by Gayle Buck
“Ah! But you must make allowances for one who is overcome by the finer feelings for you, Miss Fairchilde,” said Lord Fielding. He took firm possession of her hands. “Perhaps this is not the best moment, but I cannot put off any longer speaking of what is in my heart.”
“Pray do not, my lord!” said Abby hastily.
Lord Fielding was unheeding. He had the bit in his teeth and was determined to unburden himself at last. “Miss Fairchilde, it comes as little surprise to you, I am certain, that I hold you in the upmost regard. Indeed, before you came on the scene, I had not believed that there was a lady whom I could reverence in just such a way. But so it is! Miss Fairchilde, I lay my heart at your feet and beg of you to accept my suit!”
Abby had tried unavailingly to interrupt his lordship during his pretty speech. Now she stared helplessly up at him. It occurred to her that Lord Fielding was looking smug, as though he had no doubt of her reply, and that realization helped stiffen her resolve. She pulled free her hands. “My lord, I fear you are precipitate,” she began.
Lord Fielding appeared surprised. “Precipitate! My dear Miss Fairchilde, surely you were informed by your brother-in-law that I desired to press my suit some weeks past.”
“Yes, indeed I was, but—”
“And I hinted to you in this very room only three days ago upon what subject I wished to speak to you,” he pursued.
“Yes, of course you did. And I understood you perfectly,” said Abby. She saw that bewilderment was gaining place in his expression and her compassion was stirred. She hated to give pain to one who had proven himself so faithful. She could not bring herself to completely rebuff him, so she said, “My lord, the truth is that I am unsettled in my mind. I—I realize that I, and my family, too, have given you cause to believe— However, I cannot answer you as you would like!”
Lord Fielding seemed to mull over what she had said, while Abby folded and refolded her hands in her lap. She was embarrassed and apprehensive and wished his lordship would simply stand up and walk out of the drawing room. Of course, that was too much to hope for, since Lord Fielding was too much the gentleman to ever do such a thing. So she waited on tenterhooks how he would respond to her rejection.
Lord Fielding did not disappoint her. With a long expression, he sighed and shook his head. “I have long held the opinion that females are not the best judge of their interests, and I am sorry to say that I am proved right. However, I do not despair, Miss Fairchilde! I still have every expectation of a happy conclusion. I do not deny that I am displeased by your answer to me today, for that would be less than truthful. Yet I will forbear any recriminations. Indeed, what purpose would it serve to try to bring you to a better understanding at such an inauspicious moment? Therefore, I shall reserve any words of mine until such time as I deem more conducive to my suit.”
Abby nearly wilted with her relief. “Thank you, my lord! I am truly grateful for your forbearance,” she said, inexpressibly glad that he was not going to cut up at her.
He stood up and bowed to her. With a rather stiff expression, as well as carriage, he turned away and went to the door of the drawing room. The door opened just as he reached for the brass knob, and he rocked back a step. “Mrs. Crocker! Forgive me, I did not intend to bar your passage.”
“No, indeed! It was I who was in the way,” said Mrs. Crocker, smiling as she held out her hand. “Do you leave us so soon, my lord?”
Lord Fielding cast a backward glance as he shook her hand. “I fear I must, ma’am. Pray do not be offended if I do not linger.”
“Of course I am not offended!” Mrs. Crocker said a few more things, seeing that Lord Fielding was properly shown out by the servants, before she turned back into the drawing room. Carefully closing the door behind her, she stood quite still as she stared across the room at her sister. “Well!”
Abby did not quite dare to meet her sister’s eyes. She rose from the settee. “I think I shall go up to my bedroom. I see that it is nearly teatime, and I should like to change.”
Mrs. Crocker did not move from her place in front of the door. “He offered for you, didn’t he? And you refused him! Oh, Abby, how could you?”
Abby put up her chin, a trifle defiantly, even though her cheeks were suffused with heat. “I don’t love him, Melissa! Besides, I didn’t precisely refuse him. At least, I mustn’t have, because he means to speak to me again in future.”
“I trust you shall have a happier answer for Lord Fielding then!” snapped Mrs. Crocker. She caught herself up, sighed, and shook her head. “You have behaved very foolishly, Abby. I would never have thought it of you. I don’t know what Peter will say.”
“Perhaps it is not what Peter will say to the purpose, but what Mama has to say!” exclaimed Abby, feeling herself goaded beyond endurance. She put up her hands and pressed them against her cheeks.
Mrs. Crocker turned and opened the door. “You are obviously beside yourself, my dear. Perhaps you should go upstairs. I think a few minutes’ private reflection will be quite good for you.”
Abby swept past her sister without a word, glad to escape from Mrs. Crocker’s obvious displeasure. How awkward it was, to be so beholden to her sister for everything, to be fully cognizant of her sister’s goodness toward her. It would make her sister so happy if she were to accept Lord Fielding. But Abby simply could not bring herself to take that fatal step. Equally impossible to explain fully was why she was being so disobliging, for in her sister’s eyes there was only one gentleman who was suited to be her spouse.
All afternoon Abby struggled to regain her equilibrium from her unhappy interview with Lord Fielding and adjust to the disappointment with which Mrs. Crocker regarded her. It came as a welcome respite when they had several callers come to tea, making unnecessary any private conversation that might have otherwise taken place between her and her sister.
However, social obligation could not delay discussion of Abby’s future forever. There was not an obligation that evening, an unusual occurrence created by their hostess being forced to cancel her supper party due to an accident having befallen her race-mad son, and the Crocker household settled in the drawing room for after-dinner coffee. Only August was missing, having announced plans to go to supper with his particular friends before heading off into the country with them for a few days.
While Mrs. Fairchilde and Mrs. Paddington played at backgammon before the fire, Mrs. Crocker took up her embroidery hoop, remarking that it had been too long since she had set a few stitches. Abby obliged her brother-in-law by playing cards with him. She was a clever player, and Mr. Crocker did not despise her as an opponent. Yet unexpectedly, during a discard, Mr. Crocker made mention of something that most concerned Abby.
“Abby, you might as well know. Lord Darlington called today while you were visiting with Lord Fielding,” said Mr. Crocker, a shade grimly.
Abby stared at him over the top of her cards. “Why, this is the first I have heard of it.” She directed a questioning glance across the room at her sister, but Mrs. Crocker did not look up from her embroidering. Abby turned back to her brother-in-law for enlightenment.
Mr. Crocker mumbled something under his breath before taking two cards. It could not have been said whether he was frowning at his hand or at his thoughts. “You may guess for what purpose the marquess called, Abby.”
“I’d rather not,” said Abby, her heart beginning to beat harder.
“Lord Darlington requested an audience with our mother,” said Mrs. Crocker quietly. She looked up, her gaze very straight. “He has asked Mama’s permission to press his suit with you.”
Abby felt incredulous. She could scarcely believe that Lord Darlington had actually made a formal offer for her. A dizzy happiness began to pervade through her body.
“I see that you are thunderstruck, which isn’t surprising,” said Mrs. Crocker. Her eyes dropped once more to her embroidery. “I, for one, did not expect anything from that quarter!”
“Melissa.” Mr. Crocker’s quiet
warning caused his wife to look up quickly. At meeting her husband’s gaze, Mrs. Crocker colored slightly. She smiled and shook her head. Mr. Crocker turned back to his sister-in-law. “Abby, I would ordinarily not broach this matter to you with everyone present. However, since your mother has already granted Lord Darlington leave to pay his addresses, and everyone in the house is fully aware of it, I thought it of little consequence. Is Lord Darlington’s suit acceptable to you, my dear?”
“Yes, oh, yes,” said Abby quietly. Her dignity was in direct contrast to the turbulent feelings that had seized hold of her. Her mind was in a whirl, one chaotic thought chasing the next.
“Pray do not lose sight of Lord Fielding’s suit in contemplation of this new offer,” said Mrs. Crocker quickly.
Abby regarded her sister, a small frown forming between her brows. “Why don’t you like Lord Darlington, Melissa?”
“It is not a question of liking, Abby! Why, I have nothing against his lordship, except that I do not care overmuch for the dandified airs he puts on,” said Mrs. Crocker.
“I think Lord Darlington is quite modish in his dress,” said Abby at once.
Mrs. Crocker laughed, her expression lightening. “Oh, Abby!”
“There’s also the matter of the Darlington reputation,” said Mr. Crocker heavily. “The late marquess was a hardened gamester, from all accounts, and improvident with his inheritance. I have heard the estates were mortgaged to the hilt. There is some talk that Lord Darlington has retired the outstanding mortgages, yet I would be very surprised, indeed, if Lord Darlington has much to offer in creature comforts for the support of a wife.”
Mrs. Paddington had been listening intently. “If you’re thinking this ,arquess is as wild as his father, Peter, it is no such thing. I knew the last Lord Darlington, and if ever there was a profligate, it was he! This young gentleman is not cut from the same cloth, I assure you.”
“I found Lord Darlington to be quite open, both about his circumstances and his intentions for the support of a wife. I saw nothing of which to complain,” said Mrs. Fairchilde.
“Well! It appears Lord Darlington has won points all around,” said Mrs. Crocker, briskly putting away her embroidery. “However, it is early days yet. Abby may find she prefers Lord Fielding, a most worthy gentleman, as I am certain we all can agree. Peter, it grows late. Will you escort me upstairs?”
“Of course, my dear.” He put down his cards, smiling apologetically at his sister-in-law for leaving their game unfinished. As he rose and went to join his wife, who was waiting impatiently by the door, he remarked, “I trust you will use wisdom in your decision, Abby.”
“I shall try to do so,” said Abby. She thought she knew already what she wanted, but she felt it was not an appropriate time to say anything, not when it was obvious her sister was still not reconciled to the possibility of Lord Fielding being supplanted in Abby’s affections.
For herself, Abby looked forward to seeing Lord Darlington again with even greater anticipation than ever before.
Chapter Nineteen
It proved to be an unexceptional meeting. They chanced to encounter one another at an evening musicale that same weekend. Abby was sitting with her relations, all of whom, with the exception of Mr. Crocker, were exhibiting enjoyment of the performance. Mr. Crocker shifted restlessly in his chair and winced every time the diva’s voice rose to a shrill note.
Abby was not absorbed by the entertainment, either. But that was due, she realized, more to her mental perambulations than to any fault of the performer. However, she thought she would welcome a respite, and she knew that her brother-in-law would relish the opportunity. She leaned toward Mr. Crocker’s ear and whispered, “Peter, I should like very much to have a breath of fresh air. Will you escort me?”
“Willingly!” Mr. Crocker got up and gave his arm to her. With a whispered word to his wife and a mumbled apology to aficionados who fixed them with affronted stares, he speedily conveyed his sister-in-law out of the drawing room and into the anteroom. When he had closed the door behind them, he said, “Whew! I shall never know why Melissa is partial to such screeching. It is a complete mystery to me, I assure you!”
Taking her brother-in-law’s arm again so that they could slowly walk the length of the wide gallery, Abby laughed. She teased, “But the singer is an artiste, Pete!”
Mr. Crocker snorted. “All very well for you to say so, Abby, but it doesn’t change a thing. My ears are still humming.”
They had walked a little ways further and encountered a couple of others who had sought refuge from the evening’s entertainment. One was a close friend of Mr. Crocker’s, whom he greeted with delight. The other was Lord Darlington, who did not engender more than a civil greeting from Mr. Crocker.
Abby had naturally seen Lord Darlington earlier in the audience. He had escorted his mother, Lady Darlington, and Lady Bethany to their seats before disappearing at the beginning of the performance. She had not seen him since and had assumed he had left. She therefore gave her hand to Lord Darlington with a special pleasure at being able to talk with him. “My lord! I am so glad to see you this evening.”
“I trust you are well, Miss Fairchilde?” he asked, placing her hand on his arm.
“Very well, indeed, my lord,” said Abby, blushing and smiling up at him.
As Mr. Crocker and his friend fell into deep discussion over a certain horse’s points, Lord Darlington steered Abby a little apart, politely directing her attention to a fine portrait hanging on the opposite wall.
Abby murmured her appreciation of the portrait, but Lord Darlington, knowing that they were now out of earshot of the others, brushed such mundane pleasantries aside. He smiled at her in a way that set her heart fluttering.
“I am certain you must have been told that I called on Mrs. Fairchilde and what passed between us.”
“Yes, indeed. I am very glad you spoke to my mother,” said Abby, turning her head to meet his gaze. Her heart thudded at his expression.
“Then I am glad also,” said Lord Darlington quietly. He looked at her with a marked warmth in his eyes. “Nothing could make me any happier than to be able to call you my own.”
Abby made a slight, mute gesture of mixed embarrassment and gratification. “My lord, you go too quickly for me.”
Lord Darlington laughed softly. “You are adorable when you are covered with confusion. I shall call on you tomorrow to take you driving, if you should like it?”
“I should like it very much, my lord,” said Abby, smiling shyly.
That was all the conversation they were allowed to have, Mr. Crocker and his friend coming to join them. With a few civil words of excuse, Mr. Crocker escorted Abby back toward the musicale. “What was Darlington so intent about?” he asked casually.
“He merely wished to assure himself that I would be at home tomorrow morning, so that he could take me driving,” said Abby. She did not think it necessary to divulge to her brother-in-law the lover-like words that Lord Darlington had spoken. Those she would treasure close and in private.
Mr. Crocker threw her a skeptical glance. “I see. Well, no doubt you know your own business best,” he remarked as he opened the door and ushered her back inside. A particularly high note was hit, and he visibly shuddered, muttering under his breath that he hoped the ghastly affair would soon be over.
Mr. Crocker had his wish granted to him in no more than a quarter hour. The diva took her bows to applause, and the audience began to break up into knots of conversation.
Lady Darlington, escorted by Lord Darlington and trailed by her daughter, made her way over to the Crocker party. The dowager greeted everyone in a friendly way. “Wasn’t it a marvelous performance? I don’t know when I have heard better.”
Mrs. Crocker and Mrs. Fairchilde agreed and began discussing with Lady Darlington various particulars about the evening’s entertainment. Mr. Crocker stood by with a long-suffering expression, agreeing whenever he was applied to by his spouse. Mrs. Paddington took per
verse delight in suggesting that the diva be brought in for one of their own entertainments, watching for Mr. Crocker’s look of horror and cackling when she saw it.
Lord Darlington drew his obviously reluctant sister forward. “I believe you have something to say to Miss Fairchilde, Lady Bethany,” he said sternly.
Lady Bethany cast an uncertain glance at Abby. “Well, I do! Even if Abby doesn’t wish me to say it,” she said with a hint of defiance. “I am very sorry for behaving so childishly, Abby. I hope you may forgive me.”
Abby immediately held out her hands, exclaiming, “Oh, Lady Bethany! You have made me so very happy. Are we friends again?”
Lady Bethany’s wary expression thawed and she laughed. Ignoring Abby’s hands, she flung her arms around her in a quick embrace. As she released Abby, she said eagerly, “Yes, oh, yes! I have been miserable without you, you know. We used to talk about everything, and I have no one else I can do that with. Dearest Abby, I shall never be unkind to you again, I promise! Shall I call on you tomorrow?”
“Of course! We shall have a comfortable coze,” said Abby. A queer tightness in her chest had eased with Lady Bethany’s apology. She realized with mild astonishment that she had actually suffered from physical tension since the falling out with her dearest friend.
“How delightful it will be! I shall come early, perhaps ten o’clock,” said Lady Bethany with quick enthusiasm.
“No, you won’t. I am taking Miss Fairchilde driving in the morning, Bethany, so you must wait until later in the day to see her,” said Lord Darlington firmly.
“Well, really, Sylvan! When I have not seen Abby for days and days and you have talked to her any number of times, I daresay,” said Lady Bethany indignantly.
Abby laughed, even as Lord Darlington smiled his own amusement. “Never mind, Bethany. You will come before tea and stay as long as you like.”
“That is a much better scheme,” said Lady Bethany with her swift mercurial smile.