Having seemingly said all she intended, Lily left the parlor, her head held high.
Simon leaned forward, scrubbing at his face as he murmured, “When did our children get so opinionated and outspoken?”
Shifting from her sofa to Simon’s, Mina sat beside her husband with a sigh, and he leaned back to wrap his arm around her shoulder as she curled into his side.
“But are they wrong?” she asked. Simon’s head shifted to look at her, and Mina raised her head to meet his gaze. “Have we meddled too much? Oliver is a grown man capable of making his own decisions.”
“I was older than he when I blithely strolled towards destruction,” muttered Simon.
Mina’s brows pulled tight together. “This has been far more difficult for you than I understood. I was so wrapped in my pain that I didn’t see what that woman’s presence was doing to you.”
But he gave a shake of his head. “I’ve had to fend her off a time or two, but I can avoid her far better than you. I hate seeing you subjected to her barbs and innuendos. And I fear for my son, who is set on following a similar path as I did once—or worse, rather, for he has broken with Miss Caswell and may never regain her affection.”
That was understandable, and Mina might’ve accepted them if not for Lily’s words, which gave voice to a concern Mina had ignored for far too long: Oliver had never seemed in the thralls of love around Miss Caswell. Or even tip-toeing closer to it.
“Love can grow.” Mina spoke the words more to comfort herself than for Simon’s benefit. Unfortunately, they left her feeling hollow.
“It can and does.”
“If we encouraged Oliver to give Miss Caswell more time, then perhaps his feelings would change.” Rather than growing in conviction, Mina felt more and more uneasy about the sentiment.
There was a long pause before Simon prompted, “And yet…?” When Mina gave him a puzzled look, he added, “Your tone was rife with unspoken words.”
“And yet they’ve been courting for a year and seem no more in love than before,” she said with a sigh. “They share a bond of friendship, but if it hasn’t evolved into love by now, I think it may be time to bid those hopes adieu.”
“But that does not mean we must embrace Miss Banfield.”
Mina gave that response a long thought, churning through all that had happened, Oliver’s desires, Simon’s discomfort, and the shadowy concerns over what may yet come to pass, and felt no more assured of what ought to happen. Except for one point.
If not for her own feelings on the matter, it was the answer she would’ve accepted long ago, but pain has a way of twisting one’s thoughts, and Mina was unhappy to discover just how knotted her own had been.
“Embrace, no,” said Mina. “But we’ve been unfair to the girl.”
Simon tensed beside her, though he did not voice any objection.
“Your sisters both suffered because others judged them because of your mother’s horrid behavior,” said Mina, pushing aside the blindness she’d so willingly accepted to feel her way to the truth. The closer she got, the more her chest constricted, her conscience pricking her until there was no comfort to be found. “I’d never thought I would be so cruel as to do the same, but I realize now I judged Miss Banfield too swiftly.”
Shifting so he could face her, her husband held her gaze. “You are being unkind to yourself at present.”
“Am I? Without ever having spoken to the young lady, I deemed her unfit to be around my children. That is the definition of unkind.”
Simon shook his head. “It is the definition of imperfection, Mina. You needn’t be so hard on yourself.”
“Perhaps, but I think it time we lay aside our pain and listen to our children.” Her pulse quickened at that thought, but Mina refused to allow all the fears for their future to sway her from her present course. “We needn’t rush to publish the wedding announcement, but we should start by speaking with Miss Banfield.”
The ticking clock punctuated the silence that followed that.
“Our son is courting a Banfield,” said Simon with a groan.
Mina closed her eyes against the twinge in her heart over those words, but she turned her thoughts away from that woman and all the worries for the future. Leaning her head against her husband’s shoulder, Mina held fast to him.
“No matter what happens, we will overcome it,” she whispered.
“That is hardly the sentiment I want attached to my son’s courtship,” muttered Simon.
Giving a halting chuckle, Mina shook her head. “True, but what if Lily is correct? If this young lady is the proper fit for Oliver, could we forgive ourselves for stepping between them? Could he?”
Simon pressed a kiss to Mina’s head and held her tight. “Then ‘once more unto the breach, dear friend, once more.’”
Mina smiled to herself and let out a long sigh, and added, “And pray that Lily’s hunt for a beau will be less trying. We ought to be spared this anxiety with one of our children.”
Chapter 28
Plenty of people adored the country. Even if they did not care to spend the entirety of the year in the fields and farmland, most relished the opportunity to pass a few months among the quaint landscapes and customs found outside the city. But with most of a fortnight left in her rural confinement, Victoria felt like cursing the wretched place—and the Nelsons for hosting a month-long house party.
Who did such a thing anymore? With railroads crisscrossing the country, one could enjoy a few days’ jaunt rather than wasting away for weeks in a place that had little to no enticements. What did the country folk do with themselves without balls, concerts, plays, and all the like?
Society was so decidedly limited out in these remote wastelands. Morning calls took little time to complete, and then there was no place to gather during the day, such as a park or museum, to pass the time. Even fine weather was not enough of an enticement to tramp the same unending fields of Bristow. Victoria had already spent a fair amount of time admiring and experiencing the landscape, and there was no more to be done with it.
And so, the ladies of the party found themselves sequestered inside with all the mundane pastimes one could do at home. How she envied the Thompsons and Kingsleys for having their own houses to escape to when the company grew stifling.
Victoria’s book was more a prop than a source of entertainment, for she had not the heart to delve into anything deep. Or anything light, for that matter. However, Victoria clung to it, allowing herself to hide behind the pages.
For once, no one was paying her any heed. The past few days had been so full of sympathetic glances and words steeped in pity that Victoria was ready to shout at the next person who dared infer what she felt.
Ladies—both old and young—were scattered around the parlor in a few pockets of conversation while the majority contented themselves with reading, writing, or sewing. But none of her set was present, as Hettie had wandered off somewhere alone, Lily was not visiting today, and Phyllis would not arrive until later.
On their own, Victoria’s eyes wandered from the empty words on the page to the young lady in a solitary corner of the room. Miss Banfield clutched her book, making a better show of reading than Victoria, but then that young lady’s light eyes connected with hers, and for the first time since her courtship with Mr. Kingsley had ended, Victoria did not feel a resounding irritation at the emotions pointed in her direction.
Granted, Victoria did not wish to see the apology any more than the pity, but Miss Banfield’s feelings of guilt did not raise her hackles. Victoria welcomed an acknowledgment of her and Mr. Kingsley’s role in the current situation; it gave her some satisfaction to know someone understood the price she’d paid by freeing him.
If not for Miss Banfield’s ill-timed reappearance in Mr. Kingsley’s life, Victoria and he would be engaged and planning their forthcoming nuptials. There would be no need for reorganizing her plans. Or for nights filled with fretful dreams. If not for Miss Banfield, all would be right in Vi
ctoria’s world. If not for her altruism, Mr. Kingsley would be beyond Miss Banfield’s reach. If not…
Victoria stopped her thoughts from traveling that road. Ignoring her culpability in this situation by wrapping herself in self-righteousness was never helpful.
Her hand fell to the arm of her chair, her fingers tapping a rapid percussion muted by the upholstery. It was then Victoria noticed how much her jaw ached, and she released the tight clench of her teeth; with a covert movement, she wriggled it to loosen the muscles.
For good or ill, Victoria had been the one to break with Mr. Kingsley. It had been the right thing to do.
She lifted the book, hoping to hide the way her eyes drifted back to Miss Banfield, and ignored the prick of jealousy that came and went; a lady would need to be made of stone to feel nothing when facing her former beau’s current amour, but the sentiment was not worth fostering when Victoria, herself, had been the one to throw them together.
Miss Banfield was a solitary creature. With the exception of Mr. Kingsley and his sister, few in the party paid her much mind—including the young lady’s family. So, it was no surprise to see her sitting apart from the others, ensconced in one of the many books she’d pilfered from the Nelsons’ library. The family may not be great readers, but they boasted a diverse collection of works, and Miss Banfield had availed herself of their hitherto untouched books on local flora and fauna.
A voice to her right drew Victoria out of her examination.
“All will be well,” whispered Mama as she sat in the armchair beside her daughter.
Victoria sucked in a deep breath, holding it in her lungs for several moments before she let it out and turned to face her mother with a forced smile.
Mama leaned forward and patted Victoria’s knee. “This is a setback, but it is not hopeless. If we move quickly and decisively, there is no reason we cannot secure you a husband.”
Straightening once more, Mama rested her hands in her lap. Though her expression was as calm and unconcerned as any genteel lady could hope for, it was those hands that gave her heart away. They twisted together, clutching each other as though holding onto the barest shred of control in the face of disaster.
Victoria’s smile strained, and she struggled to keep it from turning into a grimace. Working through what she might say and tossing aside that which would only exacerbate the situation, Victoria settled on a nod. When Mama spoke of matrimony, there was little else to do.
Mama’s eyes turned to Miss Banfield and narrowed. “I do not understand why the Nelsons allow her to remain here.”
“They can hardly toss her out, Mama. Nor should they.”
“She’s a jezebel who came between you and Mr. Kingsley.” Mama’s voice rose, and Victoria hushed her, though it did not stop the lady from continuing. “And I’ve heard some salacious rumors of late that make me think her parents are equally depraved—”
“As I have told you many times, Mr. Kingsley and I do not suit. Nothing more. Even if Miss Banfield were on the other side of the country, that would not change.”
“But for him to court another so quickly—”
Victoria snapped her book shut. “Whatever he chooses to do is no one’s business but his own. And Miss Banfield is a wonderful young lady, whom I admire greatly. They are good people who deserve to find happiness together, and I will not sit here and listen to you slander either of them.”
With that, Victoria rose to her feet, abandoning her book and Mama as she strode across the parlor. At the movement, Miss Banfield’s gaze rose to meet hers, and it was Victoria’s turn to send a silent apology. Though she doubted Miss Banfield had overheard their conversation, it was not the first of its kind nor the last. The soft-spoken young lady was now the source of speculation and whispers as the “other woman.”
For good or ill, it was not Victoria alone who bore the weight of this alteration to their plans.
Miss Banfield looked confused and intrigued by Victoria’s guilt, which did little to ease it. Though she hadn’t encouraged the others to judge and scorn Miss Banfield, it did not alter the fact that they did so on Victoria’s behalf.
But there was nothing more to be done about the situation. No amount of assurances had lessened their collective outrage, so all that was left was to wait out the storm. Striding from the parlor, Victoria distanced herself from the tempest while wishing her heart felt lighter for it. But her mother’s words haunted her steps, chasing after her like a wolf scenting prey.
Victoria couldn’t regret her break with Mr. Kingsley—it was the right thing to do—but that did not absolve her from doing her duty to her sisters and parents. And the weight of their futures and hopes pressed down on Victoria, demanding she make things right.
*
Once upon a time, Little Sophie had believed there was no felicity greater to be found than a comfortable armchair, a cup of tea, and a good book, but such things had been abandoned with the advent of adulthood. When indoors, there were so many people demanding her attention, and good manners forbade her from ignoring the others and sequestering herself in a quiet corner. But today the ladies were occupied with other pursuits, such as gossiping about her, Mr. Kingsley, and Miss Caswell, and Sophie was able to recapture the beauty of an afternoon free to explore literary pursuits.
Taking a sip of her tea, Sophie snuggled into her chair—or as much into it as was possible through layers of petticoats—and attempted to turn her attention to the words on the page. But her eyes read the letters again and again, never understanding what they said.
Truly, it was terribly unfair that Sophie’s mind refused to focus when granted a rare opportunity to indulge in literature. But neither could she honestly say she was unhappy with the source of her distraction. Hiding behind her book, Sophie shielded her face from the others so they would not see the ridiculous grin stretching across it. A lady did not broadcast such gauche sentiments, but Sophie could not contain it any more than she could stop the sun from rising.
Mr. Kingsley. Sophie’s whole body felt lighter at the slightest thought of him. He flitted in and out of her mind constantly, bringing memories of their time together.
If Sophie was entirely honest, the restrictions propriety placed upon them made her miss the days before their courtship at times. It was rather odd that as friends they’d been free to tromp about the woods as they wished, but now that promises had been made, they were afforded far less time in each other’s company. But it was a price worth paying, for Sophie could never regret the shift in their relationship.
Her eyes drifted from the page and met the only aspect of her situation that saddened her. Miss Caswell hid it well, but Sophie knew her break with Mr. Kingsley pained her; although Miss Caswell’s heart had not been engaged, Sophie was not ignorant as to what losing an eligible beau cost a young lady. More than that, some deeper heartache plagued Miss Caswell, and the light in Sophie’s world dimmed at the thought that her happiness had come at another’s expense.
The young lady held Sophie’s gaze, but rather than censure or anger, Miss Caswell’s expression held a pride that warned Sophie not to pity her. There was no disdain or haughtiness to it, as though such sympathy was beneath her; rather, it was the pride of one who did not need such sentiments cast in her direction. With an inner strength that Sophie thought synonymous with Miss Caswell, the young lady faced the challenges and emerged triumphant. Such a one did not wring her hands in dismay nor welcome pity.
There was so much that Sophie admired about Miss Caswell. She was lively and well-spoken. Intelligent. Self-possessed but without the arrogance that too often defined such people. And whether by intention or accident, Sophie knew she’d caused the indomitable young lady harm. For that, Sophie could not help the sorrow shining in her gaze.
Rather than turning away from the silent apology, Miss Caswell held Sophie’s gaze without censure before hiding behind her book once more. Sophie followed suit, though she was no more engaged in her book than before. Mr. Kingsley and
Miss Caswell proved far too distracting for even the most fascinating treatise on the life cycle and habits of stoats.
A movement drew her attention from the page, and Sophie saw Miss Caswell on her feet. Mrs. Caswell had come to sit beside her daughter, and though Sophie couldn’t hear their conversation, there was a fractious air to it. Abandoning her own book, Miss Caswell stalked from the parlor, pausing for a moment to meet Sophie’s eyes in silent apology. Cocking her head to the side, Sophie wondered why the young lady felt she needed forgiveness, but before she could give it much thought, Miss Caswell strode through the doorway.
“She’s a sore loser,” murmured Mama. “How disappointing.”
Chapter 29
Sophie’s gaze whipped from the doorway to the seat beside her, which had been vacant a moment ago. Mama watched the empty doorway, her eyes sparkling with cool triumph.
“That is unjust and unkind, Mama.”
“It is the truth,” she replied with an arched brow. “She was all but engaged to Mr. Kingsley and lost him to you—”
Sophie snapped her book shut, forcing a softness to her tone that she did not feel. “They did not suit.”
Mama met that with lowered lids, her lips pulling into a knowing smile. “They suited until you caught Mr. Kingsley’s eye.”
Sighing, Sophie dropped her book on the end table next to her chair. But before she could say a word, Mama held up placating hands.
“I didn’t come here to argue with you. I wanted to give you some motherly advice.” Mama took Sophie’s hand in hers and patted it, but that did not ease the tightness in Sophie’s shoulders.
“You must show more restraint, Sophie, or you may lose him yet.” Squeezing Sophie’s hand, Mama’s brows pulled together in a show of concern—as much concern as Susannah Banfield was wont to feel. “I see how enamored you are with him, and no doubt Mr. Kingsley sees it as well. Gentlemen prefer the chase, and if he thinks you too eager, it may scare him away.”
Hearts Entwined (Victorian Love Book 3) Page 20