The Lady of the Lakes

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The Lady of the Lakes Page 12

by Josi S. Kilpack


  Upon her return to Fettercairn, Mina began a concerted effort to become better acquainted with the local society. She still spent a great deal of time in her own company, but at least she did not feel lonely so often.

  One Tuesday afternoon, after coming in from a walk in the garden with Miss Corry, the minister’s daughter, Sir John met her in the entryway. He asked after her morning, which she said was quite fine.

  “I have happy news for you, my dear,” he said, looking pleased.

  “Oh?” Mina asked, removing her bonnet. She suspected that his happy news would be rather happier for him than it would be for her.

  “A friend of yours is coming for a visit.”

  Mina automatically thought of Walter, the last friend she’d had for a visit. She thought often of his carving her name at the monastery and smiled at the memory. Perhaps she would return one of these days to see if her name still remained. “Who would that be, Father?” she asked, smoothing her hair.

  “Mr. Forbes.”

  Mina was momentarily surprised, but then she smiled, which clearly pleased her father. “That will be lovely,” she said carefully. “When will he come?”

  “I heard from him just this morning that he should arrive Tuesday next.”

  He heard from Mr. Forbes? “To see you, then?” Mina said, wishing she were as confused as she was trying to make it seem. The idea of seeing Mr. Forbes again was more exciting than she expected.

  “I admit I will be glad to see him, but of course his reason for coming is to see you. It has been several months since you have shared company.”

  “Yes, it has been,” Mina said. “But we are a long distance from Pitsligo and not along his direct route. I hope he isn’t burdened by your invitation.”

  “You underestimate your charm,” Father said, his smile even wider, softer, kinder.

  Was it her charm that brought Mr. Forbes such a distance, or her father’s goading? Mr. Forbes had made plain to Mina that he would not interfere with her and Walter’s connection, and while she appreciated the consideration, it left his intentions a mystery. If Walter were of no consequence, would Mr. Forbes pay her more mind? And he had been writing to her.

  “I’ve asked him to stay a week at least. Perhaps as long as a fortnight if he can manage it.”

  Mina felt her eyes go wide. Walter had been invited to stay for three nights, and Father had made no offer of extension. “Such a long visit,” she said, trying to hide her reaction. “Whatever shall we do with so much time?”

  “I hope to take him hunting—he’s a very good shot, I understand. And there is the monastery, the Friday night dances, and whatnot. I intend to put together a few dinners with the local gentry, of course, to provide adequate entertainment as well. We shall make the most of it.” He paused and his expression became more serious. “I do hope you will take it on yourself to be attentive to him, as he knows no one else from the area.”

  “Of course I will be a proper hostess,” Mina said, already feeling nervous. Her mother was usually charged with managing guests, but her father’s intent was clear. He wanted Mina and Mr. Forbes to spend time together. And why shouldn’t they?

  Mina thanked her father and excused herself to her room where she spent the afternoon pondering the situation in every detail. Over and over her thoughts went back to Walter’s visit and the strangeness of it. Something had been different, but she wasn’t sure what exactly. Was the discomfort they both experienced a sign that their childhood devotion was fading? The thought made her sad, but she had been so young when they had met, and her head had been full of the fluffy fantasy of youth. She cared for Walter, certainly, but was she continuing to fan the flames of a connection between them out of a sense of obligation?

  That kiss. How it haunted her! And yet that kiss had taken place almost eighteen months ago. He had kissed her once more, in April, but she had felt no reaction to that—likely due to the tension of their conversation regarding his father’s letter.

  And what did she think of Mr. Forbes? Without Walter or her parents to interfere with her impressions, what were her feelings? She couldn’t be sure. But now Mr. Forbes was coming for perhaps a fortnight. Mina would spend more time with him than she had ever collectively spent in Walter’s company. Mr. Forbes was kind, handsome, and a good conversationalist. He was attentive and interesting. His situation was similar to her own, with country estates and income to provide a comfortable future. There was nothing, in fact, that made him objectionable in any way other than her father having chosen him.

  What kind of fool would she be not to try to make the most of the time she would have with him?

  Would she turn her back on potential happiness to spite her father?

  Mina pondered deeply on that point, and made a decision. She would not resist her feelings for Mr. Forbes, and she would interact with full awareness of his potential as a husband.

  The thought woke butterflies in her stomach.

  She glanced toward her writing desk where she kept Walter’s letters and felt instant guilt. It was only the last years’ worth—the others, dozens in all, were hidden in a box in her wardrobe so her parents wouldn’t find them. She crossed the room, took the most recent letters to the wardrobe, and added them to the box. She replaced the lid and pushed the box to the back of the closet.

  Walter was still a consideration, and he loomed large in her heart and mind, but she would not allow herself to be so beholden that she did not make the very best decision she could. Her motivation was not to please her parents, but neither would her motivation be to please Walter.

  She would make her own choice.

  Easthamptonshire, England

  July 1796

  “Well, Miss Carpenter, it seems everything is in order, then. I shall prepare my report for Lord Downshire by the end of the week.”

  “Dank you, Mr. Rawlins,” Charlotte said as she stood and shook the banker’s hand. She kept her back straight and her chin up as Mr. Rawlins walked her to the office door. She exited, nodding at the clerk at the front desk and thanking the man who held the door for her as she stepped onto the street.

  She raised her parasol to shade her face from the summer sun, even though she did not have an English complexion to protect, and held the ledger at her side. She finally allowed herself a smile of satisfaction. I did well, she said to herself.

  Lord Downshire’s carriage, set aside for her and Jane’s use, was waiting for her on the corner. She increased her pace so she might share her success with Jane as quickly as possible. The driver opened the door for her, and she thanked him while ducking inside the conveyance.

  As expected, Jane was in the sitting room of Lord Downshire’s London house reading a book when Charlotte arrived. Charlotte hurried into the room and sat across from her companion.

  “I stayed within the budget,” Charlotte said, unpinning her hat. “With twelve pounds left.” She prattled on about Mr. Rawlins’s compliments on her ledger—which she laid on the table between them—and his approval with the measures she had taken to economize, such as dismissing her ladies maid—Mary—and buying two pairs of dance slippers that would coordinate with a variety of dresses rather than a matching pair for each dress.

  “He is going to recommend that I spend an afternoon with Mrs. Hodges in order to become familiar with the kitchen expenses. Den I am to go to the market with Cook to see how she makes her purchases.” Charlotte sat back. “I have never been to a kitchen market before.”

  “It is a smelly and dirty place,” Jane said. She had kept her finger in her book as though eager to return to her reading. “And in the summer it closes by ten o’clock in the morning, so you shall have to go very early.”

  “I don’t mind,” Charlotte said. “It will be an adventure.”

  Jane returned to her book.

  Charlotte realized her companion’s mood for the first t
ime. “Are you not happy for my progress?”

  “Of course I am,” Jane said, but the older woman’s disapproval was obvious. “Only . . .” She looked up, leaned forward, and smiled. “Do you truly feel this is the best course, Charlotte? Do you want to spend your life managing a ledger and a kitchen?”

  Charlotte pulled her eyebrows together, taken aback by Jane’s response. “I want to be independent. Each month will add more lessons until I am prepared to manage all the expenses of a household, albeit a small one.”

  Jane sighed. “But is that what you want to do for the rest of your life?”

  Want? Charlotte repeated in her mind. No, this was not what she wanted. What she wanted was a husband and children and a home of their own, but that destiny did not seem to be her path. Jane knew that. She had encouraged Charlotte in her pursuits, until now.

  “What is wrong? Why are you cross?”

  “I’m not cross,” Jane said, sitting back and finally closing the book. “This has felt like a game until now, Charlotte. You are asking after prices for the first time in your life and being mindful of the cost of things—that is well and good—but now you’ve let your maid go, despite Lord Downshire agreeing to pay her wage through the year, and you’re going to a kitchen market.” She shook her head, almost as though she were embarrassed by Charlotte’s effort.

  Charlotte looked at the ledger on the table and thought back to her meeting with Mr. Rawlins. She had felt like an adult in that meeting, not a nobleman’s ward or an orphaned child, but a woman capable of caring for herself. She would not forget that feeling, that strength, simply because Jane’s heart had changed.

  “I am not playing a game, Jane, and if I gave the impression dat is what I thought dis was, you have my apology.” She stood to leave, trying not to show how hurt she was. She had put a great deal of confidence in Jane’s confidence these last months, and now she found herself at odds with herself.

  “Wait,” Jane said, standing as Charlotte reached the doorway. “I am sorry, I did not mean to discourage you.”

  Charlotte turned back, waiting for a further explanation but hesitant to ask for it.

  Jane took a breath. “What if you set your heart upon this and it comes to naught? What if . . . you fail?”

  “Mr. Rawlins is overseeing everything to make sure I can’t fail.”

  “I fear you shall become overwhelmed and give up, and if that is the case, then it would be better to stop now. Tell Lord Downshire that you were hasty and unprepared for the responsibility.”

  “I was not hasty, nor am I unprepared,” Charlotte said. She paused, really looking at Jane in hopes of better understanding why her opinion had changed. “Are you upset with me?”

  Jane looked down and took a breath. “How much longer will Lord Downshire pay for my services, Charlotte?”

  Understanding finally dawned, making Charlotte feel foolish for having not realized it before. As the reality of Charlotte’s independence drew closer, Jane had considerations to make as well. Though she was Charlotte’s closest friend, she was a hired companion. Lord Downshire had agreed to pay her wage indefinitely, but it was obvious to Charlotte—and apparently to Jane as well—that at some point Charlotte would not need Jane’s companionship. One day Charlotte would have the skills necessary to manage her own life, alone.

  “I shall help you find a good position when the time comes,” Charlotte said sympathetically. “And I am sorry for not having said as much before now. It was unkind of me not to have considered your situation, Jane, and I am sorry.”

  For a moment Jane looked caught, then she repaired her expression and shook her head. “I am not talking of myself, Charlotte,” she said, but she did not meet Charlotte’s eyes. She returned to her chair and opened her book. “I am only worried for your well-being.”

  “Jane, I know that you must—”

  Jane suddenly stood up. “I forgot to tell Cook that Miss Lawrence and Miss Melanie are joining us for tea. I shall see to it at once.”

  She quit the room, leaving Charlotte to wonder how long she would need Jane. Though she could not quite imagine her life without her friend, she felt the first niggling thought that one day she might prefer it.

  Fettercairn, Scotland

  July 1796

  Mr. Forbes arrived in time for an early tea on the Tuesday following his letter. Father joined them, and the four of them talked for an hour. It was surprisingly comfortable, so much so that Mina hoped she and Mr. Forbes might go for a walk in the garden to continue the conversation. Father, however, invited Mr. Forbes to see the boundaries of the estate on horseback instead, so Mina did not see Mr. Forbes again until supper. After the meal, they played chess, and although she beat him, she suspected he allowed it to happen. Could she be happy with a man who placated her?

  Mina had little time alone with Mr. Forbes the next day or the next, leaving her confused and more than a little irritated. Mr. Forbes had come to see her, but Father seemed to dominate the man’s attention. Finally, on Saturday, Mr. Forbes asked her for a tour of the gardens. They walked for nearly an hour, but it did not seem that long. When he returned her to the house, he kissed her hand, and the feel of it burned into her skin.

  “I shall look forward to seeing you at supper,” he said.

  She stared into his brown eyes and felt his warm gaze as she had never felt it before. The sensation was not altogether unfamiliar, but it was not until later, when she was alone in her bedchamber, that she realized where she had felt the awareness before. Blue eyes, not brown, had invited such a reaction before today. Walter Scott’s blue eyes, to be specific. Eyes of a man she had scarcely thought of since Mr. Forbes’s arrival four days ago.

  She immediately felt guilty for comparing the two men, but then she thought back to the afternoon she’d spent with Mr. Forbes, and the newness of their growing connection cast the feelings she’d had for Walter into paler comparison. Had she not told herself to explore this time with Mr. Forbes? Had she not hidden Walter’s letters and not responded to his most recent one because she was determined to make a wise choice?

  Mr. Forbes invited her to ride with him each morning, and asked her to call him William. She extended the same invitation, and a new intimacy began to color their time together. Although Mina had not much liked riding for pleasure, she enjoyed the time with William and wondered at her earlier objection to the saddle.

  They walked into the village nearly every afternoon, exploring the shops and pathways. William bought her a new bonnet with a matching reticule. She thanked him profusely, and his reply was to treat her to ices at the shop on High Street, for which she thanked him again. His generosity, his warmth, and the easy feeling he shared with her parents began to cast a spell until she began to fear the worst—she was falling in love with William Forbes. What about Walter Scott?

  The thought kept her awake for hours at night, a ball of grief, guilt, regret, excitement, and pleasure rolling around in her belly. Mother had told her to give fair consideration to other men, and she had done so, but the realization that it was not Walter alone who could make her feel so important presented her with troubling thoughts. William was Walter’s friend, and though she was more sure of her feelings for William every day, she could not be sure what he thought. Unlike Walter, William did not wear his heart upon his sleeve and offer her flattery and compliments at every turn.

  Two days before William was to leave, the two of them took a picnic to the hills. The day was warm despite the occasional breeze, and, as always, they seemed to have a hundred things to talk about. William told her of his younger sisters and the games they would play when he was with them.

  “I suppose I always wished for a brother, but if it was not to be, at least I had enough sisters to choose favorites from.”

  Mina laughed. “I hope to meet your sisters one day. They sound delightful.”

  “They will adore yo
u,” William said, leaning back on his elbows and making such a handsome display that Mina struggled to meet his eye for fear he would read her thoughts. He had well-formed shoulders and long, lean legs. He turned to the side and picked a purple flower growing amid the clover. Leaning forward, he tucked it behind her ear, very much like Walter had done at the monastery in the spring. Only William then trailed the backs of his fingers along Mina’s cheek, setting her on fire with his touch.

  “I have been meaning to ask you something, Mina,” he said when he pulled back his hand. He did not lay back, only reclined on his elbows with his legs stretched out before him, crossed at the ankles. He turned his gaze to the picnic cloth. “What is the situation between you and Mr. Scott?”

  Walter’s name caused reality to come crashing back, and Mina’s instinct was to avoid the discussion entirely. She thought back to the evening she’d sat beside Mr. Forbes at dinner in Edinburgh and how he had said he would not interfere with her and Walter. She had appreciated his consideration then but felt there was no reason not to be honest with him now. A great deal had changed since that dinner in Edinburgh. “There is nothing official between us, if that is what you mean.”

  William smiled and met her eyes. “I’m glad to hear that. Is there an unofficial connection between the two of you?”

  Mina looked at her hands in her lap, trying to push back the guilt. She knew how her answer would sound if it were Walter hearing it, but she would only speak the truth. “Walter and I have been . . . friends for many years, mostly through letters, though we see one another in Edinburgh when I am there.”

  “I am aware of that,” William said. “But I am led to believe that Walter has higher expectations than friendship.”

  Mina scrunched her nose slightly. “Yes, I fear that as well.”

  “You do not reciprocate such expectations?”

  A breeze came up, blowing the corner of the blanket across Mina’s lap, and William leaned forward to straighten it. Mina gathered her courage, reminding herself it would be no kindness to Walter to ignore her feelings for William. The reminder came with a sense of mourning, however. To make a choice of William—which she knew had already been made in her heart—would be choosing against Walter. The man who had walked her home from kirk that day and told her she was the most beautiful woman he had ever seen. She had grown beneath Walter’s attention and had indulged herself with his letters. She had believed she would marry him, yet over the course of the last several months, she had come to understand herself better. She no longer believed she could find true happiness with Walter, yet she knew she would miss him too.

 

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