He headed back to the house and ordered his valet to pack his belongings and arrange for them to leave before the afternoon was over. Then he went in search of Adam.
Adam was in the music room with Judith. If Simon had not been numb with unhappiness, he might have noticed the air of intimacy between them. Instead, he plunged into his own business. “I’ve come to say good-bye.”
Catching sight of his friend’s face, Adam immediately got to his feet and crossed the music room. “What’s wrong?”
“Lady Antonia and I have decided we will not suit, so I am leaving Thornleigh.” Simon tried to sound normal, but from the others’ expressions, he was not successful.
His voice lowered to reach Adam’s ears only. “She’s gone dashing off into the hills. P-perhaps . . . perhaps you should go after her. She might be too reckless.”
“I will.” Adam regarded him soberly, concern vivid on his face. “Is there anything I can do?”
Lord Launceston recalled his earlier thoughts. “When Antonia has had time to reconsider, she may regret that she has acted so hastily. I shall write you. Will you keep me informed of her feelings?”
After speaking, Simon realized that he was asking his friend to act as a spy. Indeed, if Adam had to choose between supporting his cousin and Simon, he would certainly choose Antonia.
Fortunately Adam took Simon’s words in good part. “In other words, Antonia has flown up into the boughs,” he translated. “Don’t worry, I shall do what I can.”
Judith joined them, her gray eyes warm with sympathy as she offered her hand. “I’m so sorry.”
Simon bowed over her hand, then tried to smile. “So am I.” After a quick handshake with Adam, he escaped the room, fearful that too much sympathy would cause him to break down.
* * * *
After Lord Launceston left, Adam swore a soft oath under his breath. Judith tried to interpret the meaning, then decided with bleak honesty to tackle her fears head on. “Perhaps Antonia is no longer an unattainable dream, Adam. I will not hold you to our engagement if you regret making it.”
Her words hung in the air for a painful eternity before Adam answered, his mouth twisted. “Do you think so little of my constancy? What happened between Simon and Tony has nothing to do with you and me.”
Relieved, Judith forced herself to change the direction of her thoughts. If she could not let herself trust Adam, she would poison the honesty of what was between them. “I’m sorry,” she said quietly. “I just have trouble imagining that a man would prefer me when Antonia was available.”
“The fact that she may not marry Simon does not make her available to me,” he said rather dryly. “Besides, I think it likely that the breach between them can be repaired. When my cousin has calmed down, she will undoubtedly be sorry she sent Simon away, and he seems prepared to try again.”
Judith remembered the sense of magic between Simon and Antonia at their first meeting. “I hope you are right.”
“So do I, in spite of what you might think.” He bent over to give Judith a light kiss. “Simon thinks that Tony has gone haring off into the hills, which sounds just like her. I’d best go after her.”
“If anyone can find Antonia, it would be you.” Judith sighed. “I’ll start canceling the arrangements for the wedding.”
As they went off on their separate tasks, Judith thought wryly that someone had to clean up the wreckage after the romantic leads had enacted their drama at center stage. Well, she had always been good at that sort of thing.
* * * *
One of the grooms confirmed that her ladyship had stormed off on her favorite horse, and not even dressed for riding. The groom had been unsurprised; very little that the mistress did could surprise anyone at Thornleigh.
Adam took his time riding after his cousin. He had a fair idea of where she would end up, and it wouldn’t do to get there too soon. Antonia would need some time alone. Later, she would need comfort, and he was experienced at giving that.
High in the rugged upland peaks was a protected ledge he and Tony had named the Aerie. An improbable patch of grass and flowers grew in front of a rocky overhang, making a comfortable spot to lie and watch the world.
This had been their special retreat when they were children. They had come often to talk, to dream, to watch the hawks soaring over the valley. Adam had not come here for perhaps a dozen years, but he could have found his way blindfolded.
Sure enough, his cousin’s horse was tethered in the dale below. Adam dismounted and tied his own mount, then made the final scramble up the steep hillside.
At the top he passed through a narrow cleft in the rock and found himself in the Aerie. Antonia was huddled in the grass with her arms around her knees, her yellow morning dress much the worse for wear after her ride.
She must have heard the sound of his approach, but she didn’t look up, just continued to gaze at a peregrine falcon floating with effortless grace on an air current. Of course she knew that only Adam would come here.
He dropped cross-legged beside her in the grass. “Can you bear company?” he asked in a conversational tone.
“As long as it is you.” Antonia still didn’t look at him, simply accepting his presence. She had been crying, and she was so pale that he could see traces of the golden freckles that had frosted her cheeks when she was a child.
There was also gooseflesh on her bare arms. The afternoon was a cool one. Adam peeled off his coat and draped it around her shoulders.
The coat was large enough to go twice around her, and she accepted it gratefully. “Thank you.” There was a long silence before she spoke again. “Simon told you what happened?”
“Only in the most general way,” Adam said carefully. “He said the two of you had decided you would not suit. He will have left Thornleigh by now.”
His words rekindled her grief and she began crying again, raw sobs wrenched from the depths of her heart. So Simon had taken her at her word and was gone. She would never see him again.
Part of her had secretly hoped that he cared enough to follow her, or at least to stay at Thornleigh. She was willing to be convinced that he loved her. But she had been right. Lord Launceston did not care as much for her as she did for him. At this very moment he was probably congratulating himself on his fortunate escape.
As Antonia doubled over in tears, Adam pulled her close, cradling her securely against his broad chest. Once more she accepted the refuge he offered, but this was not like her unaccountable terror in Peak Cavern. This time sunlight would not dissipate the black clouds. She cried for lost youth and lost dreams, for all the bright illusions of love that she had wanted so much to believe in.
Adam wordlessly gave her a handkerchief and eventually she subsided into hiccups, then silence. The only other sounds were the perpetual soughing of the wind and the occasional distant cry of a bird.
After a long time had passed, Antonia asked in a small voice hoarse from crying, “Is love even possible, Adam?”
“Of course it is.” His certainty was immensely comforting. “Unfortunately ‘love’ is an imprecise word, used to describe a wide variety of feelings. The Greeks knew better and had words for different sorts of loving. But even they described only a handful of the complicated needs, desires, and demands we call love.”
Antonia considered his statement, her brain moving rather slowly. “What do you mean?”
“There is the love of mother for child, of friend for friend, of sibling for sibling, of a person for an object or nation or ideal. Each of those is real, each different. And they are just the beginning.”
He considered. “If I were a philosopher trying to classify the kinds of love, I would divide them into two categories. The first category is generous love, where one wants the best for the beloved, even if it means personal loss for the one who loves. It also includes the kind of love that accepts the beloved as he or she is, knowing that differences are part of what makes love real.”
Adam shifted his position,
settling Antonia more comfortably under his arm. “My second category is selfish love, where one is more concerned for oneself than for the other person. It includes obsession, where one seeks to possess and change the beloved. ‘Because I love you, you must be what I think you should be.’ Generous and selfish love are quite different, yet sometimes the two are intertwined so closely that they cannot be separated.
“You asked if love is possible, but you were really asking about romantic love. I know it is possible, but people have different ideas of what it is. Often ‘romantic love’ means physical attraction. That is compelling, but without friendship and respect, it can be a volatile base for a marriage.”
He stopped to let that sink in before adding, “Your personal ideal of romantic love might be one that is very hard to fulfill. If you know exactly what you mean by love, you should be able to answer your question of whether it is possible.”
Even in Antonia’s present muddled state, she knew that he was offering her oblique advice as well as comfort. Was her love for Simon generous, or selfish, or some of both? Too often she had been critical, not accepting him as he was, yet she had genuinely wanted to please him as well.
It was easier to recognize that her idea of romantic love was a demanding one. Simon had been unable to meet it. Perhaps no man could.
Bleakly she accepted that the ending of the betrothal had been entirely her fault. Hurt and insecure, she had lost her temper and blamed him for the fact that he thought differently from her.
She doubted that Simon would be willing to forgive her when she had behaved so badly. He was a gentle and easygoing man, and she had made him wretched.
Adam made no attempt to draw her out. He simply held her, warm and undemanding. In all of Antonia’s lifetime, he was the one person she had always been able to depend on. Ever since they were children, she had known that he cared for her even when she was at her naughtiest, even on the rare occasions when temper had made her lash out at him.
Why could she not want to marry her cousin? There might not be romance between them, but there was certainly love, the generous sort that was based on kindness, friendship, and trust.
Well, why not marry Adam? He had offered for her, albeit casually. Antonia had never seen any sign that her cousin had a romantic bone in his body. Perhaps his ideal of marriage was the kind of comfortable friendship that existed between them. If her own concept of romantic love was unattainable, better to try for what was possible.
It was too soon to think of marrying anyone else. The image of Simon was too vivid, the pain too deep. But perhaps later . . .
It never occurred to Antonia that Adam’s offer of marriage might no longer be open.
Chapter Six
Antonia made no attempt to confide in her companion about the circumstances that had ended her betrothal. After she and Adam returned from her escape to the hills, she had been relentlessly cheerful with everyone. Only her deeply shadowed eyes revealing her unhappiness. It hurt Judith to watch her.
By mutual agreement, Judith and Adam did not announce their engagement. It would seem like a cruel flaunting of their happiness when Antonia was so miserable.
The only comfort Antonia seemed to find was in her cousin’s presence. Every morning they went for long rides together.
Judith watched Adam carefully, but saw no signs that he was regretting his betrothal and yearning after his cousin. Judith was immensely grateful for that. She wouldn’t have blamed Adam if he was still in love with Antonia, but she would much rather keep him for herself.
Several days after Lord Launceston left, Adam received a short note from him, giving a hotel in London where he could be reached. Adam showed the note to Judith, who saw that his lordship intended to return to Derbyshire soon to plead his case. If he did, Judith suspected that Antonia would welcome her erstwhile lover with open arms.
A very long week after Simon left, Adam announced that he was going to visit an engineer working on the outskirts of Macclesfield. Would either of the ladies like to visit the shops while he was examining Mr. Malcolm’s steam engine?
Thinking it would be good for Antonia to get away from Thornleigh for a day, Judith accepted for both of them. As they drove west to Macclesfield, Judith asked, “What’s special about Mr. Malcolm’s engines?”
“They work at very high pressures, so a compact engine can produce a great deal of power,” Adam explained. “There are any number of possible applications in industry, transportation, and mining.”
“If the pressure is very high, isn’t there danger of explosion?”
“Potentially, but not if the device is well-built and well-maintained,” Adam answered. “Malcolm has had good success with his engines throughout the Midlands. Now he’s looking for investment to build a larger manufactory.”
Judith nodded thoughtfully. Based on what she had observed of Adam’s business acumen, if he decided that a project was worthwhile, success was virtually assured.
* * * *
Apprentice engineer Dickie Stokes used the massive spanner to tighten a bolt on the steam engine. He temporarily hung it on the convenient arm of the safety valve while he rummaged through his wooden tool chest for a screwdriver.
As he straightened up, he was unable to repress a yawn. Bit of a pity that the barmaid at the Stars and Garters had chosen last night to succumb to Dickie’s charm. He hadn’t had a wink of sleep, not that he regretted that.
Usually it wouldn’t matter, but today some nabob was visiting Mr. Malcolm and the gaffer was all aflutter to impress him. He’d had his apprentice rushing about all morning, first cleaning the sheds, then testing every cylinder, rod, and bolt in the engine. The old man should have more apprentices, but of course, money was short. That’s why the nabob was needed.
Dickie checked the water level and the furnace. All was right and tight. Lastly he began gathering his tools. T’wouldn’t do to leave ‘em lying about with an important visitor coming.
The engine made such a racket that at first he didn’t hear Mr. Malcolm calling, but finally the yells of “Dickie, get in here!” penetrated the clamor.
The apprentice stifled another yawn. The gaffer must have found something else to worry about. But the engine was singing as sweet as you could please, and that’s what mattered most.
“Dickie, get over here, you worthless Geordie!” Dickie started moving more smartly. The gaffer never called him a Geordie unless he was right peevish. Not that there was anything wrong with having been born in Newcastle, and Dickie Stokes would draw the claret of anyone who claimed otherwise.
As the apprentice closed his tool chest and left the pumping shed, he completely forgot the heavy spanner weighing down the arm of the safety valve.
* * * *
After the carriage dropped him off at the mine site, Adam crossed the field to the flimsy shed that James Malcolm used as an office. An equally flimsy shed fifty yards away housed the steam engine, chugging away as it pumped water from a badly flooded old mine.
Malcolm had been challenged to get the water out. If he was successful, the mine could be profitably worked again and Malcolm’s prestige would be enhanced enormously.
The engineer saw his approach and came bustling out. He was a short muscular man with the powerful hands of a man who’d started life as a laborer. “Mr. Yorke, a pleasure to meet you, sir. I can’t offer you any refreshment just now, but my apprentice has gone off to purchase some tea.”
“No matter.” Adam shook hands, wanting to reduce the engineer’s anxiety. His research had indicated that Malcolm was a talented inventor, and Adam was already predisposed in his favor. “It’s your engine I’m interested in, not tea.”
The two men entered the office, and within a few minutes every available surface was covered with detailed drawings of Malcolm’s designs. The men were kindred spirits. Within minutes, they were deep into discussion of flues, crankshafts, and plunger poles. Examining the actual engine was deferred until later.
In the adjac
ent hut, the pumper roared on. With the safety valve jammed shut, the internal pressure slowly began to rise, driving the engine faster and faster.
* * * *
At the George inn, Ian Kinlock shifted restlessly as he waited for the carriage to come. He’d already finished his newspaper, and lack of activity was in a fair way to driving him mad. As a physician and surgeon, leisure was not something he had ever had a chance to become accustomed to.
It didn’t help that his visit to a distant cousin in Macclesfield had been tedious in the extreme. He should be old enough to know his mother’s social suggestions were best ignored.
Unfortunately Lady Kinlock had known that her son would be passing through the area, and he hadn’t been able to think of a good reason not to call on Cousin Euan. He had, however, become very inventive about finding reasons for cutting his visit short after a mere two days.
Kinlock pulled his watch out and checked the time. Still a quarter of an hour. He grinned at his own impatience and settled back in the coffee-room chair. Any man who had heard as many dull medical lectures as he had should be able to sit still for fifteen minutes.
* * * *
Macclesfield was a center for silk manufacturing, and the shops had a fine selection of the local products. Antonia eyed the bolts in the draper’s shop, wishing she could summon more enthusiasm.
Judith glanced across at her. “Not in the mood for shopping?”
“Not really,” Antonia admitted. Her companion had been a model of tact and sympathy lately, never prying, but always willing to offer the silent comfort of her presence. Antonia knew that she was most enormously lucky to have friends like Judith and Adam
She should make more of an effort to be agreeable. Forcing herself to smile, she said, “I’m rather curious about Adam’s steam engine. Silk one can see anytime. Do you have any interest in walking back to where we dropped Adam off so we can see the engine? Anything that noisy must be interesting.”
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