by Karen Tuft
Chapter 16
Wednesday afternoon, Lord Kerridge called upon Louisa, as he’d promised he would. Louisa was in the drawing room with Mama when he arrived, so he was invited to join them there. Wednesday wasn’t one of Mama’s receiving days, so they’d had no previous callers all afternoon. It had been a blessedly quiet afternoon thus far, and Louisa had been grateful for it. Mama had done needlework while Louisa had read. They’d occasionally chatted but then had fallen into comfortable times of silence.
“Lord Kerridge, how kind of you to call,” Mama said. “What a welcome diversion you are! Louisa and I have been sitting around all day like a pair of lazy cats. Please have a seat and join us.”
“Thank you, Lady Ashworth. I would like nothing better.”
Lord Kerridge’s arrival was not a welcome diversion, as far as Louisa was concerned.
“How is Aylesham?” Mama asked him, setting her needlework aside. “I haven’t seen him about much this Season. Is he well?”
“Quite well, Lady Ashworth, considering his age. Great-Uncle Aylesham spends most of his time at the House of Lords during the Season, pestering everyone there to agree with him politically. When he’s at home, he’s pestering me—but only in the best of ways.” Lord Kerridge smiled at his little jest.
Mama chuckled. “I can envision him in just such a manner. What a dear man he is, the rogue; I always enjoy his company. You will be sure to tell him hello for me and that I look forward to seeing him again soon.”
“I certainly shall,” he said. He cleared his throat, and Louisa held her breath. “If your ladyship doesn’t mind, I wonder if I might be so bold as to invite Lady Louisa for a ride in my phaeton to Hyde Park. It would be a shame to waste such fine weather.”
“I do not mind at all; I am content to do my needlework, and Ashworth will be joining me shortly,” Mama said.
He stood and extended his hand to Louisa, intent on assisting her to her feet. He hadn’t even asked her if she wished to ride in his phaeton or go to Hyde Park where all and sundry would be out walking and riding and seeing and being seen. She wasn’t sure she wanted to be seen in Lord Kerridge’s company so soon after . . .
So soon after William had torn up the vowel and told her she was free.
Louisa didn’t feel particularly free at the moment.
She allowed him to assist her to her feet, all the same. “I think I should prefer to stay here, if you don’t mind, Lord Kerridge,” she said. “Perhaps a walk in the garden instead.” She didn’t ask him but intentionally phrased it as a statement.
“Very well.” He strode to the door and opened it for her. “Good afternoon, then, Lady Ashworth.”
Mama nodded her farewell to the earl and picked up her needlework.
When the two of them were in the corridor and alone, Lord Kerridge suggested once again that they go for a ride in his phaeton. “The ponies are quite new; handsome creatures, they are, and longing for a bit of exercise. They would relish a turn about the park. What do you say?”
“I say thank you, but I would prefer not to go to Hyde Park today.”
He looked puzzled. “If that is your wish. I must confess that I do not understand. Come, then; we will walk in the garden.”
They were silent until they reached the garden, and Louisa was sufficiently satisfied that no servants were nearby to eavesdrop. She had things she needed to say to Lord Kerridge, and they needed to be said in private.
Eventually, they ended up in the rose garden, near the bench where William had agreed to give her the three weeks needed to read banns rather than use the special license he’d procured.
He could have forced the issue. He could have demanded they marry using the special license. She would be a married woman by now if he had, and he would have his marriage settlements and the income they would have provided. But he had relented and given her those weeks. He’d known it was a risk to do so—she knew him well enough now to know that he understood wagering and the odds involved.
“You seem far away at the moment,” Lord Kerridge said.
She sat on the bench, and Lord Kerridge sat next to her. “Jane Purnell is not William’s mistress,” she said. She didn’t explain who Jane Purnell was; Lord Kerridge was intelligent enough to figure it out for himself.
“She’s not? I’m glad to hear it.”
“Are you?”
“Of course I am. It is one less thing to explain away when the dust settles. I am a fairly patient man, Lady Louisa, as I’m sure you’ve discovered by now. I have not pressed you for an answer to my proposal, you know. Most gentlemen of my rank and position would be more demanding.”
“Thank you, Lord Kerridge,” she said. “I believe I am prepared to answer you now.”
He smiled, obviously fully expecting an answer in the affirmative.
“I am aware of the great honor you previously bestowed upon me and extended to me again,” she said, “and I thank you most sincerely for it—but I’m afraid I must respectfully refuse.”
His brows furrowed. “You refuse? I don’t understand. You were willing to marry me mere weeks ago—the solicitors met regularly, and we were set to announce the betrothal formally—until this . . . this . . . ne’er-do-well arrived on the scene with a vowel in his hand.”
“Lord Kerridge—” Louisa began.
“Aylesham is not as well as he pretends to be, and he is zealous in his pursuit of acquiring more heirs. I am encouraged rather vigorously to marry and marry quickly, you see, and to begin a dynasty of my own so the man may die in peace, knowing the dukedom will thrive. You are the perfect bride, and Aylesham thinks so too. He was willing to overlook what he referred to as your ‘peccadillos’ regarding Lord Farleigh because of my assurances to him that you would come to your senses. And you did return to London without Farleigh, and the final banns weren’t read. What am I not understanding? Why can we not simply announce our betrothal now and marry?”
“Because I love someone else,” she said.
“Love? When has love been a consideration?” he asked her as he stood and paced away from her. “Marriage amongst the highest nobility, as you well know, is about maintaining property, wealth, and power, not love. It is about the training one receives from birth that provides leadership and decorum in the home and for Society at large. Providing heirs is critical as well, so the noble lines will continue. Love is all fine and good—but not of paramount importance. There is too much at stake.” He crossed back to her and sat, taking her hand in his. “That being said, you would make a wonderful duchess, Lady Louisa, and give the Aylesham line strong sons and daughters. And I am genuinely fond of you, or I should not have been so patient. Tell me you’ve reconsidered your answer.”
Louisa’s heart was heavy. Lord Kerridge was not a bad man; he was a fine gentleman, and she truly was honored that he considered her a worthy mate. “Too much has happened in the past few weeks,” she said softly. “We cannot go back to the way things were.”
He dropped his gaze and released her hand. “I see. I am sorry to hear this and will not impose upon your time any longer.” He rose to his feet. “Farewell, Lady Louisa. I hope you find happiness in the choice you have made.” He made a stiff, formal bow and strode across the garden and out of sight.
Louisa waited awhile, pondering the words Lord Kerridge had spoken to her. He wasn’t entirely wrong in his opinions. Louisa had simply realized at some point that their priorities didn’t match. Especially when it came to love.
Lord Kerridge had offered her marriage out of duty to the Duke of Aylesham and Louisa’s own suitability as daughter of the Marquess of Ashworth. His pride had been stung by Louisa’s refusal, but he would recover in time, and Louisa had no doubt that he would find another suitable bride.
William had demanded marriage out of love for his home and his friends. But then he had torn up the vowel—he’d said—because the more he’d gotten to know her, the more he’d realized he couldn’t force her into marriage to him.
; Louisa suspected—hoped—there was another reason he’d torn up the vowel, even if he hadn’t spoken the words.
By the time she returned to the house, she had made a decision. She only hoped her family wouldn’t think she was utterly mad when she told them what it was.
* * *
Today, rather than do manual labor—William had developed a great deal of respect for Matthew over the past several days—the two of them spent the morning going over the ledgers. It was dull, depressing work but had to be done. William had received several letters from Richard Heslop regarding the status of the mortgages and what the solicitor had learned by speaking to the creditors. “While it may appear upon first perusal that the news regarding the debts is grim, there was some willingness on the part of a few of the creditors to negotiate, surprised as they were to learn that they might see any reparations at all.”
Heslop must have spun quite a tale to them, for after the past fortnight of backbreaking work with Matthew, William had realized he’d undertaken a nearly impossible task. He needed more men to do the work if they were to make any real progress. Word had gotten out in the village what William was about, and while a few of the tenant farmers had returned, it was not nearly enough. But it was something, at least, and William would take any blessings that came his way.
After Matthew and he had gone over the ledgers, Mrs. Brill had fed them both, and then Matthew had gone into the village to check on Miss Purnell. It surprised no one that Matthew had taken a liking to the lady. William had been able to find her a job—not much of a job, but she’d been grateful nonetheless—assisting the teacher two days a week at the village school. Since Peter and Daisy both attended the school, it worked out well for everyone.
Miss Purnell wasn’t ready to have a suitor after all she’d been through, William suspected, but she hadn’t rejected Matthew outright either.
William was feeling restless and out of sorts. There was plenty to do, but he couldn’t settle on any one task. He wandered back to the kitchen, where Mrs. Brill was washing the dishes after luncheon. “Where’s Mary?” he asked. “That’s her job, isn’t it?”
“Oh, she’s here and there,” Mrs. Brill said. “She’s not been feelin’ quite herself the past few—well, I’ve just let ’er have some time to herself, is all.”
William grunted in reply and stalked out into the herb garden, swatting at a few bees that buzzed about his head. He broke off a rosemary leaf and ran it through his fingers, inhaling the pungent scent. Perhaps he would ride into the village. He could go to the George and Dragon, get better acquainted with the people.
Except he’d have to go to the stable for a horse, and Samuel would lecture him again about going to see Louisa.
He wasn’t in the mood for a lecture. He saw Louisa everywhere as it was.
Blast it all, she was probably at an afternoon tea with Lord Kerridge at this very moment, he thought grumpily. Wearing the light-blue muslin that brought out her eyes. She would be smiling and flowing with words, like cool water through a parched desert . . .
He didn’t know what to do. Hard work hadn’t driven her from his mind. The image of Lord Kerridge at her side hadn’t deterred him. Perhaps he should write another letter to Heslop, telling the man to search for William’s legal heir, for if he didn’t get Louisa out of his head—and his heart—he would be doomed to remain a bachelor.
What a depressing thought.
He must exorcise her from his mind, so, fool that he was, he headed to the one place at Farleigh Manor that reminded him the most of her.
The oak tree.
* * *
It seemed only fitting that Louisa would find William at the oak tree. He sat, his back resting against the trunk, staring out at the pond.
He had been willing to stake his own future happiness on an unseen wife for the sake of those here at Farleigh Manor. Louisa understood this now.
A faithful old butler, a meticulous housekeeper. The aromas of favorite recipes coming from the kitchen. The devotion of a simpleminded girl.
And then there were William’s kisses, different from Lord Kerridge’s, enticing her, attracting her. Oh, yes, she found him attractive. He was a beautiful man.
A beautiful, honorable man.
She loved him.
“William,” she said softly, not wishing to startle him.
He turned at her voice and stared at her as if he were seeing a ghost. “Louisa, is that really you?” he asked.
“Yes,” she said, her heart full.
“But what of Lord Kerridge? I presumed—”
“You presumed wrong.” She walked closer.
“Wrong?” he repeated as if he couldn’t understand the word. “You’re really here, aren’t you? And your parents? They let you—”
“They are here too. And so are Alex and Anthony. We are all here, William.”
He shook his head as if to clear it. “Well, you may inform them that they may exact their pound of flesh from me. I deserve no less.”
“That is not why we are here, William.”
He turned to stare at the pond once more and said nothing in reply.
“I told them I was returning to Farleigh Manor to see you. And when I explained my reason to them, they agreed to accompany me. We have unfinished business between us, William, whether you acknowledge it or not.”
He remained silent for a while, and Louisa waited for him to speak, her heart in her throat. “I owe you an apology,” he said at length. “I have already apologized to you for the worst of my deeds and tried to make amends, although I doubt that will ever be possible. But I also promised to tell you about myself and I failed, and for that I am gravely sorry.”
“Hush, now,” she said. She walked to where he was sitting and offered him her hand, and he took it, lending her his strength as she sat next to him. To feel his hand around hers again was heaven. “You have no need to apologize. Not to me.”
He ignored her words of reassurance. Now that he’d begun to speak, it appeared he could not stop. “My earliest memories are of my mother,” he said. “She was a quiet, gentle woman and beautiful, at least to a small boy who adored her. But I wasn’t there for her when she needed me most.”
“You were a child. You weren’t responsible for her unhappiness,” Louisa said. “William, I know what happened to you as a boy. And while I hope you continue to tell me more, you don’t have to apologize. I want only for you to trust me. I want to not wonder why you can’t talk to me.”
“I couldn’t risk it. Don’t you see?” His eyes looked so desolate that Louisa grasped both of his hands, anything to give him support. He clutched them to his chest as if by doing so, he could contain all the emotions threatening to burst free. “I have been haunted by my father my entire life. The vowel was a sure bet, and the odds were too great if you discovered what marrying me would really mean.”
“William, my love,” she said gently, freeing a hand so she could lay her palm on his cheek. “I know what marrying you will mean. I have learned that you will do whatever is possible for those you love. I have seen it in Grimshaw’s loyalty to you, in the proud housekeeping of Mrs. Holly, in the cooking smells coming from Mrs. Brill’s kitchen, and in Matthew’s neatly kept front grounds. I have seen it in Samuel and Mary.
“They all love you, William, and have stayed at Farleigh Manor because they knew your time would come, and they intended to do their part in making sure you had something of value to return to. They do not depend on you; they are offering you their support.”
Her cheeks were wet, she knew, but she wanted to share everything in her heart with him. “Marriage to Lord Kerridge would have offered wealth and status but nothing more. Not love. Oh, William, you can give me a life he cannot—the one I want,” she said. “I am not afraid of challenge, William. And I am not afraid to marry a man who loves others as deeply as you do and is willing to sacrifice his own happiness for them. There is no gamble for me in that.”
His eyes, which had looked
so anguished only moments ago, were now bright with unshed tears as they searched her face. He reached into his pocket for his handkerchief and dabbed at her cheeks. “This is what I love about you,” he said softly. “That you speak your feelings so openly and that I can read your every thought and emotion on your beautiful, expressive face. It is a relief, this transparency you have, after so many years of living with the opposite.”
He pulled her into his arms then, and she held him and held him, her face nestled snugly against his chest, his arms wrapped just as tightly around her. She breathed in the wonderful, warm scent that was William and listened to the solid beating of his heart. It felt natural and right for her to be there.
“You called me your love,” he whispered into her ear.
“I wasn’t sure you were paying attention,” she whispered back. It was a wonderfully intimate thing, to be held like this, secure and exciting both.
“I could hardly miss the words I’ve been longing to hear you speak.”
“You said you loved me too.” She nestled even closer, if that were possible.
“Did I?” He nuzzled her ear.
She drew back and glared at him. “You know you did!”
He chuckled, even as a tear finally escaped and ran down his cheek. William, the man who had seldom smiled until now, actually chuckled—at her, at a time like this. And then he threw his head back and laughed. “You are such a delight, my darling Louisa. I did say it, and I will say it again. I love you. I will even declare that it was love at first sight, for you were not at all what I expected when I walked into Ashworth House.”
“What did you expect?” she couldn’t help asking.
“Not you. I could never have expected to find someone as wonderful as you. Oh, my dear Louisa, my love, I have lived with famine my entire life, and you are a feast for my soul.” And then he lowered his mouth to hers, and they feasted together.
* * *
They were silent as they walked back to the house, but Louisa didn’t mind and simply allowed herself to enjoy the peacefulness. Their conversation heralded the end of misunderstandings and the dawning of a new life together, one of love and challenge and companionship. There was more that still needed to be said between them, but she was confident now that those conversations would happen. William might never be the sort who volunteered everything on his mind or in his heart, but she understood that heart and mind now and trusted him. Honest conversations were an important part of marriage, and she would help him learn to trust having those with her.