He shook his head several times. “I am convinced this would be a mistake,” he stated, but she could see that he was speaking to himself.
“Go to bed,” she stated wearily. “I am finished with my meal and I wish to retire.”
“This cannot be the end.”
“That is your choice, not mine.”
“Why do you insist on being difficult?”
“I will answer you if you will answer me this: why do you refuse to speak your heart?”
He was silent for a moment, his expression serious. “There is something I truly must know.”
Lucy felt greatly impatient with him, but she remained silent.
“I wish to know why you refused Henry’s offer of marriage.”
“So you know of that?”
“Yes, he told me at once.”
“This question I will answer—I do not love him. I cannot speak more plainly than that. He is a friend, nothing more.”
He nodded several times. “Very well.”
With that, he turned on his heel and quit the chamber. Lucy sighed heavily. She removed the tray from her bed and, without changing her clothes, crawled beneath the counterpane and fell into a deep, if somewhat troubled, sleep.
On the following morning Lucy sought out Mr. Frome, as she often did when she was troubled. She did not necessarily always speak of what was distressing her. Sometimes his mere presence was sufficient comfort.
Today she had no words for the depth of her sadness. She was still pained by Hetty’s suffering, and her conversation with Robert late last night was still weighing on her heart.
She sat on the stool and he presented her with a cup of tea. “You always seem to have it ready for me, as though you know I am coming.”
He smiled and while she sipped her tea he worked at a whistle he was carving. He made his cuts slowly and carefully. “I will be leaving soon,” he said quietly.
Lucy blinked at him, unable to credit what he had just said. “Indeed?” she queried in scarcely more than a whisper. Only now, with the possibility of his quitting Aldershaw, did she truly come to comprehend how much she depended upon him. “I do not know what to say except that I wish you would not! I believe I have been hoping you would stay at the very least until my own sojourn here comes to an end.”
“That would be a very long time, indeed,” he murmured, laughing at the same time.
“I beg your pardon?” She was certain he knew quite well she was leaving in September.
He cleared his throat. “I wish that I could stay longer but a friend in Devonshire has sent me word, by way of The George at Bickfield, that he is building a fishing boat and desires my assistance. His wife is quite ill and a son recently died. So, you see, I believe I must go.”
“Of course.” She had been very sad when she approached his camp, but upon hearing such news she thought her heart would break.
He reached over and pressed her arm gently. “All will be well. Sir Robert will set everything to rights. He is a good man, indeed, an admirable one. You have but to be a little more patient with him. You will see.”
Lucy tilted her head at him. Was he able to read her mind that he would speak the very words she needed to hear? Whatever was she to do once he was gone? “When do you leave?” she asked
“At noon on the day of the come-out ball, I’m ’fraid.”
“Oh, but you cannot!” she cried.
He pressed her arm again. “My work is finished here. Truly, I must be going. I have already bought a pony from one of Sir Robert’s tenant farmers.”
“Then there is nothing more to be said.”
“Only this: I have enjoyed my stay at Aldershaw more than I can ever say. You have great abilities and talents, Miss Lucinda Stiles. You created an exquisite garden. I expect to hear extraordinary things of you in the future.”
Lucy could not imagine to what he might be referring. “You are much mistaken,” she said, her throat beginning to ache profoundly. “I play the pianoforte tolerably but not so well as Hetty and when I sing I sound like a chicken squawking. I cannot paint in the least and even Rosamunde embroiders better than I. Indeed, you are quite mistaken.” Was he really leaving?
He chortled almost gleefully. “You have misunderstood me entirely. Your abilities extend far beyond musical notes or the use of watercolors. No, you have great abilities, and when you are mistress of your own home I suspect you will soon find need to express your talents in a larger community. Do not hesitate to do so. The world needs such a heart as yours. Never forget that. I know I never shall.” He paused and lifted his head. “And if I am not mistaken I believe Violet is calling for you.”
Lucy looked up but neither saw nor heard anyone. A moment later Violet appeared from around the corner of the maze. Even at such a distance Lucy could see that she had her doll tucked beneath her arm. She was never without it. “Lucy!” she called out. “You promised to go on our walk with us today. We are all waiting for you!”
Though Lucy wished to remain with Mr. Frome more than anything in the world now that she knew his time at Aldershaw was coming to a end, she rose from her seat, returned the cup to him, and bid him good day. “Of course, I shall see you in but a few minutes, for we are taking the western tour of the park, which as you know always ends in your camp.”
Over the next few days, Hetty recovered far more swiftly than anyone would have supposed. Lucy was privy to her thoughts one moment to the next and understood quite well the journey she had taken in relinquishing the unworthy Mr. Woolston. He was the sort of man who had all the appearance of goodness but very little true character, as his conduct had proved. In quick stages she relinquished her love for him and certainly all respect, even concluding that he was perhaps the most selfish man she had ever known.
Walking with her in the garden the day before the ball, Lucy asked, “What do you mean to do with his letters?”
“I have already burned them in the grate. After all I learned of his conduct, I could only conclude that his words were worthless. There is only one thing about which I am truly curious—why did Lady Sandifort choose that moment to expose my secret?”
“I know this may come as a shock, Hetty, but I believe it is because she is convinced that Lord Valmaston has a tendre for you.”
“What?” Hetty cried, obviously dumbfounded. “That is the most ridiculous thing I have ever heard.”
“Well,” Lucy mused. “I do not see why it is ridiculous since you are after all a considerable beauty, and you have a great deal of wit and charm and a very good heart. The real question is this: why would his heart not beat a little more strongly when you walk into a room?”
“Lucy, you are become as mad as bedlam!” Her complexion was greatly heightened.
Lucy only laughed. “It hardly signifies, however, what his true sentiments might be. The only thing that matters is that Lady Sandifort believes it to be true.”
Hetty grew silent again. When they reached the maze, Lucy suggested they return to the house, since she had promised to have nuncheon with the children in the schoolroom.
As Hetty turned about, she sighed very deeply. She was silent for a long time as they made their way back up the garden. At last she stopped. Holding Lucy’s gaze, she said, “There is just one thing I wish to know: how will I ever trust another man again?”
Lucy saw the tears brimming in Hetty’s eyes and offered her comfort by embracing her and holding her close. How, indeed? she wondered.
From the window of the library, Robert watched the tender scene below and felt his heart beginning to ache anew. This was what he loved best about Lucy, that her disposition was so warm, so generous that she could be such a comfort to his dear sister in what must be a most painful time. He could see Hetty’s sufferings but he had been completely incapable of offering her more than a pat on the shoulder now and then and a sympathetic smile.
Only once had he been able to give her at least a portion of real comfort. He had become so enraged with Mr. Wools
ton and his unconscionable conduct that he had finally approached Hetty in a private moment and said, “I will call him out. That is what I will do!”
She had seemed startled but afterward had begun to laugh. “What a darling you are, Robert! How I love you!” She had then risen from her seat and clung to him for a very long time. He had not heard her crying but his coat had been nearly wet through when she finally pulled away.
Now as he watched Hetty and Lucy together, his thoughts drifted to the moment over a sennight past when he had awakened and found himself holding Lucy in his arms. He had never been more shocked. Since that time he had been trying very hard to understand his relationship with her. More than once he had mentally drawn up two separate lists, one that contained her fine qualities and the other consisting of all those ways he essentially disapproved of her. Yet what was there to disapprove of in a young woman who had so completely changed his home, his life, his family, and all for the better?
Back and forth his internal arguments drifted, but as he watched Lucy now walking toward the house arm in arm with Hetty all he could think was that he wanted nothing more than to wake up with Lucy in his arms every morning of his life.
The day before the ball, Lucy waited outside the ballroom with Lord Valmaston as well as the entire Sandifort family. Only Miss Gunville was absent. Anne and Alice had been decorating in great secrecy both the ballroom and the morning room for several days and only now were ready to reveal their efforts.
The children were fairly leaping in their excitement.
Finally the twins opened the doors.
Lucy found herself stunned by what the young ladies had been able to achieve. An enormous quantity of dark blue silk had been draped along the upper two feet of wall and caught up in festoons made of branches of fresh yew, an abundance of artificial pink flowers, and ribbons in myriad colors. In addition, Mr. Quarley had allowed several of his enormous potted palms as well as pots of flowers, ferns, and ivy to be used to fill each corner of the long chamber.
“How beautiful!” Lucy cried. “I can just imagine how extraordinary the chamber will appear when each of these chandeliers is ablaze with scores of lit candles!”
“Even the orchestra’s balcony has a garland of yew and roses,” Hetty said from behind her.
Lucy glanced up and smiled at the superb decorations. “Truly remarkable.”
Hyacinth and Violet were twirling in circles on the ballroom floor. William’s shoes could be heard clunking up the spiral staircase that led to the musician’s gallery.
“There is more,” Alice said, smiling broadly. She was standing by the door opposite that led into the morning room. The party trailed behind her into what proved to be a spectacle of freshly cut flowers from Mr. Quarley’s cutting garden.
Violet cried, “It looks like a fairyland.”
“It does,” Hyacinth added.
Movement from the corner of Lucy’s eye led her to watch as Lord Valmaston and Hetty emerged slowly from the ballroom. They were surprisingly deep in conversation, which lasted for several minutes until Hyacinth ran up to Hetty, took her hand, and led her to view the enormous bouquet on the table by the wall. Lucy believed she saw the future in the making but hid such a newly birthed hope deep within her heart.
Only then did she chance to glance at the doorway of the ballroom and saw, much to her horror, that Lady Sandifort had also seen enough to arouse her suspicions yet again. “Miss Gunville,” she snapped, “I do believe the children should return to the schoolroom.”
“Yes, of course,” Miss Gunville responded crisply. She did not allow even one moan of disappointment to escape the children’s lips, but ushered them quickly from the room.
Lucy felt as though a dark cloud had entered the morning room. No one spoke, not a single word.
Lady Sandifort addressed the earl. “My lord,” she said sweetly, “I was hoping to engage you in a game of chess.”
Lord Valmaston did not hesitate. “I should be delighted.” Wisely he refrained from even looking at Hetty, but rather crossed to Lady Sandifort, offered his arm, and escorted her from the chamber.
Once they were gone, Lucy let out a great puff of air she did not even know she was holding. She felt dizzy suddenly. What would happen next? she wondered.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Late that night, Lucy stood on the terrace long after the others had retired. A soft summer breeze blew over the garden and because the moon was high she was able to see a great portion of the flower beds. How much had changed since she arrived at Aldershaw. The estate was looking prettier every day under Mr. Quarley’s excellent guidance and tomorrow Anne and Alice would enjoy a come-out ball that had previously been forbidden them.
In the distance, to the west of the maze, a shadow moved.
Her first thought was that she was seeing a wind-blown branch from one of the beech trees, but the shadow moved steadily toward the house.
She squinted, trying to determine who it was. She wondered for a moment if she ought to raise an alarm, but she rather thought the figure could be any one of three gentlemen who might have preferred a stroll before bed.
In the end, the dark shadow proved to be Robert. He even waved to her halfway to the terrace. She waved in return and almost chose to retire before he reached her but that seemed quite uncivil, so she remained.
“The night is very beautiful,” he said, joining her on the terrace.
“Indeed, very,” she responded. “I had thought everyone had long since sought their beds.”
“I decided to take a little brandy to Mr. Frome, for I know he enjoys it. We fell into a conversation and time escaped me. I suppose it is near midnight.”
“Yes, it is. I shall miss him.”
“We all will. When I said good night to the children, Violet wept into my shoulder. She said Tom would especially be sad to see him go.”
“Dear Violet,” she murmured.
“And what are you doing at this late hour?” he asked.
“Looking at the moon, watching the stars, admiring Mr. Quarley’s handiwork. He is quite gifted, you know.”
“Yes,” he said, keeping his voice low for their conversation, which if too loud would certainly disturb a number of the family members through the bank of windows above them. “Quarley has been at Aldershaw forever. Have I thanked you for your help with the gardens?”
“Only a dozen times,” she said, chuckling.
There was a considerable pause and Lucy sensed that Robert wished to say something to her.
She was not surprised when he cleared his throat and began, “I was hoping you might save a waltz for me. I would ask you for the first or even second dances but I am already given to my sisters.”
“As you should be,” she said, turning toward him. “You really wish to dance with me?”
“Lucy,” he said rather abruptly. “I fear very much that were we to fall into conversation we would simply begin brangling. So I will ask again, will you save me the first waltz? Although, I wish to add,” and here he touched her arm gently, “I am trying to comprehend my heart.”
Lucy felt his words deeply. How her heart began to thrum. She knew a strong impulse to say several things to him, but couldn’t because they all became jumbled in her mind. “Yes, of course,” she responded. Before she could say anything more, he bid her good night and was gone.
Lucy sought her bed and fell quickly into a dreamy sleep. She was certain she had just laid her head on her pillow when shouting beneath her window roused her. She could see by the moon’s progress across the sky, however, that perhaps only an hour or two had passed.
She went to the window and, opening it quietly, peeked her head out. Lady Sandifort was having a fit of hysterics as she moved briskly to and fro in front of Lord Valmaston.
“Do hush, Lady Sandifort, or you will awaken the entire house,” he urged her in a low tone.
“I do not care if the servants, to the last maid, hear what I have to say. I think you a vile creature, ke
eping me dangling and all the while never having the smallest intention of . . . of . . .”
“You are a horrid, selfish female and I only wonder that you have not driven the entire family into the madhouse!”
Lucy clamped a hand over her mouth. How many times had she wished to utter such words! How grateful she was that at last Lady Sandifort was receiving something of her due. On the other hand, she shuddered, for she understood to perfection just what sort of temper her ladyship would exhibit once the sun rose. Her vanity had been severely wounded by Valmaston’s obvious rejection of her. However, he added an insult to this horrible injury by calling her a selfish female. Lucy knew quite well that Lady Sandifort saw herself as a loving, restrained, generous individual who was always being ill-used by everyone around her.
“I despise you!” Lady Sandifort cried, then stomped in the direction of the house. “I wish you every manner of evil.”
Lucy withdrew into the shadows of the drapes lest she be seen and afterward gently closed the window. Climbing back into bed, she knew but one thing for certain: there would be the devil to pay in the morning.
Regardless, the moment her head touched the pillow anew, she fell into a very deep sleep until shouting, this time of an entirely different nature, awoke her.
She sat straight up in bed, wondering if she had heard correctly. She listened very hard. Yes, there it was!
“Fire!”
Lucy bolted from her bed and much to her surprise saw that sunlight streamed into her chamber. It was much later than she had supposed.
She scrambled into her robe and, regardless of her appearance, raced from her bedchamber. In the distance, Anne and Alice had just reached the landing of the stairs at the west end of the house, sleepy-eyed and sporting mobcaps.
Lucy descended the east staircase and a moment later followed Anne and Alice down the central staircase from the first floor to the ground floor. At the bottom of the stairs, servants raced to and fro, all carrying either empty buckets in one direction or buckets sloshing with water in the other.
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