“Oh my.”
Elizabeth coloured, stepping away from the window, feeling like an intruder, although they surely could not see her. Unable to look away for long, she peeked once more, disappointed to see that they had gone.
“Just as well, I should not have been looking in on such an intimate moment,” she admonished herself.
She closed the window and returned to her bed, lying on top of the covers.
I shall not lie and say that I am not at all envious of young love, or any love for that matter. What concerns me is that there are no men who I can see tying myself to. I refuse to settle for the sake of matrimony. The stories she read were misleading, but she couldn't bring herself to stop reading them. The men in the stories were strong men who desired women who think, who had thoughts of their own. They did not seek to take away the woman's identity and replace it with their own beliefs of how a woman should be. The men that she knew are all alike, even Cecilia's darling Percy.
Even though it seemed that she did not pay attention to the people around her during her mother's many dinner parties, she secretly did. She observed the relationships between married couples, those newlywed as well as those who had been married for some time. She watched the interaction between unwed women and men, silently taking notes. Elizabeth had come to the conclusion that all men were fundamentally alike. She used her father as a measure for the behaviours of other men, which only served to prove her belief and opinions. All men were dull, lacking in feeling, and terribly traditional. They all wanted the same things but wrapped up in different packages called women.
It was the same thing over and over again.
How did no one else see it? Or did they simply not choose to see it? If I was to marry any of the men I have so far seen, I shall inevitably end up like my mother – unhappy. Of course, life wasn't just about happiness, but it did make life worth living.
Elizabeth imagined that love would be the most important thing in a relationship. That and respect. She had seen respect in the relationships around her, but it had been one-sided. The men commanded respect from their wives, all the while belittling them. Except for her Uncle Noah and Aunt Deborah. Elizabeth had never seen a couple more in love.
Aunt Deborah was her father's sister, and different from him in everything but the colour of their hair and eyes. Her aunt was older by three years but seemed far younger than her austere brother. It was amazing what a light attitude could do for one's physical features.
When Elizabeth was a young girl and would see the playful attitude between her aunt and uncle, she wondered why her parents could not behave in the same way. While her parents treated each other with cool politeness, Aunt Deborah and Uncle Noah would be laughing, with Uncle Noah frequently kissing his wife's cheek, hand or forehead. There was a tenderness in him when it came to his wife, a fondness that Elizabeth would have liked to experience for herself.
It was possible, if but rare.
Maybe she should ask her aunt for advice if she was ever in the way of matrimony. I would need her to tell me what I should look for in a potential husband.
“I speak as though I have every intention of getting married!” she laughed to herself.
Perhaps it was time for her to put it out her mind and focus on her dream of becoming a composer who would change the world, one melody at a time.
Chapter 3
A loud bang woke Anthony with a start, his hands immediately going to his head. What was going on? Who was in his bedroom? Still groggy from a heavy hangover and a splitting headache, he vaguely recognised the form of his friend, Felton Nicholson.
“What the? Felton? What in the hell do you think you are doing in my room? Get out! I told you that I did not wish to see anyone!”
His shouting did more harm than good. Anthony gripped the sides of his head, cursing the agony of overindulgence. His friend paid him no mind and ripped the curtains open, letting the harsh morning sunlight stream through the windows.
“Wake up, sunshine!” Felton shouted. “It is a new day!”
“Bugger it all!” he growled. “I am going back to sleep.” Anthony pulled the covers over his head and lay back down, never intending to venture out of his room again.
"I would not advise it, old friend. Get up, or I shall make you do it."
“You and what army?” he mumbled from beneath the covers. “You forget that I have beaten you at every sport and combat from the age of thirteen. Choose wisely.”
Felton chuckled. “I doubt that you are in any shape to fight me, Anthony.”
“Watch me.”
“I warned you.”
Seconds later the covers were ripped from his body, jerking him as he had curled himself in the sheets.
“Damnation to you, you liver-bellied fiend!”
This only served to amuse Felton. “I'm glad to see that your words are as colourful as ever, but I am afraid that I cannot compliment your current state.”
“Go to hell.”
“No thank you, I am not fond of the fires of hell.”
Why did his friend have to be so good-natured about everything? Right now Anthony found him annoying and could quite happily drop a shiner on him. He sat up, one hand on his head, the other shading his eyes from the glaring sun.
“Give me back my covers or suffer the consequences.”
“I dare you to try and fetch them.” Felton held them up and waved them about.
Anthony thought about it. “You are not worth it.” He flopped back onto his bed, hissing as his head exploded with pain. “Argh! Get me a whiskey, will you?”
“No.”
“No?”
“No.”
“What in the hell do you want if you are not here to help me?”
“I doubt that getting you a whiskey will help you. Perhaps some tea, something to eat.”
The thought of food curdled his stomach. “Forget it, I shall get it myself.”
He gingerly climbed off the bed, only to fall back down when his head swam.
“You are in no position to be drinking, Anthony. Have you seen the state of you?”
He glared at his friend. “I probably look a darn sight better than you.”
“Your confidence is certainly legendary. When last did you bathe?”
It was too long ago to even begin to remember. Or perhaps it was the same day that Diana that rejected him and left. That would make it eight days. “None of your business,” he answered.
“You resemble a caveman with that horrendous beard you have growing there. Are you sure that nothing is crawling in there? It looks quite matted and suspicious.”
Anthony scratched his face, feeling the beard. He had never allowed his beard to grow this long before, but he couldn't have been less bothered about it either. His life was over. Felton took a step towards him, quickly stepping back.
“Phew! You smell quite ripe, man. I gather that neither a blade nor soap has touched your body since the incident.”
Anthony hung his head. “Do not remind me. Do not even mention that Jezebel's name to me.”
Felton laughed. “At one point I could not get you to stop talking about Di –”
“I mean it,” he warned.
“Fine, 'that woman', and now you refuse to have her name mentioned. This is quite a turn of events, do you not think so?”
“Just go away, Felton, and leave me be.”
“Now what friend would I be if I were to abandon you in your time of need?”
“A wise friend.”
Felton sighed. “You make for a rather pathetic and miserable picture. I wonder what 'that woman' would think of you if she were to see you now?”
Anthony wished that his friend would just stop talking and go away. He needed time to heal from both the rejection and the humiliation.
"Do you find great joy in harassing me in this manner? Can not a man have the time to come to terms with heartache? Has the world become so unfeeling that it has forgotten the pain of rejection?"
/> There was no greater pain than to have the one that your heart beats for scorn your love. He had waited six years to make her his wife, but it had all been in vain. He watched as Felton narrowed his eyes at something beneath the bed, before kneeling down and reaching for it. When he held it in his hand, Anthony tried to grab it.
“Give it here, Felton. I shall toss it into the depths of the sea. Let the deep waters appreciate its beauty, for I cannot bear to look at it.”
Felton held it out of his reach, blocking every clumsy lunge.
“You would throw away your mother's ring because of an unworthy woman?”
“Do not call her unworthy!”
“And yet you called her a Jezebel, or has the alcohol in your body muddled your brains?”
Anthony ignored the question. “Give me the ring, it is mine. I shall do with it as I please.”
Felton tucked the ring into a pocket, patting it.
"That is my ring, I inherited it. You will return it, or I shall accuse you of theft."
His friend raised his eyebrows. “You jest.”
“Am I in the habit of jesting?”
“You would throw away twenty years of friendship on a woman of six years who, I might add, has not been faithful? To make matters worse, you would take the ring of your mother and toss it into the sea because of the same faithless woman? How far has your mind sunk, Anthony? What would your parents say? Might I remind you that they never did accept Diana.”
Anthony remembered that well enough. His father had threatened to disinherit him because his mother could not stand his sweetheart. He admitted that Diana was not one that people took to quickly, but he loved her nonetheless. Even now with the pain in his heart, he continued to love her.
“Keep it then. Do with it as you wish. Only do not darken my eyes with it ever again.”
Felton nodded. “I shall keep it safe until you come to your senses.”
He looked away. Felton could do what he wanted with the ring. Right now, all it reminded him of was the fact that Diana had left him.
“For good this time,” he mumbled.
“Did you speak?” Felton asked.
“No. In fact, I do not wish to speak with you at this moment. Kindly leave before I have my steward show you out.”
“Old Clayton will not be throwing me out, he is the one who told me of your pitiful state.”
“Traitor.”
“You are fortunate to have a servant who looks after you as though you were his son. Do not take him for granted.”
Now Felton was telling him how to treat his servants? The nerve of the man!
“I shall treat Clayton however I wish to.”
As soon as the words left his mouth, he felt ashamed. He hung his head, disgusted with himself.
"Well," Felton began. "You are in a sorry state, indeed. Self-pity is not becoming in a baron such as yourself. You have always been a proud man, Anthony. Would you allow a woman to bring you down?"
“I loved her,” he answered brokenly.
“But she did not return your love.”
“You do not know that!”
“Anthony! Wake up! She humiliated you in front of our friends and your family. Do you understand that? What woman in love would do such a thing? I warned you time and again about this woman, but did you care to listen? No! You threw my advice aside and followed her like a lovesick calf. Look at the state that you are in, just look at you.”
Anthony did. He took a look around his room, noting the empty bottles of alcohol, broken glass, mingled with clean and dirty clothes strewn across the floor, and a stench that was clearly coming from him. Any attempt by his servants to enter his room had been met with opposition. Thus, his room had steadily worsened.
“It is bad.”
“That is an understatement. I have never seen you like this, Anthony. What did she do to you?”
She broke me, she finally broke me. Thinking about that night was too painful. “I do not wish to discuss it.”
“But you must,” Felton insisted. “Healing starts when you talk about it and not allow it to control you. We have been friends for much of our lives, Anthony. We grew up together, attended the same school, watched as we broke hearts along the way.”
Anthony smiled at that. He and Felton had been a formidable force when it came to women. It was not uncommon for them to have women following their every move just to have them glance their way. That was until he met Diana Lambert six years ago. He could remember that day as clear as the glass that lay at his feet. She had been walking with a friend of hers when she dropped her parasol. Being a gentleman Anthony had picked it up, and when he had looked into her dark green eyes he had been lost. The duo that was he and Felton fell away, and he became a one-woman-man. If only she had become a one-man-woman.
“Times change, Felton. We cannot be who we were years ago.”
“I do not expect us to go back, but I would like my friend back. The one who seized life with both hands and yelled carpe diem before charging into life like a stampede of rhinoceros.”
“That time in Africa was quite an adventure. I thought that we would surely die.”
“We did nearly die! We had to climb the nearest tree, and even then there was the risk of falling off because the ground was shaking.”
Anthony laughed. He and Felton had taken a trip to Africa instead of the usual route that most young men took once their education was complete. Society expected them to 'sow their wild oats' and get the need for adventure out of their system before the responsibilities and realities of life became their every waking moment. Against his parents' wishes, Anthony had taken the first ship that would deliver him to Africa, taking Felton along with him. It had indeed been an adventure, something that had made them men among men. They had returned home older, darker and full of life. Exactly a year later he had met Diana. Thereafter, his every waking moment had become centred on her. Anthony had never known what obsession was until he realised that the thought of any man looking at Diana would send him into a jealous rage. It was never aimed at her, but he had broken a few noses and arms these past six years. And all for what? She left him anyway.
“Those were the good old days.”
Felton laughed. “You speak as though you have lived your life and are ready to keel over and die. You are only twenty-nine, man. There is still much to do, much to see.”
“I cannot contemplate life without her, Felton.”
“Do not be ridiculous. She is but one woman, and I daresay, not the one for you. Your wife is still out there, Anthony. That is if you still choose to get married.”
“Do not speak to me of matrimony, please. One rejection is one too many.”
Anthony watched as Felton looked around the room, obviously searching for something. His friend suddenly moved forward, taking a toppled chair from the corner of the room and dragging it to take a seat before him.
“Standing around with you in this condition is tiring,” he said. “This woman has killed your spirit for life, Anthony. What exactly did she say to you? I know that she ridiculed you to her companions, but what did she say to you?”
Did he even want to talk about it? If I do not, Felton will never leave me in peace. Perhaps if he hears what happened, he will finally understand my grief.
"You know that I had meant to propose to Diana for quite some time."
“Yes,” his friend nodded. “And I have tried to talk you out of doing such a thing.”
Anthony looked at him, spreading his hands in annoyance. “Do I tell you what happened, or do you prefer to throw the 'I told you so' card in my face?”
Felton waved his hand at him. “Very well, continue.”
"Thank you. As I was saying, I had meant to propose to her for quite some time, and I finally decided that proposing to her during my birthday celebration would be the perfect moment."
Felton raised his eyebrows at him but said nothing.
Anthony knew what he was thinking. He believes that I was
looking for the humiliation and heartache. Bad memories. I suppose that he is right. My birthday will forever remind me of the day that I was rejected by my greatest love.
"I took her for a stroll through the gardens. I even had rose petals scattered along the pathway."
Felton sniggered, earning himself a glare.
“What do you find amusing?”
“Rose petals along the pathway of a garden? Were the flowers in the garden not sufficient for you?”
“It is called being romantic, Felton. Not that you would know what the word meant. Women are quite sentimental for that sort of thing.”
A Courtship to Remember: A Historical Regency Romance Book Page 4