A Love Made to Measure

by Eliza Emmett

  “Hattie, I understand you are anxious, but biting your nails will not make anything better. Are you sure this gentleman is to be trusted?”

  Hattie looked back at Cora with indignant eyes. “Of course he is trustworthy. He is the best gentleman you can imagine. He is noble and kind. And very dependable. Something might be keeping him in London. Gentlemen can be very busy, you know.”

  “Fine, Hattie. Shall we have some tea to calm your nerves? We will look again later. For now, I would love to have a stroll.” She looped her arm in her sister’s and led the way.

  But later made no difference. The hours passed in a haze of colorful gowns, lemonade and tea, and cheers for the competitors, but no Mr. Mysterious showed his face. Cora worried for Hattie. Having known much disappointment, she didn’t want the same fate for her sister.

  Finally, at night in the inn, a lovely house with jolly yellow rooms and a cozy dining hall, Hattie took some vegetable soup while anchoring her elbows on the table, supporting her cheeks with her fists, and forgetting all propriety. There had been no messages, letters, or other communications to explain the absence of Mr. M, as Cora had nicknamed him in her mind.

  “I don’t understand it.” Hattie placed an elbow on the table and let her cheek rest on a closed fist. “I don’t understand any of it. I was assured he would be here.”

  Cora did not want to contaminate Hattie with her own current view of romantic affairs, of the price one paid for passion, even if thoughts of Grant Galavyin sent shivers of pleasure through her whole body any time she thought of him and the recent balcony episode. So she chose to cheer her sister on, despite all evidence pointing in a different direction.

  “I’m sure he would rather be here. There must be a good explanation for this delay. We can postpone our departure until noon tomorrow in hopes he might turn up in the morning.”

  “Noon? Must we leave that early, Cora?”

  “Yes, Hattie. There’s work to be done in London. I’m sorry.” She reached for Hattie’s free hand. “There’s no point in conjecture. Let’s go to sleep, and hope for the best tomorrow, shall we?”

  But Cora could not sleep. It wasn’t because of Hattie’s Mr. M, though. Even if she found it hard to admit it to herself, she was a little disappointed that Grant had not immediately followed her, begging her to take him back. But this was a fruitless hope. If he had, they would be doing this wishful, uncomfortable dance until the stress of family tensions caught up with them. If only she could forget his smile, his kisses, or his dexterity in the art of removing a nightdress, maybe her evening, and her life, would be easier. But as it was, she was awake until the early hours of the morning.

  ****

  Grant Galavyin was not having a pleasant day, and a splitting headache was only the latest insult. He was delayed in London by the worst of reasons. He hated the idea of seeing the man again, and even more of inviting the man to his house, but he would have the upper hand if he were in his own territory. He tried to take his mind off the unpleasant meeting by doing everyday tasks—paying bills, managing the books, settling accounts.

  He was writing letters in his study when Hudson, their butler, came to announce the arrival of Grant’s guest, if that was even the right word.

  “Lord Galavyin, Sir Rudolph Lester is here… Again.”

  Grant stopped all he was doing. “What do you mean again?”

  “He was here earlier, talking to your mother.” Hudson, whose face was usually that of a stone statue, raised an eyebrow.

  “To my mother?”

  “Yes, sir. Shall I show him in?”

  “Please do—wait!”

  Hudson stopped immediately.

  In a second, everything had fallen into place, and Grant knew exactly whom he needed to confront. His first instinct wasn’t absurd. It was right. There were no coincidences. There was simply deception. This man had not appeared out of nowhere. He had been summoned, and he was part of a much larger plan. The shop, the gossip, the lack of customers. It was all connected. It had been naïve of him not to realize from the start that his mother had masterminded multilayered plans that went much beyond mere verbal attempts to convince Cora this was not her place. But it was all finished now, and Sir Lester would be the first to hear about it.

  “Is my mother home?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Good. She will hear from me soon. Now tell that man to come in, Hudson. Please.”

  In no time, Rudolph Lester stood in front of Grant.

  “I’d invite you to sit, but I know you won’t be here long. In fact, I can guarantee it.”

  The smile that had hovered over Sir Lester’s lips was gone.

  “I understand this is not your first visit to my house.”

  “That’s right. Lady Galavyin was good enough to extend me an invitation once before.”

  “May I ask what could possibly need to be discussed between you, sir, and my mother?”

  Rudolph Lester snorted. “I’m not one to betray the confidences of a lady. If I were, there would be so much to tell about Cora Larsen.”

  Grant’s blood boiled. No one should dare speak of Cora in those terms anywhere, much less in front of him. Yet he was not about to let that man enjoy causing such distress.

  “Very well. You made a request that I stay away from Miss Larsen so that she would not get ‘confused.’ Your word, not mine. I called you here, Sir Lester, so that I could tell you in person that no, I will not stay away. I will actually stay very close. I will stay so close that if you try anything that could be detrimental to Miss Larsen’s wellbeing, I will be there to hold you accountable. I will be so close that if she has any complaints about you, any small qualms whatsoever, I will be right there to quiet them, and when I say close, I mean so close she will have to do nothing other than whisper and I’ll hear. You can also be certain that any agreement you might have with my mother is invalid and void as of this moment. Hudson will show you out. Good day, Sir Lester.”

  Grant Galavyin did not stay around to see the look on the other man’s face, but he hoped it was one of both surprise and defeat.

  He wasn’t done yet. It wasn’t Sir Lester who had put into motion a plan to separate Grant from Cora Larsen. A plan that would have the side effect of making Cora’s life so difficult she might break under the pressure. Worse yet, Lester was not his flesh and blood. He did not owe Grant the loyalty that one expects from family, but his mother did, and so he had to speak up.

  Grant had for the most part avoided confrontations with his mother out of respect for her and for the memory of his father. She was, after all, who she was, and all his life he had tried to honor that fact. But just how good was respect if it was one-sided? Her actions in this matter had never been about his happiness. They were only about power and status. She spoke a language he didn’t understand, and vice-versa, but he was going to make sure she understood his own words this time—very clearly.

  He found her in her private sitting room. He knocked lightly and simply went in. She was reading a book, a history tome. She wasn’t one to get lost in a novel. Emotional silliness, she called novels. She put the volume down when she saw him.

  “I need to speak to you. Better yet, I came here to tell you that the days of trying to meddle with my life are over. I have been a good son. I have my own life now. I am a man, not a boy, and you will not undermine my decisions.”

  “It seems the company you keep has already started to corrode your good manners. Since when do you speak to your mother in such a way?”

  “So you consider it good manners to try to destroy the life of a person who has done nothing to you? To scheme and plot, to call upon favors from Uncle and from the likes of Sir Rudolph Lester? Is that what good manners amount to?”

  “You are blind, Grant. This woman has done it before and is at it again. I’m only trying to protect you.”

  “You know nothing of Cora Larsen, and you know even less of me. If you did, you would have soon realized that your measures
of social standing and desirability mean nothing to either one of us. In the last few months, I have met people who truly are worth their weight in gold despite not having any of it. I have experienced friendship, courage, and compassion, and I am not willing to give up the best in life and the best in people in the name of what you call social standing. Not only that, I’m actually sad and sorry for you.”

  “Look around, Grant. Behold where I live, what I have conquered. What reason could you possibly have to feel sad for me?”

  “You are alone. You don’t have true friends. You only have things. And that’s why I’m so sorry for you.”

  “Don’t be absurd. By the way, I have written to the Beechworths and their daughter Mabel will be in town soon. It would be a wonderful opportunity for you to take her to a ball. I actually have confirmed with them that you will. She is a wonderful young woman and—”

  “I can’t believe you will pretend you heard nothing of what I’ve just said. You insist on your mistake. I’m afraid you are about to write an un-invite letter. Or else you will face the kind of social reprimand that you so detest. I love Cora Larsen and Cora Larsen only. I hope that soon the reality of that reaches you.”

  When he left his mother, Grant sat in a coach, this time staring out of the window without being able to appreciate the changing scenes outside his vehicle. As far as he was concerned, there was no joy in the park, no peace in the small party that was leaving a church, and no sweetness in the fruit that a vendor was bringing to the crates outside his shop. To talk to one’s mother that way was not correct.

  But it was even less fair for her to expect that he would watch her scheme and plot without any reaction. She had tested his nobility of spirit beyond what could be expected of a son. It was even less acceptable that she disregarded everything dear to him, and that Cora had to suffer the consequences of such actions. For that, she had to examine her own conscience. On his part, he was done examining his own.

  Chapter Eighteen

  The next day, heavy gray clouds blanketed the sky and announced rain. Cora doubted a day like that could bring any good news, but since she had promised Hattie to wait until noon, she decided to enjoy the hot breakfast laid in front of her: tea, broiled ham, fresh rolls, fried eggs, and some exquisite strawberries. When she woke up, Hattie was gone from their double room. Had her sister been searching that early for Mr. M, or had she busied herself with writing a letter or message in case he appeared after they had gone. She was sorry Hattie was missing this, as the food was excellent, but she was even more sorry that Hattie now faced potential heartbreak. Like the day before, she considered how, knowing too much about the disappointments of love, she didn’t wish them on anyone else.

  When she finished eating, Cora walked to the rose garden on the side of the cottage, and that is where she found Hattie, who stopped at every single flower to smell it. “Shall we go, Cora? The events of the regatta should start soon.”

  The morose search for the gentleman repeated itself for the next two hours until, having finally lost her patience, Cora went to pack and get ready to leave. It was inconceivable to wait even a minute more. And why did this gentleman not come to the house and introduce himself the proper way? And why had her sister not given any details of the acquaintance? She was angry now, her own problems with love clouding her perception of a man she had never even met.

  Hattie’s pleas could not stop her, and when she approached the rose garden once more, the rain that had announced itself in no uncertain terms caught up with her. Her dress was going to be ruined, her nervousness apparent, and she felt once more that her life, which she kept trying to tidy up, was slipping from her fingers, like water in the downpour. Her limbs shivered. The continuous stream of rain hit her skin. She wanted to go inside, make everything neat again, bathe in warm water, and leave. But she was glued to the garden, sorry for herself, and soaking wet.

  She was pondering these thoughts when through the curtain of rain that conferred a gray tinge to the air, Cora discerned the shape of a man in the distance. At first it was a faint outline, almost like a hazy idea. But in time, the shape became clearer, the specifics more visible. She drew closer, forgetting how the increasingly heavy rain was destroying her pretty gown.

  “That is not the way I’d imagined it,” said Grant Galavyin, “but I will take it any way, rain or shine.”

  “What are you doing here?”

  “I came to see you. I’m sorry for my plotting ways, but Addy and I got your sister to embellish the truth a little. With the best of intentions, of course.”

  “You mean there is no Mr. M?”

  “Who is Mr. M?”

  “Never mind.” She dismissed the thought with a hand.

  “Please don’t be mad at Hattie. Or Addy. They have only your happiness in mind. They love you very dearly…and so do I.”

  The rain was cold against her chest now, but Cora stood still. “Lord Galavyin, the point is moot. I don’t want to speak ill of your mother, but she has made my life miserable, she almost caused me to lose my source of income and the biggest source of pride in my life. And she expressed to me in the clearest terms that she would not allow a gold-digger to take her son away from the path she had chosen for him, a path that includes an advantageous marriage to a suitable heiress.”

  “That is why I am late,” explained Grant. “I was to have arrived yesterday, but I wanted to make sure my mother understood that I make my own decisions and that her interference is in no way welcome or tolerated. Sir Lester, who was in on the plot, also needed to be put in his place.”

  “The awful man. I knew there was something I couldn’t place in his proposal. And your mother, she agreed to that?” Cora made an extra effort to sound incredulous.

  “Of course not. She threatened to get my uncle to cut me out of his will, but I happily called her bluff. If she really chooses to do it, I will in truth not mind. I’ll have what really matters.” He smiled at her and took her hands. “Cora, I didn’t know the full extent of what she had done until yesterday. I had spoken to her several times in the last few weeks, but it was only yesterday, when I confronted both my mother and Sir Lester that I finally realized all that you had been through. I will never forgive myself for not being able to shelter you from that. And I now have to confess to my own guilt.”

  Cora’s body went rigid at that last revelation. It was as if her skin had finally become permeable to the rain that now fell without mercy. “Guilt?”

  “I meddled too. I made a deal with your current landlord. He was to charge you only a third of the rent and submit the rest of the bill to me. I also convinced my sister’s friends and the duchess to order dresses when the shop was in trouble. You are a proud woman and you would not have accepted my help. I don’t regret it, but I apologize for having hidden the truth from you. If I tell you the truth now it is because I want no secrets between us.”

  It finally made sense to Cora—she had a better shop at a fraction of the price. People had arrived in droves with expensive orders when she needed them the most, and he had looked after her at every new twist and turn.

  “I didn’t ask you to help me. I can take care of myself, you know. I have done it for a very long time too.” She crossed her arms.

  “Cora, I want to take care of you. I admit it. Not because I don’t believe you can do it yourself, but because you make me work for what I crave and for what is right. I love you. I love you for what you stand for, for who you are—serious and conscientious, kind and just. I love you as an equal, and even more, because you are a better person than I am.”

  That finally mollified her. She hoped he could see in her face that she would not fight anymore. His mother might put her to the test, and giving up even a yard of independence might be a trial, but she would rather be in the rain with Grant Galavyin, feeling her bones were drenched, than anywhere else in the world. And that must mean something.

  She let her arms fall to her sides. It was not a gesture of defeat, but of
victory. Pride could protect her but would only take her so far. She waited. She looked up in anticipation. And when he came closer, whispered, “I am yours, Cora,” and kissed her, she let him do it, eventually wrapping her arms around his neck to make sure he was going nowhere.

  Epilogue

  Grant Galavyin had hoped to kneel outside in the garden and ask for Cora’s hand in marriage, but given the rain, he decided to kiss her and then carry her inside to ask the question in front of the fireplace, with her sister as witness.

  Cora never used the information she had on Lady Galavyin, and she was very happy she had not. How much better would she have been if she became what she despised the most? The woman, probably to avoid too much contact with the couple and the Larsens in general, who were now part of the family, retired to the country where she spent most of her time. Her former friend, Lady Ashworth made sure to mar Lady Galavyin’s reputation with bits and pieces of information from her previous life and her hidden, humble origins. After being threatened by Lady Galavyin, Lady Ashworth had not rested until she unearthed information about Millicent’s past.

  Cora couldn’t conceive of having friends who cared about such banalities, and she was glad she and Grant surrounded themselves with kindness and love. They chose a simpler life. Their constant companions were the Croffords, Hattie, and a few friends and family members. They were more interested in the contents of one’s heart than in the weight of one’s name. Cora’s father, to whom they told only the romantic and not the wicked parts of the story, treated Grant like a son. Addy’s addition to the family did nothing to diminish the sisterly love between Cora and Hattie, and in time both Hattie and Addy became godmothers to Cora and Grant’s twins.

  Cora had immediately forgiven Hattie for lying about the mysterious Mr. M., having in the end understood her reasons and approved her initiative. In fact, Hattie explained, she hadn’t really lied that much—she had hoped for a fine gentleman to appear at the regatta, and few would disagree that Grant Galavyin was indeed rather fine.