Complications

by Clare Jayne

  “I am sure you will have countless handsome men to dance with and will enjoy them very well.”

  Amelia tried to smile and failed. “I doubt it.”

  “Mr Wrackley is a fool for losing his chance with you. Perhaps you will meet someone when you come to see us and we will live close by again.”

  “What an excellent notion.” The idea had appeal even if only for that reason but she no longer had the heart for finding a husband. Amelia had not told Lottie that it was Mr Brightford who had sabotaged her relationship with Mr Wrackley. It had not seemed fair since Mr Brightford and Mr Alexander Fenbridge were related and she did not want a rift in the family; besides that, it was too painful to talk about.

  Lottie took Amelia’s hand in her own gloved one. “It will all resolve itself for the best. Remember how unhappy I was just a short time ago and now I could not be in better spirits. When we see each other again, things will likely already have come right for you and you will have the country at your feet.”

  Amelia could not help but laugh. “Another pleasant notion.”

  Once Lottie was gone, though, her good humour at once left her. Losing her best friend made everything else twice as hard to bear. Mr Wrackley was gone. Mr Brightford had the very lowest opinion of her and it had caused him to take away her best chance at future happiness. No, she would not think of it; any of it. She called for Walker to come and dress her hair so she could go out and distract herself.

  * * *

  It was mid-morning when she decided to call at Mr Harrington’s depleted household to see how Benjamin was. She had spent the morning admiring cloth and trying on hats she could not afford to buy and her mood was lower than ever. The prospect of a dinner party that evening did nothing to cheer her, not when her best friend would never again attend such events with her. She could barely recall a time before she and Lottie had been friends and it seemed almost impossible that Lottie should suddenly be absent from her life.

  Benjamin looked equally depressed when she was admitted to the library, prompting her to ask, “Are you missing your family already?”

  His mouth twisted into something that was not a smile. “My father’s parting words to me were that he expected me to be engaged to be married the next time he saw me and I was welcome to bring my future bride and her family with me to Lottie’s wedding.”

  She felt a wave of sympathy, realising her own life was not the only one in chaos and at least she had her parents’ support. “Will you do it? Propose to someone?”

  He paced over to the window then back again. “I do not know. I am not sure I can live such a fake life, but if I do not do as he says…”

  “You think he would disinherit you?”

  “Yes.”

  She had always thought Mr Harrington a cold, stern man but this was heartless beyond belief. Why should he be so determined to deny his own son happiness? “Have you had a chance to tell Mr Nathaniel Fenbridge about this yet?”

  “No. It is not his problem.”

  “He cares about you, perhaps in the same way that you care about him.”

  His eyes shot to her face, gaze searching. “Do you think so?”

  “I do. Between the two of you I am sure you can think of a solution to this.”

  She returned home feeling that at least if her own life was not what she might wish then at least she had offered some excellent advice to a friend. From Mr Nathaniel Fenbridge’s words in the past she was positive he felt the same way as Benjamin and she was fond of them both so it would be good to see them happy.

  * * *

  Brightford stared out of the dining room window at the dappled sunshine that fell through the various trees in his garden creating areas of bright light and shadow, bright colours and dull ones. His house seemed empty after Alex’s departure. Nathan was still around but he was out a lot and he was still angry with Brightford over Miss Daventry. The anger was rare in someone normally so good-natured and it once again caused Brightford to question whether his judgement of Miss Daventry had been right and whether he should have kept quiet to Wrackley.

  But surely he knew Miss Daventry better than Nathan did? He had always found her outspoken opinions irritating but he recalled now that he had been quite taken by her beauty the first few times he had seen her. Overhearing her cool intention to find a wealthy man had shocked him and killed any attraction. However, the callousness he had attributed to her did not match the affectionate behaviour towards Miss Harrington that Fenbridge had described and he himself had seen her rise hotly to her friend’s defence when Miss Harrington had been insulted at a ball.

  Perhaps when he had overheard her a year ago she had been too young to know what she wanted and her views had changed. Perhaps she genuinely had cared about Wrackley.

  Perhaps she had cared only for his wealth.

  He shook his head in frustration at his circular thoughts and decided that he would get nowhere at the moment. As he left the house and headed for his stables he decided to observe Miss Daventry more carefully in future and if it turned out that he had been in the wrong then… well, he would think of some way to put things right.

  * * *

  Amelia’s words had given Benjamin more hope than he had dared have before. Surely if she - someone who could see the situation impartially - thought Mr Nathaniel Fenbridge returned his feelings then it must be true?

  The two men had taken one of their rides - a regular tradition between them now - into the countryside. They had now paused to eat a light lunch, their horses munching companionably on the grass beside them.

  “The view here is lovely,” Fenbridge said, sprawled on the soft grass beside him, close enough to kiss.

  Benjamin stared sightlessly around him, pulse racing, thinking of what he wanted to say and trying to build up his confidence. “Yes. Most pleasant.”

  “You seem a little distracted.”

  “I have been forced to consider my future and in particular marriage.” He paused, trying to find the right words to convey his hopes for their relationship.

  “I nearly became engaged some years ago.”

  These quietly spoken words hit Benjamin like a blow and he stared at his companion in growing shock. He wished he could never have heard this and go back to his previous state of hope but it was too late. “What was her name?”

  Fenbridge looked surprised at the question, as if his mind had been elsewhere. “Miss McLeod.”

  “I suppose she was attractive and accomplished?”

  “Yes. Both.”

  Of course she was, Benjamin thought bitterly. What a spectacular fool he had been. Fenbridge was only a bachelor because this Miss McLeod had broken his heart. Benjamin’s only consolation was that he had not confessed his feelings and utterly ruined their friendship. In light of all he had hoped might exist between them, it was not much comfort.

  He did not want to hear anymore and, for the first time, wanted to be away from Fenbridge’s company. “It looks as if it might rain. Shall we head back?”

  “Er, yes. If you wish.”

  They packed up the remains of the meal and got their reluctant horses moving, Benjamin leading the way back to Edinburgh, the only thought in his mind being a bottle of whiskey and subsequent oblivion.

  Chapter Fourteen

  LOTTIE STARED up at the building - more of a castle than a house - in front of her. It was several times larger than the small country estate her own family owned. She had not realised before how rich Mr Alexander Fenbridge was and her former nerves returned: could he really be content to make her the mistress of so grand a building and put her in charge of those who ran it.

  The servants were all in attendance to greet Mr Fenbridge, lined up in rows that presumably represented the different household and outdoor departments - housekeeper; maids, butler, footmen, cooks, grooms, gardeners… There must be a hundred people.

  Having walked round the carriage to her side, Mr Fenbridge took her arm and, with a smile, led her forward and introduc
ed her to the most senior of the various servants. He spoke to them in an affectionate manner which she could see they returned and they greeted her with bows or curtsies and polite smiles. A few of the others looked at her with open curiosity.

  Mr Fenbridge then led Lottie and her parents into the house, which was every bit as grand and elegant as its exterior suggested, from the tapestries on the walls to the sweeping staircase ahead of them. The hall tables and grandfather clock gleamed as if they had just been polished.

  “Would you care for a tour,” Mr Fenbridge asked her, “or would you like to rest for a while before dinner?”

  “A tour of the house would be lovely,” she said, trying not to sound utterly intimidated by her surroundings.

  Her father asked to be shown his room - he looked worn out from the long journey - but her mother accompanied them, no doubt feeling that a chaperon was still needed. As Mr Fenbridge led them round the ground floor he gave a brief history of the building and its more interesting features, adding, “Naturally you will be at liberty to change anything you do not like.”

  “Oh, no,” she said at once. “It is beautiful.”

  “It is an elegant place but I know that some of the décor is old-fashioned. This is your home now and I want you to be happy here.”

  With this, her worries eased and she remembered why she had been so glad to accept his proposal.

  “I hope we will both be happy,” she said, determined to do her best to ensure it.

  He gave her a warm smile and agreed.

  * * *

  Amelia was distracting herself from her life. She refused to think about Mr Wrackley - he was gone for good so it was pointless to pine for him. She would have to see Mr Brightford at some point, but she had no idea how she felt about him at the moment. It hurt to think his opinion of her was so low and she could not yet work out whether that view was justified or not or whether he had had the right to speak of it to Mr Wrackley. She felt too bereft at losing Lottie and Mr Wrackley’s departure to be able to consider Mr Brightford so she was putting that from her mind too. She was beginning to get a headache from all the things she was not thinking about.

  She spent half of the next morning looking through her clothes to decide what to take to Lottie and Mr Alexander Fenbridge’s wedding. It did not matter that she was not leaving for two months; planning the trip made her feel better. Several gowns and bonnets were not bright enough for her liking so she took her maid to the shops to purchase ribbon to improve them. When she got back to the house she could almost believe that she felt perfectly content.

  The footman handed her out of the carriage and she walked into her home, pausing in the hallway when she heard her mother’s normally calm voice, high-pitched and distraught. Heart thudding painfully in her chest, she walked towards the library just as the butler ran out of the room.

  She caught his arm. “Stewart, what is wrong?”

  “Forgive me, Miss,” he said, pulling away and hurrying towards the servants’ stairs, “I must fetch the doctor at once.”

  She kept moving towards the library and put a hand on the intricately carved oak door, pushing it further open. Her father was lying on the floor, clutching his chest, her Mama kneeling beside him.

  “No!” Amelia ran forward and sank to the floor, taking her father’s hand.

  His face was a terrible grey colour. His eyes slowly moved to Amelia’s face and he mouthed her name then he wrenched his hand from hers, clutching his chest one final time.

  His body jerked then went limp and, as she watched helplessly, his eyes emptied of life.

  * * *

  Mr Alexander Fenbridge had arranged for Josie Smith, one of the household maids, to act as Lottie’s personal maid since her own maid had family in Edinburgh and did not wish to leave. Smith was a middle-aged woman who had seen Mr Fenbridge’s sisters grow up in the house - her list of their accomplishments was never-ending.

  “You should invite them to dine here,” Lottie’s mother insisted.

  “How can I?” she asked. “I am not the mistress here.”

  “You soon will be and you need them to see that their brother is marrying the sort of lady they would wish him to wed: someone who can run his household flawlessly; organise and act as hostess for countless balls, dinner parties, etc. They are important ladies of the area, respected here and in their visits to the city. Their support could do you a great deal of good but if you fail to make a good impression…” She let her sentence tail off, her expression leaving no doubt that Lottie must do this and do it perfectly.

  She reluctantly mentioned the idea to Mr Fenbridge later that day and he agreed at once, saying that an informal dinner party would be an excellent way for her and his sisters to become friends. Her spirits lifted by his confidence, she wrote out the invitations and gave them to the butler for delivery, letting him know that the dinner would be in two days’ time. His stony expression immediately made her worry that she had done something wrong: perhaps the invitations were too formal or maybe he did not feel the household was being enough notice to arrange everything. She ventured to suggest that she could alter the date, which he seemed to take as a criticism, telling her stiffly that this was unnecessary and the staff were perfectly capable of fulfilling any duty she had for them.

  By the time the cook came into the drawing room to discuss the menu with her, Lottie’s courage was failing her. She was sure that the cook meant her suggestions kindly but she was left feeling that she could get nothing right.

  Mr Alexander Fenbridge should have asked Amelia to marry him, Lottie thought despairingly. Amelia had all the confidence, determination and leadership abilities to take control of staff and home and to win the admiration of all her neighbours. Amelia was everything Lottie was not.

  Chapter Fourteen

  AMELIA WOKE hoping the previous day had been a nightmare - it did not seem possible that her father was suddenly gone - but the silenced clocks and black drapes around the pictures told her otherwise. The dining room, laid out for breakfast, was empty and she went in search of her mother, finding her in her father’s study.

  Mrs Daventry was in a chair at the desk frowning at a handful of papers. Without looking up she said, “People will want payment for bills. Your father would expect me to handle this but I do not know what to do.”

  Amelia pulled another chair up to the desk. “Then we will do it together.”

  Her resolve quickly faded to fear. Neither of them could make sense of the various receipts and bills - did the money need to be paid or had it already been paid? How much money did they have and where was it invested? Mr Daventry had been in charge of all such matters and had never mentioned the subject to either of them. Surely only men understood such things? Yet sometimes a woman inherited an estate from her father or husband so there must be some way of getting it to make sense.

  They eventually gave up, defeated, and Mrs Daventry said she would make an appointment with the family man of business who would hopefully be able to explain to them what money they had and what to do about expenses and bills.

  Amelia set about writing a notice to go in the Edinburgh Gazette stating where and when the funeral would be held and there were a few distant relatives who would also need to be informed.

  The breakfast in the dining room remained uneaten.

  * * *

  “I believe I expressed myself badly when we last spoke,” Mr Nathaniel Fenbridge said as they played a game of billiards in Benjamin’s home. “When I mentioned nearly getting engaged, what I meant was that as easy as it would have been to do as everyone expected, I would have been unfair to myself and to the lady in question if I had. Sometimes one’s heart leads in a different direction.”

  Benjamin tried to take this in. The words seemed a confirmation of his own feelings but he had been wrong so many times it did not seem possible and, after the picnic, his hopes had been destroyed entirely.

  Fenbridge continued, “May I ask why you were concerned about
your future?”

  “My father wishes me to marry.”

  Fenbridge stared at him. He seemed taken aback by this announcement but otherwise Benjamin could not read his emotions. “Who?”

  “Someone of good family, the wealthier the better. Other than that, anyone would do.”

  “What do you want?”

  This was the moment; the choice between two paths. Should he tell Fenbridge of his feelings or should he lie and say he was perfectly amenable to the idea of marriage? He opened his mouth, still with no idea what to do, and the words came out of their own volition: “I do not ever wish to marry.”

  Fenbridge gave a shaky smile and put a hand on his shoulder, squeezing it lightly. “Then I think you should not.”

  “My father might disinherit me.”

  “I am quite certain that, if it becomes necessary, my brother would let you live on his estate.”

  Benjamin swallowed, his heart beating so loudly he wondered if Fenbridge could hear it. “Why would he do that?”

  “To make me happy. You make me happy.”

  Benjamin leaned closer. “As you do. I mean, you also make me…”

  Fenbridge kissed him and every problem vanished. It was Benjamin’s first kiss and the sensation of Fenbridge’s warm lips against his was a revelation. He held on to the other man as every seemingly insurmountable obstacle between them vanished.

  * * *

  The funeral was like a bad dream to Amelia. She tried to hold back the tears but it was as if she was only realising now that her father truly was gone. Out of both her parents, he had always been the more indulgent one; the one who could understand her point of view and rarely criticised her. She would miss him so much.

  She could not have said whether it was sunny or raining in the churchyard. A blackness seemed to surround her and no warmth or brightness penetrated it.

  Guests came back to the house after the funeral and she accepted their condolences numbly, wishing with all her heart for Lottie, who would have made this bearable.