by Rhianna
• • •
Marquise Vallière and Soleil had immediately seen to it that their dressmaker prepare the necessary mourning wardrobe for Rhianna, and on the day following Lord Kingsley’s offer to accompany Rhianna to England, the first of three outfits was completed. Thus smothered in layers of black crêpe, Rhianna decided to debut her dreary new costume with a turn through the garden.
She was not there long when Lord Kingsley appeared. “Miss Braden, may I have a word?”
Always pleased to see him, the somber mood her clothing inspired quickly lifted at his arrival. “Good day, Lord Kingsley. Of course.”
Guilford held his hands behind his back as he walked with her. The day was fine, as it had been the day Philippe professed his love. Rhianna was at once grateful that it was Lord Kingsley, and not Philippe, who accompanied her on her stroll.
“I believe you are aware that I bestowed Mr. Braden with the benefice at Thornton Church,” he said to her.
To this common knowledge, Rhianna replied in the affirmative. “I am.”
He paused before his next statement, but his countenance gave off a serious air. Rhianna got the distinct impression there was something more. As, in fact, there was.
“What you are no doubt unaware of,” he said at last, clearing his throat, “is that I deeded it to him many years ago.”
Rhianna stopped and turned to him. As she did so, her arms fell to her sides and her hands closed over folds of ebony fabric.
“I beg your pardon?”
Lord Kingsley supported his statement with a nod. “You are the sole heir, Miss Braden. The benefice is now under your control.”
Rhianna realized suddenly that she was staring. Quickly returning her eyes to the path, she began to place one foot carefully in front of the other. He followed her.
“I hardly know what to say, Lord Kingsley.”
“Then you have already fulfilled my request.” As she turned to him yet again, he continued, “It is not public knowledge that such is the case. In fact, at the time the matter transpired, it was under the stipulation that it remain, for all intents and purposes, a private transaction. I had my own reasons for doing so, and I’m sure you will understand I cannot elaborate.”
Rhianna mumbled something in agreement, though she hardly knew what.
“Miss Braden,” Lord Kingsley went on, “obviously, no one could foresee the sad situation that has now befallen us. I must admit to you, though, I did not anticipate the matter of the benefice coming to light at this time.”
He paused, and Rhianna felt the necessity of a response.
“I’m not entirely sure I comprehend you,” she admitted.
“It is my wish,” he told her, discreetly scanning the garden around them, “for the time being, that the general understanding continue to be that the benefice is Kingsley property. I am hoping that in placing this delicate situation in your confidence you might be willing to work with me.” Lord Kingsley drew a long breath, and added, “I realize you would have no reason to grant this peculiar request of mine. Furthermore, you have not been of my acquaintance for more than a week …”
“Lord Kingsley,” Rhianna said, incited by her clearer understanding, “please, say no more. We may not have known each other for very long, but I am forever indebted to you for overseeing my parents’ funeral arrangements. Not only that, but your kindness in traveling to deliver the tragic news of their passing to me personally will not be forgotten. Whatever your reasons, it would seem to me the least I could do. In fact, I would be happy to oblige.”
Rhianna saw him suddenly release the tension that had been in his shoulders and his arms relaxed at his sides. He smiled at her.
“Thank you, Miss Braden. It is … of great relief to me.”
They walked on in silence as Rhianna considered the impact this would have on her decision of whether or not to leave France.
“I imagine, then,” Rhianna said, as if thinking aloud, “I have no choice but to go to England.”
“Well, that all depends,” Lord Kingsley said, “on how involved you wish to be in selecting a new clergyman. The extent of your participation, of course, is entirely up to you.”
“Lord Kingsley,” Rhianna confessed, “I do not pretend to know the first thing about choosing an appropriate clergyman.”
“I will be happy to make my recommendations to you, either in person or by post.”
Rhianna’s head swirled. This added an entirely new element to her situation, and not one that in any way simplified matters.
“Well, Lord Kingsley, it would seem I have quite a lot to think about and I suspect a bit of tea is in order.”
“May I accompany you back to the house?”
Feeling a bit overcome by her thoughts, Rhianna was glad to take his arm and make her way with him back to the manoir. That she would have control over the benefice was of itself enough to fuel her recent insomnia, but Lord Kingsley’s request for silence even more so. After all, what reasons could a man have to deed away property and then fear its discovery?
It would be difficult, but she resolved to curtail her mind’s wandering until she was out of his presence.
• • •
Near the end of Lord Kingsley’s two-week visit, the choice of whether to remain in France or return to England was still not made. The evening before Rhianna had to decide, she and Soleil politely stayed with the party after dinner for only as long as was socially necessary before excusing themselves to escape upstairs.
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 de
meanor 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 be 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 consternati
on.
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.