The Lady of the Lakes

by Josi S. Kilpack

  Miss Carpenter had not been to breakfast, and Walter scanned the roads in case he might catch her coming or going for her morning ride. They’d enjoyed a short and rather soggy ride yesterday morning, and she was as fine a horsewoman as any woman he’d ever met. He would not mind in the least if she joined their party today. She might bring her rather sour companion along, but Walter would even tolerate Miss Nicholson if it meant having more time with Miss Carpenter.

  He had never spent so much time with a woman before and very much enjoyed the unencumbered nature of their interaction. She was intriguing, and he found himself continually trying to make sense of her.

  When he’d recited a verse of poetry at dinner the night before, praising the evening wine, she’d rolled her eyes and said she’d need another glass before she could suffer through poetry. When he’d commented—with exaggerated praise and flowery prose—on how very lovely her accent was, she’d affected what were supposed to be British tones but that sounded distinctly American—rustic and coarse—and made him laugh as he hadn’t laughed in too many months to count.

  She seemed very relaxed in his company, and he found the casual friendship far more enjoyable than he would have guessed. He did not, however, let his thoughts wander too far afield or consider that his interest might extend beyond friendship. Each time he thought anything near such an idea, his anxiety would increase and thoughts of Mina would line up to prove to him how different his feelings for the two women were.

  Miss Carpenter did not inspire the same longing he’d felt for Mina, therefore, she must not be the woman who might replace Mina in his heart. And yet Miss Carpenter captured Walter’s attention in a different way—a kind of safe and easy manner that made him feel as though everything he was at any given moment was exactly right with her. He felt no judgment or expectation, just acceptance. It was nice to be free of tension, and yet still he would not look beyond friendship and the enjoyment of her company.

  When the three men reached the stable, Walter identified Miss Carpenter’s horse, Jolie, tied to the corral. Perhaps his timing was perfect, and Miss Carpenter would come out in time to join them. He wondered if she would wear the blue or the green riding habit. Both were striking, but he found the rich blue color more appealing as it contrasted with the yellows and golds of the autumn leaves of the countryside. He could only imagine how she would laugh if he told her as much, and then she would likely only wear the green habit from then on. The thought made him smile, and he decided to give her that very compliment to see if he knew her well enough to have properly guessed her reaction.

  Yet she had not arrived by the time he vaulted into Lenore’s saddle and followed John and Adam into the yard. A carriage had drawn up outside the hotel, and he was surprised to see Miss Nicholson speaking to the driver as the trio on horseback trotted by.

  Walter pulled up on the reins and turned Lenore toward the carriage.

  “Good morning, Miss Nicholson,” he greeted once she had finished her discussion. He looked pointedly at the carriage.

  “Good morning, Mr. Scott,” she said in her terse tones. She began to move toward the hotel without explanation, but Walter spurred Lenore forward and caught up with her in a few steps. “Are you going somewhere?”

  “To Carlisle,” she said. “Miss Carpenter’s trunks are not quite ready, however, and the driver says he cannot wait.” She glared at the man. “I’m afraid he might leave at any moment.”

  Walter hid his surprise. Carlisle was some eighteen miles west, and neither woman had said anything about leaving before now. “I’ll see that the driver stays until you are ready,” he assured her, earning perhaps his first grateful look from the dour woman. “Then you may see about the trunks.”

  “Thank you, Mr. Scott.” She hurried into the hotel.

  “Ho, there,” Walter said to the driver as he turned Lenore, then quickly engaged the man in conversation. Adam and John waited just past the carriage horses, looking only a little irritated at the delay while conversing between themselves.

  Walter listened intently to the driver, but his mind was racing. The five of them had shared a table at dinner the night before, and Miss Carpenter had joined the three men for a hand of whist, yet she had made no mention that she and her companion were leaving in the morning. Why not? If Walter had not seen Miss Nicholson this morning, would he have even had the chance to say good-bye?

  After nearly fifteen minutes, the front door of the hotel opened and porters brought out a series of trunks. The driver helped load them and strap them in for the journey. Finally, Miss Carpenter and Miss Nicholson exited the building. Miss Carpenter, dressed in an olive-colored wool coat and gray hat, was pulling on her leather gloves while she and Miss Nicholson conversed.

  Walter got down from his horse, not wanting to be lording above them, and the women came to a stop. He thought he saw a slightly guilty look on Miss Carpenter’s face, but she repaired it before he could be sure. Miss Nicholson excused herself to speak with the driver to make sure the straps were tight.

  “I understand you are leaving for Carlisle,” Walter said to Miss Carpenter when they were alone.

  She nodded. “Yes, we had already been in Gilsland for a week when you came. Miss Nicholson has an aunt in Carlisle who has kindly offered to let us extend our stay a little longer, then we shall return to Bracknell.”

  “How long will you stay in Carlisle?” Walter took a step toward her and lowered his voice to a level of intimacy that felt right. “I am very sorry to see you go.” And he was—more than he’d have admitted until faced with the prospect. He realized that the last five days had had more light and air in them than he had experienced in a long time, and he knew it was because of her. The idea of her leaving brought the clouds back into his thoughts.

  She held his eyes, then smiled, but not in affection, rather in a joking manner. “I am sure you are, Mr. Scott,” she said, then turned toward the carriage.

  Walter stepped around and blocked her way. “You think I am insincere?”

  She regarded him a moment, then cocked her head to the side. “I tink you are a man to whom flattery comes easily.”

  “Yet you are not impressed by flattery,” Walter concluded, as he had on a number of prior occasions. She could not know how remarkable it was that, around her, he had poetry in his thoughts again. She could not know that in the last few days he had come up with two new stories that he could not wait to write in verse. And if she knew, she likely would not care. She was not swayed by fanciful things, which somehow made her even more intriguing. Until this moment, however, he could not have explained it so succinctly.

  “Anyone can pass along compliments,” Miss Carpenter said, her smile and tone still light. “Whether or not they truly mean them is sometimes hard to discover.”

  Her condemnation was sharp, though he somehow knew she did not intend it that way. “I may be apt to flatter, but it does not mean my compliments are vain.” He paused, a nervous flutter in his belly for the words that were begging to be said. Words that frightened him enough to cause him to hesitate. He moved closer and lowered his voice even more. He placed a hand on her arm, and she looked at it, then at him. He may never see her again and that possibility was reason enough to say what was on his mind and hope she would truly hear the words.

  “I have enjoyed your company very much these last days, Miss Carpenter,” he said, tempted to use her Christian name despite not having been invited to do so. “It has been the best part of this trip, and I am sad to see it come to an end.”

  Miss Carpenter placed her hand against his cheek as she held his blue eyes with her liquid brown ones. “I have enjoyed your company very much as well, Mr. Scott, but we must not fool ourselves into tinking we are equals or dat there is any future to our friendship beyond fond memories of dis time we have shared.”

  Equals. The word burrowed deep into his gut and he straightened. Mina had
not been his equal, and despite his certainty that his financial and social position would not be an issue, in the end those things had been. At least in part. He stepped back, causing Miss Carpenter to drop her hand and pull her dark eyebrows together.

  “You think I am beneath your level?”

  “My level?” she repeated, her expression moving from confused to defensive. She straightened her shoulders. “My level is an orphaned, spinster, Frenchwoman with no family and few friends. Most certainly I am not above you in any matter, Mr. Scott, and I am offended you would tink I would say such a ting as that. Dat I am of any consequence at all is only because of Lord Downshire’s mercy, which has been wearing thin for some time. Good day.”

  She stormed past him, but Walter reached out and took her arm. “Wait.” She looked at him in a huff, her eyes flashing. “Forgive me, I only meant . . .” Why did he so often find his foot in his mouth with this woman? “What did you mean that we are not equals, then?”

  She let out a breath, her nostrils flaring. When she spoke, the irritation was still thick in her tone and her accent was more pronounced than usual. “You are a man of education, family, friends.” She waved in John and Adam’s direction. “I have none of those tings. We are too different to understand one another. Our time together has been enjoyable, yes, but it is at an end, and we shall now return to our own lives.”

  “Perhaps we do not have to bring this time to an end,” Walter said, his thoughts and feelings increasingly frantic. She did not consider him below her. Did that mean she might consider their relationship as something more? He dropped her arm but continued to block her path. “I am not due back to Scotland until the opening of the lesser courts next month.”

  “I am going to Carlisle.”

  “Charlotte?” Miss Nicholson called, standing beside the open door of the carriage.

  “A moment,” Charlotte called back.

  Miss Nicholson looked between them, then stepped into the carriage with the help of the hotel porter.

  “Perhaps I shall come to Carlisle as well,” Walter said, his brain buzzing. It was not like him to be so spontaneous, and yet the prospect of never seeing Miss Carpenter again filled him with a sense of desperation.

  Miss Carpenter shook her head. “Do not come to Carlisle for me,” she repeated. “Our situations are too different, and your heart is elsewhere. Whatever amour you may tink you feel is only a result of your romantic nature. I wish you well, Mr. Scott, and I am glad to know you. Dank you for your friendship this week and the pleasant memories I shall take from it. Please do not ruin that with a difficult parting.” She sidestepped Walter and smiled toward Adam and John. When she spoke, her voice was louder so they might hear. “It was wonderful to meet you both, Mr. Scott and Mr. Ferguson. I hope you enjoy the rest of your time in Cumbria.”

  They both said good-bye in the time it took Walter to turn their direction. By the time he turned back to Charlotte, she was being handed into the carriage. The windows of the carriage were closed once the door shut.

  The driver took his place and snapped the reins; Jolie had been tied to the back of the carriage and fell into a trot behind it.

  Walter watched the carriage drive away. Away from him. Away from Gilsland. He watched until it disappeared, trying to make sense of his feelings toward Miss Carpenter’s dismissal. Was it only his pride that was wounded with how easily she could leave him? Or was what he felt something different than he had justified to himself, something more than he had admitted, something he never thought he would feel again?

  That he felt anything was a shock in and of itself. He had felt so little this last year except despair. But to begin anew—and then have it come to an end so quickly? Something felt unfinished, yet Charlotte had told him not to come after her. He would not forget her as easily as she would forget him. The heaviness of that realization seemed to undo any progress he felt he’d made this last week.

  What was the good of blue skies if they did not last? Why was he intent on punishing himself with discovering feelings for another woman who would not have him?

  There was another Gilsland dance the night of Miss Carpenter’s exodus, and the three men stood in the doorway, looking just as they had the week before. Walter’s enthusiasm to be social was lower than ever knowing that Miss Carpenter was not in attendance, but paradoxically, her leaving had prompted him to come here and find a new distraction. He would not pine for another woman, even mildly. He would not!

  “Lots of loosome partners to choose from,” Adam said, looking dashing in his uniform as he scanned the crowd. Only a handful of attendees were the same as had been at the last ball.

  “Save but one, eh?” John said, hitting his shoulder against Walter’s hard enough that Walter stumbled forward.

  Walter put a polite smile on his face and chose not to comment. He’d withstood the ribbings about missing Miss Carpenter all day, and though he had attempted to revive himself from his sullenness, there was little to draw him from it—not the expansive moorland, not the fair weather, not even a grove of bilberries that sweetened the bread and cheese they’d brought from the hotel. There was no reason not to have enjoyed himself today, but his mind had been centered upon Miss Carpenter. In five days he had spent more time in her company than he ever had with Mina.

  “I shall find some conversation.” Walter waved his friends toward the dancers on the floor. “You goons can have your fill.”

  They parted ways, and Walter’s spirits lifted when he saw Mr. Grimm sitting in nearly the same chair he’d occupied last week. Walter sat beside him, and they quickly renewed their friendship. Mr. Grimm and his daughter would be leaving in the morning. He had not wanted to attend her to the dance, but she insisted and he capitulated.

  “I hope she does not want to stay too long,” Mr. Grimm said.

  “Och, I understand,” Walter said, nodding. “I am not here of my own desire either.” He nodded toward his friends. “But if I did not come, I would have to withstand their taunting, and I’m as worn-out with them as a man can possibly be.”

  Mr. Grimm chuckled and tapped his cane against Walter’s foot. “Where is the lovely young lady you escorted to supper last week? Surely she would brighten the mood. I have seen you in her company a number of times this week.”

  “And a more contented time I’ve never had,” Walter said with unexpected honesty. He cleared his throat and tried to keep his tone neutral. “She’s removed to Carlisle, I’m afraid. I think I will never see her again.”

  “Never?” Mr. Grimm faced Walter, true surprise etched into his wizened features. “Surely she didn’t leave in a rage.”

  “Nay,” Walter said, shaking his head. “No rage, only no passion either. She is a practical sort, and it seems she has proved it to the end by leaving us to enjoy our happy memories, as she said it.”

  Mr. Grimm nudged Walter with his cane. “You won’t go on to Carlisle?”

  Walter smiled politely and for a moment wished he had not been so transparent with his feelings, but then he was glad for someone to talk to. Heaven knew John nor Adam were reliable confidants. “She was rather clear with me when she left that she has no wish to see me.”

  “Yet she did not leave in a rage?”

  Walter pictured Miss Carpenter in his mind as they’d parted company. “She said we had enjoyed one another’s company, but since nothing would come of it there was no reason to prolong our time together. We are different sorts, that’s what she said, and I suppose she’s right.”

  Mr. Grimm made a huffing sound. “And you’ll give her up just like that?” he shook his head as though disappointed.

  Walter felt defensiveness rise within him as he looked at the old man who was far bolder than Walter had expected. He’d thought the man might commiserate with him on Miss Carpenter’s leaving, not condemn him.

  “No offence, Mr. Grimm, but you don’t know the way of
things,” he explained. “I’ve had my heart broken before. At least this is only a bruising.”

  Even as he said it, it surprised him. Were his feelings so strong for Miss Carpenter that her refusal could bruise the heart he did not know could ever be hurt again? Why did that realization invigorate him rather than depress him? Yet she was gone. Whatever he had felt didn’t matter—and yet he had felt something, hadn’t he? Unbidden, a line from a poem by William Blake came to mind.

  Love seeketh not itself to please,

  Nor for itself hath any care;

  But for another gives its ease,

  And builds a Heaven in Hell’s despair.

  Walter shook the words from his thoughts. He was not in love. But had not Miss Carpenter been a bit of heaven?

  “Yes, well, I don’t know the way of things, that is true,” Mr. Grimm said with a thoughtful nod.

  They fell into silence, watching the dancers on the floor. Walter did not wish to be among those on the floor tonight. In fact there wasn’t a single woman in the room that piqued his interest. Maybe his attraction to Miss Carpenter was simply the death spasm of a heart already dead. Or, perhaps if they’d had more time together, there could have been more to their connection. But they would not have more time together. It was finished.

  And builds a Heaven in Hell’s despair . . .

  Mr. Grimm interrupted Walter’s morose thoughts. “This woman, the one who broke your heart—the one before this one . . .”

  Walter leaned back in his chair, turning his attention to Mr. Grimm. He wished he hadn’t used up all of Mr. Grimm’s war stories at the last dance so that they might lose themselves in Spain again.

  “How long did you know her?” Mr. Grimm continued.

  “Five years,” Walter said, his chest filling with regret. “And I loved her from the first moment I saw her.”

  “You think so?”

  Walter was surprised at the familiar response. “Miss Carpenter doubted me on that, too. She said she dinna believe in love at first sight.”