A Rumored Engagement

by Lily George

  It had been a shock indeed when he met her that fateful day. Susannah had never asked for help for anything. Once he’d held a door for her and oh, she’d given him the sharp edge of her tongue. ’Twas unusual for a girl to be so very independent, but that was Susannah. They’d met at the edge of the park, and Susannah had pleaded with him to help her get away from her uncle.

  There were dark circles under her eyes, and her beautiful hair hung limply down her back. She was so defeated. Susannah—defeated. Somehow, the words simply never went together. And he promised to help her. But he went to sea—

  He took another long drink. He went to sea—

  To escape. He went to sea to escape.

  Why didn’t he take Susannah with him? ’Twas a pertinent question. He took the decanter from the table beside him and poured another stout glass. Might as well leave it close by. He’d keep drinking until his thoughts turned off. Once he stopped feeling what a despicable rogue he must be for leaving Susannah and everyone who depended on him and needed his help.

  He didn’t take Susannah with him because, well, because he’d cared a little too much. How could he doom Susannah to the same sort of marriage his parents had endured? His mother, so merry and lovely, and his father, so cheerless and dour. That was what came of responsibilities and duties—they changed a man. He must avoid them forever to prevent the fundamental changing of his character.

  He needed to calm her down, though. And so he’d promised all he could give. Susannah would find a way out—she always did. And perhaps someday, he could find her again—

  Baxter knocked on the door, but the sound was muffled by the buzzing in Daniel’s ears. The butler came in bearing Daniel’s lunch on a tray and averted his eyes from the sight of the decanter, now half-empty, resting on the hearth.

  “Bad news, sir?” His voice was respectful, but he bent and retrieved Paul’s letter, which was still crumpled on the floor.

  “Very bad.” Daniel managed to get the words out without slurring. “I need to talk to Sus—to Miss Siddons. Can’t go there myself. Take the carriage.”

  “I think you’d better wait until you’ve had a bite to eat,” Baxter replied. He smoothed the sheets of foolscap and placed them on Daniel’s desk. “The company of ladies and scotch rarely mix well, especially in the afternoon.”

  “No. I need her now. Go get her.” He had to make things right. He’d made such a mess of things for so long.

  “I shall send one of the maids down in the carriage, if you agree to try eating some of your food. Do you want to send a message to Miss Siddons? Perhaps that would be for the best.”

  “I am not in the mood for a lecture.” The words tumbled out, slipping and sliding as though they were sledding down a hillside. “I need Miss Siddons here now. I don’t care who gets her, or how, but I want it to happen without any more prevaricating. I am master here now.” He drew himself up, lurching forward at an accelerated rate. “And if I want my scotch at noon or at midnight it’s no one’s concern.”

  Baxter bowed and withdrew without another word. Daniel raked his hands through his hair, straining for a sense of self-control amid the whirling chaos. Anger gnawed at him like a rabid dog. He’d made Susannah’s life miserable, he’d failed in everything he’d tried and he was incapable of either leaving Goodwin or assuming the reins as master with ease. He dithered back and forth like a leaf buffeted by a breeze. Oh, and he was becoming the kind of master who yelled at his servants. Just like Father.

  Choking on rage and disappointment, he flung his glass against the mantel. It shattered with a most satisfying crash, sending droplets of liquor and shards of crystal spraying across the floor.

  What a sniveling mess he was. What a failure.

  * * *

  Susannah glanced up from her chair by the window. Daniel’s carriage. What on earth was he doing now? ’Twas nearly time to have a bite to eat, and then she had a full afternoon of bonnet making before her. She really had no more time for his games.

  The footman opened the carriage door and a maid rushed out. How very odd. Why had Daniel sent a maid instead of coming himself?

  Honestly, he would drive her to distraction.

  She cast her work—a woolen tam-oʼ-shanter in a captivating shade of green—aside and rose. Nothing to do now but see what Daniel required.

  The maid paused on the threshold and clasped her hands over her heart as she scanned the room. Spying Susannah, she bobbed a brief curtsy. “If you please, Miss Siddons,” she panted, “Mr. Hale has asked for you to come see him. At once.”

  “You can go back to Goodwin and inform Mr. Hale that I am quite busy all afternoon.” She gave the maid a pleasant but brief smile. “Some of us have to work for a living,” she added under her breath.

  “Beg pardon, miss, but I can’t do that. Mr. Hale gave strict instructions that I was to bring you to Goodwin without delay.” The maid cast a pleading look at Susannah. Poor girl. Obviously she was just following orders. And if she didn’t follow them—surely Daniel wouldn’t sack her, but there’d be a to-do.

  “Is there some sort of emergency?” This haste was strange. Even for Daniel and his mercurial ways. Perhaps there really was something wrong.

  “I don’t know any of the particulars. I was just told to come and fetch you.” The maid looked as if she might say something more but then hesitated and fell silent.

  Susannah sighed. This girl was simply following orders, the orders of a mischievous and quick-tempered master. She wouldn’t leave without Susannah, so there was no sense in continuing to quiz her. Susannah acquiesced with a slight incline of her head. “Very well. Let me tell my sisters where I am going.”

  “Oh, thank you.” The maid looked so relieved. Surely the poor dear wasn’t about to embrace her. No—she turned on her heel and scurried out the door to the waiting carriage.

  “Becky? Nan?” Susannah called as she strode out to the back porch. Her sisters had pulled their chairs outside and were using the full, bright sunlight to their advantage, Becky embroidering while Nan tatted lace. “I must go to Goodwin Hall for a bit. Daniel’s in a mood and sent a servant for me.”

  “Is he ill again?” Nan squinted, holding her work up closer as she concentrated on a stitch. “Surely you’ve done all you can as his nursemaid.”

  “Perhaps he has wonderful news,” Becky volunteered, her needle flashing in the sunlight. “News of a lost fortune found, perhaps?”

  “Whatever it is, he’d better have a very good reason for interrupting my workday.” Susannah untied her apron and hung it on the hook just inside the doorway. “Will you be all right whilst I am gone?”

  “Of course,” her sisters replied in unison, bending their heads back down to focus on their sewing. Gracious, only a few weeks back in Tansley, and already they were becoming so independent. Almost as if they didn’t need her help at all.

  Well, obviously someone needed her. Daniel Hale. ’Twould be interesting indeed to see what was so blessed important that he felt the need to send a carriage and a maid to interrupt her workday. She blew a kiss to her sisters and walked round the front of the building, where the coachman waited respectfully to hand her into the carriage.

  She hadn’t expected the maid to volunteer more information, and that was a good thing. For the girl said not another word, but sat silent and pale in her corner of the carriage, biting her lip. Even the ride on the mail wagon from Matlock was livelier than this. And less exasperating.

  They rounded the curve of the driveway at Goodwin Hall after a quarter hour of silence, with nothing but the swaying of the carriage to break up the monotony. As she alit, Baxter rushed down the steps, his expression a strange mixture of sadness and fear. Despite her recent annoyance, Susannah’s heart fluttered a bit in her chest. Surely nothing was really wrong—was it?

  “Thank you for coming, Miss Si
ddons,” he muttered, assisting her up the steps. As they paused on the porch, he spoke again. “I would not usually ask a lady to come and see a gentleman in this manner. But you see, the circumstances are quite strange, and Mr. Hale will not be dissuaded.”

  Susannah turned, looking the butler squarely in the eye. “What has happened?”

  “He received a letter from his friend Mr. Paul, which made him quite upset. It must be the letter, for he spent the morning working on the chapel and seemed in good spirits until I gave him the letter to read. After that—he must have imbibed quite a bit of scotch. And then he ordered me to get you. I’m so sorry, Miss Siddons. I do know it’s vastly improper, and I wouldn’t have followed his orders—only there’s something else happening. He does need your help. I just don’t know why.”

  What a kind man Baxter was. To put up with Daniel’s drunkenness. She placed a gentle hand on his arm. “You made the right decision,” she replied in a soothing voice. “Whatever has upset him has upset the whole household. And if I can make it right, I will. Where is he?”

  “In his study. I sent the maid down to fetch you so I could stay nearby. Shall I go in with you, miss?”

  “No, thank you, Baxter. If I need assistance, I will let you know. And I do appreciate your help, as I am sure Mr. Hale does.” She gave him as much of a smile as she could muster, but ’twas difficult. Even the normally unflappable Baxter was decidedly shaken. And not by the upheaval in the household, but by the changes wrought in Daniel. This was, perhaps, the most troubling thing of all. That the butler, who’d known Daniel since he was a child, was truly taken aback by whatever had transpired this afternoon.

  She entered Goodwin Hall— It was ominously silent. The usual hubbub of servants coming and going was hushed. They must be in the kitchen, waiting for the storm to blow over. Her boot heels rang out across the wooden floor as she made her way over to the study.

  Should she knock? Or just let herself in? There was no sound from within. He might not even be there, judging by the silence.

  Well, he expected her. So, gathering her courage, she pulled the latch and let herself in. Sarcasm might work best in smoothing the way. This strange new fear and silence was simply too overwhelming. She must seize control of the moment.

  “Well, Daniel, here I am. To what do I owe the pleasure of this midday interruption?”

  Chapter Eleven

  Daniel raised his head, forcing his eyes to focus. Susannah was here. He’d sent for her, and she’d come. He rubbed his hand over his eyes. Perhaps it could clear his vision. Right now he saw several Susannahs, all pretty and proud, lips drawn down in a pout of disapproval.

  “This is the second time I’ve caught you in your cups. Is this a habit of yours?” All the Susannahs blurred into one as she sank onto the settee opposite him. “And why in the middle of the day? And alone? From what I understood from watching my uncle, gentlemen always drink whilst gambling or socializing.”

  “Susannah.” The single word came out as a croak. He cleared his throat and gave another mighty effort. Her name was so difficult to say when one had been drinking—how difficult it was not to slur the word. “Susy.”

  She stiffened, drawing her spine up straight, and the soft lines of her cheek hardened. Was she really going to fuss about him calling her that now? When they were on the brink of potential disaster?

  “Don’t.” He pronounced the word sharply. “I know what you’re going to say.”

  She lowered her gaze to the floor as if in acquiescence, and that was enough of a sign for him to continue. “I got a letter.”

  “So Baxter told me. From Paul.” She traced a design in the nap of the rug, using the toe of her boot.

  He watched in fascination for a moment. Susannah had such small feet. All of her was small, except for the strength of her will...the thought of which snapped him back to the matter at hand.

  “It seems he told a lot of people. About us.” There, it was out. Now that she knew, they could plan out what to do. And he wouldn’t be alone, trying to fix this mess.

  She looked up, the color draining from her face. “What do you mean?”

  He seized the letter from where it had fallen beside him on the floor. “Read it.”

  She took the letter and read through it. ’Twas only a few paragraphs, but she took an eternity about it. When she finally raised her eyes to his face, he had to avert his gaze from the pain he glimpsed in their shadowy depths.

  “Susy, I am so sorry.” The best way to begin was with an apology. Because he meant it. Paul sounded such a cad in that letter, and Daniel had never meant to hurt her. What a dashed mess he’d made of things. “So sorry. How can I make it better?”

  She folded the foolscap back into place and settled back on the settee. He hadn’t seen her look this cowed—well, not since the afternoon she’d asked him for help. She was meant for decision, action and movement—not for resting on a settee in the face of social suicide.

  “I don’t know. You can’t reverse what’s already been done.” She waved a listless hand through the air. “I don’t think we should do anything just now. Wait and see. We’re so far out of the way here in Tansley, perhaps no one will find out.”

  “And if they do?” He turned to her. “Could it hurt your business in any way?”

  “I don’t know.” Her face paled in the dim light. “Oh, Daniel, if only you knew. If only you could understand how very precarious my foothold is right now. I just started this millinery, and I just secured my first large commission. Twelve bonnets for the Honorable Elizabeth Glaspell. And orders from her friends.” Her voice sounded warmer now, less weary, and her words tumbled out in a rush. “I am so close to having the kind of security my sisters and I need. So close to finally making a living on my own. What if our broken engagement caused a scandal, and my business suffered? I cannot afford that.”

  She sighed, rubbing her hands together. Then her expression hardened, and she became brisk and practical once more. “This could cause trouble, but perhaps no one would care. I’m in trade now, and you’re a gentleman. The differences in our stations are such that no one would take an engagement between us seriously. At least, I should think not. We can only hope that Tansley is simply too far away for such gossip to matter.”

  He didn’t like that she spoke of the difference in their stations. She was a gentlewoman through and through, no matter that she had to work for a living. And he had hardly earned the title of gentleman. But he knew better than to press his point with the fiercely independent Susannah.

  But as to the problem at hand—Tansley was hours away from London, and the gentry families were likely here already, as the Season had ended a few weeks ago. Only bachelors on a bender and a few stragglers likely remained in town. “Perhaps nothing will come of it at all.”

  “Yes.” She smoothed her hair with a hand that trembled perceptibly. “Just don’t say anything more. And...don’t talk to Paul about us again. Please.”

  “I won’t,” he promised. “He just found out about the engagement the day I met you again. The day we were walking in the village and came upon you and your sisters. I was surprised to see you, and I couldn’t conceal my amazement from Paul, I am afraid.” ’Twas astounding how quickly he was sobering up. The weight of what they faced—the enormity of it—was sobering in and of itself. “I never meant to cause you harm.”

  “I know you didn’t. But—you’ll forgive me—that’s the trouble with you, Daniel. You never think. And you never mean what you say.” Her voice sounded faded and shaky, as though she were speaking from a long distance away. And her words, well, they were an unexpected knife in his gut.

  “That’s horrible.” It was all he could think of to say.

  “I just mean—you’re so charming. You say things to please others...” She trailed off, her cheeks turning a delicate shade of pink.<
br />
  He nodded slowly. She had a right to feel that way. “I understand. You don’t have to say more.”

  “And it hurts, a bit, to be referred to in such terms.” Susannah glanced up, her large, gray-green eyes sparkling with unshed tears. “The boy who ran to sea. The girl he left behind. As though...as though we were characters in a play, and not real people at all.”

  “I agree. It’s despicable.” He raked his hand through his hair. “I thought Paul had more sense, or at least more compassion. I’ve known him forever. Never thought he’d do this.” He glanced over at Susannah, allowing the full frustration and self-loathing he felt to show through his expression. No more masks with Susannah. No more joking about. She deserved better. “If I had, I would never have said anything.”

  “I believe you.” Susannah gave him a half smile. “You’re a good person at heart, Daniel. I’ve always known it in my heart. That’s why I came to you...” She paused, as though unsure if she should continue. When she did resume, her words were more even and fiercer. “My anger is directed mostly at myself, you know. Anger that I can’t do better than I’ve done. Anger that my foothold on stability is so shaky. It shouldn’t be. I should be a better provider than this.”

  Daniel chuckled. The sound startled Susannah, who arched one eyebrow as though expecting a sarcastic comment in response. But Daniel shook his head. She was being ridiculous. “You’re too hard on yourself. You’ve done an amazing job, Susy. I am so astonished by all you’ve accomplished.”

  She dropped her gaze to the floor. “Thank you.” Then, in true Susannah style, she added, “But I could do better.”

  He grinned ruefully, and an expectant silence settled between them. Would either of them bridge that gap? Say what never had been said? Susannah was the one who usually took command of any situation, charging in where others feared to tread. But as the silence wore on, Daniel’s impatience rose. Blame it on the scotch—perhaps it was giving him Dutch courage.

  “You never wrote to me, Susy.” It was a statement. Not a question. He was merely stating a fact.