“I have decided to marry, and you meet my qualifications.”
“As simple as that?”
“I will only speak the truth with you. Yes, it is as simple as that.”
“You have only known me for a few weeks, and I can offer you nothing that dozens of other ladies could not as well.”
“Nevertheless, you are my choice.” Was it his imagination, or was she attempting to dissuade him? “You never struck me as the sort to believe yourself unworthy before. Do not play missish now.”
“Oh, no it is not that.”
“Yes?”
“It’s…it’s…what about love?” she blurted out.
Arlington frowned. “I had thought we understood one another.”
“You do not believe love is necessary for marriage?”
“I believe companionship and faithfulness are. I will be a good husband to you.”
She looked at him for a long moment and for the first time, Arlington felt inadequate before someone whose good opinion he desired. Before she spoke the words, he knew the answer. Sadness filled her eyes.
“I thank you for the compliment of your request, but I must decline.”
“Because I do not love you?”
She shook her head and tears pricked her eyes. “Because you love another and I will not compete with that. I told you once before that I know when a fight is useless.”
So did he. Rather than question Caroline further, Arlington sketched a bow. “You have my wishes for your health and happiness. Excuse me.”
Returning to his chamber, he called for his valet.
“To London, sir?” the man asked once he heard the news that they would be leaving immediately.
“To Kent,” Arlington replied. He had unfinished business ten years in the making to resolve.
*****
Caroline staggered to a sofa in the drawing room. Had she really just turned down an offer of marriage from a viscount? If he had asked a week ago, she likely would have said yes. Her conversation with her brother several days ago tore her heart open. Light was allowed in and now that the hope of finding love a second time was permitted to grow she could not snuff it out.
She only knew of Arlington’s reputation. He had no shame in showing off his mistresses. None of that would speak to a wounded heart, and yet Caroline saw her own reflection in his eyes. She had chosen to become grasping and bitter to cope with her despair. Arlington became a rake. And yet, he offered fidelity to her, and she believed he meant it. It was not that he was incapable of faithfulness. Indeed, offering marriage at all spoke to his willingness to put that time of his life aside. Neither one of them were particularly proud of their pasts. Besides all this, Caroline had seen the panic and sadness in his eyes when she mentioned love. No, his heart belonged to another and fool she might be, but she would not attempt to please a man in love with another.
Caroline had not realised she was weeping until the door opened without a knock, causing her to jump.
“Forgive me,” Darcy said. He looked ready to dash from the room but hesitated at the final moment. “Miss Bingley, are you well?”
She threw her hands up in the air. “As well as you can be after refusing a viscount!” She sounded crazed, and she wondered if she was. Surely turning down a peer was madness.
Immediately, Darcy turned red with anger. “I apologise for my cousin. I told him upon inviting him here that none of his usual antics would be tolerated. I will speak with Bingley immediately, and we will see he leaves.”
Caroline shook her head. “You misunderstand. He made me an honourable offer of marriage, and I,” she blew out a deep breath, “declined.”
She watched as a variety of emotions flitted across his face. The one that stuck out the most was fear. “You need not look so terrified. I did not refuse him because I still wanted you. I have made my peace with your marrying Eliza.”
Darcy closed his eyes and his pain on the subject was immediately apparent to Caroline. “Oh! That girl is a simpleton!”
Even while hurt, Darcy defended his lady. “No. She has her reasons, and I can only respect her for them.”
“Does she not know what a precious gift love is?” Caroline wished with all of her heart she had had a friend or relative to counsel her against ending her engagement all those years before.
Darcy’s face took on a guarded look. “If you are certain you are well, then I will leave you.”
“I must apologise to you.” She looked down at her hands for a moment. “I am sorry if I have been too insistent with my hopes. It has been a very long time since I considered seeking love in marriage. I was selfish to ever think you would not want it and then to get in the way when you sought it with another.”
Darcy furrowed his brow. “So you refused my cousin because you do not love him?”
Caroline explained her reasons for refusing Arlington and suggested Darcy speak with Elizabeth again. Unexpectedly, Georgiana barged in tbethhe room taking her side and the situation in hand by telling her brother to write a letter to Eliza. The siblings soon left, and Caroline stood on shaky legs to return to her chamber. She did not know if Lord Arlington meant to leave right away or stay but she hoped to avoid him.
At last, she felt ready to consider new love. Surely Charles would take her to London sometime this Season. Jane would love it. While there, Caroline would make a real effort to find a gentleman she could love.
*****
Soon after arriving at Brigadier-General Gordon’s home in Chester, Richard understood that his superiors were not so much interested in discussing military matters as much as they were interested in putting their daughters before him. All this time he had thought second sons of earls and military men were undesirable marriage partners, and it seemed these two warring fathers thought otherwise.
The real mischief, of course, occurred when General Vyse’s son shifted his attentions from Gordon’s daughter to another lady. What would have been a mighty alliance, was now a battleground. Miss Vyse and Miss Gordon were generally cried up as pretty and very good sorts of girls, but Richard found they paled in comparison to Belinda. None of their fathers’ hints at advantageous promotions for him should he choose one as a bride deterred his plan for a moment.
At last, the day of his appointed leave arrived. He would meet his family at Matlock Hall, and when his parents returned to London, he would resume his courtship with Belinda. To that effect, he chose to remind the generals that his conscription was up in March.
“The Regiment will be returning next week and after much thought, I have decided to resign when my commission is up in March. I would ask that you keep that in your plans for the Regiment and me while I take the time to smooth returning to civilian life,” he said.
“Civilian life? What is that? You ought to stay. Attached to the right Regiment and you can still do many things. Many men serve in Parliament or at court and are only deployed every few years.”
“That may be,” said Richard, “but I prefer a quieter life. I fear I lack the ambition.” And it was true. If he had wanted to, he would have been able to buy the commission of general and been approved on merit and length of service as well.
Vyse shook his head but offered his hand. “Best of luck to you, Fitzwilliam.”
“Thank you, sir.”
“I would suggest you need a wife in your civilian life,” Morgan said while pumping his hand. Then he added with a wink, “Vyse’s daughter is lovely.”
“Now see here…” the men walked off and allowed Richard to board his carriage.
A day later, he was dozing in the carriage when a sudden jolt awoke him. The coach was in a deep rut and a light rain had begun, causing it to stick. Determining that they were only a mile from a coaching inn and from there only an hour’s ride to Matlock Hall, Richard rented a horse to complete his journey.
Once he embarked, the rain picked up. The cold, late December air blew and chilled him. His wounded leg ached. Still, he pressed on. He had lived t
hrough worse and knew the comforts of a good bed, and a warm meal awaited him.
Arriving at his home, he tossed his reins to the stable hand and walked as briskly as he could manage through the rain. The stables were close to the side entrance, which also had a staircase that led to the wing his chamber was in. Wet hair dripped into his eyes, and he cast them down, watching to avoid leaving muddy footprints. Suddenly he knocked into a form that let out a yelp. Stretching his arms out to catch the person and expecting a maid, he was surprised to realise he would recognise that shape anywhere.
Belinda.
What was she doing here? Tugging out a wet handkerchief with one hand, he did not release her with his other. For once, she made no complaint. Clearing the raindrops from his face, he took in her beautiful countenance.
“Richard,” she breathed, and he was lost.
“Are you a dream?”
“Not unless you are,” she said with a mischievous smile.
“When I dream of you in my arms, I’m never soaked through like this.” She shivered against him, and he brought her closer.
“I do not believe your mother was expecting you yet.”
“Good. Then no one will be looking for me while I do this,” he said before savouring her lips. When he broke the kiss, he could no longer hold back the question in his mind. “What are you doing here?”
“Your mother invited mine.”
“Yet, you seem to have come of your own volition.”
“I missed you,” she said shyly and stared at the buttons on his chest rather than meet his eyes.
Tenderness swept over him. He raised Belinda’s chin. “And I you.”
“Really? You did not forget about me for Miss Vyse?”
He laughed. “No, nor Miss Gordon. There is only one Belinda in the world, and I could never forget her. And what made you miss me?”
“Do you really want to know right now or would you rather take advantage of the mistletoe we’re under?”
Richard looked up and saw indeed they were under mistletoe. With a smile, he complied with his lady’s suggestion. Not caring that he was dripping on the carpet, he met her lips with ravenous need. She learned quickly and too soon, he had to pull away from her lips to calm himself. Raining kisses on her face and then neck, his haze of lust faded just enough for him to hear the surprised shriek of his mother.
Chapter Ten
A day and a half after leaving Netherfield, Arlington arrived at Ramsgate. The cottage Claire had died in was now owned by someone else, her aunt having perished in the last ten years. After securing a room in an Inn, he made his way to the cemetery and found the du Val plots. He passed by Claire’s aunt, mother, and father before coming to hers. Each site was well tended to, and he wondered why when he was the only person in England that might have cared about them at all. He had never been able to bring himself here before, after Claire’s tragic and early death, he could not even bear to stay for the funeral. Instead, he had fled to London and visited the first tavern he laid eyes on, descending into a gin-soaked stupor and awoke in the arms of a stranger and his purse several pounds lighter from a bad night at the tables. No guilt invaded his conscience. He had felt the finality of Claire’s death all too keenly.
Ten years later, he stood before her gravestone, holding his breath. Since her passing, he had never allowed himself time to mourn or feel grief. He welcomed anger and bitterness, instead. First, he blamed his parents for refusing their consent. Blaming himself was a natural second step. But never once had he allowed that there was no one to blame for an illness. Who did he know that had been spared knowing death’s sting? His parents had suffered the loss of children after Richard’s birth. Darcy had lost both parents as well as many siblings before Georgiana survived infancy. His cousin Anne had lost her father and was conspicuously an only child. His friends had similar stories as well. Fate had not given him an unnecessarily harsh blow. Losing the love of his life had devastated him, but was it a blessing that if one of his loved ones had to go, it was her and not another? New as he was to allowing such thoughts, he had no answers.
Arlington had never been given much to sentiment. No tears threatened his eyes. To look at him, one would not know the clenching of his heart, the struggle he felt with each breath. Nor did he say any audible words, but in his soul, he felt a communion with Claire’s departed spirit. This was an act of parting he had never let himself experience before. He had been too determined to live while she had died. At last, he allowed himself to say goodbye to her in his heart. She, like Caroline the day before, would not be impressed with the man he had become. Her memory deserved better of him.
Seeing the sun begin to set, he returned to the Inn and informed his valet of his plans for more travels on the morrow. There was another stop necessary for him to fully put the ghost of Claire to rest from his mind.
Allowing himself a more leisurely pace, he arrived at Rosings estate on Christmas Eve. When he was shown into the drawing-room his aunt, for once, was silent. Her mouth hung down, and she seemed to need to gather it from the floor before she could speak.
“Arlington, this is a surprise!”
“I hope it is not an unwelcome one,” he said bowing over her hand. “You look well Aunt.” Then he directed his gaze to Anne, and he startled.
He had remembered her as frail, thin and sickly. Now, though, while still thin, her face had a healthy glow. Her features were not exactly pretty, but neither were they the very plain nearly contorted image he had held in his mind for the last ten years. Shaking his head, Arlington dispelled the memory. He had last seen her while first falling in love with Claire. Of course, every lady paled in comparison to her uncommon beauty, added all the more exceptional by his passionate feelings. Seeing Anne again cemented his plan.
“Will you not greet me, Cousin?” Anne asked with an outstretched hand and raised eyebrows framing her dark eyes.
“How are you, dear Anne?” he asked as he bowed over her hand. Surprisingly, he found he truly meant it.
“Well, I suppose. Have you seen your mother recently? I wrote her but have not had a reply yet.”
Arlington sat beside her. “No, I have not returned to London although I believe they are at Matlock by now.”
“Indeed. I sent my missive there. So you have not had a letter from her either?”
Anne looked very anxious for news from his mother, confusing him. “I am behind in my correspondence. Darcy had a recent letter from her and all was well.”
Anne studied him, uncertainty evident in her wrinkled brow.
“Well,” he said. “I had thought to visit since I was so near. Aunt, do you think there is a guest room I could beg use of?”
“Certainly, certainly. Stay as long as you would like.”
The old lady, Mrs. Jenkinson, pulled the bell cord for a servant and upon a maid’s appearance, Lady Catherine declared need of a room.
“I had not thought Hertfordshire closer to Rosings than London is,” Lady Catherine said with reproach in her voice.
He tugged at his cravat. “I have come from Ramsgate. I have been quite busy, you see, with Parliament.”
“You will be in London when it reopens, will you not?” Anne asked.
“Of course,” he said.
Anne nodded her head and then remained silent while Lady Catherine asked after his duties as an MP. When she began inquiring into his habits, he put an end to the interview. Frayed as his nerves were, he had no patience for her impertinent questions. “I am not here to give you the workings of the House, madam. Should you have more questions, I suggest you visit the library or consult your brother.”
Lady Catherine’s eyes narrowed. “What is the intention of your errand, Arlington?”
He had walked right into that. It was not his intention to tell her a thing. “My business is my own. If that does not suit your ladyship, I will inquire after rooms in the village.”
“Certainly not. The son of the Earl of Matlock seeking rooms in a village
inn? No nephew of mine shall stay there.”
Ah, blood and pride would trump at last. The maid reappeared saying his rooms were ready, and Lady Catherine was “kind” enough to direct him to them herself. Having purposefully arrived after dinner, he requested a tray be sent up for supper. He did not intend to visit with his Aunt again before speaking with Anne.
The following morning, Arlington had his valet deliver a message to Anne’s maid, requesting he speak with her. She replied, summoning him to her drawing room.
Anne sat on a settee in a frilly, lace-covered morning gown that dwarfed her tiny frame.
“You look lovely,” he said as a greeting and sat beside her. She gave him a confused look.
“Thank you. You slept well?”
“Yes. Now, this is awkward enough without attempting inane civilities. You must understand why I have come.”
“As you say you have not heard from your mother, no I do not.”
“I am determined to settle a date for our marriage.”
Arlington watched in shock as Anne’s mouth dropped open, a mirror image of her mother’s the night before. When she had regained her senses, she snapped it shut and turned red. After several minutes of silence, she spoke. Her words dripped with sarcasm. “Pray tell, what date did you have in mind? Next week, next month, next year? Am I to be expected to wait at your leisure for eternity?”
“I suppose I deserve that.”
Anne laughed. “Oh, do not presume you understand what you deserve. I believe it is customary to ask when speaking of marriage.”
“Surely not. You know the arrangement as well as I.”
“I know the agreement far better than you! For I never engaged myself to another and then ignored my betrothed for years. You cannot act as though you respected our parents’ arrangement all along.” She lifted her chin and said through clenched teeth, “Ask me.”
Through her tirade, Arlington stood, anger rising in him. Why had he thought to do this? Compromise, he reminded himself. “Very well. Anne, it is my extreme honour to offer you my hand in marriage. Will you be my viscountess?”
Renewed Hope Page 10