“Oh, dear girl!” I heard Mama stand and then she was to me, embracing me and smoothing my hair and rambling. “To think you shall be a duchess! He has a good temperament too—and so handsome! You are well-suited to each other, and I could not have asked for a better match for you.”
She let me go and turned away, treading across the freshly-beaten carpet. “There is so much to plan. We should order the wedding clothes right away—and of course there’s the venue and flower arrangements and the invitations to draft. So much to do, and summer is hastening upon us—Oh dear, I assume it is to be a summer wedding. Did you decide on a date before he left?”
Mama had halted her pacing and now stared at me expectantly. My blood chilled, and I swallowed, trying to gather my courage. When it refused to be rallied, I pushed the words out, regardless. “I did not accept him.”
Mama blinked, her mouth pinching as if it was about to sound a ‘w.’ At last she said, “What do you mean you did not accept him? He was here, was he not?”
A knot formed in my throat. “Yes.”
“He did ask you for your hand, did he not?”
“Yes.”
She stiffened, panic entering her eyes. “You did not refuse him?”
“No. I said I would think on it.”
Her eyelids fluttered closed and she sighed. “Thank goodness. There is still time. You will write him this moment to tell him of your acceptance.” She moved as if to retrieve the paper and ink herself. Something hardened inside me, refusing to budge.
“I will not.”
She halted, turning stunned eyes on my quivering frame. But I stood my ground. “If you want me to make my decision now, then my answer shall be no.”
For several minutes silence engulfed us, until finally, finally, Mama sighed, a motherly wisdom entering her countenance. “This is because of William, isn’t it?”
I wanted to deny it, to hide the truth from her, for I knew how upset it would make her. But I nodded.
There was another tense silence, before—
“Oh, Eliza.” She exhaled as if those two little words aged her a hundred years. Her posture drooped, her eyes sagged, her palm cupped her forehead, her wrinkles etched themselves ever deeper. “How are you so foolish?”
Like a weight on my chest, I felt her disappointment, pressing down, crushing my bones.
“Why do you continue to wait for him? Nothing will come of it, and meanwhile he does not suffer—only you do.”
I did my best to ignore the heaviness in my heart. My throat tightened, but I willed the tears not to come. “Even so.”
“Confound it, girl. Are you to be so blind to the folly of your choices? Why are you so determined to be with him?”
I hugged myself. “Why are you so determined that I not be? I do not understand it. You love William, too—you have seen his goodness firsthand. He is a man of principle and character, and has been a true friend to us through the years. Why do you so despise the thought of me loving him, when there is so much about him to love?”
Again, she sighed. She sat on the sofa, as if continuing to stand ate up too much of her energy. Perhaps it did.
“William is like a son to me. He always has been.” She met my eye with sadness. “But he is . . . lost. And confused. He does not know his place in this world. I have seen him at his worst, and I daresay it isn’t pretty. William harbors selfishness inside him, and thoughtlessness. They are not the worst traits for a man to possess but they do make a marriage difficult—in many cases, unbearable. Though there is much about him to admire, I would not trust him with my daughter’s heart.”
I pursed my lips, at last feeling my courage mustering. I unfolded my hands, fists tightening at my sides. “If he is lost, then I will find him. If he is confused, then I will enlighten him. And if he has no place, then I will make him one, with me.”
Determination pumped in my veins, potent and unyielding. “You think you know him so well—speak as if pieces of him have gone missing, rendering him an unsolvable puzzle—but it is not so. You are wrong to judge him, Mama. You, Lady Iris, Matthew, and the rest of society—all of you are wrong. All he has needed is someone to show him a different path. Someone to show him how to love again. Those missing pieces are still within him, I can feel it.”
“Eliza—”
“My heart is not yours to give. Even if it were, the moment you tried to retrieve it, you would find it missing. I gave it to William long ago, and he has not given it back.” The tears came now, threatening to fall, though they never did. “I love you. I would do anything to please you and make you happy. But William . . . I must tell him. I must do it. I cannot accept anyone else until I fully know his feelings. Please, Mama. Please understand this.”
More minutes ticked by, the quiet thick except for the pad of scurrying servants out in the hall.
“I see that you are right,” she said at last, almost in defeat. “If you must confess, then do it quickly. Waste no more time. And Eliza . . .” Her gaze zeroed in on me, pinning me in place with its seriousness. “If he does not love you in return . . . promise me you will move on.”
I nodded. “I will.”
Something told me it was much easier said than done. And I hoped with a fervor it wouldn’t come to that.
Chapter 15
“Almost there,” William said from his horse.
Giving Ardent a little nudge, I followed William around a bend in the road. The leather of the reins squeaked under my grip. Putney Green was even more beautiful than Hyde Park. An expansive wilderness just southwest of London, it gave me a much-needed feeling of home amid its rolling hills, at a time when I was drifting. Little green shoots sprinkled the ground, marking the beginning buds of wild daffodil.
“Why the secrecy?” I asked, giving William a sidelong glance.
He had arrived on my doorstep with a bright look in his eye, practically oozing excitement. After asking if I wanted to go for a ride, and, after remarking on what a pity it was Mr. Hayman couldn’t join us, he’d hurried me into a coach that delivered us to The Green Man Inn on the outskirts of London. There, two of William’s horses tromped in the stables, saddled and ready to go.
He was being mysterious. There was some ulterior motive for this excursion, and he had yet to divulge it.
William moved a low-hanging branch of a nearby tree as he passed under it, and let it go just in time for it to thwack me in the mid-section. “Oof.”
William chuckled. “Careful, ‘Liza. Would be a shame if your head got lopped off. I don’t fancy dragging your remains all the way back to Berkeley Square.”
I huffed. “Oh yes, I shall endeavor to keep that in mind. Wouldn’t want to inconvenience you.”
“There’s a good girl.”
I stifled my laugh, unwilling to give him the satisfaction of hearing it. “Besides,” I teased, “you would miss me.”
“Ah yes.” He reined in his horse, angling it so he could twist around. “I’d have no one to pummel with snowballs, or drag me on adventures like this one. What a shame indeed.”
I spurred my mount to come even with his. “You’re the one doing the dragging, William.”
A cool mid-day breeze sidled past us, prodding us back along our path. We came to a large stone bridge spanning a rushing spring river. I said, “You never answered me. Why so secretive?”
“By all England, can’t you give me a moment’s peace? It’s as if you’re a creature that hops from one thing to another, incessantly loud at the most inconvenient times.” His face took on a thoughtful expression. “What creature would that be, do you think? Some kind of insect perhaps?”
Working my jaw in an effort to contain my smile, I said, “Will you at least tell me if we are close?”
“We are already here.” William dismounted.
I spun about in my seat, looking around. There was nothing unique about this spot. A small knoll, a stretch of field, scattered trees that lined the edges—nothing that merited William’s secret excitement.
&n
bsp; Gripping the pommel and one foot in the stirrup, I scooted out of the sidesaddle, bracing for the impact of my feet hitting the ground. But to my surprise, William was suddenly at my side, hands around my waist, lowering me down.
“That eager, are you?” he said, setting me on the ground. “Couldn’t even wait for me to tie up my horse. You do keep a gentleman on his toes.”
I looked up at him, forcing my breaths to remain even. His hands were still around me. “A gentleman would’ve helped me down before seeing to his own horse.”
“And a lady would have waited.”
My smile won out. William’s hold around my waist loosened, and I might’ve been wrong, but I thought he seemed the tiniest bit reluctant to let go. As he gathered the reins of both mounts, I studied my surroundings again, in greater detail.
The little knoll caught my eye. It was not exactly like the one in Ambleside’s backyard, but there was definitely a resemblance. Atop it, a triangular shape came to a point. I squinted, but couldn’t puzzle out what it was.
“What is that?”
Tying the horses to a nearby tree, William said, “Why don’t you go see?”
Curiosity churned in my stomach as I ascended the hill sporting pockets of greening grass. I neared the top, noting the straps attaching a cylindrical tube to three wooden legs. The tube pointed to the sky, and by circling the object I could see that it was stoppered by convex glass. My feet stopped, lips parting. Though the shape was peculiar, I knew what it was.
A telescope.
“So you may better see the stars.” William’s voice came from directly over my shoulder. He stood so near, I was surprised he wasn’t touching me in any way. I turned around, looking deeply into his eyes only inches away.
“If I cannot give you a silly horse, at least let me give you this. I thought about waiting until nightfall to give it to you—so I may see you use it—but that would’ve been rather inappropriate. And I thought about waiting until the anniversary, but truthfully, another three months sounded like agony.” A soft smile pulled at his lips.
Another. So he’d had the telescope for some time, watching, waiting to give it to me at the right moment. Tears sprung to my eyes, but not for the reason William probably thought. I was touched by the gift, by the reminder of my father’s memory and a beautiful moment on a starry hilltop.
But I was more touched by the fact that William remembered it. That he thought it was beautiful, too—and had wanted to make it even more so, by giving me this gift.
William offered me a telescope instead of Ardent—and the way he phrased it sounded like the telescope was a harmless, meaningless gift, and therefore, I should accept it. But it was anything but.
It must’ve cost him a fortune—as much as any horse, if not more. To accept would be improper. But there was meaning behind this gift, a fact that whispered of deeper feeling beyond brotherly affection. And so I would accept it.
William’s eyebrows pulled together as he studied my face with an earnest expression. He’d found the perfect gift. He’d scoured the countryside for a special little hill on which to give it to me. He’d dragged me out here in an attempt to recreate a moment from years ago. It all meant more to me than I could express.
I’d kept silent long enough for William’s expression to morph into worry. “If you don’t like it, just say so.”
“Like it!” I blinked the tears away. “William, it is perfect.” I turned to the telescope, brushing my hand along the smooth leather of the barrel. “. . . You are perfect,” I murmured so softly I was sure he wouldn’t hear.
Fog crept in, draping the ground in a snug blanket. “Good then,” William said, stepping up and fastening some unseen buckle. “Fancy a look at the moon?”
“This early?”
“You know Eliza, contrary to my amply capable appearance,” he patted the telescope, “this contraption was rather difficult to set up. I could’ve sent it over in a nice little box and left the construction to you, but no, I chose to set it up for you. And since it was rather difficult, I refuse to let my efforts go to waste. You shall look at the moon.”
I glanced up at the sky. “But there is no moon. There are clouds—”
“For heaven’s sake, look at the clouds then!”
A smile tugged at my lips—an expression William’s face was emulating. “I can see them just as well without the telescope.”
“Fine!” William looked offended, but this was a mask I could see through. “If it displeases you so much, take Ardent instead.”
“As I’ve already told you, I cannot possibly accept him.”
“Well, I must give you some kind of gift. Just look through the blasted telescope.”
I smiled but complied by bending over. “What’s the occasion?”
“No, not there.” William prodded my head back up and moved me around to the other side. He pointed to a little protrusion on the tube. “This is where you look through.” I put my eye to the glass.
But I did not look at the clouds. Not really.
My thoughts were on the places William was gently touching me—my back, my waist, my shoulder. I knew without looking that he stared at me, searching for something. Hesitantly, I turned my head to look up at him.
Something passed between us when our eyes locked. Something soft. Something hopeful.
“I shall find new stars for you to gaze at when I am halfway across the globe,” he said quietly. “And perhaps I will slingshot them over to your part of the heavens for your convenience.”
That something fell to the earth and shattered with a horrible crack. I straightened slowly.
It was a poetic sentiment, but my ears heard only one word: When. He really meant it, then. This gift was a going-away present. He was going to leave behind his entire world and start anew somewhere else. Without me.
Suddenly I did not want the telescope. Not if it meant he would leave.
“Slinging stars sounds rather difficult,” I offered.
“Oh, it is. Only the best of us can accomplish it.”
“Why not save yourself the trouble and take me with you?” I was pleased when my voice carried none of the sadness I felt inside.
To my surprise, William swept me away with a scoop of his arms and began tromping down the hill. A surprised chuckle burst out of me. I wiggled my feet. “Put me down! Oh William, what are you doing?”
“Carrying you across the globe, of course.”
Despite myself, I threw my head back and laughed. “And where are we headed?”
“To Africa!”
“Whatever shall you do when we reach the ocean? You cannot walk on water.”
“You’re right.” He stopped, pretending to think. “Ah, well. I suppose there is nothing for it. My boots shall simply have to get wet.”
I laughed harder, nearly falling when William set me atop Ardent and handed me the reins. After he’d mounted as well, I asked, “What about the telescope?”
He gave a careless shrug. “A servant shall come and pack it up—the same one that assembled the blasted thing.” Then he flashed me a cheeky grin and spurred his horse forward into a trot.
I followed after, prodding Ardent to pick up speed until he was matching William’s pace. We wound around the path, retracing our steps.
Motion caught my eye to my left. I reined Ardent in and patted his neck as I watched the scene. A small knot of people huddled in trepidation, one of them a woman. They watched as two men paced away from each other, only to turn and stare at each other down the barrel of their pistols. My breath caught in my throat.
They were dueling.
What had prompted the challenge? My gaze widened and sidled back to the woman, clutching a handkerchief to her breast. My heart did a little flip at the romantic scenario flashing through my mind.
Her brother did not approve of her choice of suitor; for, last Thursday, the brother had seen the man kissing another girl—and in the street no less! He’d straightway gone to his sister and pleade
d with her to end the attachment. To no avail. She would not believe him. And why should she? The rascal had confessed his love for her several times in their letters.
What else could the brother do in defense of his sister’s honor but to call the man out?
Oh, but how horrible! The kiss the brother had witnessed had been on the cheek—and the recipient had been the man’s young aunt, recently returned from touring the continent. The whole situation was merely a misunderstanding!
Oh no, what was she to do? What was anyone to do?
The sound of two shots ricocheted off the trees. Ardent reared and whinnied, then bolted forward into a run. I yelped and tipped, the ground whizzing beneath Ardent’s hooves as I caught his mane and tried to right myself.
The reins jumbled around with each gallop, slipping from my grasp. “Whoa!” I shouted, trying to bring the horse to a stop. If anything, he went faster.
A large pond loomed before us, rushing closer. My pulse throbbed with each hoof that hit the ground, as we came closer, closer.
Faster hoof beats sounded behind us before a sharp whistle pierced the air. Ardent’s front hooves hit the water as he came to an abrupt stop.
Too late.
The momentum sent me flying from my saddle and into the icy water. My lungs seized, shrinking from the cold. I was submerged for three seconds of eternity before my head broke the surface. I gulped in the air, unable to get a breath deep enough to soothe the panic squeezing my chest.
A splash, before William’s arms took hold of me and guided me out of the water. I shuddered in the slight breeze, colder out of the water than in it. “I—I’m s-sorry, Will-iam.” I couldn’t speak—not while terror gripped my gut with an iron fist. William draped his dry tailcoat over my shoulders. He must’ve taken it off before he jumped in after me.
“Shh,” William soothed. “We need to get you dry, and quickly. I will take you back to the inn.”
Unable to do much more than nod, I let William steer me to his horse and set me atop it. After he’d mounted and situated himself, he spurred into a gallop. I held to William tighter than I’d ever held before—both because of the jostles of the horse, and because of the security he offered. My teeth chattered in the wind. I burrowed my head deeper, ignoring the way my hair felt like a block of ice encasing my scalp, focusing instead on William’s warmth and his windblown smell.
A Lord of Many Masks (Wycliffe Family Book 2) Page 15