Lavinia coloured. “I had almost forgotten about him entirely since what happened at the ball and with Mr St Clair’s letter.” She paused. “I feel almost ashamed that I have encouraged a gentleman in such a manner, now.”
Sophie stared at her curiously. “You have changed your mind, then, about marrying purely for status and wealth?”
Lavinia sighed heavily. “I know that I would have a good life with Lord Livingston,” she said slowly. “He is charming, and we get along well. I know the world that we would inhabit together, and it is a comfortable one …”
“Let us not forget how highly placed he is,” said Sophie. “He inhabits royal circles, no less. You would be a very highly placed lady, with a charmed life, if you wed him. That is not something to be dismissed lightly.”
“And yet, you have dismissed it,” reminded Lavinia gently. “Lord Livingston initially favoured you, Sophie, not me. If you had played your cards right, you could be expecting an offer from him at the moment. All of your dreams about marrying for status and wealth could have been coming true.”
Sophie bit her lip, as she threaded the needle through the embroidery patch. “I know. I have thought of it often myself and wondered how I could have deliberately tossed away such an opportunity.” She paused. “My old self is wringing her hands, wondering if I have gone completely mad …”
“You should trust your new self,” whispered Lavinia earnestly. “She has always been in there, my dear, but you have not let her out before. The fact that you cannot entertain the notion of encouraging a gentleman purely for advancement now tells you all that you need to know.”
“Dear sister,” said Sophie, her eyes softening. “You cannot do it either, which does not surprise me in the least. Thank you for your kind offer to do it, to try to ease my burden. But you should put that aside, now, and think deeply on Mr St Clair’s words. I only wish for your happiness in life, as you do mine.”
Lavinia gazed down at the rug. She knew that her sister was encouraging her to entertain the Viscount Pemberton again. And her heart wanted her to do that, as well. But how could she, after all that he had done? Would she be setting herself up for more heartbreak when she discovered that he was lying to her again?
Walter St Clair had declared that he was not a liar. He had said that his friend was exactly the same man as she had met and fallen in love with, that the deception was unusual and out of character. And he had also told her how much that man loved her.
Tears stung behind her eyes. She wanted to believe him. She wanted to believe him so much that it was a deep ache inside of her.
“Do you see the irony, little swan?” Sophie whispered. “You were so determined not to entertain a nobleman – that a commoner was what you desired – and yet it is a nobleman that you have fallen in love with …”
“And you were so determined to marry a nobleman, yet fell in love with a commoner,” said Lavinia, smiling slightly. “Yes, we have both learnt the hard way that perhaps strong ideas are actually prejudice, and that we must keep an open mind and not get too attached to them.”
Sophie sighed, placing down her embroidery. Her eyes looked troubled.
“I have changed,” she said slowly. “But sometimes I wonder for what purpose. If I cannot accept marrying for love, yet cannot marry for advancement, then what is to become of me? I shall end up an old maid, wilting with the years.”
Lavinia smiled. “Then perhaps we shall be old maids together, dearest. I cannot make up my mind either, you know.” She paused. “Maybe it would not be such a bad life, after all. We would always have each other …”
Lady Beaumont suddenly stood up, scraping her chair on the ground in her haste. She stared at both her daughters.
“I just heard a carriage pull up,” she said. “We are not expecting anyone, are we? Lavinia, is Lord Livingston coming over to take you on another excursion, by chance?”
Lavinia shook her head. “I am not expecting him, Mama.”
“Perhaps it is for the house next door,” said Sophie, in a disinterested voice.
Lady Beaumont didn’t answer. She was already heading over to the window, to peer out. Sophie picked up her embroidery again, and Lavinia gazed at the mantelpiece in an abstracted way, her embroidery discarded beside her.
“Well, that is curious,” breathed their mother. “I declare it is Mr St Clair! And he is dressed up, in finer clothes than I have ever seen him wear …”
Lavinia gasped. Sophie’s face drained of all colour, and she dropped her embroidery. The next minute, she was on her feet, rushing to the window. Lavinia wasn’t far behind. All three of them peered down onto the street, at the carriage that had just pulled up, and the man who had stepped out of it.
Lavinia’s heart started thumping painfully. Their mother was not mistaken. It was Walter St Clair, dressed smartly in black jacket, britches and a matching top hat. The carriage that he had just descended from was one of the grandest that she had ever seen, pulled by four white horses.
She glanced quickly at Sophie to gauge her reaction. Her sister was as pale as chalk and gripping the window ledge so tightly that her knuckles had turned white.
“What is he doing here?” she said, in an anguished whisper.
Lavinia shrugged helplessly. She gazed out the window again.
He looked nervous, pulling at his cravat, his blue eyes darting left and right, as he stood on the pavement. And then, quite suddenly, he disappeared from view. They all heard the sharp rap at the front door.
Lavinia turned back to Sophie. Understanding was slowly dawning.
Walter St Clair was dressed up, and he was here for a reason.
Chapter 27
Lavinia and Sophie, to their mother’s consternation, rushed out of the room, hovering on the top of the stairs. From this vantage point they had a clear view into the foyer at the visitor that had just stepped inside, but they were hidden, so that the visitor could not discern them.
“Girls,” hissed their mother, behind them. “What on earth are you both doing? Why are you gawking at our visitor in such a shameless manner?”
Lavinia didn’t answer, and neither did Sophie. They just continued their perusal of Mr Walter St Clair, who was now standing nervously, hopping from one foot to the other, his top hat in his hands.
“Your hat, sir?” asked the butler.
He looked startled. “Oh, yes,” he said, hastily handing it to the man.
The butler raised an eyebrow. “And who are you here to see, sir?”
He gulped painfully, then took a deep breath. “I am here to see Lord Beaumont, and then his elder daughter, Miss Beaumont, if she is available.”
The butler nodded. “If you would take a seat, I will inform His Lordship.”
Walter sank down into a chair, nervously running a hand through his dark hair. His eyes darted around the foyer, settling on nothing. Lavinia saw beads of sweat dotting his forehead.
She gripped her sister’s arm. “You know why he is here, don’t you?” she whispered.
Sophie gazed at her. Her eyes were wide. “Yes,” she said, in a faint voice. “I think that I am beginning to have an understanding …”
The next moment, the butler returned, and he was ushered away, into their father’s study. Both ladies craned their necks, so that they could see him, until the last moment when the door closed behind him.
“What is going on?” demanded Lady Beaumont, behind them. “Why are you whispering together, in cahoots? And why has Mr St Clair requested an audience with your father?”
They both stared at her, not knowing what to say.
“Oh,” said Lady Beaumont. “Oh. I see.” She took a deep breath. “Well, you cannot stand at the top of the stairs the whole time he is here, girls. I think that the parlour would be a much more comfortable place to wait. I shall ring for tea, shall I?”
***
Lavinia glanced over at Sophie. Her sister was gripping her teacup so tightly that she thought it might suddenly shatter,
sending shards of china all over the Abyssinian rug.
“I am shocked,” whispered her sister. “I simply cannot believe that he is here, and what he is doing …”
“Why cannot you believe it?” asked Lavinia in a soft voice. “You know how much he admires you. It is not beyond the pale that he would take it a step further, is it, and come to ask Papa for your hand?”
Sophie bit her lip. “No, I suppose not, but I am shocked, nonetheless.” She gazed at Lavinia with wide eyes. “What if our father refuses him because of his lack of wealth and title? Oh, I do not think that I can bear it!”
Lavinia took a deep breath. Walter St Clair’s sudden appearance on their doorstep had shocked her, too. But now, she was eager to hear what their father would make of the visit. How their father would respond to this earnest young man, requesting the hand of his eldest daughter in marriage.
Lavinia’s heart sank, a little, as she thought about it. Lord Beaumont had no idea that Sophie loved him, of course. They had hidden it very well from both their parents. As far as their father was concerned, Walter St Clair was merely a young gentleman on the circuit, who he was vaguely aware of, but had no reason to consider.
Lavinia cast worried eyes in Sophie’s direction. Their father was not prejudiced, as some wealthy lords were. He would not throw the young man out onto the street. But his lack of wealth would be a serious impediment to his chances of making Sophie his wife. Lord Beaumont was a practical man and wanted to see his daughters settled well, after all.
If only she had told them, thought Lavinia, with dismay. If only she had hinted, at least, that she preferred him over all other gentlemen, then Papa might consider the request seriously.
For she knew that her father was a soft touch, at heart. If either one of his daughters expressed their love for a gentleman, then he would melt, at once. Oh, he might be gruff about it, but it would sway the odds. Lord Beaumont wanted his daughters to be truly happy, as well as comfortable.
But Sophie had not hinted anything about her fine feelings for the gentleman, so Lord Beaumont was in the dark, now.
That was if her sister wanted their father to say yes to the gentleman, of course. She was still so ambivalent. But would this unexpected event force her to finally make up her mind about how she felt?
“Sophie,” she said, in a gentle voice. “I urge you to accept Mr St Clair’s offer, for your own happiness in life, as well as his.” She paused, taking a deep voice. “There. I have said it. I will not attempt to sway you anymore.”
Sophie smiled slightly. “Thank you, Lavinia. I appreciate it.” She took a deep breath. “You know, only ten minutes ago, I told you that I still could not make up my mind about it all. I felt like the confusion was tearing me apart …”
“I know, dearest,” she said, taking her hand. “It has been so hard for you.”
Sophie squeezed her hand tightly. “Yes, it has been a hard journey. I have had to fight against so many preconceived ideas, to accept this love.” She took a deep breath. “But I have made up my mind at long last, Liv.”
Lavinia held her breath. “And?”
Sophie slowly smiled. It was an almost beatific smile, spreading across her face, illuminating it. Lavinia knew that she would never forget this moment, and that smile. A smile that she had never seen on her sister’s face before.
“I have decided to accept him,” she said slowly. “I have decided that I wish to become the wife of Walter St Clair, with all of my heart, and all of my soul.”
“Oh, my dear!” squealed Lavinia, hugging her tightly, so that her teacup swayed precariously. “I am so very happy! Words cannot express how joyous I am for you at this moment.”
Sophie hugged her back, just as fiercely. The two sisters clung to each other for a long moment.
They knew that they would not have the chance again to speak so frankly and show their true feelings before their mother returned into the room. They were very lucky that they had this small opportunity, at all; it was only because Lady Beaumont had become distracted, talking with Cook.
Sophie pulled away. Tears were streaming down her face. “I want to marry for love,” she whispered. “I do not care anymore about title or wealth. All of it means nothing if I cannot live well with the person. If my heart does not sing for joy when I open my eyes first thing in the morning and see my life companion.”
Lavinia was crying, now, too, wiping the tears away with the back of her hand hastily. She didn’t know how she could be any happier; her heart was full to bursting.
It had been a long, hard road for Sophie, to accept her love, and to accept the man that offered that love. She had genuinely thought that this day would never happen – her sister had been so fierce in her attitudes.
It hadn’t helped that Walter St Clair had played a part in Samuel’s deception, either; that had almost been the tipping point, where Sophie had thought him deceitful, as well. But Walter St Clair had been patient and wooed her back, slowly but surely.
It had taken great effort and commitment on his part, and it truly showed her how much he esteemed her sister, how fiercely he had worked to show her he was worthy of her.
She wiped away fresh tears, again, gazing at her sister. “I declare that you shall be the happiest woman that ever lived, my Sophie.”
Sophie’s eyes were shining. “If only you could be so happy, Liv.” She hesitated. “Do you remember when you said that I should consider Mr St Clair, so that we could spend our lives together, married to best friends?”
Lavinia sighed sadly. “Yes. I remember. It seems so long ago now …”
Sophie squared her shoulders. “Well, that is my fondest wish, now. I want you to seriously consider the Viscount Pemberton, Liv. He loves you dearly, and you love him.” She hesitated. “We could still spend our lives side by side, dearest, with the gentlemen that we both love. It is possible …”
Lavinia gazed out of the window. Her heart had leapt wildly, hearing Sophie’s plea. She could vividly see them both, spending time together, with their husbands by their sides, both happy, and living the lives that they had always been meant to live.
Was it possible? Could she forgive him?
She gazed back at her sister. It had taken great effort on her sister’s part to get over those predispositions and ideas that she had held so closely to her heart. It had been a long, hard struggle for Sophie, but she had come through it, in the end.
If her sister could do it, then so could she.
Her heart lifted suddenly as if a great burden had suddenly fallen from her shoulders. She could choose to forgive Samuel. It was entirely possible. He had stayed in London, when he could have retreated to his home in the country. Walter St Clair had attested to his character, and to how sorry he was. How much he loved her. And he had told her himself, over and over.
She just had to choose to believe him.
She suddenly felt so free, as if wings had grown through her shoulder blades. Her heart soared.
“Yes,” she said slowly, gazing at her sister. “I do believe it is possible. I do believe that I will forgive him …”
Sophie’s eyes lit up, and she flung her arms around her sister, hugging her joyfully. They embraced for a moment before they heard the door fling open. They both pulled back.
Lady Beaumont was standing there with a menu in her hand, gazing at them with a puzzled expression on her face.
“Well, and what on earth is going on, now?”
They both laughed. Suddenly, Sophie jumped up, rushing towards her mother, enveloping her in a hug. Lady Beaumont looked so started she almost toppled over.
Falling for the Mysterious Viscount: A Historical Regency Romance Book Page 24