by Regina Darcy
Pressing one hand against her heart, Caroline forced herself to take regular, steadying breaths. The way he had spoken of her letter had brought such joy to her heart that she had not known what to do with it. To know that her words had brought him relief, had helped him to withdraw from the shadows and come into the light had been nothing more than utter delight. How glad she was that he had been able to recover himself! And now for him to show her kindness in response to that was all the more wonderful.
Closing her eyes, Caroline allowed her happiness to wash over her, a small smile appearing on her face as she did so. This was the first time in months that she had permitted herself to feel any kind of hope. Hope that she would not have to remain a spinster companion, that she might be able to find the same happiness and joy that her sisters had done.
With Lord Stanway?
The thought brought a fresh flare of heat to her cheeks and she ducked her head self-consciously, fearing that someone would notice. Lord Stanway was a handsome, kind and wonderful gentleman, she was certain of it. When he looked into her eyes, she had felt such a rush of affection that it had caught her entirely by surprise, having never felt such a thing before. There was something about him that called out to her, that wanted her to draw near – but to do so, to allow her heart free with its affections would only bring her disaster. Lord Stanway was surely meant for someone like Miss Ruthford, who was constantly in his company, it seemed, and more than eager to make him her own.
Caroline would be glad of his help, of course, but she could not allow herself to feel anything for him. As much as she wanted to explore her emotions, to allow her gaze to linger on him, to feel that same rush of affection, Caroline knew that she could not do so. Lord Stanway was an Earl and, even with his limp he would be able to marry whomever he chose. Not someone as quiet and as shy as she was.
“I shall be content with his help,” she murmured to herself, her eyes fixed on his back as he sat down beside his stepmother. “I shall be glad of his company and satisfied with the time we share together. I need hope for nothing more.”
SEVEN
What was most infuriating, Francis considered, was that as much as he felt he ought to be drawn to Miss Ruthford, he was finding himself pushed away from her with almost every interaction they had. It was quite extraordinary and not something that had ever happened to him before. Miss Ruthford would be a perfect match for him in every way, for she was polite, kind and well spoken. She was genteel, amiable and, aside from a sharp tongue and brusque manner towards Miss Winters on occasion – or whenever something didn’t appear to her liking – was, all in all, a perfect young lady.
Besides which, Francis thought to himself, wandering to the large bay window in the library and looking down at the gardens below, if she had written the letter to him, the letter that had become so dear to him, then he surely ought to be deeply in love with her by now.
Except, he was not. There was no affection for Miss Ruthford in his heart. He found her tolerable enough, he supposed, with decent conversation and certainly able to make him smile upon occasion, but there was nothing particular about her that brought him any pleasure. There was a beauty about her that could not be denied but even that did not pull him close to her. Instead, he found himself considering Miss Winters with a good deal more fondness than he had for Miss Ruthford.
It was quite preposterous, of course, for Miss Winters still struggled to make decent conversation with him without going a deep shade of red and looking away – although, he had to admit, she was improving – but besides which, she was his stepmother’s companion and therefore should remain completely unconsidered. Yet, despite his awareness of this, despite his knowledge that he should not be even thinking of her, Francis found himself contemplating her almost continually.
He wanted to learn more about her, to help her through what appeared to be a rather difficult circumstance where she struggled to speak her thoughts aloud without finding herself shrinking away. It was not often that she smiled at him but, whenever she did so, he found his heart lifting in his chest, happiness and contentedness filling him completely. He gained more from a short interaction with Miss Winters than he did with an hour of conversation with Miss Ruthford. It was quite extraordinary.
“Oh!”
He started in surprise, turning from the window to see none other than the object of his considerations standing framed in the library doorway. She was holding a stack of three books, a sheaf of paper and had a pencil balanced on the top.
“Please, do not let my presence disturb you, Miss Winter,” Francis said at once, finding himself breaking into a smile upon seeing her. “I was simply looking out at the gardens.”
She nodded, her colour already rising as she glanced away from him. To his surprise, Francis found himself considering her to be quite beautiful, astonishing himself with his thoughts.
Miss Winters always dressed in muted colours, with her hair tied up neatly and very little by way of adornments. Miss Ruthford, by comparison, was always dressed in gowns of the highest fashions, with pearls and ribbons threaded through her hair. Why did he find the first so desirable when, to most gentleman’s minds, she was less by way of beauty than Miss Ruthford?
“You look contemplative.” Miss Winters voice was quiet although she no longer stammered as she had once done. “I should leave you.”
“No, please.”
Those words were thrown from his mouth before he could prevent them, the air filling with an urgency that he had not meant to express. Miss Winters half-turned away from him, only to come to a complete stop and slowly look back at him.
“I would be glad of your company, Miss Winters,” he said, coming towards her as best he could, his leg now more of a dull ache than a sharp, agonising pain. “Might I assist you with your books?” He held out one hand to her but saw her draw back, a look of uncertainty on her face.
“I can manage perfectly well, Lord Stanway,” she said, softly, her eyes huge as she looked up at him. Was she afraid that he would become angry with her for refusing him? Or was it simply that her fear of continuing conversation was still vast within her?
He shrugged, trying not to let the sting of his weakened state pierce him. “Very well. Then might we sit down for a time? Or we could walk in the gardens?” He threw a glance over his shoulder. “They are small but quite lovely.”
“They are.” Her gaze lingered down by his feet, her head bowed. Silence ran between them for a moment until Francis took charge of the situation, realising that she herself would not make a decision for fear that he might struggle to walk down the staircase to the gardens.
“The gardens, I think,” he suggested, with a broad smile that had her flushing pink with either embarrassment or delight. He hoped it was the latter. “That is, if you do not mind leaving your books for a time?”
She set them down at once, not saying a word to him.
“Come then, Miss Winters,” he said, in an effort to sound gallant. “Might you wish to take my arm so we can walk together? I hope I am not too much of a cripple for you to accept what is an attempt at a gentlemanly offer!”
“Oh no, indeed not!” she exclaimed, hurrying to take his arm for fear that she might offend him in some way if she did not. “If it would be easier for you to remain here in the library, however, I would be glad to sit with you.”
This was more than he had heard from her since their conversation began and the ease which usually settled around them began to make its way into his heart.
“I am quite able to manage, Miss Winters,” he said, appreciating her kindness in considering him. “Although it is kind of you to think of me. I confess I should like to step outside for a time, for the day is fine and it can be difficult for me to walk anywhere such as in the park itself.”
Miss Winters nodded, her eyes expressing concern as she looked at him. “Do you find it very difficult?” she asked, softly, her voice still low and her words a little hesitant.
He tippe
d his head, letting go of her arm so that he might make his way carefully down the staircase. “It can be,” he admitted, honestly, before taking the first, somewhat painful step down. “I am not used to being unable to do all that I once was.”
She did not say another word until they had reached the bottom of the staircase but immediately took his proffered arm as he put his cane back in his other hand. Francis felt his happiness rise within him as she walked alongside him. Something about Miss Winters being present with him brought a good deal of contentment to his soul, as though she were always meant to have been here with him. It was inexplicable and yet Francis did not feel the need to understand it.
“Might I ask what it was you faced when you were in the continent?” she asked, carefully, as they stepped outside into the gardens. “Was your time fighting very troubling?”
“Very,” he admitted, finding that he was able to be completely honest with her without hesitation. “The injury to my leg is nothing compared to the darkness and sorrow that overwhelmed my mind. I knew I would recover physically but I could not summon the strength of mind to force myself to rise from my bed.”
Miss Winters said nothing, although her eyes were filled with compassion for him. He could not help but tell her more, feeling as though he had needed to share such things for some time but had never found the right person to listen. “When I heard news of my father’s death, I was torn between doing what I knew to be right and returning to England.” A pain that he had thought he had forgotten suddenly surfaced within him as memories began to assail him. “I disappointed my stepmother in doing such a thing and I regret that dearly.”
“Does she know of your regret?” Miss Winters asked, as they walked, arm in arm, through the gardens. “Have you spoken to her of it? It may bring a degree of healing to you both should you do so.”
Sighing, Francis shook his head, spying a bench nearby.
“No, I have not,” he said, truthfully, gesturing towards the bench. “Might we sit for a moment, Miss Winters?”
She nodded and walked alongside him to the bench, seating herself down first before he joined her. Francis was surprised at how comfortable he felt speaking to her with such openness and honesty, for their acquaintance had not been of long duration and yet there was something about Miss Winters that called to his heart. He could not help but study her for a moment which, in turn brought about a blush to her cheeks – although, to his delight, Francis caught sight of a small smile that lifted one corner of her mouth.
Perhaps Miss Winters was not immune to his presence also.
“You are right to suggest that I should speak to my stepmother,” he said, reaching across and daring to take her hand. The simple touch had his heart leaping wildly in his chest although, with an effort, he contained his reaction so that she saw nothing on his face. “You are wise indeed, Miss Winters.”
She laughed harshly and looked away, her eyes growing sorrowful. “I do not think so, Lord Stanway but it is kind of you to say.”
“I believe you are,” he pressed, not wanting her to think little of herself. “You may not say a great deal, Miss Winters, but I believe you notice more than someone such as I would do. You may have more advice to give than you know.”
Miss Winters blushed all the more but, to Francis’ surprise, lifted her eyes to his and held his gaze steadily. The air seemed to grow thick about him as he looked deeply into her eyes, finding himself suddenly struggling for breath. This was almost incomprehensible, to be feeling so much affection, so much overwhelming fondness, for someone he had only known for less than a fortnight. And yet, his heart was racing, his mouth was dry and his hand was tightening on hers as though he would never let her go.
“You – you are very kind, Lord Stanway,” she whispered, clearly unable to speak any louder such was the intensity of the moment. “I do not think that anyone has ever treated me with as much kindness as you have shown me.”
“It is as I have said,” he replied, his voice hoarse. “I received such kindness from that letter that it flooded my heart and brought me out of my despair. How can I not then pass it on to someone else who I see struggling?”
She did not so much as blink, leaning closer to him just a little, her expression softening and losing the last traces of tension. Francis found himself going nearer to her also, not quite certain what it was he wanted to do, what it was he wanted from her but yet finding himself unable to stop himself from doing so. His fingers laced with hers, her eyes wide as he continued to look deeply into her eyes. His heart was hammering so violently that he was certain she could hear it, certain that she knew just how much she was making him feel by her presence.
“Ah, there you are Lord Stanway!”
The sharp, loud voice of Miss Ruthford had him jerking away from Miss Winters, his hand tugging away from hers almost at once. Miss Winters did not say a word but rather rose to her feet the moment his hand was taken away from her own as though she was almost in a desperate need to remove herself from his company.
“Good afternoon, Miss Ruthford,” Francis managed to say, aware that a light sheen of sweat was now covering his forehead and heat climbing up his neck and into his face. “Were you looking for me for any particular reason?”
“No.” Miss Ruthford’s smile was directed solely at him and he noted that she had not even greeted Miss Winters. “I was hoping, however, that you might be willing to take a short carriage ride around Hyde Park? I am ready to depart, as you can see, and my maid will accompany us, of course.”
Francis frowned. “I think Miss Winters might accompany us,” he suggested, looking over his shoulder to where Miss Winters was now standing, her arms folded in front of her chest in an almost protective gesture. “That would be more than acceptable.”
“I am sure Miss Winters has enough to do in taking care of my aunt,” Miss Ruthford stated, without so much as considering his suggestion.
“Make haste, my lord! It is getting late and I would like to make it to Hyde Park within the fashionable hour. The carriage has already been called.”
Francis was left to stare after Miss Ruthford, irritated that she behaved as though he was simply to be told what to do, clearly she was under the impression that being a cripple now made him less than a man. Francis frowned.
He was not at all pleased with how Miss Ruthford had spoken to Miss Winters and even less pleased that she had ignored his suggestion to allow Miss Winters to accompany them. Frustrated that he had not said more, he turned around to apologise to Miss Winters and to state that he would, of course, insist that she attend Hyde Park with them – only to discover that she was already gone.
EIGHT
“You look rather fearful, my dear.”
Caroline drew in a long breath as she looked across at her sister, Theodora. “I am quite all right,” she reassured her, not able to explain the utter shock that currently ran through her given what had almost occurred with Lord Stanway yesterday afternoon. “It is just that…..” Closing her eyes, she shook her head but felt a small smile creep across her face regardless.
“Good gracious,” she heard Theodora say and opened her eyes to see her sister looking at her curiously. “You are blushing, Caroline.”
Caroline tried to laugh and waved her sister’s words away, trying to focus, instead, on the music that came from the orchestra instead of what she felt inside.
“Something has occurred,” Theodora said, decisively, turning so that she might face her sister instead of looking away from her. “What is it, Caro?”
Caroline shook her head, aware that she herself was not entirely certain about what it was that had occurred nor what it might mean. “There is nothing significant, Theodora.”
Catching sight of Lord Stanway making his way slowly through the crowd of guests and all too aware of how the sight of him made her heart burst into a furious rhythm, she tried to look away from him but found that her eyes refused to lift from his features. She saw the pain lingering in his expressi
on as he walked, saw the slight embarrassment in his eyes as he limped carefully across the ballroom and towards where she stood with Theodora. Whether or not he had meant to come in search of her, she did not know, but the moment his eyes caught hers, she felt herself smile with nothing more than sheer happiness.
“Miss Winters!” Lord Stanway exclaimed, coming towards her as though she were a light in an otherwise shadowy place. “How good it is to see you this evening.” He bowed at the sight of Theodora, who Caroline quickly introduced. Theodora’s eyes were bright with understanding as she passed her gaze between Lord Stanway and Caroline, which simply made Caroline blush all the more.
“Might you care to take a turn about the gardens, Miss Winters?” Lord Stanway asked, after a few moments of conversation had passed between himself and Theodora. “And you also, Duchess? It is a fine evening and whilst I will confess that the music is quite wonderful and the dancing certainly delightful, I fear that I cannot enjoy the latter.” His eyes settled on Caroline’s again and she felt herself almost glow with a warm affection that filled her heart. “The gardens are supposedly filled with lanterns, so I can be in no danger of falling in a heap!”
“I should be glad to,” Caroline replied at once, looking across at Theodora who gave a warm smile by way of answer to Lord Stanway. “Do you wish to go at once?”
Lord Stanway grinned. “I will need a few minutes to make my way to the gardens and then down the few steps. Might I meet you both there instead of forcing you to fall into step with me?”
Caroline wanted to protest that she did not mind attending with Lord Stanway, that she would be happy to walk with him, but something in Theodora’s expression caught her attention and she found herself nodding instead. Lord Stanway bid them farewell, thanked them and said he was looking forward to their company and conversation – although his eyes lingered solely on Caroline as he said this – and then turned to make his way to the open doors that were on the other side of the ballroom.