cackles, only slightly in character as one of the crones. She leaned closer to Jane and wrapped her arms around her, drawing in a gasping breath for another round of laughter.

Jane hugged her, then reached to bring Patience into their circle. As the three giggling misses scurried from the room to remove their costumes, Lady Bridgethorpe could be heard announcing the subject of their
tableau
, which no one had guessed. She then directed her guests to the refreshments before taking their places at the card tables.

“Oh, I thought I would burst from holding my breath,” Patience cried, patting her hair back into place after removing the ragged gown.

“I don’t understand why Mama insists on us performing
tableaux
each year, when she knows we cannot stay silent.” Hannah retied the satin ribbon around the empire waistline of her lavender-sprigged gown.

“I imagine she hopes one day we shall grow into fine young ladies,” said Jane. She met the eyes of her two friends and they burst into giggles once again.

“I do so hate to disappoint her,” Hannah commented, gasping for breath. “Let us return to the party before the refreshments are all eaten. All this laughter has made me quite hungry.”

As they stepped out into the hallway, Jane heard a gentleman clear his throat. Turning, she saw Stephen leaning against the doorway of the next room.

He smiled when she met his gaze. “Jane, how well you look.”

Hannah touched Jane’s arm. “We’ll go on ahead, but don’t be long. Mama will wonder where you are.”

“As will my mother, no doubt. I will be right behind you.” Jane turned back toward Stephen, trying to quell the quivering in her stomach. “Hello, Stephen. I didn’t expect you to attend tonight’s festivities.”

“I’m not certain it was a wise plan.” He straightened and took her arm in his, but made no move toward the party. “Twelfth Night was my mother’s favorite festivity. I felt I should honor her by attending.”

Sadness hooded his eyes at mention of his mother, making Jane want to take him into her arms and hold him until the world looked more kindly upon him. As that would be misconstrued by Stephen and most of the others in the parlor, she simply said, “She would be pleased. I remember how much she enjoyed the charades and singing.”

“It is very odd not having them here tonight, or at supper on Christmas Day.”

Wanting to return to the gathering before her absence was noted, and unsure how she felt about being alone with Stephen, Jane took a step down the hallway, hoping Stephen would follow. He did, albeit only half a step, dragging down the pace.

Jane patted his coat sleeve. “You must be missing them sorely.”

“I’ve thought about returning to London for a time.” Stephen continued to pace slowly forward as he spoke. “I didn’t expect to see them at every turn when I was in Town. Much unlike when I’m at Larkspur Cottage. I’m always startled when Mrs. Loughty wishes to discuss the day’s menu with me, or Simmons brings word of how the fields are faring in the cold. Then it comes back to me that I am alone there.”

“Perhaps a trip to London would be good for you, then. Or are there friends you might visit in the country?”

“Yes, I’ve written a few schoolmates. I’ve been filling my time with rereading the books which weren’t damaged in the fire, and toying with ideas for rebuilding the wing.”

“Oh, how lovely.” If he was thinking of adding to his house, perhaps he intended to marry soon. She couldn’t ask, however, without seeming more interested than she was. And she wasn’t certain whether the news made her happy or not. Why couldn’t she let him go?

Laughter rang from the parlor, and Stephen released her arm. “I am not up to as much joviality as the other guests are, so I will let you return without me. It was good to speak with you, dear Jane.”

Her left side felt suddenly cool without his nearness. She fought off a shiver and hugged herself. “I enjoyed seeing you, too.” She slipped away before she could say anything more.

A cold fist of melancholy clenched her heart, but she forced a smile lest anyone notice. She missed the days when they were young and carefree. She missed the days when she could believe herself in love, and believe that love would see them through anything life put upon them.

She missed Stephen’s smile. The genuine one that lit his face and added a lilt to his voice, not the polite one he offered easily enough lately. She wondered if she might ever see that smile again. And she wished she might be the cause of it, one day.

With the words of the old rhyme about wishes and horses running through her head, Jane spotted Hannah across the room and made her way through the guests.

Stephen watched Jane disappear into the large room and ducked into an anteroom before he could be spotted. He’d come to the party with good intentions, but failed to find the enjoyment he hoped for. Mother would chide him for being morose, and for following society restrictions on mourning periods. She would want him to live, foremost, to move forward with his life.

In some small ways, he had been moving forward. He planned to visit the mills he owned once the weather was better up north. Although Mr. Sprackle had retired as steward when Stephen’s father sold off most of his land, the man was still very willing to discuss crop rotation and planting times when Stephen had enquired.

As he mentioned to Jane, he’d also been sketching some rough plans for a new wing. He needed to hire an architect soon, if he decided to go ahead with his idea. He could have construction begin in the spring. Part of him said to wait until some young lady had agreed to become his wife. He tried to argue that his floor plan didn’t suit Jane alone. Many young ladies would be pleased with what he conceived of for that one special room.

But his heart knew it was Jane whom he hoped would be making that room her own.

Bridgethorpe Manor was not so old and large as to have priest holes and minstrel galleries, or hidden rooms through which Stephen could watch the festivities, so he eventually made his way into the parlor. He skirted the room, smiling when his gaze landed on someone watching him, until he reached the chairs near the back where Knightwick and David sat, along with two of their older male cousins.

The younger Lumleys were being given a chance to perform before the gathering. Biblical recitations were followed by singing and piano-playing, and nine-year-old Lucy-Anne performed on the violin. Their level of competence wasn’t what struck Stephen. The looks on their parents’ faces hit him hard. The love, pride, and sheer joy in their eyes made their entire countenances glow.

He imagined what that must feel like from within. A twinge of jealousy hit him, knocking him completely off-guard. Even Bridgethorpe, who found joy in nothing of late, beamed when his progeny had their turns. Was this what having children did to one? Filled one with such utter happiness and peace?

Stephen felt a sudden, deep longing to hear childish laughter ring through the halls of Larkspur Cottage. Not the voices of his younger cousins, but of his own children. He wanted to share in their laughter. To chase his sons around the nursery, waving a wooden pirate sword and saying nonsensical things like “matey” and “walk the plank”. To sit with his daughters drinking tea, liberally infused with milk, in delicate little cups and speak of being presented to the Queen.

That longing hit his gut and at the same moment he had to blink hard in hopes no one would see the tears that welled.
Stuff and nonsense
. He was merely missing his parents at such an important time of the year for family.

Yet he made a mental note to revise the number of bed chambers in his house plans.

In early February when the roads had dried after a brief, torrential rain, Stephen set out for Bridgethorpe Manor. David had come up from Newmarket and sent word to meet him there in his curricle.

Bundled warmly in his many-caped greatcoat against the chilly weather, Stephen arrived by early afternoon, where he was greeted by his female cousins. The younger two boys had returned to Cambridge after the holidays, and Knightwick was off in London, so David was the only son presently at home. Stephen wasn’t certain whether he envied his cousin the attention from his sisters, or was grateful he had his own quiet home to return to.

“Stephen, Mama says we may go to London next month with Hannah,” Patience exclaimed as he removed his gloves and cloak.

Her twin, Madeleine was not to be outdone. “And we may each have a new gown and buy six new ribbons.”

Hannah descended the staircase with practiced grace he’d not noticed before. “Girls, Cousin Stephen does not wish to hear of such matters as shopping and ribbons.”

Stephen noticed something new in her air. “You look lovely, Hannah, as do all of you. Are you excited to be leaving for Town soon?”

Hannah laughed softly. “Not nearly as excited as these two. Mama is letting them, and little Lucy-Anne, come with us, although they’ll return home before the majority of
the ton
arrives for the Season.”

“Oh, so he won’t have the duty of chaperoning you about?”

“Yes, he will, once he returns. Papa will be sitting in Parliament and has no interest in balls and the opera. Mama has insisted Knightwick be in attendance with me. I fear she thinks I will be swept away in the midst of a ball by some scandalous rake.”