Light Among Shadows

by Murray, Tamela Hancock

  “And after that, you are hoping the Sutton union can better your situation?”

  “Is that so unreasonable?”

  “Perhaps not. But you should have been honest with me from the start. Why did you not tell me about your finances?” Cecil asked.

  Abigail wanted to spit in Cecil’s face. Why should her father be honest with someone such as Cecil? A cad and rake didn’t deserve to be treated with honesty and respect.

  “I thought you realized that we are not as wealthy as you are,” Father answered. “A simple look around the estate shows one that much. Why, we do not employ half the staff that you do, even though our household is larger. Perhaps, if over the course of the past few months, you had enjoyed our hospitality more often. . .”

  “I see your point. Nevertheless, I shall not marry your daughter. Please make my excuses, and make certain she knows that my decision has nothing to do with her person.”

  Cecil’s dismissal of her brought Abigail to her feet. She burst into the parlor.

  “Why do you not tell me yourself, Lord Sutton?” Abigail breathed her contempt into his name. “Are you such a coward that you are afraid to face me?”

  “Abigail!” Father corrected.

  Cecil posed his own question. “Who would wish to face a young woman with the poor manners to eavesdrop on a private conversation?”

  The butler chose to enter at that moment. “I beg forgiveness, but I had difficulty locating the particular vintage of red wine that Lord Sutton requested.”

  Father raised his hand. “That is quite all right. Do not uncork the bottle. There will be no celebration here tonight.”

  The butler’s eyes widened. “Yes, Sir.” He bowed and exited as quickly as he had entered.

  “Now where were we?” Father folded his arms and glowered at Cecil. “Oh, yes. You were accusing my daughter of displaying ill manners.”

  “Indeed. I should say that tonight’s events have been a blessing,” Cecil observed. “It has come to my attention that to wed your daughter would be a mistake. Not only has she shown herself disagreeable, but the Pettigrew name has been diminished in my eyes.”

  “Regrettable indeed, but not so with our friends,” Father pointed out. “So your decision is final, then. You are breaking off the betrothal.” His voice was flat.

  “Yes.”

  “In that case, perhaps I should consider taking you to court for breach of contract,” Father suggested.

  “If you believe you can induce me to pay you to forget this unfortunate incident, you are sadly mistaken. Your case, particularly once my solicitor produces your financial records for review, would never hold forth in a court of law.”

  “I ask that you honor your contract. Not for myself, but for Abigail’s honor.”

  Cecil glanced at Abigail. “Anyone who witnessed such a display as your daughter’s would hardly be eager to wed her.”

  Abigail had no desire to apologize to such a vile man, but she knew for the sake of her family name, she must. She curtsied. “I beg your indulgence, Lord Sutton. I have been taught better than to eavesdrop. Forgive me for succumbing to the temptation.”

  Cecil’s gaze rested upon her figure. Abigail tried not to squirm.

  “Perhaps I was hasty in questioning your manners.” The shadow of a smile touched Cecil’s face. “You can be forgiven, considering the import of the discussion. I am sorry you had to bother your pretty head with the dry details of financial affairs.”

  “Please know that my father is a man of honor, a gentleman in every way that counts.”

  “Loyalty. I like that in a woman.” His scrutiny visited Abigail’s figure yet again. “Perhaps we could arrange—”

  “No,” Father said.

  “No?” Cecil lifted his nose and bored his stare into Father’s face. “Emotions have run high here tonight. Perhaps if I return tomorrow. . .”

  “No. I shall allow Abigail to remain a spinster and reduce my household staff to a cook and a maid-of-all-work before I allow her to wed you.”

  “Father!” Abigail nearly jumped for joy. “Do you mean that?”

  “Yes, Abigail. You do not have to marry this man.”

  “Oh, Father!” Abigail threw her arms around his neck. “Thank you!”

  Cecil cleared his throat. “Though you are quick to discard me, certainly you realize that gentlemen of my rank and position are sought after by many women.”

  At St. Giles, no doubt, Abigail wanted to burst out.

  She held her tongue. The shady section of London was only whispered about behind closed doors of polite society. Never would Abigail reveal to Cecil or to her father that she was cognizant of such a place.

  “Lady Olivia Hamilton has indicated that she does not find me so repulsive.” He stared at them both. “You do know of her, do you not? The London heiress?”

  “Yes, I am aware of her and her vast fortune. And her reputation.” Father’s last statement intimated that he was sending Cecil a veiled message.

  “Your opinion of Lady Hamilton matters not to me. She is a lady of fine family and breeding. Should she agree to a betrothal, ours will be a powerful match.” He sniffed. “Do not bother yourself. I shall see myself to the door. Good evening.”

  As soon as he left, Abigail hugged Father once more.

  “Now, now. There is no need for such spectacle.”

  Abigail broke the embrace. “I just want you to know how grateful I am to you.”

  “I had no idea you found Lord Sutton so revolting,” Father said. “I know the peak of his comeliness has passed and that he likes to have his pleasures, but I was told he is quite appealing to the opposite sex.” He shook his head. “That only goes to show how wrong gossip can be.”

  “Is it? He seems to think himself irresistible.”

  Father took Abigail’s hands in his. “I am sorry for making such a match for you, Abigail. I wanted you to be well situated. The Sutton name and the fact that Cecil is the eldest son and stands to inherit such a great deal of land—”

  “I know, Father.”

  “I thought I knew what was best for you, for this family. For the baby. We will find some way to live without selling any of our land. I know we will.” He set his gaze upon the fire, looking into it as though the flames would speak. “I only hope he does not do or say anything to sully your reputation. It is not truly my wish for you to remain a spinster. And if your actions regarding Henry Hanover are any indication, you do not wish that for yourself.”

  Henry Hanover! How she wished she had never heard the name!

  The truth of Father’s statements showed Abigail that her rejection of Cecil bore real consequences. Her heart beat with newfound fear. What if Cecil went home and told Tedric that she was a loathsome, ill-mannered creature? What if Cecil demanded that Tedric never see Abigail again?

  Seventeen

  Tedric waited with a sense of anticipation, wistfulness, and dread. In times such as these, he reached for his Bible. Tonight the darkness forbade it. All he could do was to wait in the carriage. Wind whistled past outside. He shivered, grateful that at least he was sheltered from the night air.

  He wondered what was happening inside the Pettigrew manor house. Surely by this time, they were all celebrating. Then again, wouldn’t they have invited him in to share in the joy?

  Tedric’s thoughts concentrated on Abigail and Cecil’s betrothal. He imagined the nuptials would take place in the autumn, with the leaves at peak color. He pictured himself standing beside his brother, watching him take the wedding vows that he should be taking. He would watch helplessly as his brother kissed his new bride.

  Tedric bristled. He tried to peer into the windows of the house, but he couldn’t see anything through the closed draperies. If only Abigail could break away long enough to tell him what was transpiring!

  No. He couldn’t think of Abigail any longer. Tedric had kept his thoughts to himself as much as he could when Cecil had confronted him, but he feared the expression on his face re
vealed more than he intended. Did everyone, including his future sister-in-law, know he loved Abigail?

  He groaned.

  Father in heaven, I beg of You, give me strength!

  At that moment, Tedric heard Cecil’s footfalls as he made his way toward the carriage. Just outside, he heard Cecil instruct the driver to take them home. The door creaked open, and Cecil entered the carriage. He took the seat beside Tedric.

  “What happened?” Tedric was aware of the pleading tone his voice conveyed.

  “We can discuss that when we arrive home.”

  Why did Cecil’s tone sound ominous, somehow?

  Minutes ticked by as they rode in silence. Unable to discern anything from Cecil’s expression, Tedric speculated about what Cecil would tell him once they were alone. He prayed that the news wouldn’t devastate both families.

  “Let us go to the library,” Cecil suggested as they disembarked in front of the house. “The fire should still be warm there.”

  Tedric nodded. His stomach knotted. He hurried to the library, but not before Cecil could instruct the maid to bring him a glass of port. As soon as the brothers entered the room, they sat in opposite chairs in front of the fireplace. Though dying, the embers still emitted a degree of warmth.

  “I want to know what happened,” Tedric said. “You hardly seem like a man looking forward to his wedding day.”

  “That is because I am not such a man,” Cecil answered. “The betrothal is off.”

  “Off?” Tedric paused. He had to let the news register. “I do not believe it. Pettigrew would never risk the legal repercussions of breaking a contract with a Sutton.”

  “He did not break it. I did.”

  “You must be daft,” Tedric said.

  “Crazy? Perhaps.”

  “Why did you do it?” Tedric wondered.

  “You are no small part of the reason, brother dear.” Cecil leaned toward him. “Why did you not tell me that the little miss had fallen in love with you?”

  Spasms erupted in Tedric’s stomach as his emotions roiled. “What did she say after I left?”

  “Nothing. She did not need to say a word. And neither did you. You allowed me to go over there and make a fool of myself. I hope you had a good laugh.” Cecil snapped. He leaned back and folded his arms over his fleshy chest.

  “On the contrary, I find nothing humorous about my brother being made to appear foolish in front of others,” Tedric said. “But if I may be permitted to say so, brother dear, you are a fool.”

  “What is that?” Cecil’s eyes narrowed.

  “Just because Abigail misunderstood and thought herself in love with me does not mean you should not marry her.”

  The maid interrupted. “Your wine, M’lord.” She handed him a glass of port containing a great deal more liquid than was customary for most gentlemen to consume in one sitting.

  “Thank you. And tell Mrs. Farnsworth that we need more logs on this fire.”

  “Yes, M’lord.”

  Cecil held his glass up to the light of the fire. “At least here we have the proper vintage. The Pettigrew stock is quite inadequate.”

  “That should be of no surprise to you. Of course they do not have our resources—or your keen interest in wine,” Tedric couldn’t resist adding.

  Cecil took a swig and lifted his glass. “A fine vintage. Worth waiting for.” He narrowed his eyes at Tedric. “Not unlike waiting for your Miss Pettigrew?”

  “My Miss Pettigrew? No, Cecil. I never did anything the least bit improper with her. She is your betrothed, not mine.”

  “Was my betrothed.”

  “I am hoping you will come to your senses and beg Pettigrew to keep the contract intact. If you perceive any threat from me, then you are mistaken,” Tedric assured him. “I plan to move to London after the wedding.” Even as he made the promise, Tedric clenched his teeth in regret.

  “So I was right about that look in your eyes,” Cecil said. “You are in love with her.”

  “I said no such thing.”

  “You would not be planning to move if you were not afraid of being in the same house with her.”

  “I am not afraid,” Tedric protested. “ I–I just—”

  Cecil laughed. “Spoken like a befuddled, besotted man so deep in love he is likely to drown in it.”

  Though not prone to blushing, Tedric felt his face flush hot. He was nevertheless determined not to look as silly as a schoolgirl. He stared into his brother’s eyes.

  “I see you are unable to deny it.” A sly smile crossed Cecil’s lips. “Never mind. I rather enjoy your discomfort. You certainly have seen me in unflattering states often enough. It is about time the tables were turned.” Cecil chuckled and then took another swallow of port. “Just realize here and now that you will not be moving.”

  “I beg your pardon?”

  “You heard me,” Cecil said. “You will stay right here at the estate. And if you know what is good for you, you will marry Miss Abigail Pettigrew.”

  Tedric’s beating heart betrayed him. Could Cecil really mean what he said? “Cecil, you are drunk.”

  “For once, I am not. I am perfectly sober.” He downed the rest of his drink as though the action would prove his point. “I must say I was rather surprised by Miss Pettigrew.”

  “Surprised?”

  “Yes. Due to her young age, I was expecting a meek, mousy little thing.” Cecil poured himself another glass of port. “I found her to be pleasant enough in appearance, though her temperament was more fiery than I expected.”

  Tedric smiled. “You have described her well.”

  Cecil didn’t return his smile. “I am almost sorry she came to mistake you for her betrothed.”

  “For that, I do beg your forgiveness once again. Surely you realize I never meant—”

  Cecil shook his hand at Tedric as he always did when he was annoyed with his little brother. “Yes, yes. I know. You are too much of a prig to try to steal her away intentionally.”

  Tedric felt his lips tighten. Cecil’s habit of labeling him a prig was vexing, but to challenge Cecil at that moment meant he could lose his brother’s forgiveness—and Abigail.

  “The whole mistake is understandable, really,” Cecil babbled. “She doesn’t know our family. We were both away at school since she was a child, and Father was a recluse himself after Mama’s death.”

  “You need not tell me,” Tedric agreed. “Abigail’s presence brought a life to this place I hadn’t seen in twenty years.” Tedric froze. He had once again said too much. “I beg your pardon—”

  “Pardon for what? Complimenting the woman who was to be a member of this family?”

  Tedric let out a sigh. “Cecil, you say you are no fool, but in breaking the betrothal you have just relinquished a fine lady. She has a good name, and she is certain to be a fine mother.”

  “I shall not waste time arguing that point,” Cecil answered. “I have no worries. I can easily make other plans. There are more ladies in need of a husband than there are eligible eldest sons, you know.” He sent Tedric a confident nod.

  “I know.” Mothers of eligible ladies sought Cecil’s company for their daughters despite his lack of character.

  “I have at least two promising prospects among the ladies of my acquaintance in London.” Cecil puffed out his chest with pride and then gulped more port.

  Tedric recalled one brassy lass in particular. “I know you have no need of money, but please do not tell me you mean to marry Lizzie.”

  “Oh, no.” Cecil threw back his head and laughed. “I may be a rogue, but I am not a madman. Lizzie and I will always enjoy each other’s company. My future wife will know about our little arrangement, and she shall turn a blind eye.” Cecil stared into the fire. His voice became distant. “I am not sure that Miss Pettigrew, with her obvious idealism and youth, would be so willing.”

  The thought that Abigail, a woman certain to devote her heart to the man she married, would be treated with such utter disrespect, sent
ire through Tedric’s being. “I doubt it,” he answered. “She is devout.”

  Cecil returned his full attention to his brother. “Then I should say she is a perfect match for you, Tedric.”

  A perfect match! So even Cecil could see that Abigail was the answer to Tedric’s many hours of prayer. Still, he hesitated. “I cannot take her, Cecil, even if she would have me. I must remember our family honor.”

  “Family honor? Ha! I have ruined our family honor for years, and I am still the most sought-after bachelor in the parish.” Cecil leaned over and patted him on the knee. “Tedric, you know firsthand that I have not led what most people would think is a very good life. I have enjoyed my pleasures far away in the city while leaving you here to tend to the estate. I have broken a few hearts and wasted a fortune along the way.”

  “It is not too late, you know. If you approach God with sincere prayer and a repentant heart, He will forgive you everything. He will give you a new life, a life much more fulfilling than anything you have ever known or can ever imagine.”

  “Really?” Cecil shook his head. “I believe I still have plenty of time to be good. Sometime, when I am old and gray and have grandchildren running about and sitting on my knee, that is the time I will be ready to be good.”

  “Mother forced you to attend worship services enough to remember what Proverbs says,” Tedric reminded his brother. “ ‘Boast not thyself of tomorrow; for thou knowest not what a day may bring forth.’ ”

  “Committing Scripture to memory was never my strong suit as it is yours, brother dear.”

  Cecil’s voice was reprimanding enough to bring to an end Tedric’s speech. Helpless to stop his brother, Tedric watched him finish a second glass of port.

  “As you can see, at this moment I am enjoying myself. In the meantime,” said Cecil, “God and I have an understanding. So do not worry about my mortal soul. I am sure God has better things for you to do than to vex yourself over me.”

  “But I do,” Tedric said. “I pray for you each day.”

  “I suppose I should thank you for that.” Cecil sent Tedric a bittersweet smile. “In return, will you let me do one good thing for you? Will you let me do one unselfish thing in my life?” He paused. “Please, go over to the Pettigrews’ tomorrow. Ask Abigail to be your wife.”