by Mary Blayney
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The meeting with Papa had been more than a convenient excuse. When she had come early to breakfast, he and Mama had been in a close conversation that ended the minute she walked into the room. As he’d left the room a few moments later, Papa had asked her to meet him in the library before tea.
It was a bit early. Tea was not for another hour, but she would find something to read and wait for him. She sat by the window with a book of fashion plates and turned the pages without looking at a single illustration.
He looked wonderful. If his eyes seemed strained that could well be because of the long ride in the bright sun. A good night’s rest would take care of that.
He did seem a trifle formal, but that could easily be blamed on the awkwardness of their meeting. Joanna had insisted that he had called while she was still in London. And his denial there would account for some uncertainty now.
Of course, if he had managed to win all the funds he needed for his property then he had no need to pretend anything with her anymore. There was even less to regret. One kiss.
Had he not made it clear that he had come for Joanna and Lord Monksford? So, his friendship with them would be their only contact.
That meant he would be at the wedding, too, she supposed. Well then, after that it would be over and she would never have to see him again. She would not have to worry that he was being polite for all the wrong reasons: to ease his embarrassment, or worse, her own. Did he feel sorry for her? Please, heaven, let his good manners come from more than that.
She would not go to London for the Season this next year. Her heart was not ready for courtship. If she went up to London again in two years then most likely he would have found a match and would spend his time at the tables.
When her father came into the room she was still debating the wisdom of claiming a headache to skip dinner.
“Christy, my girl, are you all right?”
“Oh yes, Papa, just a little tired.”
“To be sure, watching cricket is an exhausting exercise.”
She smiled at his silliness. “Papa, what were you and Mama discussing this morning before I came into the breakfast room?”
“Exactly what I wanted to talk with you about now.” He sat down in the chair, put his hands on his thighs, and nodded firmly. “There was too much chance of interruption at breakfast, and since then there have been enough activities to distract a wooden horse.”
He stood up, walked over to the beautifully carved fireplace screen, and then back to his chair. There was no laughter in his face now. If anything he looked upset.
“Daughter, your mother tells me that she has it from Joanna that you are still upset about the influence your London Season had on your feelings for Richard.”
Christiana nodded, miserable at the thought that her father probably knew the whole sorry tale.
“Your mother says that Joanna says that you say that you were disloyal and dishonest to Richard.”
“I think faithless is the word I used.”
“You are too hard on yourself.”
She shrugged. He was her papa. Of course he would think so.
“Hear me now. I can tell you something that may help you see your relationship with Richard differently.”
“You know something? What could that be?” She all but laughed at the thought of her father as an adviser to the loveless.
“Yes, all right.” He rubbed his forehead with his hand. “You recall the acreage that has been in dispute between the Lamberts and the Wiltons? It must be a hundred years that we have been arguing over it.”
“Of course. And I know that if Richard and I had married the land would have gone to Sir Howard, to the Wiltons.”
“Good, but what you may not know is that Sir Howard promised his son a goodly amount of money if he did contract an alliance with you and the land did come into the Wilton holding.”
She clenched her hands and made a conscious effort to not let her jaw drop in amazement. She was more than surprised. She was shocked.
“Now, there are always settlements, you know that, so I am not sure that this is all that much different.” He pulled out a handkerchief and began mopping his brow.
“It is completely different, Papa, and you know it. The money Richard’s father would have given him was not part of my dowry unless your accounting is extremely convoluted.” She jumped up from the chair, ignoring the book when it fell to the floor. “Papa! Do you mean to tell me that the courtship was not about love or passion, it was about land and money?”
“Christiana, calm down. All marriages are about land and money. Most of them are very satisfactory. Look at your mother and me.”
“Do not try and distract me, Papa.” She spoke each word with rigid clarity “Whatever other marriages are based on, I wanted mine to come from love. You see how happy Joanna is? That was what I hoped for, what I thought I had found with Richard. I learned in London that I did not love Richard, but I still believed that kind of love was possible even if it is as rare as snow in May. And now you tell me that for Richard this was never about loving? It was only about money!”
“Yes, all right. I told your mother this might not be the best time to tell you.”
“Oh, Papa, yes, it is. My mourning is over. He has had all the tears he is ever going to get from me.” It was as thorough a purging of her guilt as anything could have been.
They both heard the gong announcing tea. Christiana took a deep breath, walked over, and gave her father a hug. “Thank you, Papa, I know how hard that was. You go to tea. I think I must sit here a few moments and gather my composure.”
He held her at arm’s length and stared at her. “All right.” He kissed her on the cheek and moved toward the door. “Do you think Monksford will have something stronger than tea?”
“Papa, he will if you ask him.”
“Yes, yes, he will.” With that assurance he hurried from the room.
Christiana tried to let the silence of the room calm her. She picked up the volume of fashion plates and set it on the library table. She walked to the doors and pulled them shut. Then she went back to the chair and sat down, folding her hands in her lap. Deep breaths eased some of her anger but did little to assuage the hurt.
Richard never wanted me. Never. Not even when I begged him to make love with me. Bitterness combined with the hurt. Oh, I thought he was so stalwart and noble, but it was all a lie. He never wanted me. Not that way. Not at all. With a deep sigh she accepted the truth. All he really wanted was the money.
If the pain of his death had brought insight, then she would gladly accept wisdom from this betrayal.
Tears welled in her eyes. She was not crying for Richard. She was done with that. These tears were for her ruined dreams.
Eighteen
“Joanna, the house is filled to the rafters. Am I not right, Sally?”
“Yes, Miss Christy.” The maid nodded vigorously as she combed Joanna’s hair into the upswept style her sister preferred for the evening. “We are so crowded that some of the servants are sleeping on the floor.”
“Oh, dear.” Joanna twisted her head to look back at Sally but the maid turned her mistress back to the mirror and spoke to her in its reflection.
“We are on an adventure, Miss Joanna. No one is complaining, well, except for that old biddy who waits on Mrs. Cartwright. Does she ever put on airs! It galls her that I outrank her even though I have no London training.” Sally giggled. “I never sat at the head table before.”
Christiana and Joanna shared a glance. Joanna nodded as Sally put the last comb in place. “Sally, it will be like that every day when you come here with me after the wedding. Remember that now and do your best to establish an easy relationship from the beginning.”
“Yes, Miss Joanna, I am.”
When Joanna stood up, Christiana took her place at the dressing table, but waved Sally away. “I had best get used to doing my own hair. You help Joanna dress.”
Christiana combe
d out her curls. Sally’s move to Monksford was only one of the ways her life would change. Soon a conversation like this would mean a day’s travel. “You will be missed, Sally. No one to bring me treats from the kitchen, no one to run messages to Hannah when Mama sends me to my room to read sermons. Thank heaven I still have Mrs. Purdy for I vow I would not be able to endure it without her shortbread!”
Joanna came over to stand behind Christiana. She took her brush from the table and began to comb out her sister’s afternoon coiffeur. “Sally, go to Christy’s room and find that garnet necklace. It would look wonderful with this new gown.”
“Yes, miss.” Sally slipped from the room.
“Joanna, I left that necklace at home.”
“Yes, I know you left it home because Mama insisted you bring it. All to the good; it will take Sally even longer to find it and give us privacy.”
She began to arrange Christiana’s hair, but kept glancing at her sister’s face in the mirror. “You seem more, uhm, cheerful, since you spoke with Papa.”
“I am for some reason. You would think that finding out about Sir Howard’s maneuverings would have hurt more than healed, but somehow the opposite is true.”
“It has nothing to do with Lord Morgan’s arrival?”
“No. Not at all.” Christiana met her sister’s gaze in the mirror so Joanna could see that she meant what she said. No more fantasies for her.
“Christy, please, do give him a chance.”
“Give him a chance for what? He is here because he and Monksford have become friends. He is not here to see me. And the last thing I ever want to do again in this life is give my heart to someone who will not value it.”
“He is here to see you. He watches you every moment you are in the room. I know he cares for you.”
“You do not see clearly these days, Joanna.”
“No, dearest, it is you who are looking at this in entirely the wrong way. Please, please, at least talk with him.”
“Of course I will be civil to him. I will even dance with him.”
She could do that much. He was such a fine dancer and she could ignore the implied intimacy. She had danced with dozens this year without any of the heart-lightening thrill she felt dancing with Morgan Braedon. “But bear in mind, Joanna, that the sort of happiness you and Monksford have is uncommon. You had best accept that.”
Joanna put down the comb and came around to look at her handiwork directly. “You look lovely. If Lord Morgan no longer holds your interest, perhaps that young cousin of John’s would be worth getting to know.”
“Joanna, love has made you hopeless.”
“No, darling, it has made me ever hope-full!” Joanna walked over and began to shake the wrinkles out of the pink and gauze confection that Christiana was wearing to dinner. “I am hopeful, confident even, that you will find laughter again, that you will find love again, that you will find someone to make your life complete.”
“Find laughter again? I laugh.” Christiana got up from the dressing table, annoyed that she did not feel at all like laughing at the moment. She clamped her newly mastered control over her downcast feelings and held very still while Joanna lifted the dress over her head. “I do laugh, Joanna.”
“Yes, you do, but not like you used to. Part of you is still in hiding.”
Sally tapped at the door and came into the room, holding the necklace. “Your mama had it. She said she brought it along because she was certain you would forget it.”