Promised

by Leah Garriott

  “I’m sorry I stayed out in the rain,” Alice said, fingering her lace handkerchief, and I realized I’d been quiet for some minutes.

  Reaching over, I placed my hand on hers. “I think, between the two of us, I have much more reason to apologize.”

  “Do you miss him?” Her expression was honest and a little sad.

  There was no reason to hide the truth. “Yes.”

  “What will you do now?”

  I didn’t know. I had no prospects and no plans of discovering any. I would become what my family had feared—a liability for Daniel and Louisa. “I will go to the ball tomorrow and see if I can’t find someone interesting. And then I will come home and relay all the details to you and let you be the judge of his worth.”

  Alice’s tired smile was a grayed version of her former brightness. The delight that used to light her entire being seemed smothered by exhaustion.

  I set the book aside. “You should rest, Alice.”

  She nodded and allowed me to assist in making her comfortable. As I added wood to the fire, she said, “I have something for you. For tomorrow.”

  Surprised, I watched as she pulled a blue ribbon from under her pillow. “I asked Mary to pick it up for me.”

  I sat on the bed next to her and took the ribbon. It was the perfect shade to compliment the embroidery on my ball gown. The shade of Gregory’s eyes. “Thank you, Alice. This is a wonderful gift.”

  “Will you wear it?”

  I placed my hand over hers. “Of course I will.”

  Forty-Two

  The lake was nearly gone. No more than a trickle ran down the stream the men had cut into the hill, its grooves now so deep from the draining that the shadowed water didn’t even sparkle in the afternoon light.

  There was really nothing left but a giant, muddy hole. No more reflection of the sky and the trees on its surface, no more promise of peace. Even the sound of the birds had dimmed.

  I turned and slowly strolled back to the house. Where should I take my walks from now on? Through the fields? Into the trees? Neither idea seemed appealing.

  It was a problem to be figured out later, after I survived Mary’s fussing over my hairstyle for the ball. I decided to take my book upstairs to distract me so I didn’t become antsy while she worked.

  Retreating to the study, I had just located my new book when my mother’s raised voice drew me toward the front. “Margaret, what is the meaning of this?”

  She stood before the open front door, blocking the entrance of a gray and white donkey, its rather large ears stuck out from a newspaper hat.

  “It’s a donkey. Wearing a hat,” I said lamely, knowing that if I removed the hat and added a few more folds, I could make a boat.

  “Yes. I am well aware it is a donkey. What I wish to know is why there is a donkey on the front porch.”

  “I don’t know,” I replied in all honesty, though that conversation with Gregory and Mr. Lundall about winning the good opinion of someone you cared for, of winning hearts, popped into my mind.

  She glanced at me. “Are you certain you have no idea why there is a donkey on our porch?”

  I might have had some idea as to why the donkey was here, and it filled me with hope. “Why do you assume it has anything to do with me?”

  Her brows rose. “Do you really need to ask that question?” Her exasperated expression asked if anything unusual ever happened around our house that didn’t have something to do with me.

  I tilted my head in acknowledgment of her reasoning, set my book on a nearby table, and slid past her. “I promise I had nothing to do with this. I’ll take him to the stable and—”

  The donkey brayed at me, long and loud. I stepped back. “I don’t think he likes me.”

  “Oh, where is John!” My mother sighed. “Take him. Be quick, though. You need to be getting ready for this evening. I don’t want to be late.” She shut the door.

  I stepped forward. “Come on, then, donkey.” A rope hung loosely around its neck. I reached for it and the donkey backed away. I reached for it again, and the donkey turned, blocking me.

  This was the most nonsensical situation. “Now, see here. I have a ball to go to tonight that I’m not looking forward to, a mother who will be furious if I’m not ready early, and . . . and I guess it’s just those two things. So, let’s get you settled so I can go be miserable.”

  The donkey’s ears twitched back and forth. I took that as a good sign. “I promise to find the best stall in the stable for you until we can figure out who you belong to.” The donkey nodded its head, though I doubted it was in agreement to my plan. Perhaps it was laughing at me. I think I would be laughing at me, had our places been reversed.

  “I’m just going to reach forward and take a hold of this rope, though it doesn’t really look long enough for much. . . .” I slowly extended my hand. The donkey’s ears twitched again but the beast didn’t move. My fingers closed around the rope and I stepped back.

  “There, now. You’re a good donkey, aren’t you? Let’s just go—”

  The donkey jerked back, tugging the rope from my hands.

  I didn’t have time for this. Mary would be frantic about not having enough time for some new twist she’d just thought up. “This is ridiculous. Wait here. I’ll go find John and he can deal with you.” I started walking across the grass toward the barn, but stopped when the clip-clip-clip of hooves followed. I turned slowly. The donkey was a few steps behind me. I walked a few more steps and peeked back—the donkey was now right behind me, so close I could touch its nose.

  “Well, an extra bucket of oats for you, I guess. Donkeys eat oats, right?” We padded in a single-file line to the barn, where the door stood open. “John! Are you here?”

  No one answered. I pushed the door open further and strode inside. The horses stuck their noses over their doors and the donkey bumped me, as though wanting to stay close. I patted its nose. “All right. No need to worry. Even if they are four times your size. There’s an empty stall there. Let’s get you settled.” The door was partially ajar, and when I opened it, it appeared as though fresh bedding had been laid and fresh hay stuck out of the feeder. “Well, see? There’s a nice little spot all ready—”

  A white rose with a long stem lay on top of a folded letter between the stall’s wooden bars. I withdrew the rose and letter. Miss Brinton was scrawled along the front in the same superb handwriting as the other small notes.

  My fingers trembled with hope and anticipation as I broke the seal.

  My dearest Miss Brinton,

  It was from him. It was from Gregory. I glanced around the barn. Where was he? Why wasn’t he here?

  There was no noise but the stirring of the horses. Aside from me, no one was here. I turned back to the letter.

  I will never forgive myself the part I played in your sister’s illness, nor in the hurt I have caused you and your family. I have acted with all the selfishness and arrogance you once accused me of. Yet seeing you again—

  The donkey shoved at me. Startled, I fell back a step and the donkey made its way into the stall, turned a couple of times, then settled in the bedding.

  Huh. Perhaps donkeys were as intelligent as people claimed.

  I shut and latched the door.

  Yet seeing you again has made me more determined than ever to secure your affections, if it is not already too late.

  You once said you found something disagreeable only when it gave you no other choice. I know that I have given you no other choice. Yet if this poor donkey, of which I have it on good authority you have such a strong dislike, can possibly find a place in your affections, then perhaps there is reason to hope that I can, too.

  Forever yours, Gregory

  They were from Gregory. The flowers, the book, the donkey. Though the donkey was a little much.

  I peeked back in at the anim
al. It lifted his head and almost purred at me. Perhaps I could get used to donkeys. Or at least this one. Maybe I’d name him Gregory. Lady Williams would be amused.

  I glanced back down at the letter and the rose.

  The rose. The one that had been at the lake. He’d left it for me? He must have known I would walk there one last time.

  I closed my eyes and breathed in the fresh scent that reminded me of the arbor in his garden.

  Perhaps Gregory would be at the ball. Surely Daniel would have invited him, after Gregory had come all this way to ensure the lake project ran smoothly. It must be why he didn’t want me to see the guest list—he wanted it to be a surprise.

  Tonight I would see Gregory. Tonight we would dance.

  I shook my head. I shouldn’t want to dance with him. I’d been a wager.

  But he’d confessed his feelings had changed from what they’d been at first. He was out to secure my affections.

  Foolish man. They were already his.

  With a smile so large I knew I looked ridiculous, I walked back to the house, rereading the note and twirling the rose between my fingers.

  Forty-Three

  My hair was pinned up, a curl cascading over my shoulder, the white rose from the barn worked into my chignon as the only adornment. My white gown with blue embroidery was buttoned and pinned tight enough to be modest, loose enough to allow movement. My new blue ribbon from Alice was secured around the raised waistline, accenting the embroidery just as Alice must have known it would. A dab of perfume scented my wrists and neck. I was ready.

  A knock at my door announced my mother’s entrance. “The carriage is waiting.”

  I grabbed the thin blue silk wrap off my bed, its color matching my dress and Alice’s ribbon perfectly, and made to leave.

  My mother, looking exquisite in her own ivory gown with silver embroidered flowers sprinkled along its bodice, skirt, and hems, placed a hand on my shoulder. “James Johnson showed a great deal of interest in you the last time he visited. Perhaps tonight you might show him some deference?”

  James? “Mother, he has no more interest in me than I do in him. I promise you.”

  “Still, a ball is a wonderful place to change opinions.”

  “Because that’s how you and father met?”

  “Many couples meet at a ball.” Her gaze drifted to a place behind me. “I’ll never forget when your father asked me to dance. I had no desire to dance with him. There was another man I had my eyes on. But since refusing your father meant sitting out the rest of the dances, and the evening had just begun, I accepted. I don’t remember ever struggling so hard not to laugh as I did during that set. Your father kept up such a relentless conversation of witty jokes, I was afraid of snorting right in the middle of the ballroom.” She smiled to herself, then at me. “You look beautiful. Let’s just hope James notices.”

  It was not for James that I’d taken such care with my appearance. For while my mother may have met her love at a ball, my heart had been sealed in a ballroom to the north, with mirrors lining the walls and where the promise of a waltz lay unfulfilled.

  We bid goodbye to Alice and joined Daniel and my father in the carriage. When we descended at the Rosthorns’, it was to the glow of dancing flames lighting the drive and stairway. Daniel offered me his arm and we followed our parents in to where Sir Edward and Lady Rosthorn awaited us in the hall.

  Every wall sconce in the house seemed to be lit, for there was hardly a shadow to be seen. The polished floor sparkled and the wood of the staircase gleamed. I glanced at Daniel to find him anxiously glancing upstairs, his own eyes a reflection of the dancing flames along the walls.

  “Louisa has not yet descended,” Lady Rosthorn said by way of greeting.

  “May I go up?” I asked. “She asked me to attend her.”

  Daniel’s expression turned to a poorly-constructed mask of unconcern that did nothing to hide his jealousy.

  “Of course,” Lady Rosthorn said. “She would be delighted.”

  “My dear,” Sir Edward said in a hushed warning. He indicated the stairs with a few nods of the head.

  I glanced up, but there was nothing there. Had Louisa expressed a desire for me not to join her?

  Ridiculous. I smiled and climbed the stairs, turning at the last moment to blow Daniel a kiss. Louisa would soon be his, and this was perhaps that last time I could goad him where she was concerned.

  As I rounded a corner, I almost slammed into a man. I took a quick step back before realizing the man before me was Edward. His hair was darker than it used to be and his eyes seemed a little more tired, but otherwise he had not changed.

  It seemed obvious he would be here. Why had I not expected him?

  This must have been why Daniel had flipped over the guest list. So I wouldn’t see Edward’s name on it.

  Had he thought I wouldn’t come if I had known?

  Did that mean there was a chance Gregory wasn’t invited after all?

  “Margaret.” Edward inclined his head.

  It wasn’t worth the effort to request he call me Miss Brinton. It would only have made him laugh and handed him a tool with which to rile me. “Mr. Rosthorn.” I dropped a quick curtsy.

  “I was wondering if we would see you this evening.”

  Surely he didn’t think I still pined for him, that I would stay away because he was in attendance. “I believe it is customary for the sister of the groom to attend the betrothal ball.”

  He smiled. “I see you have not changed. I am glad of it.”

  Seeing his smile and the casual way he assumed that his being glad I hadn’t changed would somehow please me made me realize just how little I cared for him now, no matter how much I had fancied myself in love with him in the past. Relief seeped through me, and also a twinge of pain—I missed Gregory. “Please excuse me. I am here for Louisa.”

  “Certainly, though you really needn’t bother. Evelina is with her.”

  And he’d brought his wife, too. How awkward it would be to interrupt Louisa and her sister-in-law.

  Edward offered me his arm. “Allow me to escort you back downstairs.”

  No. I would not take his arm. I was Louisa’s friend and soon-to-be sister-in-law. She had asked me to come. I wanted to be with her. “No, thank you.”

  I made to step past him, but he blocked my path. “I don’t believe you ever had the opportunity to meet Evelina. Shall I introduce you?”

  How had I ever cared for him? How had I not seen the shallowness of his person, the calculation of his every move? “I am certain I can manage.” I stepped around him, knocked on Louisa’s door, and entered without waiting for a reply.

  “Louisa, I hope you don’t mind,” I said, closing the door, “but I—”

  She stood, and every word I had meant to utter fled. Her hair hung in perfect golden ringlets around her face. Her dress gathered at the bodice and then fell in sweeping lines to the ground. The slim sleeves, slightly longer than those of most ball gowns, added the most enchanting touch, especially with her face flushed with color and her eyes sparkling with excitement.

  “You look beautiful,” I whispered.

  “Thank you.”

  A lady rose from the chair next to Louisa. She had large, brown eyes and full lips, and she was much shorter than I had expected.

  “Evelina, I do not believe you have yet met my friend Margaret.”

  Evelina—Mrs. Rosthorn—curtsied. “It is a great pleasure to meet you.”

  I liked the quiet sound of her voice, the small but friendly smile, the slight hesitation in her eyes, as though she was uncertain how she would be received. I returned the curtsy. “The pleasure is all mine.”

  Louisa grinned. Retrieving a necklace off the table behind her, she held it out to me. “Margaret, would you help me with this?”

  “Of course.” I moved n
ext to her and took the gold chain. She turned so I could clasp it at the back of her neck.

  “I hope you’ll go down first,” I murmured. “I want to watch Daniel’s expression when he sees you.”

  Louisa giggled.

  “Don’t forget this, Louisa.” Mrs. Rosthorn held a white and gold fan out to her.

  Once the fan was hanging around her wrist, Louisa took a deep breath and smiled. “I am ready.”

  She led us out the door. Mrs. Rosthorn and I hung back to allow the focus to be upon Louisa as she descended. Daniel’s sharp intake of breath was audible all the way to where we stood. He dashed up the stairs, meeting Louisa halfway to offer his arm. His gallant and doting behavior was so different from how he had acted before, and as the former Lady Swenson and I followed her down the stairs, I wondered if Louisa had understood the potential within him when I had not.

  Since the Rosthorns did not have a ballroom, they’d had the carpets in the drawing room rolled and removed, the settees, tables, and chairs pushed against the walls. Candelabras shimmered around the perimeter, and a giant chandelier had been installed for the occasion. Within an hour, the room was full of people mingling, waiting for the dancing to begin. I stood to the side, watching the entrance, as family after couple after family entered, all looking about them in anticipation of an evening of pleasure. But Gregory didn’t appear.

  When the opening strands of a minuet were played, Daniel and Louisa took their place at the head of the line.

  My father appeared next to me. “May I have this dance?”

  I forced my gaze away from the door. “With pleasure.”

  As we stood across from each other in our lines, my father asked, “How are you faring?”

  I raised my brows and received a knowing look in return. Placing my hand in his, I curtsied to the front of the room with the rest of the women in the line. “Father, I am perfectly content.”

  “I did not know they invited Edward. I am sorry. If I had known they were thinking of it—”