An Inconvenient Engagement

by Grace Colline

  William found that any enjoyment for the outing had dissipated. His father’s voice sounded in his ears, though, encouraging him to do the right thing and set the example for his bride. As a secondary motive, he thought that if one of her feathers was blown away or her frock was torn, it may put her off Tredwell even more. He handed her into the carriage himself. The top was down, giving them an excellent view of the lands surrounding the house, and increasing the odds that her coiffure and hat could be disarranged.

  “I think it is lovely that you kept your father’s old carriage for so long. So nostalgic.”

  “I will, of course, be ordering a new one,” he said.

  “Oh well, this will be quite nice to keep here for informal visits.”

  William said nothing, and they were off with Rivers riding ahead to warn the farmers of the impending visit. The first farmhouse they came to was the home of Luckett, his wife, and their three grown sons. The family was waiting when the carriage arrived. William spoke with Luckett about the lost hay harvest, while his wife stood nearby. The sons, usually quite talkative when William was alone, were silent under the scrutiny of his fiancée. Soon enough, he rejoined Maria.

  “I had hoped you would join me in meeting them.”

  “Oh, my dear, I am wearing my best gloves, and they might wish to shake hands. If I had known, I would have brought a different pair.”

  Each stop was a repetition of the previous one. William would hop down, talk with the man of the house and coax something from the wife if there was one. Maria would remain in the carriage and sit, watching the proceedings from an imperious height. William would finish and rejoin her, and nothing would be said until they reached the next farm. Slowly, they made their way until they were nearing the edges of the estate that bordered on Lytchley.

  Mrs. Thornton was a widow living on the Tredwell estate. Her husband had been a farrier but had died many years earlier leaving her childless and destitute. It had taken Eliza and Bessie almost half an hour to reach it and then they found Mrs. Thornton sitting without a fire. Eliza set the coal hod down and set to starting a fire while Bessie got the kettle ready to make some tea.

  Elspeth Thornton had never been a large woman, but sickness had wasted her little frame until she was dangerously thin. Wrapped in a blanket, yet still shivering in the cold, she looked like a wizened-faced child. Within minutes, the fire had taken the chill off the air and Mrs. Thornton’s coughing had eased. Warm broth, tea and scones brought a smile to her lined face. “Thank ‘ee, Bessie, Miss Denham.”

  Bessie was setting the potatoes in the ashes of the fire. “Mind Elspeth, you take these out afore they scorch.”

  “I know how to cook warmin’ taters, Bessie.”

  “Eh, but we forget some at our age,” Bessie rejoined.

  “It’s me lungs as is bad, not me ‘ead.”

  Eliza smiled as the two women sparred. “Would you like some ham, Mrs. Thornton?”

  “Nay lass, I am that full of tea and scones. I will have a nice dinner, tho, later. And taters for breakfast after they keep me warm all night.”

  Hoofbeats sounded outside, accompanied by the rattling of a carriage. They heard the soft thump of feet hitting the ground and then a tall shape darkened the doorway. Eliza started.

  “Sir William!”

  From outside, Maria heard, and recognizing a very different accent to what she had been used to hearing, was prompted to alight and investigate the source. What young, educated lady was to be found here?

  William bowed to the ladies. “Mrs. Thornton, how are you doing? My steward told me you have had a return of your illness.”

  “Aye, Sir, but these ladies have been very kind.”

  He nodded to Eliza and included Bessie. “Thank you both for helping out.”

  Eliza smiled into his eyes, but the smile froze as Maria appeared at his elbow. He broke his gaze away and turned to belatedly offer his arm to Maria who cleared her throat lightly for his attention. “Miss Maria Lockley, this is my tenant Mrs. Thornton. Miss Eliza Denham and, I am sorry…”

  “Bessie Beams,” Eliza provided.

  “Ah yes, Bessie Beams.”

  “Our housekeeper,” Eliza added. Maria’s eyes glazed over at the pronouncement. She sniffed, and returned to the side of the carriage, gazing pointedly out over the windswept barren field.

  Will looked down for a moment, mouth set to a grim line. “Miss Denham,” he said in a low voice as though afraid it might carry, “Thank you again for your help here.” He turned toward Elspeth, “Is there anything further I can do for you Mrs. Thornton?”

  “Nay, Sir,” she started to say when Eliza broke in.

  “Yes. She needs coal. She had no fire when we arrived.”

  He looked up at that. “What? It is too cold at night for you to be without a fire in your state. I will have Rivers send some. If you are unable to keep the fire going, I will send a man to check on it for you.”

  “Thank ‘ee, Sir William.” Mrs. Thornton tried to say, but tears muddied her voice. He took her hand for a moment, then stood to leave, catching Eliza’s gaze as he went. She walked with him back to the carriage. Once there, he handed the waiting Maria in who quickly took a handkerchief to wipe the spot where his hand, wet from his tenant’s tears, had touched her.

  William, however, turned as though to hand Eliza in, and she backed away from him. He stepped toward her and said, “Let me escort you and Mrs. Beams home. Miss Lockley will not mind, I am sure.”

  “No, Sir, we can walk.”

  He smiled, “I know that. But please allow me to do this. I insist!” He got a strange thrill of delight at the disgusted expression on Maria’s face as he handed Eliza in and settled her next to Maria, then handed Bessie in and sat beside her. “Drive on…Little Cottage please.”

  Despite the awkwardness of sitting next to the stiff and silently disapproving Maria Lockley, Eliza found herself meeting William’s eyes only to find him smiling. She knew he must be smiling at Miss Lockley, but he did seem to be looking at her instead. The carriage bounced over the rough track, and they were bumped rather abruptly until they reached the more traveled road that led to Eliza’s home. No one spoke, and Eliza could feel the astonished regard of the Lytchley inhabitants as they drove down the main street.

  Presently, they reached Little Cottage, and William hopped out to hand down both Eliza and Bessie who was nearly overcome by his attentions. She curtseyed and quickly disappeared into the house still clutching the coal hod and the empty basket before her. Maria let her gaze roam over Eliza’s home, then looked pointedly away. Eliza curtseyed as well, her hand still in William’s grip as he smiled down at her. “Thank you again for your help with Mrs. Thornton.”

  “It was nothing, My Lord.” She drew her cloak around her as he stepped back into the carriage and signaled to the driver to go. She watched them until they disappeared, his eyes never leaving hers.

  She was silent as she entered the house, and Bessie left her alone though she could be heard bustling in the kitchen helping Mrs. Jones with supper.

  When they arrived home, William followed Maria into the Abbey. She was pulling her gloves off as her maid unbuttoned her pelisse. Tunney stood and fluttered about Maria like a moth dancing about a butterfly. “Well, Maria, and how was your outing?”

  “Uncomfortable and pointless.”

  “Surely not pointless,” William said with a frown. “If you are going to be their lady then they need to know you will show some concern for their wellbeing.”

  “I doubt that they care much or have much need of my concern, were I to even give it. They are grown and able to care for themselves. My father certainly never parades about the farms. He has a steward to manage such things.”

  “There are things that only I can deal with…”

  “Yes, yes. Excuse me, I need to change for supper.”

  William could only stare after her. His heart and thoughts dwelling on one who showed more concern for his tenants. He pushed
her from his mind. He was entrapped in this engagement, and there was no honorable way out. Even if there was, the memory of his father stood before him blocking any chance of happiness. He must marry a woman he did not love and must lose the one he did.

  When she came down for supper, her good mood seemed to have been restored and she complimented his chef and table quite nicely and, he thought, almost sincerely. He could see she was quite pleasant when happy in what she was doing, but not so easily turned to things that she did not enjoy. So far, she had enjoyed supper at Tredwell.

  Aunt Tunbridge gushed at every opportunity, and finally declared her intention to go to bed. “I must just order my pot of chocolate. My doctor says it helps me sleep.”

  “Oh, Tunney,” said Maria. “You go on up, and I will make sure it is ordered for you. You will need your sleep for Teddy arrives tomorrow!”

  “Oh, my, yes. Thank you, Maria!” she said as she bustled up to bed. Maria yawned elaborately, rang the bell and gave the order for the chocolate and offered to carry it up once it had arrived, freeing William from the effort of entertaining her.

  He sat for a while in silence, listening to the fire and the distant sounds of his household ticking along. He looked over at the couch where Eliza had lain, curled up and happily knitting and chatting. He found himself smiling, and he stood and made his way to the gallery. There, he walked slowly to the spot where he had kissed her, held her for that brief moment and known true kinship of heart. A groan broke from him, and he turned to make his way to his own room.

  Once there, he paced its length, restlessness coursing through him. Firelight glimmered on his bare back as he pushed the window open, in the midst of undressing, and leaned onto the casing, feeling the cold air wash over him. This feeling was like a hunger, reaching out through the night to her, desperate for some return…

  This would not do! He changed quickly, shirt and breeches only, carrying his boots as he walked through the house in his stockings, pausing by the door to pull his boots on. Across the yard to the stables. Samson nickered in greeting, but for this he wanted the mare. She came calmly to him and he had almost gotten her saddled when she snorted and looked to his side.

  Rivers stood there, a pistol in one hand and a horsewhip in the other. “Damme, my Lord, I nearly killed ye!”

  He let out a hard breath and reset the hammer on the pistol and set it and the whip down on a barrel. He snorted as he watched William and finally said, “Here, that needs cinching and she’s perticler on how it’s done.”

  He shouldered Sir William out of the way and finished saddling the mare. Then, without another word, he helped his master onto her back and stood aside.

  Sir William hesitated, “Rivers…if you could forget about this…”

  “Bring the horse back safe, and it is forgotten.”

  William smiled at the reversal of command and walked the mare out across the yard and out onto the lane before spurring her to speed. He had no real direction to go, just a need to be as close as possible to where Eliza was. Just to stand, perhaps, near her house and know she was within. He circumvented the village proper, choosing instead to ride the fields toward Little Cottage. The mare picked her way carefully over the uneven ground, surefooted and quiet, in tune to his slightest communication. Skirting houses and outbuildings, he made his way carefully in the spare moonlight over the fields and around gardens.

  There, off by itself on the far end of the lane coming from the village, was the cottage, grey stone ghostly in the darkness. Trees shrouding it in deeper shadow despite the full moon overhead. Suddenly, a movement caught his eye, and he froze, the mare stilling instantly. The door was opening, and a figure was emerging….

  She had slipped downstairs, careful to step over the loose board on the third step and to sidle around the two at the bottom. She drew her cloak tight around her and slipped out the back door that led into the garden. Cold air hit her face and caused her to gasp, but she stifled it and closed the door carefully behind her.

  She breathed out and started walking. Not far, she thought, or long. Just enough to conquer this terrible burning she felt inside. Her heart pounded, calling. Her hair cascaded freely down her back, and long tendrils fluttered as she moved. Before she knew it, she was on the little lane that led toward the haunted cottage, her feet taking her back to the moment she had met him. She paused under the very limb of the old elm tree where he had retrieved her shawl. Lifted her face to the sky and closed her eyes. She could still hear the hoofbeats of his approach. But wait...those were actual hoofbeats. She turned as he stopped and slowly dismounted.

  There she was face lifted as though waiting to be kissed. Her breath coming fast in little puffs of steam in the icy air. He moved toward her, and her eyes went wide. He stopped, and they stared at each other, their breath loud and smoky in the chill of the night. Slowly, afraid of breaking the cord that had called them here, he stepped toward her. His arms went around her, pushing through the curtain of hair down her back and pulling her near. Her arms went around his shoulders, feeling the hard muscles tensed as though to hold him back. He was fighting with his own restraints, struggling free to grasp the woman he wanted. Her fingers pulled at him, coaxing him free. His hand found the back of her head and tilted her face toward him, then he lowered his mouth onto hers.

  She gasped at the shock that went through her as his lips touched hers. Fire coursed along her body, causing her to arch against him as his kiss deepened and his mouth coaxed hers open. His hands pulled her even closer, pressing her against his body as his lips burned their way over her mouth. Suddenly she cried out, heart full to near bursting, and they broke apart, both breathing hard, neither letting go. A strangled cry broke from her, and she pushed away, struggling free. His arms fell away, and she ran from him, down the lane toward her home with her cloak billowing behind her.

  He stood, fighting the urge to go after her, not completely understanding what had happened. His heart was still pounding in his chest, longing surging through him and physical need awakened. The mare nickered softly, recalling him to the present and he vaulted into the saddle and urged her after Eliza.

  He rode quietly by her window, straining to see through the darkness for some sign that she was home safe. When he thought he saw a ghostly flash at a window, he paused. A hand rested on the pane for a moment, and he sighed in relief. She was safe – not run off into danger somewhere.

  Within, Eliza cried silently, wiped the tears from her eyes and leaned against the glass, watching him rein his horse away. Oh! Blessed kiss, but oh, the pain! What he must think of her, giving herself over to him in the middle of the night, again! She curled on her side in her bed, still dressed and unable to stop crying…at one moment with soaring joy and the next with darkest despair. She knew in her heart she would never conquer this and could not bear the thought of feeling this pain for the rest of her life. Is this, she wondered, what Alice felt? Surely, there was a way to face such hopelessness.

  She only knew she would have to try.

  Chapter Eighteen

  William stood patiently, aware that his valet had quickly discerned yet again the signs of lack of sleep. A knock at the door caused Leavitt to pause in the middle of tying his cravat. “Yes?” Leavitt answered the door where Haddely stood solemnly.

  “Sir, Mrs. Tunbridge is unwell.”

  “Unwell?”

  “Yes. I think we should call Dr. Welles.”

  He lifted his coat in submission to the request. “Right. Call him then.” He stomped from the room, wondering what next could go wrong. Please, God, he thought, let it not be the goose from last night! An unfamiliar voice in the main room pulled him back to the moment. He looked up in time to see a tallish young man with dark hair curled stylishly over an intricately tied cravat and spotless blue coat. William recognized him as one of the young men he had seen in Maria’s wake in London and realized this must be the brother. He nodded, and was introduced,

  “The Honorable Theodore Lockl
ey.” Light steps pattered on the stone behind them.

  “Teddy! I am so glad you were able to find us out here on the lonely moors!” Maria tripped lightly to embrace him, and he grasped her hands tightly, before they broke apart.

  “Where is Aunt Tunney?”

  Maria was suddenly serious. “The apothecary has been sent for. She is most unwell and will be unable to see you today.”

  “Ahhh. I will have to send in a note.”

  “Teddy, Sir William was telling me we will have a ball, in my honor! Won’t that be fun!”

  “Ha, leave it to the ladies to be forever wanting to dress up and dance – eh, Stratham?

  “Er, yes.” William was taken aback by the man’s familiarity. “If you will excuse me – I must speak to my steward. If you are willing, however, I will be happy to show you over the house and grounds later.”

  “Oh, my dear Sir William, will you let me practice what I learned during our tour earlier? I would love some activity.”

  Relief flooded him to be excused from that particular duty. “Excellent.” He tried to smile but could not force it. Thankfully, she was too wrapped up in her brother to notice. He rang the bell, and moments later Haddely appeared. “We are going to have a ball – can I leave the guest list and details to you? Miss Lockley may have suggestions as to the dances, menu, etc. We are limited to time as Miss Lockley is to leave us within a fortnight.”

  “Of course, Sir William.” If anything, she looked more forbidding.

  “Any help you can provide as far as the guest list would also be welcome.”

  “You may leave it with me.”

  “And of course, I have no idea what to do about the ballroom…”