by Gloria Gay
CHAPTER 28
Cecilia ate a little of the food, for she was hungry and the roast beef was excellently cooked. She could not imagine Arandale bringing them inferior food. She waited until he had dug into his food, apparently with a healthy appetite before speaking again to him.
So she asked about Rolling Hills instead, and they spoke of the grotto and the gardens they had both enjoyed while there. Arandale told her a little of the history of the estate and she listened with great interest.
After that he told her of his estate and of how much he missed it when he was in London for the season.
Nearing the end of their meal and when Arandale filed her wineglass once more they heard Sir Geoffrey’s voice. Cecilia went quickly to him and learned he wished to partake his supper with her and Arandale.
Elated, Cecilia asked Lord Arandale to help her bring her father to the table where he was then installed in a comfortable chair. Sir Geoffrey seemed in better spirits and seemed also to have a bit more energy.
“It seems the nap gave me some very welcome strength,” he assured the two, whose eyes were equally anxious. “I do not feel the languor I felt before. And I have not even been able to take the powder the physician prescribed.”
“Which physician is that, Sir Geoffrey, if I may be forgiven for asking?”
“Ceci—” Sir Geoffrey turned to Lord Arandale apologetically. “You must forgive me, your lordship, my mind is not as before. I remember my doctor’s name perfectly, but this new physician“
“Haperson,” said Cecilia. “And if you cannot remember him, Papa, it's probably because we know him by name only. He is the physician Lady Rolande recommended, my lord, although we have yet to meet him even after many promises that we will. However, we should not complain. Papa has felt much better since the physician prescribed the medicine to him.”
“I'm glad to hear the medicine helps him, but it's strange that the doctor prescribes sight unseen,” said Arandale. “And why should the powders he prescribed make you languorous, Sir Geoffrey? I cannot think that should be so.”
“I believe it may be that the medicine is very strong, my lord, as the pain that I sometimes have is much too much to bear.”
“Papa, dear, please start your tea or it will get cold.”
“Ah—yes,” said Sir Geoffrey, distractedly. Cecilia saw that Lord Arandale gazed at her father with a serious expression in his eyes.
“Papa suffers from a rheumatoid malady, my lord,” said Cecilia. And although illnesses were seldom mentioned among new acquaintances, much less at the table, Cecilia had seen an interest in Lord Arandale and she felt she might not have again the opportunity that she now had to speak of it to him. “His doctor told us it is very much advanced.”
“And that it will end in complete paralysis,” added Sir Geoffrey.
“I would be very grateful to you if you would speak with Dr. Haperson, my lord,” said Cecilia.
“Ceci“ Sir Geoffrey had turned to her daughter with an embarrassed look in his eyes.
“Papa,” said Cecilia, “I trust Lord Arandale’s opinion.”
“Of course. I do too,” said Sir Geoffrey quickly, “but we must not impose further on his good will.”
“I will be glad to speak with Dr. Haperson, Sir Geoffrey, as soon as you can arrange the meeting in London.”
“Thank you, Lord Arandale,” said Cecilia, sighing with relief, “I will ask Lady Rolande for his direction.”
After his light supper, Sir Geoffrey felt frail again and he was helped to his bed, where he soon fell asleep. Cecilia left Mary by his bedside and went to say good-by to Lord Arandale who was retiring to his own room. In the empty, candlelit room, Cecilia looked up to Lord Arandale and tendered her hand.
“You cannot ever imagine how grateful I am for your help, Lord Arandale.”
Lord Arandale took Cecilia's hand, put his other hand over it and Cecilia immediately felt the curiously protective warmth and strength of his hands as they pressed her own small hand between them. Then Lord Arandale got closer, looked into Cecilia's eyes and leaning over, kissed her, softly at first and then, curiously hard, as if savoring her. Cecilia, who at the same time was savoring his mouth, thought the kiss too short. She would have wanted it to last longer.
“Good night, Miss Sentenell.”
“Good night, Lord Arandale.”
CHAPTER 29
Lady Rolande and Hedra moved out of Sir Geoffrey and Cecilia’s townhouse in Hanover Square two days after their return from Rolling Hills and once again Cecilia was able to breathe with ease in her own house. She had not known what privacy was during the weeks Lady Rolande and Hedra had lived with them.
“Papa,” said Cecilia, stretching her arms above her head, “I never knew happiness until now.”
“Such a jester,” laughed her father as he looked up from the Times. “But I must say, Lady Rolande does fill up a house to the brim.”
“So that we are squeezed into the walls in our own house,” added Cecilia. “And, thankfully, I will not need to seek Lady Rolande and Hedra for every invitation, now that Martha is arriving. Dear Martha, no wonder Mama was so fond of her. I wish for the time to fly, Papa, so that we may welcome Martha at last.”
“Yes, my dear, it will be at least one more hour before that happens,” said Sir Geoffrey, taking his pocket watch and glancing at it. He suddenly felt his forehead moist and a dizziness overcome him. Yet he was reluctant to relay this information to Cecilia, for it would only upset her. Instead, he said,
“My dear, will you not ring for our tea to be brought in earlier? I feel a bit weak and would benefit from its fortifying qualities.”
Cecilia turned quickly to look at her father, her face changing instantly to one of concern on seeing his blanched, flustered appearance.
“Papa, I must insist that you lie down. Martha will not mind if you are not up when she arrives. You are not looking well, my dear.”
Taking her handkerchief from her pocket, Cecilia mopped up her father's forehead and helped him up the stairs to his bed. Once in his bedroom she opened the window a bit. A rush of fresh air blew in and Sir Geoffrey sighed in relief.
“That fresh air is restoring me, dearest,” he assured his daughter.
Once the tea was brought up to them, Cecilia poured a cup for her father and helped him to take a sip.
“Ah, you are a dear,” said her father with a sigh. “I feel much better already.”
“Papa,” said Cecilia, pulling up a chair by his bed, “I wouldn't mind in the least if we return to Nottingham. You are the most important person in the world to me. Without you I would be like a lost lamb. Please, dearest, this commotion of London and all these comings and goings cannot be good for you. I'm sorry I agreed to this London season. I know that we cannot break the lease, but it would be money well worth being lost if your health is restored by our return to Nottingham.”
“I'm fine, my dear,” said Sir Geoffrey, his color a bit better. “Having you well settled is of the utmost importance to me. You cannot comprehend just how important. That was why“
“Papa. I wish I could turn back time and do things differently. Now I know why you insisted I accept Lord Arandale's proposal. I was insensitive to your needs. It is only now I realize it would have brought you a great deal of peace to know I was settled and secure. Love also means you must sacrifice a bit of your vanity for the peace of the person you love. I have not proven my love to you, dearest. I must marry eventually, what mattered if it was Arandale, so long as your health is not affected? Yet I recall I would not give in an inch. That is a sorry kind of love, my dearest Papa, and I am ashamed.”
“I would not want you to be married to a man you despised, either, Ceci, so don't feel bad. That was why I could not insist on it. Security at the expense of happiness is no bargain. And you were right, you are financially secure.”
“Papa, dearest“
“Ceci, you must not think of our leaving London and returning to N
ottingham. I am in the same health here as in Nottingham and I much prefer going through the season. I have not lost hope that Lord Arandale will propose. You are my heart, my sweet Ceci. Securing your future is what most matters to me. The rest means nothing to me. I know I do not have the health to linger too long in this world, but to have you settled will at least allow me a peace I do not yet possess.”
“Papa,” said Cecilia, with tears in her eyes, “do not speak so, for I shall not be able to sleep tonight. Your words will churn and churn in my head and prevent me from resting. I was so selfish, my sweet. I will forever chide myself for it.” She embraced her father and the tears slid down from her eyes to his cheek. “You and I are all we haveeach other.”
“My sweet angel,” said her father, “don't cry, dear. Get a cup of tea for yourself and let's talk of more cheerful things than my health. Martha should not find us as watering pots. She's due soon. Here, perhaps when you get your tea you can read to me. I have wanted to read this book of poems and my eyes are not up to it. Lord Dalmont made a gift of it to me.”
After pouring herself a cup of tea, Cecilia opened the slim volume and for the next hour was able to give her father much pleasure. She could tell by the peaceful expression in his face that the poetry was working wonders. They commented on the beauty of the poetry and when they were halfway through the book they heard the front door.
“I believe Martha has arrived,” said Sir Geoffrey. “I am much rested, my dear. I shall be able to partake of our dinner with her. It's a happy day that brings her to live with us and it's much cause for celebration. Our little family will now be extended by one.”
“Yes, Papa, I'm very happy too,” said Cecilia, helping her father to his feet.
* * *
“Papa, will you not mind if Martha and I go for a walk?”
“Certainly not, my dear,” said her father, who was settling in his favorite chair with his brandy and newspaper the following afternoon. “It will do you both good. Dear Martha was much too restrained in the coach for many hours yesterday. I fear the journey took longer than she anticipated. I am so happy that she is here at last. She will now be able to accompany you to all the functions.”
“I am happy too, Papa, for I recall my enjoyable visits with Martha in the past. It's a pity she became a widow before she was able to have any children. But it is to our advantage that she has agreed to make her home with us from now on. I shall be so glad of the company. Frankly, Lady Rolande and Hedra had me on the brink of insanity!”
Martha Bedder was a cousin of Sir Geoffrey who until recently had been working as companion to Lady Sueres. When the dowager lady died, Martha had written Sir Geoffrey asking if she could stay with him until she acquired another position. After consulting with Cecilia, Sir Geoffrey had written to offer Martha a permanent home at Brintelway Hall. He also disclosed to her that she would have a quarterly stipend assigned to her.
Sir Geofrey did not want his cousin to feel that she was a penniless relation that should work for her wages. It was stipulated to her in his letter that there would be no duties assigned to her in his home.
Martha was a childless widow in her early forties who had a thin, pale face and a kind heart. She invariably wore her hair arranged in a nest of coin-shaped curls atop her head, while the rest of it was tied severely into a sedate knot at the nape of her neck. Cecilia thought that Cousin Martha’s hair had a split personality: reckless on the top and all severity on the back. It gave her an odd look that Cecilia had come to find endearing, simply because Martha had a kind heart and never repeated anything Cecilia told her, which made her an excellent and safe sounding board.
Once Martha had settled into her comfortable room and had put away her clothes, Cecilia suggested they take a walk so that Martha could stretch her legs after being confined in the coach for so long. Martha agreed enthusiastically.
On their return from their walk Cecilia was met at the door by her father, who was overwrought. “I have been waiting for you to return almost as soon as you left, my dear!”
“Papa, what’s wrong, you don’t look well!”
Cecilia was alarmed to see her father terribly upset, his hair in disarray and his hand clutching a copy of the Times, the pages fluttering in his trembling hand. Cecilia put his arm around his shoulders and directed him to a chair.
“What's the matter dear? What has upset you?”
“There is an item in the gossip column that concerns you and Arandale, and it’s not good, my dear. Not good at all!”
“Why, what is it?” asked Cecilia, taking the paper from his hands. You must calm down first, Papa. Here, take a sip of your brandy. You must not upset yourself so.”
Sir Geoffrey sank in the chair, his chin falling down to his chest.
“You were right, Cecilia, when you said we should have kept Arandale’s proposal a secret. But somehow, this person who writes this column got a hold of it and now we are ruined.”
“Ruined?”
Arandale has been ridiculed, my dear! The ton is ruthless, he will be the subject of snickering and gossip for weeks and he will blame us. Lady Rolande assured me of it. She wrote me a short note.”
“Lady Rolande! What does Lady Rolande have to do with this business, anyhow? But wait, Papa, let me find the bulletin.” Cecilia turned the pages and found the column and her eyes quickly ran down the words, which went thus:
“Miss S., partaking of pleasures as a houseguest in the countryside at present, accompanied by her pater, Sir G., cannot possibly ever find a more suitable parti for a marriage contract than Lord A, yet she does not deem him worthy of her, or so we have been assured. She has confided to this writer, dear Reader, that cavorting in debauchery with the Brighton set and flaunting the Fashionably Impure Miss Gem, quite decided her of the unsuitability of such a marriage and rejected the un-rejectable (or so he thought), Lord A., who, quite astounded, had convinced his relative to host a trap in which to snare the Reluctant Debutante. This trap, the Reluctant Debutante has assured us, did not work either.”
CHAPTER 30
“Oh my God,” said Cecilia when she finished the bulletin. She handed the paper to Martha in silence.
“We are ruined,” said her father. “My hopes for your marriage to Lord Arandale have now been dashed. We might as well head back to the country.”
“How did this—this horrible person who wrote this column get a hold of the story? That’s what I’d like to know.” Cecilia's voice trembled.
“We have kept it in the strictest confidence,” said her father.
“Yet someone found out. Think back, dearest, did you mention it to Lady Rolande?”
“No,” said her father, “I did not, for you and I had decided it would not be advisable to do so, Cecilia.”
“When did we speak of it last?”
“It was Friday last, the day after we arrived.”
“And where were we? Asked Cecilia”
“In my bedroom.”
“Well, someone overheard us. Think back, Papa, was the door open or closed.”
“You had just walked in, dear. I believe it was a bit ajar.”
“Dear Lord, I think someone overheard us. I can tell you right now that if there is anyone I would suspect to do something like this, it would be Lady Rolande.”
“My dear, but is that possible? Lady Rolande is so fond of us. She was your mother’s dear friend, Cecilia. What possible motive could she have for it?”
“Hedra has set her cap on Lord Arandale, Papa. That's as good a motive as I can think of. I’m quite certain either she or Lady Rolande locked me in my room so that I would miss the ball. They imagined this would leave the field open for Hedra to chase Lord Arandale. They did not figure into their scheme the possibility that Lord Arandale would notice my absence and make a point of looking for me.”
“You make them sound positively sinister, my dear, are you quite sure?”
“Quite, Papa, but do not worry yourself over it. You must promise
me, though, that you will not confide in Lady Rolande even the least important thing. I am beginning to think that it’s dangerous even to think if she is anywhere in the vicinity.”
The worse part of all this, she thought, was not knowing what people were thinking. What was Arandale thinking? Did he believe, as the newspaper implied, that Cecilia had confided in the author of the gossip column? What was Arandale’s sister, Lady Dalmont, thinking?
“Then you believe we cannot trust Lady Rolande anymore?”
“We cannot, Papa, but you must not let on that we do not trust her. I believe she could become even worse if she knew we’re on to her tricks.”
“She is to bring a special physician in to see me when on Thursday next.”
“I would not dream of preventing that, Papa. Let her bring her mythical physician, if that physician even exists, for it is very suspicious that the meeting has been postponed again and again. But just in case he does exist let us go on as before.
“Your health is the utmost thing of importance to me. But I must confess I am very glad that she and Hedra have now moved to their own house. I cannot imagine how I would be around them all the time if they continued living with us after suspecting her of this.”
“Yes. Lady Rolande has come into some money from an aunt who died. That was how they were able to move into the house she leased for the season.”
“I am eternally grateful to that aunt,” responded Cecilia, “although since I now believe everything Lady Rolande says or does is suspect, I cannot believe in that 'mythical' aunt any more than I can believe in the tooth fairy. She probably weaseled the money out of one of her lovers,”
“Cecilia!”
“All right, Papa, I won’t say things that alarm you anymore. I shall think them, only.”
“That’s just as bad, Ceci. Debutante misses should not have such things in their minds. That is not proper behavior for young girls.”
“Very well, Papa, I promise to erase anything of importance from my mind and develop a lisp.”