by Abigail Agar
Gwyn’s mother had often told her that men were frivolous things prone to mischievous pursuits and dalliances with mistresses. Of course, Gwyn had merely thought that perhaps that was just other men. Jack had never seemed the sort, and he had always seemed as devoted to Gwyn as she was to him.
Shaking her head, Gwyn turned her back on the window and threw herself across the bed. It was a terribly dramatic thing to do, but Gwyn did not care. No one was there to see her, and she had no interest in listening to anyone at the moment, so that was just as well.
A few moments later there was a knock on the door before her mother’s voice called, “Gwyneth, Lord Jack Shelton has just been to see you.”
Gwyn rolled over and got up. She smoothed down her dress before she answered the door. Gwyn asked quietly, “Did he seem upset?”
“Should that matter?” Lady Stanton asked as her eyebrows angled up curiously. Without giving Gwyn the chance to answer the woman continued, “He seemed a bit bewildered at the news that you were leaving England. He’ll survive, and you must do what you need to do, Gwyneth. Now, you should rest. Your trip will exhaust you, otherwise.”
Gwyn nodded and said, “Thank you, Mother. I shall try.”
When Lady Stanton gave Gwyn a pleased smile and turned to leave, Gwyn eased the door closed. Her eyes stung with denied tears. Gwyn sat down heavily on the bed. By this time tomorrow, Gwyn would be well on her way from England. Gwyn fell back onto the bed and stared at the ceiling as she muttered, “Away from England and from Jack Shelton.”
***
“What do you mean she is going back to India?” Henry asked as if he did not quite understand what Jack had said.
Jack set the glass he had just lifted to his lips down on the table far harder than necessary. He had only just come in to grab a tumbler of brandy when his brother had found him in their father’s study. While Henry was the heir apparent and inherited the titles, Jack knew that even his mother held little hope that Henry would settle down any time soon.
“I don’t really feel like talking about it. I regret already with impunity that I mentioned it to you, to begin with,” Jack said with aggravation to his older brother.
Henry took no offence at Jack’s tone and carried on as if they were having a most civil conversation. “Did she not say why she was going back to India?”
“I did not speak with her,” Jack ground out before he downed the remainder of the tumbler of spirits. He placed it back on the tray and sighed. “I spoke only to the doorman and her mother as Gwyneth was resting for her return journey.”
Henry frowned, clearly dissatisfied with some portion of the tale. “It does not square up,” Henry said as he pursed out his lips in thought. It was an expression that Jack had often compared to a fish, but it gave him no amusement at present. Henry shook his head and continued, “If she were going to just return to India, it would have been easier and more cost-efficient just to remain in India and merely write home to inform them of her state of mind.”
“I’ll admit,” Jack agreed, “that it does seem an odd solution, but Gwyneth never was much for letting what was most logical get in her way.”
Henry nodded and eyed his brother with worry. “They told you why she went back to India, didn’t they? You are just too noble to admit it, am I right?”
“Yes,” Jack said wearily, “they told me.”
Henry motioned Jack to continue as he poured himself a tumbler of brandy as if he had been inspired to drink by Jack’s tale. “And what would that reason be?”
“She’s going to marry some man of God that she met there,” Jack said with a deep frown. “I wish I could say that I was joking.”
There was a long pause that ended with Henry pouring a second tumbler of brandy for Jack who gratefully took the glass of spirits from his brother. “Well, here is to finding out before the betrothal had been cast in stone,” Henry said as he tried to muster a jovial laugh.
Both young men solemnly took a drink out of their tumblers. Jack said quietly, “I suppose that is true. I do not think I have had time to fully reconcile all of it. I keep expecting her to burst through those doors and tell me that it was an ill-timed prank.”
“When will you tell Mother?” Henry asked curiously. “She is quite busily planning out your married life, after all.”
Jack looked at the glass in his hand and nodded. “I think she was always more excited about the prospect of Gwyn and I marrying than either Gwyn or I.” Jack sighed, “I should tell her soon.”
“I imagine she will not be too pleased with young Gwyneth after this,” Henry noted.
The thought had occurred to Jack that this could put the alliance of their two families quite in jeopardy. Having friends and allies were necessary for this day and age with the war waging in France. Jack made a decision and told Henry, “Speak not of why Gwyn is forsaking the betrothal. It will do no good to have our two families at each other’s throats. I will simply tell Mother that the betrothal will not happen. These things do unfortunately happen, and it should not affect the future of the friendship that our families have built over these long years.”
Henry eyed his little brother for a long moment before he said, “I do believe you missed your calling, Little Brother. You have the makings of a good ambassador.”
“Yes, well, I think I have also decided that England is not the place for me right now,” Jack said earnestly. “With Gwyn gone, it will be nothing but a hollow reminder, and I want to make something of myself. You have the Dukedom to keep up, and I believe I shall do as Father has been asking and sign on with the army.”
Henry’s mouth set in a distressed thin line. “Little Brother, I cannot bear the thought of you at war. I do wish you would reconsider.”
“You are just upset that I will not be around to clean up your messes, Big Brother,” Jack said with the first hint of a smile since he had returned from Stanton Manor.
Henry nodded solemnly. “Perhaps that is so. I still do not fancy you with more holes than you have now,” Henry said wryly.
“Nor do I,” Jack agreed heartily. “I will endeavour to avoid projectiles and sharp objects.”
Henry chuckled. “You do that, Little Brother. You do that.”
***
The next morning early and bright, Jack heard rather than saw the carriage leaving Stanton Manor. There were the sounds of people and horses. There were shouts of well-wishes, and Jack finally permitted himself to look out of his bedroom window that was at one of the corners of Shelton Hall. He just caught a glimpse of the carriage leaving, the wheels clicking and clacking over the cobblestones that paved the country lane.
Jack dressed with the help of his manservant. Normally, Jack would strike up a conversation with the young man, but he had much on his mind today. When he was dressed appropriately, Jack went downstairs to find his mother.
Lady Shelton was seated primly in her favourite sitting room with an embroidery loom laid on the soft cushion beside her. “You are up early,” she noted with a smile that soon faded when she saw her son’s face. “What is the matter, Jack?”
Jack sat down in one of the overstuffed chairs near his mother. He had always loathed the chairs with their pattern of pears and apples, but today he found them slightly comforting. “Gwyn and I have called off the betrothal,” Jack said as quickly as he could just to get the words out.
“You cannot call off something that never was, Jack,” his mother corrected. “Now what is this all about?”
Jack lifted his shoulders helplessly and said, “Things just sometimes do not work out, Mother. This is one of those things. I do not wish there to be any ill will between our families because of our silliness.”
“Of course not,” Lady Shelton said simply. “I would never be so childish as to hold a grudge over such as that. It is hard to make any marriage work, and it is better to have the good sense to see the faults and acknowledge them.”
Jack nodded. He felt relieved that his mother seemed to be willi
ng to accept his version of events. It would make things easier in the long term, even if Jack himself wanted little to do with the Stanton family at the moment. Jack cleared his throat. “I thought I heard Father come in late last night. I trust his business dealings in London went well?”
“You would have to ask him. I have not as yet been graced with his presence,” Lady Shelton said with a soft laugh.
Jack nodded and stood up. “I am going to join the army, Mother. I need to speak with Father about it, but I just want you to know.”
The woman looked stricken at first, but gradually she returned the smile to her face with effort. She said softly, “If that is where your future pulls you then, so be it. Just be safe, Jack.”
Jack took hold of his mother’s hand that she held out to him. The woman clung to his hand desperately. Although she would never beg him not to go, Jack could feel it in her trembling fingers. “I will do my best to return safely, Mother. I just feel this is something I have to do right now,” Jack said gently to the woman.
Lady Shelton nodded as she reached her free hand up to brush Jack’s hair out of his face, much as she had done when he was a child. “Then you have to follow your heart, Jack,” she said with a smile. “I understand that, but it is hard for a mother to let her child go to such a dangerous fate.”
“I will return,” Jack promised.
Lady Shelton squeezed her son’s hand. “You always have kept your promises. I will hold you to this one as well.”
***
Gwyn looked out the window of the carriage as it bumped along the cobblestone road. It would be a long time before she saw her home again, and she looked at it with deep sadness. It was her fault and her choice to run away, but Gwyn’s heart had left her with no choice at the moment.
She had not even been able to bear a glance at Shelton Hall, let alone hold a conversation with Jack. Her heart ached for the boy she knew. It was hard to rationalize the man that Jack had become with the boy he once was. In the space of one year had Jack really changed so much?
“I wish I had never gone to India to live with Aunt Mabel,” Gwyn whispered fervently.
The maid who accompanied Gwyn looked at her in alarm. “Miss? Are we not to be travelling?”
“I meant when I left originally with my aunt,” Gwyn clarified. She looked over at the young woman seated next to her. “It must be hard for you to be forced to go with me.”
The maid shook her head and said quietly, “Not really, Miss. I was chosen to go because I don’t have any family here anymore. The other girls have children or parents to look after.” The young maid eyed her mistress curiously. “No disrespect, Miss, but I thought you were set to marry that young man across the fields.”
“Jack and I were planning to be wed,” Gwyn said as she blinked away tears. “Things change, though, Sarah.”
The maid nodded. “I suppose they do, Miss.” There was a knowing in the young woman’s eyes. Sarah was a couple of years older than Gwyn, and her life had obviously held some tragedy that Gwyn dared not pry into.
The young women looked out the windows as the only home they had known fell further and further behind them. Perhaps it was for the best, Gwyn thought. Sarah could be away from the shadows of whatever past haunted her, and Gwyn could potentially find a suitable match in India. There were plenty of gentlemen who resided there, after all.
It was with the staunch determination of her mother that Gwyn faced her uncertain future. She had made her choice, and she was going to see it through no matter where it took her. Sarah looked over at Gwyn and gave her mistress a brave smile. “India might be good for us,” Gwyn said to the maid.
“It will be an adventure, Miss,” Sarah agreed. “I’ve never even been outside the township much, let alone the country.”
Gwyn laughed. “Then you are in for a treat,” she told the maid. “India is really quite lovely. The food is delicious and the people vibrant. Near my aunt’s home, there are fields of awash in colours from the produce the locals grow. There are streets strung with fabrics so soft that you want to wrap up in them and the smells of spices drift on the wind like wildflowers.”
“The way you describe it, I’m surprised you left at all,” Sarah said with a grin.
Gwyn’s mouth dipped into a frown, and she said, “I had a good reason to come home, or I thought I did. However, like I said, things change.”
“He must have hurt you something fierce,” Sarah said softly.
Gwyn shrugged. “I am not even certain that he knows that I know his secret. Truthfully, he probably is quite upset with me, but I am not going to let thoughts of rogues such as Jack Shelton get in the way of my tomorrow.”
“Hear, hear,” Sarah cheered quietly to keep the driver from overhearing. “Men can be quite the despicable lot. I heard that Jack’s brother is quite the rogue himself. He got my friend Bess let go from Shelton Hall because he wouldn’t let her alone.”
Gwyn gasped, “That’s horrible.”
“And not the first time he’s done similar from what I’ve heard from the Shelton’s staff,” Sarah said with disdain. “I think you are better off away from that lot, Miss.”
Gwyn had to agree. “It would appear so,” she whispered. “It is so odd that you can think you know someone and yet not really know them at all.”
“They can be satisfied with their ridiculous conquests,” Sarah said as she grew more comfortable with Gwyn. The young lady was nearly her age, and Gwen could already feel a friendship growing between them. Sarah smiled. “We have adventures ahead of us, you and I.”
“So true,” Gwyn said with a bright smile as she clasped her hands together in her lap. “I’m glad you are here to share them with me, Sarah.”
Sarah smiled, “Me too.”
Chapter 2
(Four years later)
Gwyn stood with her aunt and greeted the visitors. Aunt Mabel had married Major Thomas Gallagher the year before, and Gwyn had instantly known that her aunt and Major Gallagher had one aim. That aim was to see Gwyn happily married off to one of the local officers of the British Army, or perhaps that reverend that had made the mistake of chatting with her too fondly.
Being in India had been a wonderful retreat until Major Gallagher got it into his head that it was somehow his duty to see poor spinster Gwyn off to a good life. A letter from home had filled Gwyn with happiness, but the news it bore was dire. Gwyn’s father had been taken ill, and Gwyn’s mother was requesting her return.
The knot in Gwyn’s stomach at the prospect of returning home told her that being in India had not taken away the hurt of why she had left. Yet, she had no choice but to return. Gwyn set her mind to go home and act as if nothing had happened.
Sarah came in with clean towels and gave Gwyn an odd look. “Are you quite alright, Miss?”
“Yes,” Gwyn said unconvincingly. “I’ve just received word that my father is ill. We’ll have to return to England.” Gwyn paused and looked at the maid. “You don’t have to return with me, Sarah. I know that you fancy that boy who runs the fruit stand down the road. Why don’t you stay and see what comes of it?”
Sarah smiled and shook her head. “For someone who is always talking about how foolish love is, you are still a romantic soul, Miss Gwyn.”
“I don’t think love is foolish for most people, Sarah. I just find it a poor choice for myself,” Gwyn said with a shrug.
Sarah frowned but let the subject go. “Do your aunt and uncle know yet?”
“No. They only know that I’ve received a letter,” Gwyn said quietly. “I shall have to tell them so I can get passage back as soon as possible.” Gwyn stood up and took a deep breath. “No time like the present.”