Timeless Passion: 10 Historical Romances To Savor

by Rue Allyn

  Soleil privately hoped she might persuade Rhianna to go to bed early. The latter had been up nearly every night since Lord Kingsley came and Soleil began to fear for her friend’s health. But, as with all previous nights, she was unsuccessful. When it had grown late, Rhianna protested against Soleil’s continued companionship, declaring it was unnecessary for both of them to lose sleep.

  “As if I could go to my room and get a moment’s sleep,” Soleil professed. “I could hardly think of leaving your side while you are in this weakened state.”

  “I will be fine, Soleil, you really mustn’t stay.”

  “You know the depth of my affection for you, Rhianna. I am going to stay in this room tonight and do not expect me to change my mind.”

  Soleil knew Rhianna had no energy to persist in urging her, and clearly it would be a fruitless venture. She smiled as Rhianna accepted with a sigh.

  “I do not know how I am supposed to feel, Soleil,” Rhianna declared, at length. “You know better than most that I never was close to my mother and father. If I return to England and visit their graves, it will be out of a sense of obligation only, to do what is right and honorable.”

  “Of course, we support any such endeavor.”

  “But I have no attachment to them, Soleil. That is the difficult thing. Of course, news such as this is shocking, and I still hardly believe it, but they did not love me, as you and your family have.”

  “You must not say such things,” Soleil told her delicately. “I have no doubt they cared for you very much.”

  “If such was the case,” Rhianna declared, with only a trace of the inner regret and heartache she had long suppressed, “they neither demonstrated it nor declared it.”

  To this, there was nothing to be said, for her words had been proven true in the many years of little correspondence. The few letters sent, always in her father’s hand, bore no measure of feeling and, in ten years, not one visit was requested of her, nor performed on their part.

  Soleil fell to the seat of the rosewood vanity, her body facing away from the mirror, her arms draped across the back of the chair. Without any convincingly positive response, she remained silent and watched with uneasiness as Rhianna sat curled before the great bay window of the room, gazing blankly into the moonlit countryside.

  The hours passed and fatigue set in. With so much to meditate on, conversation continued intermittently. Soleil was glad amidst the tragedy to observe Rhianna’s emotions had not crumbled beneath her. Rather, her demeanor was merely solemn, reflective.

  But Soleil was yet unaware of a matter of particular significance.

  The words that caused Soleil suspicion did not come until nearly twelve o’clock. They came subtly and were peculiar enough in character that one would naturally be inclined to reflect on them for meaning. Rhianna, drowsy and incoherent, spoke them aloud unwittingly, saying, “He would not wait for me.”

  All at once, Soleil had a sense that there was something more — an underlying element troubling her friend. She could not seem to place Rhianna’s words in accordance with any subject that had distressed them as of late. After some time pondering this sentiment, she came to no sensible explanation.

  “You must forgive my presumptuousness, Rhianna, but I must know,” said Soleil, “is there something you have not told me? Indeed, I know you too well not to discern you have something else vexing your thoughts.”

  Rhianna turned to her somnolently. Soleil moved toward her and seated herself beside her friend on the sill. She said nothing, so as to allow her sisterly companion a moment to collect her thoughts.

  “My dear Soleil,” she began, “I should never have imagined you not to discern as much, and I confess I am grateful for it. I so wanted to tell you, yet I could not seem to find the words on my own. Even now, I can hardly begin.”

  Soleil, though anxious, refrained from interrupting and gave her a moment to continue with her delirious reflection.

  “But I suppose it no longer matters,” Rhianna sighed, “for I am to be in mourning for a whole year.”

  Soleil held her breath, wondering at the implications, while Rhianna faded in and out of aberration.

  “What no longer matters, Rhianna?” she implored.

  “Why would Philippe ever want to wait an entire twelvemonth?”

  The mention of her brother’s name all but confirmed her suspicions.

  “Do you mean to tell me,” Soleil cried, with a start, “that Philippe has proposed?”

  Her last words were uttered an octave higher than those at the start of her question and Soleil covered her own mouth at the realization of it. Simultaneously, Rhianna’s full mental powers appeared to return and both women listened intently to the silence around them. Fortunately, the house remained silent.

  “Yes,” Rhianna replied at first. “No,” she retracted suddenly. “That is, he attempted to before he was interrupted.”

  “Gracious God, when?”

  “The morning after the dance, after you and I parted at the stables, Philippe met with me in the garden. It happened moments before Lord Kingsley’s arrival.”

  Soleil was quite struck by this and considered Rhianna with great admiration for speaking of it with such fortitude.

  “What awful timing, Philippe! Oh, Rhianna!”

  “You were right all along! How could I not have known? It was all so obvious, you must wonder at my naïveté.” Rhianna continued, “I can only imagine that he will now withdraw his offer.”

  “Oh, for shame, Rhianna! There is nothing to reconsider as far as you are concerned. I congratulate him on choosing so amiable a girl! As to withdrawing his offer, you misjudge him severely. I know my brother very well. He would not wish to detach himself because of your changed situation. Philippe is far too loyal. He will wait.”

  Another silent pause ensued, this one being longer than the last. Finally, Soleil asked the question which was to complete her understanding of the situation.

  “Rhianna, forgive me,” she began delicately, “but there is one more thing yet to ask, and do tell me, please, if I am being too curious.” Rhianna gave her full attention, and Soleil inquired, “As to your feelings … regarding Philippe?”

  She stopped, but that Rhianna understood her meaning was clear as her cheeks flushed with color.

  “I do care for him, Soleil,” she confessed, at length, “though I always felt my affection was of the most sisterly kind. But he is so good-hearted and generous to all, and he cares so strongly for the welfare of those dear to him. It is so contrary a demeanor to that of any I have come across in all my male acquaintances.” She paused, before adding, “I think I do not deserve him.”

  “That is not true. But, do not imagine me to be excessively partial toward him,” Soleil expressed with all honesty. “We shall be sisters with or without him, so if you do not share his feelings, do not hesitate to say so. I shall not be offended.”

  With a moment’s further reflection, Rhianna said, “Although I have confessed nothing to him, Soleil, I believe I could very well love Philippe.”

  • • •

  The following morning, despite much tossing and turning, and little sleep, Rhianna arose early, her decision made at last. Below, she could hear a stir in the morning room. The others, too, it seemed, had arisen early and were already downstairs. Dressing quietly, so as not to wake Soleil, she hurried to greet them.

  As she entered the room, she was surprised to find that everyone was not already gathered there. Instead, she found only Philippe was up and about.

  “Oh! Philippe,” she declared, startled to find him standing by the window. He turned immediately toward the sound of her voice, as she said, “I have intruded on your solitude, forgive me.”

  She turned to withdraw from the room, but he stopped her.

  “Not at all,” he quickly returned. “Pray, do not leave. My solitude has, in fact, been dragging for some time now and I would be glad of your company.”

  Rhianna was certain it to b
e the most uncomfortable moment she had ever known. Ordinarily, she was never timid before Philippe. Indeed, she had always felt a sense of ease in his presence. But this morning was different. After all that had passed, she knew not how to conduct herself.

  “Please, I beg you,” he further entreated, taking some few steps in hesitant advancement toward her. “Stay.”

  At last, she moved to the window and stood beside him, as she would normally have done in this same circumstance, but resolved to keep her face inclined toward the window, her only retreat from the uneasy situation.

  After a long moment overlooking the estate grounds where she and Soleil had last ridden two weeks prior, she commented, “While I am away, I shall remember the manoir just as it is today, the house and everything surrounding it bright and sunny.”

  With this confirmation of her decision to go to England, she felt Philippe’s eyes upon her.

  “Strange,” he replied somberly, “how the most bright, sunny day could be so hideously drear.”

  A great sadness fell over her and her gaze blurred. As she allowed her fingers to play languidly with the curtain, a single tear slid down her cheek. Anxious to hide her emotion, she raised her hand to remove it, but Philippe interceded. Enclosing her fair hand in his, he eased her toward him and kissed the small tear away.

  “I never expected that such a day would come when you would leave us,” he told her, regaining control over his own emotions and shifting to his proper distance from her. “Nor did I imagine how intolerable it would be for me if you went away.”

  “Philippe, please, you must not say such things,” she struggled. “It will make it more difficult for me to go.” As she spoke, she could not raise her eyes to his.

  “And what of me? Am I doomed to return to that cursed silence which has anguished me all these years?” He pleaded, “Let me speak, and find forgiveness in your soul, indeed, pity me, for if I do not speak, I will die within, broken of spirit and broken of heart. Rhianna, can you not feel how this house is already in despair with the pains of its loss?”

  His words pained her deeply, as another tear fell, and then, another.

  Philippe concluded his plea, saying, “My selfishness is overtaking me on this matter, but I know not how to hide my distress at your leaving. We need you here, Rhianna. Soleil needs you here. I need you here.”

  His straightforward manner, his unswerving resolve to discuss the only subject she was ill prepared to reflect on, caused Rhianna the greatest of consternation.

  With effort, she declared, “You speak as though I am never to return.”

  Its effect was hardly that for which she hoped, as he replied, “And I venture to say you will not. As I stand here before you, I can see the future. You will go, and you will meet an Englishman, and you will fall in love …”

  “Philippe!”

  “Since we were children together,” he continued, with vehemence, “I have had it in my heart that you would be my wife. Will you deny me of all hope? Deny me my only meaningful wish?”

  Rhianna took a moment to collect her thoughts and emotions. “Surely, I need not remind you of my situation, Philippe. My connections are poor …”

  “Your connections mean nothing,” he cried, his own emotions overtaking him. “It would not change my feelings if you sold flowers on the streets of Paris. Nothing could ever change my feelings.”

  The two stood for a few moments in agonizing silence. Wishing only to escape from the morning room, Rhianna prayed there might appear an opportunity for release.

  “Philippe,” she told him, at last, “I dread to think of how I will get on without you all. But I feel it is my duty to pay my respects to my parents. Surely, you understand.”

  Philippe nodded. “Rhianna,” he gently responded, a choking sound in his throat, “if that were all, then you not being a part of our lives for a time would be far more bearable. But I fear we are in danger of losing you for good.”

  This concept brought animation to Rhianna’s person and she found courage enough to raise her eyes to meet his.

  “What a notion! What reason could I possibly have to remain in Thornton once my obligation is finished? I have nothing holding me there, Philippe.”

  “What is it that holds you here, Rhianna?” he asked, his hand still wrapped around hers.

  With this, she knew Philippe was hoping for some small confession on her part, but something held her back. She did love Philippe, she always had, but love has many forms. And, deep within her heart, did she not feel he deserved better than a curate’s daughter? Though he would not admit it, as far as Philippe was concerned, it would be a poor match. Rhianna suspected that some time away from Manoir Vallière to think might be beneficial for them both. In the meantime, she resolved not to allow him the opportunity for his affections to be alleged further.

  “Everything holds me here. France is my home,” she declared. “It grieves me very much to go; it shall be sorely missed.”

  Philippe raised the back of her hand to his lips before releasing it.

  “And you, my dear Rhianna, will be painfully missed in return.” He concluded, “You must come back to France. I will not hear of it otherwise.”

  Voices were soon heard descending from the upstairs chambers. To Rhianna’s great relief, it was only moments before Marquis Vallière, his wife, Soleil, and Lord Kingsley were all assembled together with them, ending what was to be her last private conversation with Philippe before her departure.

  • • •

  It was soon settled. Rhianna Braden would return to Thornton, England and reside as a guest at Kingsley Manor. With her bags quickly packed, everyone gathered together in front of the Vallière home to see her off the very next morning.

  Still overwhelmed with the developments of the last fortnight, Rhianna, dressed in black bombazine, bid dreamlike farewells to her surrogate family. The picture seemed an illusion as she took trancelike steps toward a halted barouche, the door opened for her entry.

  As the coachman pulled away, Soleil and Philippe were the last to return to the house. In fact, Rhianna did not see them return, for a hill obstructed her vision. But Philippe stood outside that sad home long after Rhianna’s carriage disappeared from sight.

  Chapter Two

  Guilford Kingsley was notably devoted to her comfort the whole of the trip, but it was a long, exhausting journey. Rhianna was glad for the quiet hours when she could reflect on recent events, though, at first, thoughts of Philippe and their last conversation tormented her with some regularity. As they drew closer to their destination, however, her musings shifted to that of her life before France, her childhood memories of England. Indeed, as their barouche traveled beneath a hazy English sky, farmers plowing their hawthorn-enveloped fields along the roads between the scattered towns of Essex, Rhianna had a strong sensation of being exactly where she ought to be.

  As they neared the final stretch, both travelers were equally fatigued and eager to bid the carriage adieu in exchange for the amenity of a fireside. At last, the carriage turned onto a road that Rhianna knew well. She moved closer to the window as they drove past the old stone church and the little cottage where she had spent the first nine years of her life.

  To her surprise, little had changed. The same cold stones decorated its outer walls and the same thin branches of an apple tree rattled against the glass of the cottage’s southern windows. It only seemed smaller to her now, seen through the eyes of a grown woman.

  At last, the horses picked up their pace and began their assent up the very hill which held at its peak, the house — Kingsley Manor — that inspired many a pleasant daydream to a child and, now also, to a young woman, who was never meant to experience the luxuries of aristocratic life.

  The horses moved gracefully through tall, wrought-iron gates, blithely carrying their two-wheeled barouche toward the manor. Bathed in the light of a beaming, springtime sun, they danced past the hedgerows that grew along the property’s enclosing stone wall and up th
e familiar cobblestone approach.

  Rhianna’s dream came back to her, as colorful and vivid as ever. She could see herself, seated on the cottage stoop beside her friend, Brenna, gazing upward at Kingsley Manor, her imagination having run away with her.

  Breathlessly, their passenger gazed from her window, clinging to her reticule. The landscape was vast and impressive, populated with meticulously placed shrubbery, spring flowers in full bloom and, in the center of the lawn, an ornate, Grecian fountain spurting forth its sparkling waters. It was just enough to distract her until the barouche pulled up to the front of the great Kingsley Manor.

  At long last, the horses pulled to a stop. The driver stepped down and opened the carriage door, offering his hand to assist her. Accepting it with one slender, lace-gloved hand, she, too, stepped down, lifting her parasol high above her red curls and porcelain skin. After smoothing her muslin gown, she raised her eyes toward the portico before her. She blushed, as the enchanting lord of the manor himself appeared to greet her.

  Of course, the experience did not perfectly resemble her dream. When she awoke from recalling it, she saw that the flowers were not in season and the dry fountains were not emitting any sparkling waters. Neither did the lord of the manor come out of the house to greet her — this last, however, was understandable, as he needed first to exit the barouche — and, though Rhianna was not so well-dressed as she would have liked and there was no lace-gloved hand to offer Lord Kingsley as she alighted the vehicle, the event itself was every bit as splendid as her heart could wish.

  Situated in the middle of a monumental landscape of almost two thousand acres of park and woodland, Kingsley Manor stood with its more than one hundred rooms, hallways, and corridors. With an exterior constructed in the dramatic Baroque style, Kingsley Manor faced south, with two symmetrical wings on either side, everywhere exploding with fanciful shapes, pediments, and opulent decoration. As Rhianna stood before the center block portico, fatigue wrestled with her as she attempted to engage the finer details, but it could not best her resolve to soon know every brick, statue, and stone.