A Chance Gone By (Brides By Chance Regency Adventures Book 2)

by Elizabeth Bailey

  A song followed, a duet in Italian performed in a reedy tenor by the man and an inadequate soprano by the woman. The disharmony scratched at Marianne’s nerves until she wanted to shriek at them to stop.

  The break afforded relief, but it quickly became apparent the stresses of the evening were not over.

  “Give me leave, ma’am,” said Lord Tazewell, with a slight bow towards Marianne.

  He then walked quickly off, and Marianne turned to find Jocasta in a state of high excitement.

  “He’s going to ask Justin for an interview.”

  For a moment the implication passed Marianne by. “An interview?”

  Jocasta changed her seat to the one next to Marianne and grabbed her hand, squeezing it painfully. She was clearly on the fidgets, but her cheeks were pink and her eyes sparkled. Marianne gazed at her in confusion.

  “What in the world has put you to the blush, Jocasta?”

  Her charge opened wide eyes. “Can you not guess, Marianne? And you so all alive!”

  Realisation hit. “Has he offered?”

  “No, but he is going to. When he saw Justin was here, he at once said he must speak to him. And he asked me if I should object. Of course I said no.”

  “But do you want to marry him?”

  Jocasta puffed out a breath. “I think so. He is excessively amiable and he adores me.”

  The inevitable question sprang into Marianne’s mind and she did not hesitate. “But do you adore him, Jocasta? Do you care for him at all?”

  Jocasta looked flustered. “I don’t know. I think I do. I like him very much at all events.”

  Instinct took over, despite Marianne’s utter destruction of her own hopes and dreams. “Do not, I beg of you, Jocasta, marry a man you are not certain you love. Tazewell is no doubt eligible in every way.”

  “Well, he is,” Jocasta insisted. “He’s exactly the sort of man I am expected to marry.”

  “Yes, but —”

  Her young cousin interrupted her without compunction. “I see what it is, Marianne. You won’t enter the married state yourself, so you can’t bear for me to do so either.”

  “Nothing of the kind! How can you think —?”

  “Hush, he is coming back!”

  Lord Tazewell was seen to be approaching, bearing a countenance that indicated his mission had prospered. Jocasta vacated his seat and he took it, leaning towards her, but Marianne overheard the whispered words.

  “Tomorrow morning at ten o’clock.”

  A sick feeling entered Marianne’s stomach. She acknowledged a sliver of truth in Jocasta’s accusation. There would be celebrations tomorrow, a shower of congratulation that ought to have been hers.

  An insidious thought stole into her mind. Had she agreed to marry Justin, would the news have been greeted with joy? Not by Grace certainly.

  Marianne’s heart began to hammer. Why had she not seen it before? Grace knew! She had long ago divined how Marianne felt. That was why she had told her about Lady Selina in the first place. Was that why she insisted upon an unmarried future where Marianne could only be her companion at the Dower House? She had been furious that night — was it not so much because Marianne had put herself forward, but rather because she had danced with Justin? If so, then she had wanted to know the substance of the fatal conference because she was afraid Marianne had succeeded. The reluctant conclusion must be that Grace was terrified of her cousin usurping her place.

  Even in the hurt of such blatant self-interest, Marianne could appreciate these feelings. Grace had taken her penniless cousin into her home, out of kindness and charity. It was understandable that the thought of seeing the orphan elevated above her was anathema. And Grace was peculiarly jealous of her position at the best of times.

  The cruelty of it cut at Marianne. Grace must be fully aware of how deeply Marianne loved Justin, yet she set the prospect of her own mortification above her cousin’s happiness.

  Well, she might rest on her laurels now, for the prospect no longer existed. And there was scant hope either Grace or Justin would put a bar in Jocasta’s way.

  The bleakness of her future stretched ahead of Marianne like a turbulent grey sea.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Grappling with settlements and the contracts drawn up by the lawyers provided Justin with enough distraction at the start. Having been through this on his own account when he became betrothed to Selina, he found his attention focused on ensuring Jocasta’s future security. Not that there was much difficulty. Tazewell was heir to a considerable patrimony and had taken possession of one of his father’s estates upon attaining his majority. He’d been well taught and had a steady reputation. Jocasta had done very well for herself.

  Tazewell was a few years older than his prospective bride, and was a model of sobriety, even in dress, favouring dark colours in coats that fitted without being moulded to his form and breeches covering his legs in preference to the more revealing pantaloons. Yet Justin had doubts of his ability to curb Jocasta’s volatility. The man was clearly besotted, as his own father had been with Grace.

  When the fellow had asked his permission to address Jocasta, Justin had found it hard to maintain his air of cool detachment. Under it, a streak of dismaying envy gnawed at him, forcing an obvious question. “Do you have reason to believe Jocasta returns your regard?”

  Tazewell’s pleasant countenance had reddened and he spluttered a little in his response. “Yes — yes, I believe I do, sir. She has not … well, I admit she has not said it in so many words. I mean, until I had spoken to you, naturally she would not be so forward.”

  Justin could not hold back a scornful laugh. “From what I know of my sister, Tazewell, a little matter of protocol would not deter her. Are you quite sure about this?”

  The fellow’s colour became more heightened still.

  “Positive, my lord. I must marry, of course, but I had not hoped to find a female for whom I could feel that sort of … that sort of… In short, sir, I love her!”

  This was flung at him with a defiance that could not but amuse Justin, despite its prick at his own deep disappointment.

  “My dear Tazewell, pray don’t imagine I disapprove. I am of your generation and I fully sympathise.”

  Looking relieved, Tazewell thanked him. “But do you give me leave to address Lady Jocasta?”

  “I have no objection. Indeed, I cannot but be glad her choice falls upon a man as eligible as you, if you want the truth.”

  This had the effect of making the fellow flush again, and Justin felt compelled to enter a caveat. “The trouble is, Tazewell, I can’t reconcile it with my conscience not to warn you that Jocasta is a flighty little piece with a mind of her own.” He saw his words were making the other man’s eyes kindle and threw up a hand. “Don’t take me up wrongly. I’m as fond of my sister as I could be, and I’ve encouraged her liveliness. But she can be outspoken and pert.”

  Justin found himself under instant fire.

  “Sir, your apprehensions are groundless. It is just these qualities that attracted me in the first place. Until I met Lady Jocasta, I had despaired of finding any but deadly dull, conformable creatures. But Jocasta is — is … well, she is very different, and if she will look upon my suit with favour, I assure you I will do everything in my power to make her happy.”

  After this, it did not surprise Justin to find his sister in raptures over the fellow. Whether her feelings went deep he could not judge, but he did not doubt her sincere attachment.

  “Oh, how can you ask me, big brother? I have the greatest affection for my dearest Tom. He is the kindest creature and so attentive to my comfort. How could I not care for him?”

  The flurry of excitement in the house served to lighten the dismal atmosphere that had prevailed since the hideous day etched in Justin’s memory. But it afforded him little in the way of relief, since he was obliged to remain when Marianne was present. The sheer torture of being in the same room dulled after a while, but would not erase since she
was as stiff as he knew himself to be. She might appear normal, but Justin knew her too well not to note the cracks in her armour.

  Despite the hurt she had inflicted, he could not but be affected by a ripple at her cheek, a clench at her jaw or the trouble he detected behind her eyes. He was forced to conclude that the estrangement was almost as painful to her as it was to him, and his mood worsened.

  Try as he might to deaden his feeling for her, he could not. It was rooted too deep. If only she’d cared as much. That she did care he could not conceal from himself. She was suffering, and he hated that. But a barrier had been passed and there was no way back that he could see. If he could recall his foolish offer, he would. Yet that would leave him just as he had been before, in an agony of indecision.

  Well, he’d taken the plunge and where had it got him? To a dreadful place where Marianne was no longer even a part of his life, but an incubus in his heart that threatened a future as dismal as if he had married Selina.

  In honour bound, he invited Tazewell to visit Purford Park, hoping it would serve the dual purpose of enabling the betrothed couple to become better acquainted and of distracting him.

  Although Tazewell was largely in Jocasta’s company, the necessity to entertain him cut into Justin’s attention to a degree that began to irk him within a very short space of time. It was galling to have to watch the expansion of the couple’s happiness in each other as he and Marianne became ever more distant.

  In exasperation, Justin sent to his cousin and begged him to join them. A third gentleman added to the party would at least dissipate the close attention on Jocasta and her dearest Tom.

  There should have been balm in the fact that Grace had begun to thaw a trifle towards her. To her consternation, Marianne could feel nothing but dismay and contempt.

  She felt she received Grace’s favour only because her cousin saw that the threat of a union between her and Justin was out of count. Perhaps too because her triumph in Jocasta’s success had mellowed her dissatisfaction. And of course she wanted to crow.

  Grace had basked for a mere week in the congratulation and envy of her acquaintance, and Marianne realised it was not enough.

  “I always believed my lovely girl would do well, but as you know, my dear Marianne, I did not prophesy her making so brilliant a match.”

  “No indeed, cousin, you were more prone to prophesy disaster,” Marianne returned before she could stop herself.

  Grace flushed, but waved dismissive hands. “You mistake me. I did not wish her to acquire a reputation for impertinence.”

  “As well none of us succeeded in curbing her then, for Tazewell positively enjoys Jocasta’s tactless outbursts.”

  “Nonsense, Marianne! How can you say so?”

  “Because I know it to be true, ma’am. He confided to me that he believes they spring from naivety and a lively mind. He says he finds it both refreshing and endearing.”

  “It is odd in him, dear Lady Purford, but it cannot be regarded as other than a benefit.” This from the Dragon, who was embracing with fervour her new role as Grace’s official companion. “Such a well set-up young man, too. So truly the gentleman. His manner towards you, dear Lady Purford, I thought showed just the right sort of deference.”

  This flattery soothed Grace’s ruffled feathers and she gave her attention with unconcealed preference to one who was more inclined to agree with her.

  Marianne had been inordinately relieved when Justin, having settled the matter with Miss Stubbings, announced the arrangement at dinner a few days after the family’s return to Purford Park. Her secret hope that it would release her from the burden of Grace’s demands was dashed, for her cousin was too used to asking Marianne when she needed something done. Though these days, she did not trouble to couch her requests in the caressing way she had used in the past. Was she bent upon demonstrating Marianne’s acceptable status?

  In one thing, however, Marianne found herself redundant. She was no longer Grace’s confidante. In her present dismal state, she was glad. But it hurt nevertheless.

  Jocasta’s shocked dismay at the Dragon’s continued presence in the house amused Marianne, but she pointed out to the incensed damsel that she would not long be obliged to endure Miss Stubbing’s company.

  “Yes, and thank heavens for it! Well, Tazewell is anxious for an early date and I had demurred, since there is so much to do. But I declare I am so disgusted with Justin, I shall tell Tom I have changed my mind.”

  In the event, the endless discussions about the preparations for the wedding occupied all four ladies almost to the exclusion of anything else, until Marianne was ready to scream. If she could have absented herself from these sessions, she would have. But since she was the only one with any real competence in the matter of arranging such an event, she was unable so to do. Every question was referred to her as a matter of course, just as had been the case for the last several years. In turn, she consulted Mrs Woofferton, but in private so that irrelevancies were eliminated and they got on a good deal faster.

  The arrival of Lord Tazewell put an end to this purgatory at least. Jocasta was rarely out of his company. Grace for once took up her position as lady of the house and played hostess, just as Justin was obliged to play host.

  Marianne found herself able to reduce her public role. Behind the scenes, she continued to oversee all the domestic issues that a guest and his retinue of servants necessarily created as well as the normal operation of a large household and estate. Not that Marianne had anything to do with the tenancies or those tasks which came under Justin’s jurisdiction as landlord. It was Marianne, however, who undertook the duties that lay more properly in Grace’s orbit. She was glad of the excuse to absent herself with more frequency than she’d been able to do in the past.

  There was old Mrs Soper to visit, and one of the women who had assisted with sewing the curtains for the new countess’s apartments, who had fallen ill. A garrulous dame, Peggy did not allow Marianne to depart without a great many oblique questions about the end of Justin’s betrothal. Since the matter was undoubtedly common knowledge all over the county, Marianne made no attempt at concealment, but steered the conversation into safer channels by dwelling on Jocasta’s more promising upcoming nuptials.

  She succeeded at last in bringing the visit to an end, and having made her farewells and left a basket of tasty provisions to tempt the woman’s appetite, Marianne walked briskly back along the well-worn path through the trees edging the Park. It was a warm day, but a chill breeze made her glad of the short nankeen-coloured jacket despite the thick muslin petticoats of the plain round gown she’d donned for the expedition.

  The path came out into the open grounds near the old oak with the integrated bench, and Marianne had the intention of stopping there for a breather.

  As she came out of the trees, she saw the bench was already occupied. Her heart jerked, and thumped painfully as she took in the blond bent head, the dejected pose as Justin leaned his forearms on his thighs.

  Just so had he sat that day — how long ago it seemed now — when she’d done her best to comfort him after Lady Selina’s defection. His pain then echoed in her breast, and the realisation of his misery threw her back into the overriding guilt that had plagued her ever since The Day of Disaster.

  She was tempted to sneak back into the trees and take the longer route around the lake via the little bridge that crossed it at the narrow end. Ridiculous. This was Justin, with whom she’d shared so much. Surely they could meet without falling out? So far, they had only been obliged to exchange the barest minimum of conversation, and that generally in company. Marianne had taken the precaution of ensuring Mrs Woofferton was with her when she was obliged to consult him about some domestic matter. Besides, she need only pass the time of day and move swiftly on.

  The moment she shifted into the open, Justin turned his head and saw her. He sprang up from the bench as if scalded, and stood there, chin up and stiffening from head to foot.

  Mariann
e’s mouth was dry, but she forced herself to speak. “Don’t disturb yourself. I am merely on my way back to the house.”

  Under the well-fitting blue frock-coat his shoulders relaxed slightly. “You’ve been on one of your missions?”

  “Peggy Baker is ill. She helped with sewing the new curtains for the…”

  Her voice died, the connotations of the preparations for Justin’s abortive bride too near the bone for comfort. He did not take it up.

  “I see.” A faint smile showed for an instant. “You seized the chance to escape? I don’t blame you.”

  An echo of the old familiarity spread warmth into the ice of Marianne’s bosom. She gave a tiny laugh. “You too?”

  He grimaced. “Tazewell is amiable enough, but…”

  He stopped, the implication unspoken. Consciousness returned. Marianne could not doubt but that he was finding the bubbling happiness of the betrothed couple as trying as was she.

  The little warmth dissipated and Marianne itched to be gone, even while the yearning to remain in Justin’s company thrummed deep inside. But not like this when distance yawned between them.

  “Well, I had best waste no more time.”

  He nodded and she turned to go. She had taken only a few steps when he spoke again. “Marianne…”

  It was soft, almost too low to reach her. But it stopped her on the instant. She looked back.

  Justin’s features had softened and the expression in his eyes dragged at her wailing heart.

  “Marianne, can we … is there no way back for us?”

  The words cut at her misery. She took a few steps towards him.

  “I wish there was, Justin.”

  He came closer until there was a bare couple of feet between them. “There ought to be a way. I miss my friend.”

  A lump formed in her throat and she blinked back the tears. “I too. Only…” She hesitated.

  “Only?”

  The prompt was accompanied by a swift frown, and the impulse to open her heart died. She adjusted what she had been going to say.