A Rumored Engagement

by Lily George

  He might. But that was Daniel’s decision. She couldn’t continue jeopardizing her livelihood to help him. ’Twas terrible and selfish to think so, but there it was. She had to think of her family first. Though her heart constricted at the thought of Daniel alone at Goodwin, drowning his loneliness in a decanter of scotch, she must always protect her sisters and herself.

  After all, ’twas what Mother made her promise. “Take care of your sisters,” she had begged Susannah from her deathbed. Mama had lingered longer than Papa after the fever. ’Twas Mama who’d tried to arrange things just so, had made her take a vow to care for everyone, even while dying. And she had to continue to fulfill that promise.

  Even if it hurt, deep inside, to do so.

  * * *

  To drink or not to drink? Somehow, the scotch decanter had lost its allure. He could drink, and would probably to excess, later that night. But right now, Daniel needed something more.

  As he strode up the moor and came into sight of Goodwin, he paused. He was a man with a burning thirst—a long cool draft of water would quench it. And yet he always reached for the champagne. Or, better still—he was a man who was dying of hunger. But rather than bread, he sampled rare exotic cuisine that did nothing to abate his hunger pains.

  Susannah’s friendship was bread and water. Simple. Uncomplicated. Nourishing. Fulfilling. With her, he never felt a failure or alone. And now, she was gone. And he would be back to a diet of lobster bisque and champagne.

  He had no desire to see Goodwin now. He skirted the side of the house and delved back into the clearing. Mother’s chapel. He needed the peace and the simplicity of the chapel.

  He found his way in, fumbling with the tinderbox until he lit the candle, sparking the little room with light. He surveyed it with a critical and jaded eye. It still needed a lot of work, but at least one could sit in contemplation without worrying about spiders and without sneezing from the thick layer of dust.

  Daniel sank into a pew. A future without Susannah. Funny, he’d never really thought of that. Not that he’d ever thought about how he could keep Susannah in his life. After all, they weren’t wed, and as far as either of them felt, not really betrothed, either. So why was he so upset? He’d never done anything to ensure that she would stay with him forever. Never done anything beyond reach out in friendship. What had he expected would happen?

  He rested his elbows on his knees and cradled his head in his hands. He couldn’t go on like this. This existence was meaningless. Purposeless. Goodwin had no meaning for him beyond this little chapel that somehow brought him closer to what he was seeking.

  “Dear God...” he muttered aloud. If only Susannah were here. She could help him pray. At least help him begin. His very being ached for understanding, for peace. And yet grace of any kind was as distant as a star.

  “My Father...” The words rang hollowly through the rafters of the chapel.

  ’Twas no use. He was not a praying man. The life that he could have led as master of Goodwin Hall, bolstered by his friendship with Susannah, was a mere farce. He would never measure up to it. Never.

  If he had no use for Goodwin, why stay? He could very well cut his losses. He could simply renege on his inheritance and pass it to some distant cousin. Or he could lease Goodwin out to someone else—some rich bloke from London seeking a country seat to add that gentry polish.

  He raised his head slowly. This had to be the answer. It was best for Goodwin to have a master who could care for it. And it would be best for him if he could go. It didn’t matter where—he could sign on with a merchant vessel or sail to America to seek a new adventure. And it would be best for Susannah, for she could carry on with her business without fear of censure by any of their neighbors.

  This was the answer.

  He would write to Paul directly to get his help in making the arrangements. Paul knew all sorts of people in London—card players who might be looking for a new home. At last, Paul’s loose tongue and wide variety of acquaintance would come in handy. And if no one showed an interest, he’d board the place up and go adventuring just the same. Goodwin had been there for decades. It would continue to do well for decades more, even without a master.

  He leaped up from the pew. A curious longing tore at him as he looked around at the chapel. Poor little building had just started coming together after years of neglect. ’Twas sad to leave it again, just as he’d begun to take care of it. If only he could bridge the gap that separated him from Goodwin. If only he could fill this emptiness in his life. But there was nothing for it. His friendship could only cause harm to Susannah and he was a dreadfully bad master, so ’twas better to face the fact of his deficiencies full force than to continue playing at a farce.

  One couldn’t devote one’s life to a silly chapel. He’d see to it that this little building was kept up and that it never fell into disrepair again. Everyone could surely see the wisdom of his decision. Better to return to a life at which he excelled, rather than persist in one at which he kept failing.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Susannah adjusted the willow basket on her arm so that the handle no longer bit into her skin. She would try to finish all their weekly marketing here in the village and return to the shop as quickly as possible. ’Twas still quite strange to leave Becky and Nan in charge of matters. Funny, curious townspeople didn’t even look in the display window any longer.

  Perhaps they needed to change the bonnets out—give the place a fresh look. After all, there were only so many people in the village—perhaps everyone had already caught a glimpse of their display. Maybe something more autumnal would look nice. Some oak branches with orange-and-red leaves, velvets and dark taffetas—her fingers fairly itched to do the work. But then, someone had to do the shopping. And since business was slow, she could leave the girls behind without having to worry that they could not handle matters well enough on their own—even on a Saturday.

  As she neared the main path that led to the other village shops, a trio of villagers glanced up at her. The two women in the group turned away without a smile or a nod. The man who accompanied them simply cocked his hat back on his forehead and stared at her. Susannah gave a cautious nod and continued on her path.

  She passed by two other men—each who eyed her with a frankly assessing look, as though sizing her up like a mare in a livery stable. Susannah gave a brief nod and swallowed. Good gracious, what was the matter? Surely nothing had come of her friendship with Daniel. She hadn’t seen or spoken to him in well over a fortnight—not since that dreadful day on the moor when she’d broken off their friendship. She must reach Bess’s bakery without delay. Bess would tell her if something was dreadfully wrong.

  Gathering her skirts along with the shreds of her dignity, Susannah quickened her pace. She passed the smithy just as a lanky young lad with spots over his face stepped into her path. He gave her a carefree grin and caught her shoulders to halt her progress.

  “In a hurry, lass?” He gave her shoulders a squeeze. “Never mind. Such a rush on a Saturday! Come and spend a little time with me, then.”

  Susannah wrenched free of his grasp and broke into a run, holding her bonnet on with her free hand. He was still staring at her. She could feel his eyes burning into her back—well, her posterior—as she ran away. “Come back,” he called, and she quickened her pace. She grasped the latch of Bess’s front door and wrenched it, sending the door rebounding against the wall with a crash. As she stood panting on the threshold, bonnet askew, Bess glanced up in startled surprise. Her only customer, an elderly woman who was so bent over she was almost double, shuffled out of the shop. “Ought to be ashamed,” the old lady muttered as she passed Susannah.

  “What is it? What has happened? Do tell me, Bess.” Susannah slammed the door shut and tossed her basket aside. “They must know. Everyone in the village is treating me as though I am a hussy.”

>   “Calm yourself.” Bess came around from behind the counter and enfolded her in a comforting embrace. “Here. Come to the back. We can chat without being seen.” She guided Susannah around the corner of the counter and into the backroom. A large oven gave a pleasant heat to the room; it warmed her bones, but, strangely, did nothing to stop her shaking.

  She sank onto a chair and looked up at Bess. “Please tell me,” she croaked.

  Bess placed her hands on her ample hips. “There is a rumor going around the village that you and Mr. Hale were engaged to be wed. The talk is that he either abandoned you and went to sea or you led him a merry dance and refused to marry him. It rather depends on who is telling the story.”

  Susannah’s palms began to sweat, and she rubbed them briskly against her apron. “But why is everyone treating me like a light skirt? Or a woman with no reputation left to lose?”

  “This was what I warned you about.” Bess shook her head and turned away. She began fiddling with the oven, catching the top of the stove with an iron hook so she could lift it and stir the fire up higher. “You kept your engagement a secret—that was the first indiscretion. Then, when you began seeing each other again, you did so frequently and without any kind of chaperone. If the gossip is to be believed, you even slept in his home.”

  Susannah opened her mouth to protest, but Bess shushed her with a wave of her hand.

  “I don’t believe the gossip, myself. But you must see that it will affect the way you can conduct your business. Has your trade slacked off?”

  Of course it had. That would account for the exceptionally slow Saturday they were experiencing. And of course, the lack of villagers peeking in the window at their display. Susannah nodded, closing her eyes. Everything slowed down, as though she were sleepwalking. If only someone would pinch her and awaken her. Then the nightmare would be over. She opened her eyes and heaved a deep sigh. Of course not.

  “You must find a way to preserve your reputation.” Bess stoked the fire once more and put the iron poker aside. “When my sister almost eloped, we found her a suitable beau as quickly as possible. She married him and had her first baby within the year. The talk died out. It will with you, too. You just need to find a way out.”

  “A way out,” Susannah echoed. There was no way out. She had no family willing to force her into matrimony to spare her reputation. Aunt and Uncle were gone, and if they’d had their way, she’d be married to a pugnacious country squire by now. Scandal averted before it ever began. She shivered. ’Twas as though the heat emanating from the oven wasn’t even touching her chilled skin. “This is innocent, you know. Maybe if I explained matters—”

  “I don’t know that anyone would listen.” Bess raised her hands in defeat. “And folks like nothing better than a good gossip. Especially in this village. Precious little happens here, so when people get hold of a juicy bit of gossip, they’re like dogs with a bone. If you talk about it, they’ll ask more questions. They’ll question your actions. They’ll wonder why you did things one way instead of the other. If you never answer the rumors and divert their attention because you have nothing of interest to provoke them, the talk’ll die down.”

  “I don’t know that I have a way out,” Susannah admitted. “I honestly thought the rumors would go away if I stopped being friends with Daniel. How on earth did they get started again?”

  “Miss Prestwidge’s servant was the one who told me. She came in to buy some special treats for a tea they were going to have, and she mentioned your engagement to Mr. Hale.” Bess shrugged. “I pretended like I didn’t know anything and she prattled on for a while and then moved on. If gentry servants gossip, then the villagers listen.”

  Susannah closed her eyes, willing her heart to resume its usual beat. There had to be a way out of this. She had worked too hard, made too many sacrifices for everything to end now. And it was not fair, not fair in the least, for her sisters. “I need to go home.” The marketing would just have to wait. She could not endure the stares and the leers from the villagers. She must go home and think of a plan.

  “Of course. You’ll feel better once you’ve had a moment to yourself.” Bess helped her to her feet and patted her back. “Mind you, if there’s anything I can do to help, do tell me. I tried to keep the rumors quiet here in my store by refusing to act interested.”

  Susannah murmured her thanks. Bess was being as kindhearted as she could—after all, they barely knew each other. For her to ignore the rumors rather than add fuel to the fire was a tremendous help to Susannah’s cause.

  Bess retrieved the willow basket from the front room of the shop and tucked it under Susannah’s arm. “Here. Go out the back way.” Bess led her to a door in the rear of the kitchen, one that opened on a grassy alley. “Fewer people out here this time of day. Everyone’s either inside attending to their business or out front talking with each other. Can you make it home all right? You look awful peaked.”

  “I’ll be fine.” Susannah tugged her bonnet down over her forehead. Perhaps if she ducked her head and ran along the back path, no one would notice her. And Bess was right. The alleyway was deserted. Nary a soul in sight. If she hurried, she could make it home without encountering another human being. “Thank you, Bess.”

  “Not at all, dear. Let me know if I can do anything to help.” Bess gave her shoulder a final, comforting pat before ducking back indoors.

  Susannah picked up her skirts and walked as briskly as she could without breaking into a run. Though every nerve in her being begged her to run, she would not give in to panic. As long as she made it home quickly, and with a minimum of interaction with others, she would be fine. She would make a brisk cup of tea. They would close the shop—after all, ’twas unlikely anyone would come in today. And then she and her sisters could try to think of a plan.

  The little tumbledown cottage looked charming from a distance—amazing what a bit of care could do for a building. And right now, it was all the prettier for being her hermitage. She would have peace and privacy here until she could find a way to face the village. She dropped her willow basket on the back steps and burst through the doorway in the rear.

  Nan and Becky scurried in to greet her. “Why are you coming in this way?” Nan demanded, flicking a long, dark curl over one shoulder. “You startled us.”

  “I need a moment to compose myself. Then I can explain.” Susannah removed her shawl and hung it on the wooden peg by the doorway. “Becky, can you put the kettle on? I need a bracing cup of tea. Strong enough to melt paint.”

  “Of course.” Becky led her into the front room and beckoned her to a chair. “Poor thing. You look drained.”

  “Nan, close the door. Lock it.” Should she order her sister to draw the curtains, too? No. That would be too much. Better to have a modicum of privacy rather than to seal oneself in so tightly that they were sure to invite further comment.

  “Is this about Miss Prestwidge?” Nan asked as she brought down the latch to lock up.

  “What do you mean, is this about Miss Prestwidge?” A fresh feeling of dread flooded Susannah’s soul. Had Miss Prestwidge’s servant come here to gossip, too? Mercy—this day could not get any worse.

  “Her servant came by today. Just after you left.” Becky set the teakettle on to boil, her usually gentle voice quivering a little. “She canceled her order for the Season, Susannah. All her bonnets. She asked us to return half her money.”

  And there it was. The final blow to her security. Even the gentry were turning their backs on her. And in a particularly cutting fashion, too. That money was meant to see them through the winter. Materials had already been ordered based on the design of those very bonnets that Miss Prestwidge had so carelessly turned away.

  She hadn’t cried. Not since childhood, at least. She was the eldest sister, the stalwart one. A regular tower of strength. But every soul has its breaking point, doesn’t it? And
though she could steel herself against the stares of the townspeople, she could not bear the loss of the very bread from their table.

  There was nothing for it.

  All was lost.

  Susannah pillowed her head on her arms and broke into sobs.

  * * *

  Daniel surveyed the drawing room with a critical eye. The dustcovers the servants had put out shrouded the furniture completely. The entire room looked as though it were covered with cotton wool. Only the Aubusson carpet lent a splash of subdued color, and the prisms of the chandelier sparkled in the late-afternoon sunlight. The chandelier. Of course—someone must cover it up, as well.

  He rang the bell to summon Baxter. The sooner these preparations were done the better. He could be on his way to London within a day or so. Paul awaited him there, and impatience mounted within Daniel’s very being at the tedium of readying Goodwin for his long absence. Only a day or so more, and he could leave. He could bear it that long, surely.

  Baxter opened the drawing room door. Even in the midst of upheaval, dustcovers and packing, Baxter remained unflappably clad, even down to his jacket. Daniel gave his head a rueful shake. Goodwin was in good hands—he had no reason to show a moment’s concern for the Hall.

  “Yes, sir?” Baxter bowed.

  “See that someone covers the chandelier. There’s about a hundred different prisms on that thing. It will be a nightmare to clean if we don’t shroud it like we’ve done with everything else in the room.”

  “Of course, sir. I was waiting to cover it until the last moment.” Baxter’s tone reflected wounded dignity. “All of the lights are being saved until just before you leave.”

  “Very good. Should have known you’d have a plan.” Daniel cast one final glance around the room. “Well, then. I think this room is done. Guess I’ll go have a look round the parlor.”

  Baxter cleared his throat. “Before you go, sir, I think there is something you should know.”