An Inconvenient Engagement

by Grace Colline

  Eliza wore her white gown, and Penelope had chosen one to match. They found a sash to match the pink ties of Eliza’s bonnet, and Penelope wore a green sash to match her bonnet’s ties. The tall, slender wraithlike girl and the shorter, compact-figured girl looked striking together. Eliza had not slept the night before, tormented by the memory of the disastrous supper party. She understood what had happened, knew what William’s family had done. She could forgive them, but she could not forgive herself for falling into a position where such words could wound her. She should have guarded her feelings but try as she might she loved the baronet and desperately wished his title away.

  This visit to the museum, however, was exactly what she needed. Here was ample food for thought and perusal, and they moved excitedly from exhibit to exhibit. Penelope lingered over the Greek art, Eliza was enraptured by the Egyptian artifacts and especially the mummies. Penelope could barely bring herself to look at them and Mrs. Ainsworth fairly swooned before bustling from the room. That brought both girls to giggles which they instantly suppressed at the sound of a familiar voice.

  “Miss Denham, Miss Pratt. Imagine meeting you both here.”

  Eliza’s heart leapt and caught in her throat. She managed to curtsey in time with Penelope and William fell into slow, perusing step with them. “How are you enjoying your visit?” he asked as if nothing had occurred just two nights before.

  “Very well,” Eliza said, “I could stay here for days!” She looked up at him and stopped, struck by his appearance. Deep circles under his eyes, but more frightening was the deep cut taped shut over his left eye, and the knuckles of his right hand taped. There was some light bruising under one of his cheekbones as well.

  “Sir William! What happened?”

  He rubbed gingerly at his forehead. “I went for a walk the other evening. It did not go as planned.”

  “You were attacked?” Penelope gasped.

  “Yes.”

  “Are you quite well?” Eliza asked, horrified.

  “Quite well. You should see the other fellows.”

  Penelope smiled, but Eliza could not. “I had not thought London was so dangerous.”

  “I was not paying attention, or it would not have happened. Enough of me – how are you enjoying the museum?”

  “Very well!” Eliza managed to say, concern still clouding her eyes. “I think I could wander these halls for days.”

  “I often did as a boy. My godfather did research in the antiquities. Pottery – nothing exciting.”

  Eliza’s eyes glowed. “Oh! And the library – did you go in there?”

  “That, I was not allowed to do. They trusted me with pottery scraps, but not with the manuscripts!”

  The girls smiled, and Penelope said, “Imagine meeting you again, in a large place like London!”

  He shrugged. “Not so surprising. I knew you were going to visit and found myself nearby. It wasn’t difficult to convince myself to stop and see how you were enjoying yourselves.” He smiled lightly. They would never know how he had rearranged his appointments so that he could be there in such a manner as to join them as if by chance “And, I was no less desirous to express my apologies for my family’s behavior the other evening. My stepmother was not in her best manners.”

  Eliza nodded, and finally allowed herself to truly look up at him and was grieved at what she saw there. Hollow-eyed and haggard as though he had not slept. Yet, he smiled and asked, “Where is Mrs. Ainsworth?”

  “She is just in the next room. The mummies distressed her,” Penelope answered.

  “Ah yes, I have heard that can happen.” He glanced around and said, “Excuse me.” He walked away and left the girls to wonder. When he returned he was escorting Mrs. Ainsworth. “I promise you will not need to look at them if you stay on this side,” he said reassuringly. “And now I can visit properly.”

  “Yes, thank you Sir William,” Mrs. Ainsworth said in a tremulous contralto voice.

  Eliza puzzled – was this for her? He did seem to turn his gaze toward her more often, and many of his questions seemed directed toward her. But still, she stayed silent unless directly addressed. She felt as though every nerve was on fire, tingling with awareness of him, and she did not trust herself to speak. Luckily, Mrs. Ainsworth did much of the speaking. Sir William seemed to be trying to explain the various dates to her.

  “I see all these numbers and letters – what on earth can they mean?” He explained several times before she seemed to understand. His voice was warm, his manner considerate, and much of the pain from the supper party was smoothed away as they progressed through the various exhibits.

  She was intent upon a fossil fish when she sensed his approach. Penelope and her chaperone were at the far end of the alcove, and he was at her elbow. “I understand you return to Lytchley tomorrow.”

  “Yes. My uncle will be happy to have me home.”

  “And you, will you be happy to be home?”

  She smiled up at him, and his heart melted. “I will. I have had a glorious time here, but I think I belong in Lytchley.” Her smile faded suddenly, and he stopped her with a touch at her elbow.

  “What is that – why are you sad of a sudden?”

  She shook her head. “Can one be happy, yet sad to be going home? I love Little Cottage, but this,” her gaze took in the museum around her, and more. “This is so stimulating to the mind and spirit. Perhaps I just need to travel occasionally.”

  “I am much the same. I used to think I would hate being in the country, and yet I miss it when I am away.”

  “So, you find you enjoy being ‘lord of the manor?’”

  “I suppose I do!” He smiled down at her.

  Her face had brightened, but it clouded again, and she looked away. “Are you truly planning to become a governess?” he asked, with a strange edge to his voice.

  She considered an elaborately decorated pot for a moment. “I must do something.”

  “But not that!” His words came out more forcefully than he had intended. He took a breath and added more calmly, “Surely there are other options.”

  “There aren’t. Unless I marry and I have already…” she broke off.

  “Has someone already offered?”

  She nodded, staring very hard at a bead and gold necklace. She did not see the bruise darken his cheek as he blanched. “You refused.” It was a statement more than a question and she merely nodded again. They continued in silence for a moment, and then Penelope and Mrs. Ainsworth caught up with them.

  It was nearly closing when he helped them into their carriage and bid them goodbye with a lingering look at Eliza. She allowed herself to look back at him, and their eyes locked. Her heart leapt and nearly caught as a sob in her throat. She swallowed against it and breathed deep to calm her pounding heart. Penelope found her hand and squeezed it and Eliza gripped her hand tightly in return. Mrs. Ainsworth prattled on about nasty dead things and old rubbish for much of the way home.

  The trip back to Lytchley was much less animated than the one to London. Penelope was quiet, and Eliza was oppressed, full of the recent encounters with Sir William. She found herself clutching William’s handkerchief, tracing the embroidery which her fingers had now memorized. She desperately wished to know his thoughts and feelings, but feared that though he might like her, still he was engaged.

  Uncle and Bessie were both beside themselves to have her home. After a long hug, Uncle broke away and fished about on his desk, then came back carrying a letter. “This came while you were gone,” Uncle said handing it to her. She opened it and the expression on her face froze. “What is it, my dear?” he asked.

  “I have been offered a post as governess to a family in Yorkshire.”

  “Position?” Uncle was shocked.

  “Governess?” Bessie gasped.

  “Yes, I sent in an advertisement before leaving for London.”

  Uncle sat down. “Well, shall you accept? Why did you not say something?”

  She sat down next t
o him. “Uncle, I must do something. I must…break free for a little while. It may all come to nothing, or it may work out well. At any rate, I will meet new people and contribute to our home.”

  His voice grew hoarse. “You contribute as you are. I do not like you going.”

  She put an arm around him. “I know, Uncle. But it will be like I am at school and I will come home for holidays.”

  They were silent for a few minutes, and she said, “I must answer this, it is postmarked almost a week ago.”

  “So, you shall accept?”

  “I will write the letter, but not mail it until the morrow so that I may sleep on it to be sure.” With that, she rose and removed her pelisse and went to write her letter. Afterwards, she curled beneath the covers warmed by the warming pan and thankfully closed her eyes on her London adventure. Too much had happened for her to be comfortable, and her thoughts went back and forth over all her interactions with Sir William. Always, though, were the reactions of his family, and they had a sobering effect. She would swing from the high of seeing him smile, to the depths of George’s sarcasm and the Dowager’s derision.

  She sighed and looked out the window, unable to see beyond the tangle of her near future.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Miss Maria Lockley of the Shropshire Lockleys watched the trappings of civilization fade slowly away as the carriage rocked gently along the road. Her fiancé had sent his own carriage to convey her to his home after she had changed from the Braxton Coach. With a single glance she could see it was a much older carriage – probably bought for the previous Lady Strathom, and she could see telltale signs of wear on it. She had some very clear ideas of what her carriage should look like. She glanced at her companion. So much was depending upon this initial visit. Aunt Tunbridge slumped against the side, mouth agape and snoring lightly. Maria sighed and turned back to scan for some signs of life in the increasingly empty countryside.

  Presently, the road became somewhat smoother, and there began to appear intermittent cottages and outbuildings in addition to flocks of sheep amid drystone walls that crisscrossed the countryside. The bell tower of an old, but rather fine church rose to her left, piercing the drab grey sky and signaling her arrival in Lytchley. “Tunney, wake up. We are nearly there.” She nudged her aunt with her foot, smothering a smile as she snorted awake and began hunting for her handkerchief. Maria reached into her own reticule and delicately fished one out for her.

  “Thank you, my dear. I never know where I leave mine.” She wiped her mouth and nose, then made to hand it back. Maria refused it with a moue of distaste, and Mrs. Tunbridge stuffed it into her large, ugly workbag.

  “We have to go through Lytchley, and the Abbey is about one mile beyond,” Maria said almost to herself.

  Tunney looked doubtful. “This is rather far out in the country…”

  Maria’s mouth set purposefully. “There is always the house in town.”

  “I thought the Dowager Lady Strathom occupied that.”

  “Well, she can move to the country and live in a lodge on the grounds somewhere.”

  #

  “Haddely!” William called, only to have her upright figure appear at his elbow. “What room are you putting Miss Lockley and her aunt into?”

  “The Velvet room for Miss Lockley. Her Aunt Tunbridge will have the Lilac room next door.”

  “You didn’t put her in the Teal Room?”

  “No, Sir. The Velvet Room has not been used in some while.”

  “Oh, of course, is all ready?”

  Haddely looked somewhat stern as she answered, “Yes, my Lord.”

  “Of course. Yes. Thank you, Haddely.” She sailed off in search of another iceberg to tilt with.

  Gravel crunched on the drive outside, and he stepped out to greet his bride-to-be. Maria stepped free of the carriage, pale peach velvet of her pelisse setting off truly golden hair and clear blue eyes. Her cheeks flushed with color, not least from the severe pinching she had given them just moments before. She let her ermine muff slide to one arm as she reached out to take his and be led into the house.

  “Welcome to Tredwell Abbey, Miss Lockley, Mrs. Tunbridge.” He bowed to them both and turned as Maria came up to escort her into the house. Mrs. Tunbridge followed, her gaze shooting up and around to take in their surroundings.

  The gothic stone arch of the entrance soared overhead. Pride swelled in William’s chest as he guided her through the entrance where the servants stood to attention into the large open foyer. A large fire roared in the expansive fireplace large enough for five men to stand abreast. He seated her beside the fire, and tea was brought in.

  “Oh, Sir William, it is perfect! So regal, yet cozy, a perfect country home.” She smiled dazzlingly at him. “I hope we are not straining your hospitality too far.”

  “Nonsense, we could stand many more guests.” Well, he amended mentally, a few at any rate.

  She swallowed her tea, “Would there be room for my brother, then, in a day or two?”

  Mrs. Tunbridge perked up. “What, Teddy? Is Teddy coming, Maria?”

  “Yes, he wrote me just before we left London that he hoped to join us if Sir William agreed.

  William was somewhat taken aback. Hosting a man would require a change to planned activities. Some shooting might be called for and perhaps more riding. “Do you ride, Miss Lockley?”

  “I do, and I brought my habit just in case you had a horse for me to take out.”

  “Excellent, then perhaps we can all ride out when your brother gets here.”

  “Oh, lovely – Ca…Teddy has a wonderful seat and loves to ride out.”

  “Teddy? He loathes horses,” Aunt Tunbridge replied.

  “Nonsense, Tunney, he has greatly taken to them lately.”

  Tunney was too busy looking around her to reply. “Well,” said Maria hurriedly, “Isn’t this quaint! Quite like a town house all snug in the country.”

  William bit back a retort to the intended slight. “The grounds are extensive, and we have several tenant farmers to support.”

  “I saw a splendid estate to the east after we left…Stanton was it?”

  “Ah yes. Brindlewood. Lord Tollingsworth.”

  “So shocking to hear about his injury! And you were there, I believe.”

  “Yes.”

  “How terribly unpleasant it must have been.” Maria waved her hand vaguely.

  “Well, yes. A man died,” said William.

  “Daunton, such a silly, naughty boy.”

  “Rather more of a scoundrel, I think,” William almost growled.

  “Lovely to hear dear Lord Tollingham will recover. And then just before we came into Lytchley…”

  “Hadring Hall, the seat of Viscount Loughton.”

  “The country is just bursting with families! Are there many balls and suppers?”

  “Not so much. We tend to be quieter here.”

  “Well, I am sure you will soon teach me how to behave when we come down from Town.”

  He did not answer immediately. Instead, he stated, “I have arranged a light supper, and then I assumed you would want to rest. We can visit more in the morning.

  “You read my mind; I really am worn out from the journey. Just have a tray sent up, would you? We will see you in the morning. Come, Tunney!” Hartman led the way up the stairs to the guest rooms, leaving William alone in the hall.

  He watched them disappear, then paced about the Great Room, unable to settle. Unconsciously, he turned to go up the stairs and across the landing to the long, narrow gallery. He walked along the gallery, stopping to look at his father’s portrait. He was a stern man, but with a hopeful look to his countenance that William had always liked. Proud and ambitious, and fiercely loyal to his family. Without his influence and temperance, Delia had sunk back into vanity and greediness. He looked at the portrait of his stepmother and frowned. He refused to believe that Eliza was anything like her. He made his way down the hall to the Teal Room where Eliza had stayed. Th
e candles were not lit in here, so he opened a curtain to allow moonlight in to illuminate the portrait of his mother.

  She sat smiling, no older than Eliza or Maria and full of hope for her future. Unaware how short it would be. His mother had come from a long line of Estermans, intertwined with titles and landed gentry, and it had been much of her influence that had earned his father’s entitlement. She had taken a chance on his father and had always seemed happy with the result. What would she say to his predicament he wondered.

  He turned away. Maria Lockley was here, she was to be his bride, and nothing short of a scandal would change that. And yet, how bad would that be? A nine-day’s wonder and then all but forgot. Perhaps he could just break it off and accept the consequences come what may. Marry Eliza and be happy here in Lytchley, living simply.

  If she would even have him.

  He shook himself. A scandal would entangle his whole family. He closed his eyes and sighed. He would have to continue with this at least for a while. He could already see that Maria was not entirely impressed with Tredwell – perhaps she was questioning the engagement herself. Maybe, in time, she would break it off and there would be no mark against his family to affect George and Delia. With a deep sigh, he turned toward his own rooms in the east wing.

  William was standing in the foyer and spoke as Maria came slowly down the stairs.

  “I thought a tour of the estate would serve well. I have the carriage ordered, and you can meet some of the tenants.” It was rather late in the morning, and William had sent word for Maria to come down from her room. She had taken almost an hour to make her appearance in a lovely white dress. She yawned prettily.

  “The tenants? Why?”

  He was at a loss. Surely her parents met with their tenants so that they could ensure all their needs were being taken care of. She gave him a puzzled look and added, “Do not you have a steward?”

  “Yes, but I prefer to personally check on those whom he informs me have particular needs.”

  “Well,” she sighed, “I will go change into something more appropriate.” She glided up the stairs and disappeared for so long a time that William feared the horses might be getting edgy. When she finally appeared, she was dressed in a silk walking dress of palest yellow with her dark blue pelisse and top hat festooned with ostrich feathers and silk flowers. He was struck dumb. She looked ready to attend an afternoon garden party, not a rather informal tour of the grounds. “Let me to it,” she said with a rather forced smile.