by Lucy Muir
“May we, Papa?” Anne begged.
“Yes, but not today,” Lord Woodforde answered. “Now, back to your lessons while I escort Miss Trevor to her horse.”
Catherine and Lord Woodforde walked slowly down the stairs to the entrance hall. For a very few moments, Catherine realized, she had forgotten the existence of Lord Edgecombe and her betrothal and simply enjoyed herself. She stole a sideways look at Lord Woodforde, the man who had been her faithful friend for so many years. It was strange; in many ways the appearance of Woodforde and Edgecombe was similar. They both had fine figures of above average height, dark hair, and dark eyes. But Lord Woodforde’s presence conveyed solidity and worthwhile Lord Edgecombe’s conveyed an outer appearance of refinement and elegance but with little or no warmth. Except, she thought with a sigh, when he was animated by the desire to obtain an object for one of his collections. Catherine had a sudden desire to confide all her troubles to Lord Woodforde. Surely he, of all people, would know how she might persuade Lord Edgecombe to release her. Then, remembering the two lectures she had received from Woodforde regarding Lord Edgecombe in this very house not so long ago, along with Lord Woodforde’s new interest in Miss Louisa Ellsworth, the impulse died.
“You must bring Anne and Miss Hervey to see William tomorrow,” Catherine urged instead.
“I have engaged to accompany my steward on an inspection of the home farm at ten o’clock,” Woodforde told Catherine. “With harvest time here I cannot delay that appointment, but I could bring them earlier, if that would suit.”
“That would suit admirably. You know I always keep country hours,” Catherine added as they exited the house and walked down the steps to where the groom waited with Damask. “My sister-in-law has not yet corrupted me to rise at ten.”
“Miss Trevor,” Lord Woodforde began, and then trailed off.
“Yes?”
The marquess hesitated, and his face closed. “It is nothing. Have a safe ride home, Miss Trevor. Good day.”
“Good day, Lord Woodforde,” Catherine replied, wondering what the marquess had been going to say.
Catherine returned home in a thoughtful mood which she was unable to shake off, for it had struck her, while she was acknowledging the honorable character of Lord Woodforde, how little her own character could stand up to the same measure. Was she not honour bound to go through with a marriage she had willingly contracted, just as she knew Lord Woodforde would have honoured any of his offers to her, whether made in jest or no, had she accepted one? The only honourable way out would be to obtain Lord Edgecombe’s agreement, and of that she had little hope.
Still thoughtful, Catherine changed from her riding dress and descended the stairs to join her aunt and sister in the small drawing room where they waited for dinner to be served.
“Miss Louisa Ellsworth called to see you while you were out riding,” Lady Manning informed her niece as she took a seat next to her aunt.
“Louisa?” Catherine repeated, surprised. She had seen very little of her neighbor since her betrothal to Lord Edgecombe.
“She appeared very desirous of speaking with you. She asked me to inform you she will call again two days hence as she cannot come tomorrow, and asks that you receive her then if it is convenient.”
Puzzled, Catherine agreed to remain available when her promised caller arrived two mornings hence. As she walked slowly up the stairs to her chamber, a terrible thought struck her? Could Louisa be coming to tell her that she was betrothed to Lord Woodforde? Was that what Lord Woodforde had been going to say to her this very morning? What other reason would there be for Louisa to be so urgent? If that were to be the case, Catherine suddenly realized, she would as lief depart Rosemont and not have to see the two as husband and wife.
The next morning brought visitors in the persons of Lord Woodforde, Anne, and Miss Hervey, as promised. After making her curtsey to Lady Manning, Anne ran eagerly over to Catherine.
“Please, may we see William now?” she asked.
“Yes, of course,” Catherine agreed, glad her visitors had arrived before her sister-in-law and her children had finished their breakfast, for she was certain her nephews and niece would protest Anne being allowed to visit the hare they were not allowed to see. “Miss Hervey? Do you wish to see William also?”
“Thank you, Miss Trevor, I should,” the young woman agreed.
Catherine led her visitors to the garden door and unlocked it. “Now we must be very quiet until William is accustomed to you,” she warned. “And you must move very slowly. William becomes frightened at quick movements.”
She opened the door and entered first, followed by the Anne, Miss Hervey, and Lord Woodforde. “You can see his nose poking out of his house,” Catherine told the visitors in a soft voice. “Sit down on the ground and wait. He does not know you, so he will be a bit frightened, but he may come over to you if you are still enough.” She looked apologetically at Lord Woodforde. “I did not think to bring a treat for him. That might have coaxed him nearer.”
“But I did not forget,” Lord Woodforde replied with a smile, pulling an apple from his pocket. “And I brought a case-knife to slice it.” So saying, he cut the apple in four pieces and handed them to Catherine.
Catherine took the slices of apple with a smile of thanks, knelt on the ground, and handed one to Anne. “Hold this out in your hand and keep very still. If William smells it he may come to take it from you.”
Obediently, Anne did as she was told. Before long, William’s nose twitched and he cautiously stuck his head out of his house. Seeing the strangers remained motionless, he came forward, his ears pointing over his head and his nose wiggling very fast. When he reached Anne he looked her over carefully and then stretched out his head and grabbed the apple piece from her, running back into his house with it. Anne giggled, but remained still.
“It is your turn Miss Hervey,” Anne informed her teacher.
Miss Hervey also held out her hand with a piece of apple on it, and this time William did not run away with the apple but grabbed it off the young woman’s hand and remained in place to chew it, his mouth going side to side in a comical motion. When he swallowed the last bit he looked at Anne and Miss Hervey inquiringly, and when no more apple was forthcoming, he stretched his neck out, took hold of Anne’s skirt with his teeth, and jerked. Smiles wreathed Anne’s face as she tried not to giggle again and frighten away her new friend. Catherine handed the young girl another piece of apple and this time William ate it from her hand.
“You must give William the last piece, Papa,” Anne commanded, seeing only one piece of the apple remained.
Nodding in agreement, Catherine gave Lord Woodforde the last piece of apple. Slowly he knelt on the ground and held out his hand with the fruit. William surveyed the new person offering him a treat, decided he was acceptable, and hopped over to take it.
Watching, Catherine felt a pang. Never would Lord Edgecombe have knelt on the ground, careless of his fine attire, to allow a hare to take a piece of fruit from his hand. There was a depth of kindness in Lord Woodforde that did not exist in Lord Edgecombe. Lord Edgecombe could be courteous, charming, thoughtful even at times, but never had Catherine seen him perform a spontaneous act of kindness. In that moment she realized the truth of her aunt’s words when she had told Catherine that she had failed to choose a man worth a thousand of the one she had pursued.
“May we come to see William again, Miss Trevor?” Anne asked as Catherine relocked the gate a few minutes later.
“Yes, of course you may,” Catherine agreed. “Any time you wish.”
As she watched her visitors leave she wondered sadly why it was that so often in life one learned a lesson only when it was too late to benefit from one’s hard-gained knowledge. For even should the plan to free herself from her betrothal to Lord Edgecombe succeed, it was doubtful—after her recent rejections of offers Lord Woodforde had made quite clear were genuine—that he would ever make her another, even to provide Anne a mother. There
were too many other, more willing, women to whom he could give his hand. Women like Miss Louisa Ellsworth.
The following morning Catherine awaited Miss Louisa Ellsworth’s call in trepidation. An invitation to a dinner or ball at Ellsworth Hall would not require a personal visit, and a simple call would not be made at such a time nor have such urgency attached to it. She must be coming to tell Catherine of her betrothal to Lord Woodforde; there could be no other reason. Catherine glanced up at the clock, wishing to have the call over with. She had not long to wait, for her neighbor arrived shortly after nine o’clock, wearing a new winter hat and a redingote of red, a colour that set off her dark hair to great advantage.
“Miss Trevor, thank you for seeing me,” Louisa said, looking around the room. “Please forgive my early call, but I have need to speak with you in privacy. Has Mrs. Trevor arisen yet?”
Catherine became even more curious at her guest’s errand since she apparently had something confidential to impart.
“My sister does not arise until well after ten,” Catherine assured her visitor, “and Lady Manning is at her correspondence in the breakfast room. We are unlikely to be disturbed.”
Clearly ill at ease, Louisa removed one of her gloves and twisted it in her hands, staring unseeingly out the window. Then she lifted her head with an air of resolution and looked Catherine full in the face.
“You will no doubt think me odd, but I must say what I came to say, for you do not deserve him.”
“What is it you wish to say?” Catherine asked, now mystified, for surely if she had come to announce her betrothal to Lord Woodforde she would have no cause to hesitate.
Louisa took a deep breath. “The day you came to Ellsworth Hall to speak to Lord Edgecombe…I…I followed you when you went out to the shrubbery. I heard what was said between the two of you.”
Catherine flushed, mortified that Louisa had seen and heard what had passed between herself and Lord Edgecombe, and both angry and surprised that Louisa would confess to such a breach of good manners and decency. “If you have come to beg my pardon,” she said stiffly, “it is granted.”
“Beg your pardon!” Louisa exclaimed passionately. “Miss Trevor, I do not ask to be forgiven. I came to tell you I know you no longer wish to marry Lord Edgecombe, and indeed you do not deserve such a fine gentleman as the marquess. Such perfection of figure and character and taste, and you wish to be released from your betrothal! It is incomprehensible to me!
“I hoped that with time Lord Edgecombe would think about your behaviour that day and release you,” Louisa continued, “but now the banns have been read the first time. Lord Edgecombe apparently believes he must keep his promise to marry you. But you must not marry him, Miss Trevor, you must not!”
“I wish that equally to you,” Catherine responded coolly, “but Lord Edgecombe declares he will not release me, as you well know if you listened to our conversation.”
“I have a plan,” Louisa said abruptly.
“Indeed?” Catherine asked, looking at her visitor curiously.
“Yes. Most evenings at Ellsworth Hall my father, brother, Lord Edgecombe, and several other gentlemen play cards. Lord Edgecombe enjoys gaming excessively, and sometimes he and my brother get in rather deep. Miss Trevor, I know you have played with Lord Edgecombe before, my brother informed me of it. Why do you not play with Lord Edgecombe and wager for your release?”
Catherine looked at Louisa in surprise, and then in growing excitement. Louisa’s plan might succeed, if the gentlemen’s play grew deep enough and they were in their cups. Gaming gentlemen were known for the unusual wagers they were willing to make, especially when they were foxed. But how to arrange for that to happen?
“How could such a thing be arranged?” Catherine asked her guest, voicing her thoughts. “Lord Edgecombe rarely plays here at Rosemont and never excessively. Nor do I believe he would accept such a wager were he not deep in his cups.”
“I have thought of the means,” Louisa assured her. “You and Lady Manning must come to supper at Ellsworth Hall for an evening of cards. Lady Manning plays whist, so an invitation will not seem out of the ordinary. I shall make certain my brother’s gaming companions are also invited. After they have been playing some time you must go and ask to join the table with Lord Edgecombe. Then when enough wine has been drunk and the play is deep, wager your betrothal.”
“Your plan might succeed,” Catherine allowed after a moment’s thought. “You arrange the supper and I shall attend.”
Life is indeed strange, Catherine reflected after her guest had departed. Help from Miss Louisa Ellsworth, the last person from whom she would have expected it to come.
Chapter Twelve
The more Catherine considered Louisa’s plan the more she felt there was at least a possibility of it working. And if not, she thought philosophically, she would be no worse-off than she was at the moment.
That afternoon when Lord Edgecombe arrived for dinner, Catherine was almost cheerful, especially when she learned he came bearing an invitation from Lord and Lady Ellsworth to attend a supper and play cards later that week. Miss Louisa Ellsworth had clearly lost no time in making her arrangements!
Even Lord Edgecombe appeared to notice the difference in Catherine’s spirits, and commented on them as they gathered in the drawing room before dinner.
“You seem in high spirits Miss Trevor,” he said, taking a small parcel from his coat pocket. “Might I hope this small token will add to them?”
Catherine took the parcel, feeling guilty. Certainly Lord Edgecombe had been generous with gifts to her, which were always of impeccable taste. She unwrapped the parcel carefully, revealing a jeweler’s box. Catherine sprang the catch. Lying on a velvet bed was an exquisitely beautiful brooch of diamonds and enamel work, designed as a spray of wild roses.
“It is extraordinarily beautiful,” Catherine said sincerely, her sense of guilt increasing at this sign of her betrothed’s thoughtfulness and generosity. “Thank you, Lord Edgecombe. You are most kind.”
Curious, Judith leaned forward and took the box from Catherine, exclaiming at Lord Edgecombe’s taste and liberality, and her sister’s great fortune in being engaged to such a paragon.
“Dinner is served,” the butler announced, saving Catherine from more uncomfortable moments.
“Have you set the day for the wedding yet, Catherine?” her brother John asked shortly after they sat down at the table.
“Lord Edgecombe has chosen the Saturday before the first Sunday of Advent,” Catherine replied.
“To think that in less than three weeks we shall see you a marchioness!” Judith exclaimed. “I am so glad I insisted upon you going with me to order your wedding clothes this week, for otherwise they would not be ready in time.”
“My dear Miss Trevor, you had not informed me of this,” Lord Edgecombe commented.
“I had not the opportunity; we went but recently,” Catherine replied, avoiding looking at Lord Edgecombe by helping herself to more venison. She was not sure if it would be a good thing or bad should he feel she was becoming resigned to the marriage. Fortunately her brother John began a recitation of his achievements at the day’s hunt, and sporting exploits remained the primary topic of conversation until the dinner ended.
When the dinner was over, Lord Edgecombe did not stay at the table to drink port with her brother and Lord Trevor, but instead joined the women in the drawing room.
“Miss Trevor,” he addressed Catherine, “the light will hold for yet another hour. Will you take a turn upon the walks with me?”
“I think, Lord Edgecombe, the weather is rather chill for a walk,” Catherine prevaricated, disliking to be alone in the marquess’ company. “Perhaps we might sit by the fire in the small drawing room?”
“I shall wait for you to fetch your mantelet that you will not feel the cold,” he countered. “I wish to speak to you in privacy.”
Still uneasy, Catherine withdrew to fetch her fur-edged mantelet and hat and re
luctantly joined the marquess for a walk. Most of the leaves had fallen now, and the brittle remnants crunched under their feet in the grey twilight. They strolled to the banks of the stream and walked onto the wooden bridge that spanned the water at its narrowest spot. Lord Edgecombe paused at the center, leaning against the wooden toprail.
“Might I hope, Miss Trevor, that the fact you ordered your wedding clothes indicates you have decided to accept my direction and make the best of this betrothal you have entered into?” he asked.
“In verity it does not,” Catherine replied truthfully, although fearing any open defiance might lessen her chances of catching him off-guard at the Ellsworth supper Louisa was planning. “I still believe our characters are not well-suited, Lord Edgecombe, and that it would be a mistake for us to bind each other for life.”
“Might I then inquire,” the marquess asked, his voice laden with irony, “why less than two months ago you were anxious to become my bride. I do not believe I flattered myself to come to that conclusion at the time.”
“I did hope to marry you,” Catherine said straightforwardly. “But I was at fault to agree to a betrothal before we knew each other’s characters fully,” she added, looking at him unflinchingly. “We should have taken more time to become acquainted with each other before entering into a betrothal.”
Lord Edgecombe gazed back into Catherine’s clear grey eyes, his own dark ones giving away nothing of his thoughts. “I am sorry for it, my dear, for I have not changed my mind. The wedding will take place as planned.”
Catherine made no reply. Silently, the marquess held out his arm again and they re-crossed the bridge and returned the way they had come, back toward Rosemont. As they neared a particularly thick area of the woods where a few leaves still clung to a grove of oaks, the marquess suddenly veered off the path.
“We had best return to the house ere the sun sets, Lord Edgecombe,” Catherine said uneasily.
“A few minutes more will make no difference,” the marquess countered. “It is rare that we have a moment of privacy. Come,” he added, stopping under a tree and pulling Catherine into an embrace.