by Meghan Sloan
Alice gazed at the small creature. “They are my favourite,” she whispered. “Such sweet little souls. Sometimes, I spot them in our garden. When I was a little girl, I would sometimes leave out gifts for them, stolen from the larder.”
He laughed. “I am fond of squirrels too. But strangely perhaps my favourite is the common shrew.”
Alice looked askance. “They are odd creatures! They remind me rather too much of rats, or mice.”
He smiled. “Yes, I admit that, but they are industrious. I have been fond of them ever since I was a child. My brothers and I used to flush them out on long walks, near our country home.”
“How many siblings do you have?”
“Only two brothers,” he replied, still staring at the squirrel. “Both are older than me. Lucky for them they have married and have their own homes now.”
“Why lucky?” She gazed at him curiously.
He sighed. “It is…difficult, in our family home. Our father is an ex-military man and runs his household rather like a soldier would. It can be rather stifling, to say the least.” He smiled ruefully. “I thought I would have my own home, by now…”
Alice bit her lip. Of course he would. He had been expecting that he would be married by now, to Marina. There was an awkward silence.
Once again the lady hung between them, unnamed but present nonetheless.
“What is it like, being an only child?” he asked, breaking the silence, staring at her intently.
She sighed. “I do not know,” she said slowly. “I have never had siblings, so I cannot compare it. A bit lonely, I suppose. I always used to envy large families when I was young and wished for sisters to play with. But we must make the best of what we have been given. The hand that life has played us, to the best of our abilities.”
“Wise words,” he said slowly. “But what if life has dealt you an unfair hand, Alice? How do you accept it then, when life could have been so different?”
She gazed at him steadily. “I believe that we all have trials in life, Silas. It is how we deal with them that shows our inner character.”
He nodded slowly without speaking. He seemed suddenly very faraway in his mind. But then the squirrel scampered away and he roused, walking on. She followed him, her heart aching. How she wished she could help his pain, help him heal. But how could she, when he wouldn’t even mention the pain that stood between them?
She spotted a small church in the distance. It looked abandoned, covered in brambles, with a few lone gravestones jutting out of the earth. A flash of excitement tore through her. What a wonderful place to go exploring. Perhaps it would shake away the melancholy air that had settled upon him.
“Look!” she cried, pointing to it. “What church is that?”
He stopped, following her gaze. He wasn’t smiling. “It is St. Cecilia’s,” he said in an odd voice. “Consecrated centuries ago but destroyed during the Reformation. King Henry the Eighth ordered it be ransacked, its treasures confiscated, for the Crown.”
Her heart lurched again. She loved history and discovering old places, imagining the people who had once inhabited them. “Can we go there? I can see old graves, as well.”
His face darkened, imperceptibly. “It is not safe,” he said in a tight voice. “And besides, the day is growing colder.” He looked away, back down the hill. “We should be heading back, before it snows. We have come far enough.”
He didn’t wait for her reply, but instead, started striding back down the hill, in the direction that they had come. They hadn’t even seen the stream or the abandoned hut that he had promised her.
She gazed after him in dismay. Why had he acted so oddly to the suggestion, of exploring the church and the graves? It was as if something had swept over him, a dark cloud.
Her eyes filled with tears. The day had been so lovely. And now his moodiness had returned and he no longer wished to be in her company at all.
She watched him retreat further, passing her mother, who was gazing at him in surprise, also.
Look back at me, she willed. Turn around and check that I am following you.
But he didn’t. His gaze was resolute as he strode on, his back stiff, back to the carriage. The day was over. And she knew, somehow, that she had spoilt it, once again, as surely as if she had appeared, rising from the earth.
Chapter 11
Silas walked into the Pump Room, noting the patrons already assembled, taking the waters. He had hoped that at this time of day – early on a Tuesday morning – the place would be relatively deserted, but he had thought wrong. There was already at least thirty people here, promenading the main room.
He spotted Nicholas lounging in a chair in a far corner of the room. Silas gazed around as he approached his friend. It was a marvel of architectural design – enlarged three times since its initial construction, back in 1706. There were magnificent squares and parades, all built in the honey-coloured stone particular to Bath. The rooms were the town’s major attraction now, and a good meeting place.
“Morning, old chap,” said Silas, smiling as he approached.
Nicholas was gazing out of the window, but turned, a smile on his face, when he heard his friend. “You made it,” he said, his smile widening. “Rather a cold morning to be out and about. I commend that you made the effort, Wilmington.”
“Of course,” said Silas, sitting down opposite his friend. “We do not do this enough. And I wanted to catch up with you after the dinner party.” He paused. “How did things progress with Miss Lucy Oakley? I noticed that you monopolised her attention in the drawing room after dinner.”
Nicholas laughed. “Let us just say that Miss Oakley and I are getting to know each other much better,” he said with an air of satisfaction. “She is a charming girl, as well as divinely lovely, of course. A fellow could do much worse.”
Silas laughed, too. “You are such a player, old friend. How long will Lucy last before you move onto the next lovely lady?”
Nicholas shook his head. “I am not sure, of course, but I think it might progress differently with Lucy,” he said, frowning slightly. “I find that I am thinking of her quite often. And a man gets tired of chasing anything in a skirt. I think I am getting old, my friend. I may be ready to settle down, sooner than I anticipated.”
Silas stared at him in surprise. He had honestly thought that he would never hear Nicholas utter those words. He had always had an eye for the ladies and never been serious about any of them, always distracted by the allure of the next. The fact that he was talking this way about Lucy Oakley, of all people, was slightly disconcerting.
His lips thinned. It wasn’t that he disliked Lucy. It was just that she was a reminder of what he had lost. And if Nicholas did get serious with her, she would be a permanent reminder of Marina. He wouldn’t be able to avoid her if she was with his best friend. The thought didn’t please him at all, but what could he do about it?
“I have seen Lucy a number of times since the dinner,” said Nicholas, his eyes gleaming. “One night we attended a rowdy costume party in a bohemian enclave, where Snapdragon was played.” He grimaced slightly. “I almost set fire to the Greek toga I was wearing.”
Silas laughed. Snapdragon was a rather dangerous parlour game where participants were required to dunk for raisins in a bowl of water that had been set afire. It was slightly disreputable, and not something that would be played in respectable middle-class parlours around town. Not to mention perilous to one’s attire, and skin, of course.
It was the type of game that Marina had loved to play at the slightly disreputable places she liked to inhabit. He had gone along with her, but he had never much liked it. Marina, for some reason, liked to skirt along the edges of respectability, to flirt with danger, claiming that it made her feel alive. If he objected, she would say that he was turning into a stuffy old man before his time.
“We also attended a show in a hall in a rather seedy part of town,” continued Nicholas, smiling. “A chorus show. It was a great lar
k.” He paused, his eyes narrowing. “Lucy certainly knows her way about town. She told me it was Marina who introduced her to these places, dragging her along. She also told me about a few things that Marina did at these assemblies…”
Silas stiffened. “What do you mean?”
Nicholas leant forward. “Opium,” he whispered. “Lucy told me that she partook of the pipe a few times, under influence of a friend. But Lucy assured me she had not done any such thing, and never would.” He paused. “Your fiancée was not the illustrious saint that you make her out to be, Wilmington.”
Silas flushed. Marina had never mentioned this to him. At all. It was appalling, if it was true. But how could it be? He had known she liked to flirt with danger, but this was a step too far, even for her.
“Rumours,” he said quickly. “Dangerous rumours that, if spread, will sully her good name. I do not believe it, and neither should you.”
Nicholas frowned. “But if her own best friend says it…”
Silas shook his head. “Lucy will say anything to impress you,” he said quickly. “Please, will you assure me that you will not speak of this with anyone else?”
Nicholas sighed heavily. “I would not spread scurrilous rumours about her, Wilmington. I only say it between the two of us to try to make you see the truth of her. To hopefully mend that broken heart of yours and move on.” He paused. “Speaking of which, I was very impressed with Alice Sinclair. She held her own at the dinner. Everyone remarked how lovely she is. Even Lucy.”
Silas tried to smile, pushing aside the disturbing news about Marina. It was probably a lie, or at the very least, an exaggeration, anyway. “I am impressed with her, as well. I must admit, I am growing quite fond of her.”
“As well you should,” said Nicholas, looking pleased. “I think she is the very thing for you, Wilmington! Level-headed, but still interesting. Not boring, in the least, but not temperamental, either. Perfect wife material.”
“Alice will make a wonderful wife,” said Silas slowly. “Simply wonderful.”
It was true. He had not been able to stop thinking about her. She was filling his mind, almost overtaking it entirely.
He knew there was a strong physical attraction between them, and he knew that she had felt it, too. It was all there, in her flushed face, whenever he touched her, and the sparkle in her grey eyes. The way that her breath started to quicken, like when he had pulled her into his arms, and danced with her in the gazebo. And her soft, indrawn breath when he had kissed her on the cheek.
He had hoped to find another moment alone with her, on their walk in the countryside. He had been anticipating touching her hand, or even daring to kiss her on the mouth. But her mother had been their constant shadow, and then she had gone and spoiled the day by suggesting a visit to the old abandoned church on the hill.
He knew he had been churlish, and that he had confused her by his abrupt decision to end the excursion. He even knew it was his own fault entirely. He had been the one to take her there, thinking they would stay on the track and not venture to the church, or the graveyard. But he had skirted too close to it, and she had seen it…and he had reacted too strongly.
A twinge of guilt shot through him, remembering her devastated face, her large grey eyes confused, as they had ridden back to town. She didn’t know what memories were attached to the place. It had only been an innocent suggestion. But there was no way he could take her there. And there was no way he could explain any of it to her either. Even the thought of it made him choke.
But he would have to bring Marina up with her, and soon. Something was happening between them and he could readily admit to himself now that he wanted to explore it. That he wanted it to blossom. And the only way that it could was to lay the ghost of Marina to rest between them once and for all.
His heart thudded at the very thought. He did not want to do it. But he must. Alice was consuming him now. And he must give them the absolute best chance. He was committed to marrying her, and he was shocked to admit to himself that he wanted to marry her. That it was no longer a burden or a chore, but that he was looking forward to it, quite eagerly.
It really was the most surprising turn of events. But not unpleasant in the least.
“I am so pleased for you, my friend,” said Nicholas, interrupting his reverie. “I am so glad that you hit the jackpot, so to speak, with your choice of fiancée. It could have so easily gone the other way.” He paused. “You deserve this chance with such a lovely woman. Please, do not blow it out of misguided loyalty to a memory of the past.”
Silas stared at his friend steadily. “I am resolved to put the past behind me,” he said slowly. “It is not easy, and I am still finding it challenging, but Alice is a wonderful woman, and I do want to do the right thing by her. I want it to work between us, my friend. You must believe me. I would never do anything to hurt her if I can help it.”
“What happened between the two of you, when you were missing the other night?” asked Nicholas, arching his eyebrows.
Silas laughed. “A magical moment beneath the moon. Dancing in your gazebo to the sound of Beethoven.”
Nicholas smiled. “A first kiss, perchance?”
Silas smiled too, remembering the feel of her in his arms. Her waist was as small as he had imagined it would be. And her hair…it had smelt like lemons. The perfume that she had dabbed on her wrists and neck had wafted towards him as he had held her. He recognised it as sandalwood.
She was tiny, a mere fairy sprite. But she was all woman. The white swell of her bosom rising above the bodice of her dress. Her swan-like neck. So very beautiful, and so very desirable.
“A peck, on the cheek,” he replied, his smile widening. “She was eager to get back inside, in case we caused gossip, being alone. It was all that I could dare, in the circumstance.”
“Bravo,” said Nicholas, his eyes shining. “I say, I think I would like to be of aid to you, in your courtship of the lady. I propose a house party at Hill Lodge, just before Christmastide. Perhaps even next week. What say you?”
Silas’s eyes widened. He had been thinking the very same thing. He had suggested a visit to Bertram House, the family home in the country, on their very first dinner together, but had not followed up on it yet.
A visit to Hill Lodge, Nicholas’s country home, would be even better. For starters, he wouldn’t have to be around his parents. Nicholas had a wide assortment of friends, and as long as the usual rules of chaperonage were followed, could invite who he pleased. It would be a much more relaxing and interesting, environment to court Alice.
“I think that is a splendid idea,” he said, smiling.
“Good,” said Nicholas. “It is settled, then. I shall send out invites this afternoon. To Miss Sinclair, of course, and to Charlotte. She will feel more comfortable with her best friend there, and Charlotte is always great fun.” His eyes sparkled mischievously. “And I can get to know Lucy a bit better, too. It shall be a great lark, Wilmington! I cannot wait to plan the activities…I think a ball is in order too. What say you?”
“A ball?” Silas looked sceptical. “With just your house party? It would be rather a small affair, wouldn’t you think?”
Nicholas rolled his eyes. “No, not just with the guests! I shall send out invites to all the locals, within the radius of the village,” he said. “A Christmas-themed party, perhaps! I shall set my mind to it at once.”
Silas sighed. “As long as Snapdragon is not played, then I am all for it.”
Nicholas grimaced. “I am never playing Snapdragon again, my friend. I can assure you of that.”
***
He thought of Nicholas’s proposal again that afternoon, in his chambers, as he dressed for dinner. He was warming to the idea more and more. A house party where he could talk freely to Alice. Perhaps they would find times to be alone together. He could hardly wait.