by Lavinia Kent
“By agreeing to marry you?” Violet asked it as a question, but it was not.
“Yes, what other way is there?”
“I don’t know, but have you truly tried to find one? I have considered saying that Clara was with me the entire time, but there are too many who could gainsay it. Could you say that you were with somebody else? I would hate to smear another reputation, but surely there must be somebody.”
“Miss Thompson is more than willing to fill the role.”
“Miss Thompson? I did hear a rumor last night—it is possible. But that would mean—”
“Marriage—and not to Clara.”
“Yes. You have clearly considered Miss Thompson as a potential bride over the last weeks. How do you feel about her now?”
He considered the cold, calculating girl who had confronted him last night. He had given her reason to believe his intentions serious, but nothing could have excused her behavior, her implied threat to Clara. “I cannot countenance spending my life with her. I had already decided that it was an impossibility before everything happened last night.”
“But would you consider it for Clara?” Violet asked. “It will not remove all scandal from her name, but it will allow her a pretense of respectability.”
The question was not unexpected. He had spent half the night debating the same question. He had forced it from his mind this morning—not wanting to face the truth—but there it was.
What was he really willing to do for Clara?
Clara had spoken of choices, and now here was his.
Would he willingly marry Miss Thompson to save Clara? Less than twenty-four hours previously he had been ready to propose to the girl. Why did it seem so unimaginable now?
“I see you waver, dear brother.” Violet’s tone was faintly mocking. She moved to the settee and sat. “Aren’t you willing to marry without love for the greater good? Isn’t that what you expected of Isabella and myself?”
“And so we are back to that.” He came and sat beside his sister. “My whole life would be so much easier were it not for that.”
“There is no way to avoid it, not with Isabella gone.”
“And even if she is found, what will happen is not clear.” He uttered the words with little emotion. His mind was so full of Clara and the decisions he must make.
“No, it is hard to know what will happen if she is found.” Violet sounded bitter.
He turned to face her, full-on. “Most of the time I think you forgive me, that we are beyond what happened, what I did, and then—then I can almost feel you change as you sit next to me, and I fear we are back to where we started. Family, but not friends, never friends.”
Violet was silent and then spoke with care. “Most of the time I do forgive you. I want to forgive you. I do understand why you did what you did. I can forgive you for myself, but when I think of Isabella, I find myself angry. When you forced me to wed my first husband, you were young, young and unknowing of the ways of the world, but with Isabella you knew—you knew what kind of man Foxworthy was.”
“Yes, but I hoped he would not be a bad husband.”
“You hoped.” The flatness of Violet’s voice spoke volumes.
“I could never have imagined how it would turn out, what would happen.”
“No, I know you could not, no one could have, but still I cannot forgive you that she is gone, perhaps forever. I wish I could, but I cannot. We can be friends—I hope we have become friends—but the distrust and anger is still there.”
“I do not forgive myself either. I may proceed as if I do, but I always wonder how I could have changed things, if there were other choices I could have made.”
Violet laughed then, and it sounded almost genuine. “Choices. It always comes down to choice, both making them and letting others make them. And that brings us to the real question. Are you willing to wed Miss Thompson if it gives Clara freedom? Can you grant Clara the freedom of choice?”
“Yes,” he said with fierce determination. “I am. Miss Thompson has given me until this afternoon to make a decision. I will tell her yes.”
“You look like you’ve had a long night. I thought you had put such evenings behind you.” Robert entered the room with a wide smile. Everything about him screamed of happiness. He must have just arrived back from Norfolk.
He clearly had not heard of the events of the previous night, events that could ruin his life too.
Clara lifted her head off the arm of the settee, removing the cool cloth she had across her forehead. “Yes, it was definitely a long evening—and not at all in the way that you imagine. And what are you doing here? Shouldn’t you be in Norfolk with Jennie?”
“Jennie’s here with me. We were married this past Sunday.”
Clara bolted upright. “You’re wed? And you didn’t tell me?”
“Yes, we had the banns read the past three weeks. Everybody knew Lord Darnell had agreed and nobody questioned when the wedding was supposed to take place. We did not want to risk him changing his mind if that duke he had dreamed of suddenly entered the picture. I am sorry, Clara. There was not time to let you know.”
“And you do not think he will have the marriage declared invalid? He could deny that he gave permission, and Jennie is not yet of age.”
“We did consider that, but the whole county knows he has agreed. You know his concern for the family name. I cannot imagine him inviting the scandal of putting aside the marriage—particularly after we have spent the night together.” The dear boy blushed redder than a freshly cooked lobster.
“I daresay you are correct. He will not put aside the marriage and risk that no one else would take Jennie, not even now.”
Robert knew her well and did not miss the import of those last three words. “What has happened? What have you done now?”
She should have been angered by his tone, but she didn’t have the energy. Even the relief she felt that he and Jennie were safely wed could not put aside her feelings of approaching doom. “I’ve truly made a mess of things this time, Robert,” she replied, and then proceeded to recount the whole sordid story of the previous night.
He was silent for a moment at the end. His face had grown grim, and she was sorry to have ruined his happiness. “I will stand by you no matter what. And I know Jennie will also. But”—and he let the word hang—“you really must marry the man. I have never wanted to push you, but in this I must insist.”
She wanted to argue that he had no right. He had no legal right, but her actions would affect him and Jennie. If she allowed the scandal to settle firmly about her, it would overflow to them.
Even if he cast her off and never spoke to her again, it would impact his acceptance in society. “I know,” she said, rolling her shoulders in an attempt to ease the tightness in her neck. “It is not what I wanted, but I do see what must be done. There truly is no choice.”
“Did my father leave you so turned from marriage?”
“How could you possibly say such a thing?” She frowned as she considered. “You know I had a wonderful marriage with him. We discussed it when I was in Norwich.”
“And yet you are so opposed to marrying again. I do not understand.”
Clara considered. “I loved your father and he loved me. And he certainly loved you.”
“And you change the topic of conversation. I am delighted that my father cared so much for me, but it does not explain why you frown now when you think of him or of marriage.”
“If you must know, I was just thinking that he was not perfect—but that perhaps was not fair. He died so young, and we all need time to grow into ourselves.”
Robert came and sat beside her on the couch. He took her hands in his own. “Do you think I do not know that he was far from perfect? He would not have died if he was perfect.”
“Surely you do not blame him for his death.” Clara felt a shiver of ice form within her heart.
“It is better than blaming myself as you do.” He spoke with absolute surety.
>
Clara turned to him, feeling as if her every feature had frozen. He spoke of her deepest fears. This was what she had avoided discussing previously. “What do you mean?”
“Do you think I do not know? You explained that you grew wild because you wished to have the fun he always wanted you to. Do you truly believe I think it is that simple?”
How could he possibly know what had happened on that last dreadful morning with Michael? Nobody had been there but the two of them. She did not say anything, but dropped her gaze to her hands.
Robert continued, “I see the fear in your eyes that you try to hide. Is this why we rarely speak of it? You do not need to fear that I know the details, but it has been clear in your every action since that you blame yourself.”
“Nonsense.” She tried to sound convincing.
“I remember your pallor when they brought him home. At first you only looked shocked, and then I could see the guilt sneak in. I wanted to comfort you then, but you would never let me say the words.”
“I was a good wife to him—at least I tried to be.” She wasn’t sure if she tried to convince herself or Robert.
“Yes, you were. You were a wonderful wife to him, and a good mother to me, for all that you seemed more like a sister. You reined us both in when needed.”
“But he still—”
“He still died. Do you think there is anything that you could have done that would have prevented that? I refuse to believe that any action on your part could have changed what happened.”
Clara lifted her gaze and met his eyes squarely. “I tell myself that often. Less often now than in the beginning. I do know it is silly to have held myself responsible for what was his action, but I cannot help myself.
“He wanted me to go with him that morning. He had a new hunter and wanted to go run free. I have never loved speed and danger the way he did, and I did not feel like indulging him that morning. I told him that if he wanted I would take my old mare and that we could ride along the river and have a picnic, but that I was not in the mood to go all out. He stomped out and left without me. If I had gone with him, he would not have tried that jump. He would have known that I could not follow. Everything would have been different if I had only gotten over my petty desire to have things my way.”
“And given in to his petty desire to have them his way? Do you really think that would have changed things? I would bet he’d have gone over the jump at even greater speed trying to show off for you.”
“But he might not have.”
“And a branch might have fallen and knocked him on the head or a dog might have run out of the bushes and spooked his horse. You can never know what would have happened.”
She sighed, long and slow. “I do know that and I tried not to punish myself over it. But, sometimes, just sometimes, I could not help it.”
Robert squeezed her fingers tight. “Is that what those wild years after his death were about? Punishing yourself?”
She laughed, with only a slightly bitter after-note. “Is that what you thought, that they were punishment? No, if anything it was the opposite. What I said when we spoke before was completely true. I was determined to take all the pleasure out of life I could. I was trying to live the way I thought your father would have wanted me to.” She became still for a moment and then continued, “He had always said that I should marry again if anything happened to him.”
“But you did not marry.”
Clara worked hard to keep her inflection flat. “No, I did not marry. I have never even considered marrying again. Perhaps you are right and some of it was punishment, punishment for not living up to what he wanted me to be. Perhaps that is also why I have avoided marriage—fear that I cannot be myself and still measure up to someone else’s needs. I will have to take the time to look at the problem with new eyes.”
“I think that sounds like a fine idea.” He turned to the door. “Now I must get Jennie. I wanted to tell you of our wedding on my own, but she is waiting.”
“Yes, please bring her in so that I can wish her well. And Robert…”
“Yes.”
“Do not tell her what has happened. Not today. Let us rejoice over your wedding. There will be time soon enough to deal with these matters.”
“As you wish—but do not delay. It must be taken care of quickly. And Clara”—he turned back—“my father was right. You really should marry again.”
Perhaps there was no other choice.
He left, and she wondered if there was any chance that she would be as happy after her own wedding as Robert had been when he entered the room.
She did not see how.
Masters stood beside the door to Clara’s home. How did it manage to convey such a sense of home before he even entered the door? Even the knocker seemed to gleam more brightly than his own.
He should have sent a note announcing his intention to pay a call. She might have arranged not to be home if he had, however. Even now he risked being told that she would not see him.
He would not take no for an answer.
He would see her and tell her of his plans.
And then he would give her a choice.
He still wished to marry her, but if she would not have him, he would, in truth, marry Miss Thompson.
It was the only way to keep Clara safe.
Chapter 19
Clara smiled at Jennie until she thought the indents would be permanently left upon her cheeks. She picked up her wine and took another sip. She wished she could be happier for them.
No, that was not right. She was happy for them, as happy as anyone could be. It was only that she could not find honest joy within herself.
She heard the knocker clack on the front door and did not even turn. She took another sip.
Perhaps she would finish this bottle and then the next.
The mumble of voices rose from the hall—the porter’s and—no, he would not come here. Her glass shook as she placed it back upon the table.
Robert had glanced at her as the voices rose in the hall. He did not change his expression at all, and still she could see his question.
Would she see Masters?
Was she ready to tell him yes?
Jennie chattered away, oblivious to the deep undercurrents in the room. Even with her own difficulties, Clara found herself wondering if Robert would tell Jennie everything later that night. She hoped he would. There should be few secrets within a marriage.
There was silence in the hall, then the sound of approaching footsteps, only one pair—Masters was waiting to see if she would welcome him.
“Excuse me a moment,” she said as she rose. She did not want this encounter taking place here. “It seems as if I have another guest, and I fear it is some business I must attend to.”
“Of course,” said Jennie, as she inched closer to Robert on the settee. Clara imagined they would move in closer still as soon as she left the room.
Robert flashed her a brief smile of encouragement and then turned to his bride. At least they were happy. There was some satisfaction in that. She had not ruined their lives.
She walked to the door just as the porter raised his hand to knock. He stepped back, and she preceded him back down the hall.
Masters stood at the end. The light from the windows behind him cast him in deep silhouette, making it impossible to see his expression.
“Greetings, Lady Westington,” he said.
She forced her face into a smile and answered, “It is good to see you—Jonathan.”
“I was not sure if…” He paused as he registered her words.
“I thought we would talk in the library. We seem to have a great fondness for libraries.”
“Yes, of course.”
She turned and he followed her back down the hall, past the parlor where Robert and Jennie sat.
“I’ve just had the most wonderful news,” she said. “Robert arrived this morning with Jennie. They were wed this past Sunday.”
“I am delighted to h
ear that. It must take a load of worry off your mind.”
The weight upon her mind still felt so great, she could not have said if it had lessened. Still, she nodded.
Then they were alone. Masters had left the door open the proper number of inches, but with a decisive click she shut it fully.
“I am glad you have come.” The words were softly spoken and were fully the truth. She was glad she had not had to send for him to tell him she had changed her mind. It already felt enough like begging.
She wondered if he had felt like this when she refused him.
He walked away from her, deeper into the room. “I was not sure you would be. I thought you might send me away. I was not even sure it was wise to come. Society has many eyes, and I was not sure you would wish anyone to know of our meeting.”
“No, I am glad. It is simpler this way.” She moved to her usual chair before the fire, waving him to the chair across from her.
Instead, he came and sat on the ottoman at her feet.
“I have something I must say,” she began.
“No, let me speak first,” he replied.
“If I do not say this now, I fear I will not have the words.”
He hesitated, but then nodded for her to proceed.
Her gaze dropped to her hands, which were rapidly knotting and twisting the fabric of her skirt. It was impossible to remember ever being so nervous.
Her fingers felt as if they moved on their own, and it took extreme effort to move them to stillness. Then she raised her head and stared straight into his endless blue eyes. “It would be my great pleasure to accept your offer and become your wife.”
There, the words were out.
He did not say anything, only stared at her.
What if he had changed his mind?
Masters did not know what to say. For a moment, his heart had filled with joy, but then he saw the misery in her face. This was not what she wanted. She agreed with desperation, not pleasure.
“You have decided you cannot face the shame?” he asked.
He watched as she pulled in a deep breath. “I cannot give up my whole life. I thought I could. Even standing there in that ballroom last night, I thought I could do it. But this morning I realized what the price would be. I want to be brave and insist that I can manage, but I cannot.”