Authors: Elizabeth Johns
“Even I could see that one coming,” Nathaniel remarked, referencing his one eye.
“Honestly, my mind was on Miss Lambert and I was caught somewhat unawares. You don't suppose I could use it to my advantage?” Andrew asked sheepishly, knowing the answer. “What can I do?”
“You must tell her how you feel. I know it is not natural for a man, but I believe she does not think she is worthy, and I suspect she thinks your offer to be of a different nature.”
“I never!”
“I know that, but does she?”
“Then why did she come all the way to America? If she was uncertain of my intentions, that is.”
“She was urged on by Lord Kendall and Elly,” Nathaniel answered.
“I know that when I chased Nathaniel to the Continent, I second-guessed myself a thousand times, if not more. I had convinced myself I would be content to live on my own with Amelia. And for a time I'd had no choice.” Lydia teared up a bit at the recollection, and Nathaniel took her hand. “I suspect that Elly convinced her your intentions were honourable, but when she arrived she began to doubt.”
“I've never been plainer in my life!”
“We all know that, Andrew. We can see that you were made for each other. But consider what she has been through. She is still grieving for her mother, whom she cared for on her own for six years. She now finds herself destitute and dependent on our family's charity. She leaves the only home she's ever known and finds herself in a strange land with no money or connections, should we decide to abandon her.”
“She's terrified,” he stated as if he finally understood.
“I believe so. She does not consider herself to be of our class, and cannot imagine why you would lower yourself, or what she could offer as your bride.”
“But Kendall offered,” Nathaniel pointed out.
“He hardly left her feeling worthy.”
“I don't give a fig for any of that! I've no need to marry, and I don't need her money!”
“Then I suggest you convince her. And I would suggest you try with words first.”
“After the look on her face when she saw you with Miss Bradley, you might have to be more creative,” Nathaniel added dryly.
Andrew thrust his face into his hands. “Why must you ladies be so deuced complicated?”
“We would not want to bore you.”
“Did I say I was bored?”
“Convince her that your sun rises and sets with her,” Lydia advised.
“She’s ‘all that’s best of dark and bright.’” Nathaniel added.
“I never knew you to be a poet, Nate.”
“It's Byron. Perhaps it would behoove you to learn a little yourself.”
“If only I was not acquainted with him.”
***
Why had she come? And why had Mr. Abbott put her in such a position? What had he told those people about her? Clearly he had said something. She felt hurt, jealous, angry, humiliated; there was nothing admirable about how she felt as she watched out the window on the return to the plantation. She had mistaken Mr. Abbott’s regard for her and felt the fool. He flirted with all ladies the same as he did with her!
She was going to have to return to England. It was clear she would not be welcomed here. She would start on the painting for Elly immediately. She would beg the Fairmonts if she had to—offer Amelia art lessons for life if necessary for her passage fare if they were not ready to return. It was too painful to be near Mr. Abbott. She could never be the type of woman that looked the other way.
She should have controlled her reaction to that harpy and not let her see her anger. She should have said something cleverer. She was certain it would come to her later. She had never had the gift of a quick tongue. A quick temper, yes. She certainly had the redheaded fire in her blood.
The carriage pulled up to the house. Josie and Buffy helped the children out of the carriage. Gwen followed and passed through the kitchen on the way to her room and asked for a small lunch to take with her. She intended to complete as much of the picture as possible today.
She packed up her sketching supplies and a hamper of food, avoiding the main staircase and anywhere she thought he might be.
Outdoors, she went in search of the perfect spot. Once she had the sketch she could find somewhere else to paint. She looked about for a place she could draw in relative privacy unseen from the house.
Unfortunately, the best view would be in a boat on the river. She was not about to suggest such a thing to Mr. Abbott. Who knew what he might try once he had her alone out there? She thought of their kiss, and then what she had witnessed with Miss Bradley. Apparently kisses were given out as readily as comfits at Christmas by Mr. Abbott, she thought angrily.
Love thy neighbour indeed
!
She settled near a tree by the landing. She opened the hamper and ate some food while she studied the house from the front façade. That was the angle both Lord and Lady Easton were most fond of.
The square bold lines of the house with its thick pillared columns took form quickly on the pad, each stroke venting some of her anger onto the page. She added in the curve of the river and then the surrounding trees. As her frustration faded into her work, she decided it would be best to act like nothing had happened, and that she was unaffected.
She was not at all good at masking her emotions, but it would be necessary to try to further protect her heart. That it was already broken she could not deny. It did not mean she wanted it injured further. The worst part was, she had no one to be angry with but herself. Mr. Abbott had promised her nothing.
She sat back and compared her drawing with the real thing. She had decided upon everything except the sky. The sky had been crystal clear that morning as they had gone to church. But now the clouds were unlike any she had ever seen before. They stretched out in a pattern as if a bird had spread its wing and was wrapping it around the sky.
Perhaps tomorrow the sky would be better, although the sunset held glorious hues of pinks, violets and ambers. She could decide as she slept. She often dreamt of scenes in paintings. The air was growing more humid, so she gathered up her things and returned to the house.
“There you are,” Lady Fairmont exclaimed. “We were about to send a search party out for you.”
“I apologise. I was frustrated, and I wanted to sketch out the painting for Lady Easton.”
“I assumed it was something of the sort, but convincing Andrew that you were unharmed was more difficult.”
“I was only by the landing.” What right did he have to be concerned?
“Well, you look like you are intact. Shall I fetch someone to help you dress for dinner?”
“Perhaps help with my hair.”
“I’ll send Josie. We will wait for you in the drawing room. We are to dine at the neighbours’.”
“Lady Fairmont?” Gwen called after her.
“Yes?”
“When do you think you will be returning to England?”
“We have made no plans as of yet. Is everything all right?”
“I think it best that I return with you,” Gwen said quietly.
Lady Fairmont’s face softened. “Then I shall inform you when we have plans. You are of course welcome to come with us.”
“Thank you.”
Gwen sighed and went to change. She wished she had been bold enough to beg. She could not avoid Mr. Abbott forever. She wished she were not so affected by his presence. She had spun fantastic tales in her mind about them knowing they were ridiculous unreality. The sooner she was away from him the better.
Chapter Sixteen
Gwen had lost her mind. She could not trust her judgment or counsel. She was receiving confusing signals from every front. Lady Fairmont had said they were to dine with the neighbours. She had not realised which neighbours. She had politely demurred when informed, thinking her mourning state a proper excuse. She was reassured it was only a small dinner, with no dancing.
Lady Fairmont pulled her aside. “We could make your excuses, but that would allow the Bradleys an entire evening to avail themselves of Andrew,” she said in a hushed voice to avoid being overheard.
“I do not see that is any business of mine,” Gwen said as politely as she could.
“Very well. I understand your sentiments. I cannot say I would feel any differently.” Lady Fairmont replied. “But did you come this far to give up so easily?”
“It is not a matter of giving up. It is more his behaviour towards other women which leaves me to feel I am out of place.”
“I believe there has been some gross misunderstanding. Unless you have had a change of heart?” Lady Fairmont searched Gwen’s face.
Gwen shook her head.
“Then may I suggest you postpone your judgement a bit longer and give him another chance. And if you mean to win him for yourself you best make it your concern and attend the dinner,” Lady Fairmont said quietly with a wink and an encouraging squeeze of her hand. “Men are literal creatures, Gwen. You must be very plain to them and not expect them to guess at your thoughts.” With that advice she walked away as Mr. Abbott approached.
“Gwen. Please come. I know you are angry with me, but we can have dinner with friends, surely.”
She looked sideways at him with narrowed eyes.
“Very angry. I confess I might have hinted we were betrothed and it would look odd were you not to attend.”
Gwen’s heart leapt from her chest, but the words she had longed to hear were bittersweet.
“Why would you say such a thing?”
“I was attempting to deter some of the ambitious mamas.”
That was not the answer she wanted to hear. She wanted to believe his affection for her was reciprocated, but the signs were not convincing.
“Please. We can discuss this later, but can we pretend for tonight?”
Pretend. He wanted her to pretend. She stood there, assimilating his words with Lady Fairmont’s. She wanted to be furious and throw something. The irony of the situation only made her furious with her own poor judgement. She had come here with the hope of becoming his wife, only to find him making up to other women, or at least not discouraging their advances. It made the offence more grievous to her knowing he behaved this way, and all the while the town had thought him engaged. Making a May game of her was how it felt. She did not want to go to a dinner and pretend anything. But she decided to heed Lady Fairmont’s advice and reserve judgement for the time being.
“Very well. I will go.”
She sat next to him in the carriage brooding while they rode to the Bradleys’ welcoming soirée. The entire party was quiet, not knowing how Miss Lambert would choose to respond publicly to Andrew’s decree. The fact that she was obliged to go to the home of the family that was the main source of her irritation was enough to send her Titian-headed temper into full swing. She debated how to go on as they pulled through the gates. She should act to the manor born and depress any pretentions the biddy Bradley proffered. Gwen was to the manor born, but as they drove up before a mansion as grand as River’s Bend, her heart sank. The truth was, she no longer belonged to that world and did not know if she had the talent to pull off the charade. She had no idea how American society got on. She had never had the talent to pretend she was feeling other than she was—which at this moment was acutely vexed and deeply hurt. She did not know if she could trust him again, even if there was a misunderstanding.
“Well my dear, what shall it be?” Andrew braved her wrath.
Lady Fairmont spoke up, “I admit I cannot like the situation nor the circumstances, but you must admit it best to go along with the scheme while we are here, and not give the cat an opportunity to sink her claws into him.”
“Yes, please do not leave my side,” Andrew begged.
Gwen glared at him. He could have resolved this himself if he was truly repulsed by her, but as angry as she was, the thought of Miss Bradley in his arms was enough to firm her resolve. At least for the night.
“If you will not do it for Andrew, Miss Lambert, please do it for our sake,” Lord Fairmont said in his usual sardonic manner.
“Pretend you're a duchess, dear,” Lady Fairmont whispered into her ear as they alighted from the carriage. “Above all, do not show your emotion on your face.”
Mr. Abbott held out his arm to her and flashed his most charming smile. She took his arm reluctantly, knowing she would have difficulty not succumbing to his charms when he was so near. They entered the mansion and Gwen already felt herself disadvantaged at the stark reminder and contrast to her own situation. She was an impostor and she had not been in schooled in the arts of deception or pretending. She did not wish to be as haughty or pretentious as those as she sought to fool, but there again, it would be delicious to have the small victory.
“If you so much as smile at her, I will walk out,” she warned Andrew through her smiling teeth.
“Agreed, my lady. I will do my best Lord Fairmont impression.”
Lord Fairmont chuckled appreciatively.
They were shown into a large drawing room that was surprisingly filled with many unknown faces.
Gwen instinctively shrank back, and Andrew leaned over and whispered reassurances into her ear as the Bradleys caught sight of the River’s Bend party and came forward to greet them.