“Then I should like to know what happened,” Sir Edmund declared. “I can’t begin to imagine.”
“Anika, you know the story as well as I do,” Miles said. “Shall we begin?”
“Absolutely,” I replied.
Douglas Carlisle winced, as he carefully pulled on his jacket. The glance he caught in the mirror, was at least reassuring. It might take tremendous effort to hide the limp that insisted on troubling him, and the stiffness as well, but there was otherwise no sign of the wild ride he endured a few short hours before.
There was a light knock at the door, then it opened, and his brother entered. Daniel’s countenance was cheerful, but it did not entirely mask the concern that refused to be ignored.
“Well, then. You intend to join the rest of us for tea, after all,” he remarked.
Douglas frowned slightly, and glanced at his pocket watch.
“I am hardly late, unless tea is earlier than usual.”
“Not at all,” Daniel replied, as he relaxed in one of the bedroom chairs. “As I did not see you at lunch, or at all since yesterday, I feared you had gone. Much as it would infuriate our father to foil his plans, it would also humiliate Miss Bannerman. While he deserves such a turn, she does not.”
“You needn’t remind me further, as I am already very much aware,” Douglas said wryly.
“Are you,” Daniel replied in cautious relief. “Then you intend to marry her, after all?”
“To do so, and live happily, would be the cruelest of all blows to our father, as you yourself pointed out,” Douglas answered ruefully.
“Well then, I am glad to hear it,” Daniel said, then amusement lit his eyes. “Although this does end my plan to stand in your stead.”
Douglas’ eyebrows knit in a scowl, as he shot his brother a look. Daniel was in jest, but it annoyed him all the same.
“So it does, and you best think carefully before making such a suggestion again,” Douglas warned.
“You need not be concerned on my account,” Daniel assured him. “To follow through, would require a heavier overcoat than I now possess. I am already frostbitten, after the few moments I spent in her presence. I do not think she cares much for me, regardless of my charms.”
“Then I like her all the better for it,” Douglas said grudgingly.
“I am glad to know my loss of feeling, is your gain,” Daniel smiled, and rose from his chair. “Shall we, then?”
“Let us do so,” Douglas assented.
As the brothers reached the drawing room, Douglas scanned those already seated there. It would appear he and Daniel were the last to arrive. Already present were Sir Douglas and Lady Nora, Sir William and Lady Frances, the elder Lady Bannerman, James and Katharine, and Evie. He registered Helen’s presence as well, though not by the flicker of an eyelash would he acknowledge it. Resignation now filled the mind once dominated by anger, but grief would not so easily relinquish his heart. The less he saw of her, the better.
“Good afternoon,” Lady Frances greeted the brothers, and motioned for them to be seated. “Please, join us.”
“Thank you,” Douglas accepted, and was grateful for the chair’s thick cushion.
Tea commenced, as did light conversation. While the others commented on the lovely weather, and the numerous pastimes perfectly suited to such, Douglas risked a cautious glance at his fiancé. Her expression was pensive, and rather somber. It was incongruous for a young woman looking forward with anticipation to her upcoming wedding, but she was not. What chilled her attitude toward him before they met, he could only guess, but all he gave her since, was reason to dread. He felt a sharp twinge of guilt as he recalled his determination to see her suffer for the wrongs committed against him, of which she had no part.
Helen‘s expression was as somber as Evie’s, if he but knew. There was no chance at that however, as he refused to look her way. Helen’s heart writhed unbearably, as it beseeched her to turn back from the course that would irrevocably separate them. This man was her fiancé. The pledge made to her, and the agreement with her father, precluded any other. Why did she refuse to acknowledge it before, and why did she not do so now, before it was too late? If only Douglas would glance her way, if only he would extend to her another chance, this time she would not waste it.
But he did not, and Helen sat in tortured silence.
The elder Lady Bannerman observed the beloved granddaughter on her right, and the dearly loved companion on the left. Both were filled with sorrow and foreboding, and how needlessly so! Something must be done, but what? Her eyes flashed as she looked at her son. How he could surrender Evie to such a fate, she could not fathom. He had not only his daughter’s word as to Douglas’ animosity toward Evie, but her own as well. And yet it mattered not. He had the nerve to order the both of them to speak no more about it. Clearly, the rod was spared during her son’s raising.
The elder Lady Bannerman gripped her cane, and was sorely tempted to make up the deficit.
Katharine studied Douglas critically, as he cast what might be an appeasing glance toward Evie. If indeed it was, it was the least he owed to her.
Evie sat quietly, and glanced only at the tea in front of her. She had little appetite for it, which had nothing to do with the food itself, and everything to do with her troubled heart and tumultuous thoughts. She forced herself to eat, in spite of her desire to do otherwise. Whatever she must face, she would not do so in a weakened condition.
Lady Frances watched, and felt grim satisfaction. Despite her initial overreaction, her daughter was accepting her fate admirably. Evie’s appetite was no less than usual, and her expression gravely thoughtful, as was befitting a soon to be married woman. As for Douglas… Lady Frances felt a twinge of annoyance. His display very nearly resulted in embarrassment and humiliation for them all. He would be wise to show greater discretion in future. Regardless, it was just as well that Evie learn sooner rather than later, that marriage wasn’t the blissful, joyous adventure she once believed it to be.
“It was perfect for riding this morning,” Daniel remarked, and Douglas glanced at him. “I meant to join you, if only you did not make such an early start.”
“I was not aware,” Douglas replied. “As I wished to clear my head, it is just as well. Doubtless I would have proven to be less than the ideal companion.”
He hoped to catch Evie’s eye, and perhaps extend an unspoken apology, but hers remained firmly fixed on the teacup in her hand.
“I rather envy you your horses,” Sir Douglas remarked languidly, and Douglas felt himself bristle at his father’s voice.
“You are in good company,” Sir William replied proudly. “All who see them feel the same.”
“You’ve a good eye, or else there is one in your employ who has,” Sir Douglas inquired, as much as stated.
“Indeed,” Sir William responded. “I intend to see to it that does not change, despite the regrettable loss of our head groom.”
Evie’s cheeks paled, then flushed, as rage came to a rapid boil within. This, then, was the thanks Joseph received for standing up for her, the daughter of the house. Insult to her, then injury to him! A finer man never lived, and he knew the risk, but he defended her anyway. And then this, this odious, foul, despicable excuse for a bridegroom…
Douglas caught Evie’s gaze at last, and was startled by the promise of retribution yet to come. Not that he deserved kindness from her, nor expected it, but…
“That is most regrettable,” Douglas hurried to join the conversation. “I cannot imagine you would let a man of such talent go easily.”
“Indeed, he was offered every incentive to remain. Yet he refused,” Sir William reported, as if even now he found it hard to believe.
“Where then, is he employed?” Sir Douglas asked.
“I know only that his mind would not be changed,” Sir William replied. “If you wish to try yourself, you’d best look elsewhere to find him. He’ll do no better, here on the Isle.”
Evie relaxed
her grip on the teacup in her hand, and fought to slow her pounding heart. She was overwhelmed with relief, to the point she felt physically ill.
“Please excuse me,” she said faintly, and the look on her face was enough that even her mother saw fit not to question.
As Evie vanished into the hall, Douglas stood.
“If you will excuse me,” he swiftly added, and followed.
James and Katharine watched with deepening concern, as they tried to gauge the sincerity of feeling in Douglas’ expression.
Helen felt utterly cured of ever thinking her foolish sacrifice was anything other than that.
Daniel hoped for the best.
Sir William recalled Joseph’s parting words. The young man seemed sincere, as did Evie herself, the night before. His own mother, as well. Douglas’ attitude toward his daughter was regrettable, but… aside from a few unfortunate insufficiencies, it was a good match. He would not seek to dissolve it.
The elder Lady Bannerman gripped her cane, and gave her son a look that left him feeling it would be prudent to watch his back.
Evie hurried down the hall as quickly as she could manage, without tripping over her gown. Her heart continued to pound, and partaking in tea no longer seemed the wisest course of action. Her stomach fluttered uncomfortably, and she felt faint. She heard quick footsteps behind her, which did not help her feelings.
“Miss Bannerman!” Douglas called out. “Or Evie, I mean to say.”
Evie cringed, then turned to face him.
It did not appear as though she intended to speak, but… perhaps it was just as well.
“I owe you an apology,” Douglas said, much to her surprise. “I owe you several, in fact. I am terribly ashamed at how I’ve spoken to you, and I ask your forgiveness.”
Evie stared back at him warily.
“Very well,” she replied. “I forgive you.”
“It is more than I deserve,” Douglas said ruefully.
Evie considered that.
“I am inclined to agree,” she answered shortly, and turned on her heel.
“Wait!” Douglas implored, and blocked her path for good measure. “It will be a long and miserable union indeed, if we cannot begin over again. If not now, then I fear it shall never be.”
Evie looked back at him seriously, then sighed.
“How it ever could be, is beyond me,” she replied truthfully.
Douglas frowned in confusion.
“Why would you think so? I am sincere in my apology, and… I must say, I am surprised to hear it. In your letters you did not strike me as one who would hold a grudge.”
“I suppose not,” Evie acknowledged. “Neither did the letters bearing your name give any hint that they were written by another, or that your own heart was already bound up in someone else.”
Douglas’ shoulders slumped, and he dropped his gaze.
“None of this was my intent,” he replied.
“Nor was it mine,” Evie responded. “Yet here we are. I accept your apology, and I forgive your part in this, but to begin again under different circumstances, is impossible. It is a miserable foundation, and ill-suited for any but a house of sorrows.”
“I cannot resign myself to this,” Douglas said earnestly.
“Then you mean to do as you promised, and break this accursed engagement?” Evie questioned hopefully.
Douglas’ eyebrows knit, and he shot her a look of surprise.
“How is it you know of this? Of any of this?”
“You yourself said it,” Evie replied.
“Then—you overheard,” he realized, and winced, as he recalled his words.
“It was impossible not to,” Evie answered. “As bitter as it was to hear, I suppose I am thankful, since it was the truth. I’ve received little enough of that, directly.”
“I am terribly sorry,” Douglas declared. “I was overwhelmed, and my emotions overwrought. I was wrong to say such things, and truly, I do not feel so.”
“Then you do not intend to break the engagement?” Evie questioned.
“For what purpose?” Douglas countered. “I am unwilling to lose title and fortune, when there is nothing to be gained. It is the least my father owes, for what was taken from me. You heard Helen. Her mind has been made. As for yourself, why do you not speak to your father, and express your unhappiness with this match?”
“I have done so,” Evie said wearily. “As has Grandmother, but it matters not.”
“Then can you trust your wishes would be given greater account, if I absconded, and another groom was sought?” Douglas pointed out.
“Indeed, I know that I can not,” Evie replied grimly.
“It seems then, that although we cannot do better, we could each do worse,” Douglas concluded.
“I cannot be satisfied that it is so,” Evie replied. “Certainly we can do worse, but that knowledge does little to encourage.”
“Perhaps not, but I see no reasonable alternative,” Douglas countered. “It may be that in time…”
Evie studied Douglas seriously.
“It may be that in time, your heart will once again be your own, to give?”
“Of course, it may,” Douglas said with difficulty, but Evie shook her head.
“I find your words unconvincing, and I am unwilling to resign myself to a marriage doomed to disappointment, for us both.”
“I see no alternative,” Douglas declared in exasperation. “Unless you have one to offer, then I cannot imagine what more there is to say.”
Evie’s eyes narrowed slightly, as she studied him.
“There is an alternative, and one which may also be to your own advantage.”
“I am eager to hear it,” Douglas said.
“Then first know that I will carry out my part, with or without your help,” Evie warned. “Only see to it, that you do not stand in my way.”
Douglas had the distinct impression if he did so, he would not live long to regret it.
“I promise I will not hinder your plan, whatever it may be,” he replied. “As far as I am able, I will assist.”
“Then together, I believe we will find that we can do better,” Evie said with certainty.
“Truly, I am all ears,” Douglas answered.
“I should like to hear it myself,” Katharine said.
Evie and Douglas turned to see her, James, and the elder Lady Bannerman.
“If it is as you say, we will help all we can,” Katharine added.
“Most certainly,” Evie’s grandmother declared, with a thump of her cane.
“You may count on it,” James affirmed.
Evie swallowed the sudden lump in her throat, and smiled.
“Then we shall save further discussion for the library,” she said, and led the way without further delay. After all, it would not do for her mother, or anyone else, to learn of her plan until after it was carried out. When it was… they would know no more than she wished, and be powerless to do anything about it.
Chapter 28
A faint crease marred Lady Frances’ forehead, and her carefully practiced expression of serenity was very nearly overtaken by a frown, as she watched the clock tick away the minutes until the commencement of dinner.
How incredibly inopportune if Evie should choose this, of all evenings, to be ill! What a relief it would be to have her responsibility transferred to another. Surely Evie and her grandmother were imagining Douglas’ animosity. He would not so eagerly seek to hurry the day of their wedding, otherwise. Indeed, it was best for all concerned to have it over and done. Only then would Evie accept her lot, and her nerves settle. So far as Lady Frances was concerned, the couple could not marry soon enough.
“I cannot recall such an enjoyable evening as was spent in your company,” Katharine remarked. It was true enough, though not for the reasons their host, hostess, and the Carlisles would think.
“It was most kind of you to devote these past hours to personally provide an exhaustive tour of the manor and its gardens,
” James added.
“You are most welcome,” Lady Frances replied graciously. Though indeed it was exhausting, it was well worth the effort to ensure that these American Bannermans were in support of Evie’s marriage to Douglas Carlisle. Katharine’s willingness to be persuaded, especially, came as a pleasant surprise. It was fortuitous indeed, and worth every second of the time spent, as these two would not be cowed as easily as Evie and her grandmother. They would like as not attempt to spirit her away, if they felt her fears had merit. But they did not, and in that regard, Lady Frances’ heart was put at ease.
She glanced at the clock once again. Perhaps leaving Evie to nurse her headache unhindered, was not the best course after all. Though how she could manage urging her daughter to push through it, while simultaneously entertaining the Bannermans and Carlisles without splitting in two, she could not imagine. There was little enough time left to dress for dinner, much less personally extend a reminder.
Lady Frances checked her nerves once more, and the faint crease between her eyes smoothed.
Truly, everything was falling into place quite satisfactorily. So would Evie. She could not do otherwise.
“Good evening,” Daniel greeted the rest cheerily as he entered, then availed himself of the chair nearest the fire.
“You missed a fine tour of the manor,” Douglas remarked, as the elder Lady Bannerman and Helen joined them.
“That is a pity,” Daniel replied lightly. “Still, I cannot say I would rather spend the past hours in any other way.”
“What else can it be that so thoroughly occupied your attention?” his mother, Lady Nora, inquired.
“Riding, of course,” Daniel replied. “I would have gladly kept on, if not hindered by the ocean, though I consider this evening’s ride a success all the more, for having reached it.”
“I am glad to hear it,” Douglas said more casually than he felt.
“Indeed,” Daniel smiled.
The double doors of the dining room opened, and the butler entered.
“Dinner is served,” he announced solemnly.
Lady Frances felt a flash of annoyance, coupled with concern.
“I shall see what is keeping her,” Katharine offered, as the Isle of Camden Bannermans and their guests rose from their seats.
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