“Yes. Friends. You and I,” she said ardently. “I shall need one, should I live here. The baron often travels to London. I imagine that, as his baroness, I shall be with him more often than not,” she said matter-of-factly, “but I should like to remain here sometimes, as well. Papa shall not do well if he is too much on his own.”
“Yes, I see,” he murmured. Sadly, he saw only too well. “If it must be said, I should be honored to stand your friend, Miss Fulton. You needn’t have asked.”
“Well, now that you have agreed, we may comfortably spend time in one another’s company. It is relieving, is it not?”
“Yes, I suppose that it is,” he said with an inclination of the head. He had never before lied so capably. “What, then, shall we sing?”
She looked at him in surprise. “Sing? Oh, yes, of course. If you and your charges were to meet Miss O’Sullivan and me in the music room directly after breakfast tomorrow morning, she shall amuse them whilst we debate over music.”
Possibilities flooded Niall’s mind; not only of songs to sing, but moments spent together, a relationship forged, one that was far from what he dared hope for, but one that had the potential to blossom into something more. He knew it to be a dangerous notion, as well as one he was powerless to resist. “Perhaps it is best if we were to select a song we both know well.”
“I agree! The song I overheard you sing was lovely, but entirely new to me. I should prefer an Irish song.”
“Yes,” Niall said with a wide smile. “We shall give those Englishmen something to make them wish they had been born amongst the chosen.”
She laughed, a delightful sound that left him longing to pull her close. “I shall arrange it before the night is done. Here we are,” she said with a sigh, “safely arrived at the house.” She withdrew her arm. “Thank you for your assistance.”
“Good day, Miss Fulton. I look forward to tomorrow morning.” How he would endure until the moment arrived, he could not say.
“As do I.” Smiling, she put her arm through Miss O’Sullivan’s as she drew alongside her.
“Good day, Miss Fiona. Good day, Miss Caroline,” the lads chanted.
Once the ladies had disappeared into the house, Niall took each boy by the hand and led them round to the back of the house. “If your mother were to see you now, she would most certainly faint!”
Niall’s thoughts did not dwell on Lady Bissell, however, but on Lady Anne. She seemed determined to be mistress of Oak View. If she succeeded, Miss Fulton would not become the wife of the baron. That left Niall with enough of a possibility to sustain his hope. The mysterious matchmaker had predicted he would be happy with whomever he chose. It was foolish; it was mad; it was impossible, but he would have no one if he could not have Miss Caroline Fulton.
Caroline, feeling rather splendid in her cerulean blue gown, entered the drawing room and looked about for Mr. Doherty. “He has always been present upon our arrival for dinner,” she said in low tones to Fiona.
“Do you not recall what he said?” Fiona gently chided. “When we saw him last, he did not know that he would be invited to dinner.”
“But he must be here!”
“Why? So that you might further seduce him, only to dash all of his hopes when your betrothal to Lord Bissell is announced?” Fiona bantered.
“My marriage to the baron is hardly la fait accompli,” Caroline pointed out.
“Not if Lady Anne has anything to say to it,” Fiona said darkly.
Caroline followed her gaze across the room, to behold Lady Anne clinging to the baron’s arm. She was once again dressed in a far too revealing gown, and her hair was a stunning concoction of shining mahogany tresses. “She is quite skillful with that fan,” Caroline whispered, “but it is the expert wielding of her lashes that does her so much credit.”
“Caro!” Fiona put her fingers to her lips. “Why must you be so amusing? Though it is highly unlikely that I shall make a match at this house party, I do not wish to be known as the young lady who laughs at spurious moments.”
“You are quite right, Fiona!” Caroline said with a sage wag of her head. “There is nothing whatsoever amusing about Lady Anne.”
“Do not say you are envious of her!” Fiona said in some surprise. “I believed you to be unattached to Lord Bissell.”
“Indeed. When have I had the opportunity to become the least attached to him? However,” Caroline said with a cheer she did not feel, “Papa is determined to be the father of a titled daughter. As you have pointed out, it is certain I would spend a good deal of my time in Ireland should I marry Lord Bissell, rather than a purely English lord.”
With a sigh, Fiona put her arm around Caroline’s waist and drew her into a less populated corner of the room. “I should not like to be accused of pleading both sides of this argument, but I do not wish to see you sacrificed for your papa. Perhaps you would be happier in England. I know how much you have longed to have a life of your own, one away from him.”
“Oak View is away,” Caroline said decidedly. “It makes for a journey that is too long to undertake on a regular basis, but close enough that I may invite him as often as I wish. And, should he become very lonely, he may pay me a visit whenever he wishes.”
“That is very sensible of you, Caro. I would more readily applaud your conclusions, however, if I believed your desire to remain at Oak View had not one thing to do with a certain tutor.”
Caroline could not resist the impulse to glance at the door in search of Mr. Doherty. It was incredibly gauche, as well as the tenth time she had done so since she entered the room. “You needn’t be apprehensive on that score; he and I have discussed our feelings and have agreed that there could never be more between us than friendship.”
“There is already more between you than mere friendship,” Fiona quietly scoffed. “Have you thought how it shall torment him should you both live at Oak View?”
“Fiona, you speak as if he were in love with me,” Caroline said in genuine astonishment. “We have but known one another for all of two days.”
“It is far too short a time for you to have become thoroughly attached to him,” Fiona agreed. “However, it required but a moment for him to love fall in love with you.”
Caroline felt her cheeks redden with chagrin. “I suppose I have treated him with more warmth than was wise. I did not fully consider. But what am I to say to him? I have only just this afternoon suggested we spend time together as companions.”
Fiona rolled her eyes. “Oh, Caro! You must do your best to avoid him. Give him the cut direct, if need be.”
“Yes,” Caroline said as she bit her lip and looked down at the floor. “But first, we must sing our song together.”
“What song? No, do not tell me,” Fiona said, gazing at the doorway. “I am persuaded your scheme shall come to naught, for look who has just now entered the room.”
Caroline’s heart leaped in gladness, but it was not Mr. Doherty who had newly arrived. “Well! It seems Lady Bissell has invited another gentleman to the party, after all.” She felt curiously deflated.
“Yes,” Fiona said with a brightened air. “I doubt not that he is unwed, for a wife would again make for one too many ladies.”
“I suppose he shall be placed at the end of the table, just as Mr. Doherty was,” Caroline mused.
“Where is the fault in that?” Fiona asked.
“There isn’t one. I am persuaded the two of you shall be happily engaged in conversation all the night long,” Caroline said happily. “Now, I have something I wish to say to Lady Bissell.” She walked briskly away before Fiona could quiz her as to her intentions.
Lady Bissell had been making her way towards the front of the room when Caroline encountered her. “Good evening,” she said with a sincere smile. “I wonder if I might have the music room to myself tomorrow after breakfast.”
“But of course you may, Miss Fulton! The house is entirely at your disposal,” Lady Bissell insisted.
“Thank you
! I am wishful of performing a duet one evening, and we shall require a great deal of practice.”
“I very much look forward to it, as shall Lord Bissell. With whom do you intend to sing?” Lady Bissell asked.
Caroline composed her brightest smile and forged ahead. “Mr. Doherty. I chanced to overhear him singing with your darling lads the other afternoon, and I am persuaded his voice is entirely suited to mine.”
“Oh,” Lady Bissell said as her smile faded. “What shall become of my sons whilst the two of you are working in the music room?”
“As it turns out, they are quite enamored of Miss O’Sullivan. She enjoys them very much, indeed, and shall easily keep them amused.” Lady Bissell made no reply, so Caroline continued. “It shall be the five of us together in the music room. I expect it shall be quite educational. Master Christopher, I am told, sings like an angel. Perhaps he should enjoy singing along with the pianoforte, as well.” Caroline took in Lady Bissell’s expression, one of mingled astonishment and doubt, and changed tack. “I ought to become better acquainted with your sons, as well. They are the sweetest lads. We have seen them just this afternoon, as well as yesterday, when they were out for their walk.”
Lady Bissell’s features settled into resignation. “Is that so? Well, I thank you for your kind words. I am glad to know they have behaved themselves in your presence. They have sadly missed their father, but I do believe they are beginning to recover.”
“Then all the more reason to afford them this little treat. Might I depend on you to inform Mr. Doherty of your decision? I am afraid I have no means by which to communicate with him before the appointed time.”
“Yes, of course. I am persuaded Charles and Christopher shall enjoy it. However, I fear I cannot allow it to become a regular practice,” she said, her smile kind but firm.
“Thank you, Lady Bissell. I should very much like to sing an Irish song. I fear it might offend your guests, however, so I shall be guided by you in that.”
“Of course you shall not offend them.” Lady Bissell’s smile grew broader. “This is Ireland, after all. Now, I really must attend to Mr. Wilkinson, who has only just joined us.”
Caroline bobbed a curtsy and watched as Lady Bissell greeted the newly-arrived Mr. Wilkinson. He was quite tall, dressed to perfection, and possessed of a remarkable head of pale hair. She felt that Fiona would doubtless find much to admire in him.
All through dinner, as Caroline had surmised, Mr. Wilkinson and Fiona conversed with none but each other. Caroline supposed that Lady Bissell had written to him the moment she learned of Fiona’s attendance. Mr. Wilkinson had certainly been eager to comply; he must have packed up and set out immediately upon receiving his invitation in order to have arrived so quickly.
She was delighted for Fiona, but it was not a pleasant meal for Caroline. Nor did she enjoy a restful night’s sleep. The sounds from the ash trees were not to blame, however. The occupant of the room above was quite restless and rose to his or her feet a number of times during the night to pace the floor, or so she assumed. Come the dawn, it seemed to her that the sun rose far too early and was too insistent, as well.
With a sigh, she rose and washed at the basin. As her mind cleared, she recalled her appointment to meet Mr. Doherty in the music room after breakfast. Her mood suddenly lighter, she took more interest in her attire. The jonquil morning gown and Pomona green sash she chose reflected her improved disposition.
She was just about to quit the room when she heard an odd sound against the window. Her heart seized in alarm in fear that the noises from the trees had somehow migrated to her window. Her hands shook with trepidation as she crossed the room and pulled back the curtains.
To her vast relief, the tapping against the glass was made by the wax seal of a letter suspended by a string. It bore her name, a fact she found utterly fascinating. Quickly, she opened the window, slipped the parchment from its fastening, and spread the page wide.
Masters Charles and Christopher very much look forward to their engagement in the music room. We shall meet you at ten of the clock this morning. Mr. D
Caroline nearly crowed with delight, but quickly restrained herself. How Mr. Doherty had arranged to lower the letter to her, she could not guess. However, she was glad of it, for his cleverness, as well as for the information the letter imparted.
In hopes that it would save her from an angry scold, Caroline informed Fiona of the assignation with Mr. Doherty whilst at the sideboard dishing up breakfast. “So you see, it has all been arranged and there is naught to do about it. Lady Bissell has approved the entire undertaking and is very much looking forward to it.”
Fiona closed her eyes and drew a deep breath. “I have just counted numbers all the way to ten before I felt it safe to speak. As yet I have conquered the temptations to pull out your hair and screech insults at you,” she hissed as she scraped potatoes from the bowl onto her plate. “And, the most tempting of all, to run from the house shouting ‘fire’!”
Caroline stared at her friend in bewilderment. “My dearest Fiona, it cannot be as bad as all that. The lads shall be enchanting and you shall doubtless enchant them. Mr. Doherty and I shall have the opportunity to select a song and sing it through once or twice. Tonight, or perhaps the night after this, the baron’s guests shall be entertained by a lovely Irish melody. Perhaps the baron will be enchanted, as well. That would please you, would it not? When it is all over, I shall speak to Mr. Doherty no more.”
“I do not think it wise.” Fiona offered a tremulous smile. “However, I think it best if we further speak of it in private.”
They returned to the table, but Caroline found her appetite had fled. She had taken only a few bites when Fiona suggested they excuse themselves. As such, they arrived at the music room well before the appointed time.
“Fiona, before you speak,” Caroline said, once the door at closed behind them, “I wish to beg your pardon for treating your words so lightly. I simply did not have the heart to break off our engagement this morning. I prefer to explain my actions to Mr. Doherty, face to face, rather than behave as if we had never spoken of our friendship.”
“You are my dearest friend,” Fiona said as she took Caroline’s hand and drew her down to sit beside her on the brocade sofa. “If I were to choose a husband for you, it would be Mr. Doherty. He is intelligent, he is kind; he is Irish. What’s more, you like him and shall grow to like him better if you do not take care. That, however, is your own affair. What I cannot abide is sitting idly by whilst you break his heart.”
Caroline felt overcome with regret. “I have no wish to injure Mr. Doherty. Do you truly believe he cares so much?”
“You know that I do.”
“Very well, then.” Caroline twisted her hands together in her lap. “After our hour here in the music room, I shall make it most clear that there shall be no more.”
“But what is the point of an hour now if you are not to sing together for the baron’s guests?” Fiona sputtered.
“I thoroughly agree!” Caroline said decisively. “So, I shall tell him there shall be no more time spent together after we have sung tonight. I do feel much more at ease with that decision.”
“Caroline Fulton!” Fiona warned.
“I can hardly insist he leave the moment he arrives, especially with the lads by his side,” Caroline hastened to explain. “After he has bothered to come, we dare not disappoint those lads. What should Lady Bissell say to that? And once we have rehearsed, it seems that we ought to carry through to the end. Lady Bissell shall be expecting us to sing for her guests. It is only right that we should.”
Fiona sighed. “I fear you are correct. But you must promise me, after you have sung for the guests, you will either give up Mr. Doherty, or the baron. It must be one or the other.”
“How am I to give up the baron? I wish you would tell me, Fiona. If he were to offer for me, Papa would accept him. If I dared to refuse the baron to his face, Papa would find me someone else to wed, most l
ikely outside of Ireland.”
“You say that your heart is not yet involved when it comes to Mr. Doherty,” Fiona said softly. “Is it not better to risk any further injury to yourself, as well as to him?”
Caroline felt her eyes fill with tears. “You anticipated that matters would come to a choice between him and my father. It seems it has already. If I refuse the baron, I shall spare Mr. Doherty injury, but Papa shall be sorely disappointed, even angry. If I choose to marry the baron, I shall make Papa happy but I shall injure Mr. Doherty.”
“It does not have to injure Mr. Doherty, Caro, if you have a care. Discontinue all connections with him; his heart shall repair all the sooner. If you become betrothed to Lord Bissell, you shall then go to The Hollows to prepare for the wedding, as well as to Dublin for shopping expeditions. Once you are married and return to Oak View, Mr. Doherty shall have had the chance to grow accustomed to the idea, or, barring that, to have found employment elsewhere.”
“Yes, I perfectly comprehend you.” Caroline drew a deep breath. “But we are agreed that we must go through with the singing, is that not so?”
“I cannot like it, but I do not see how you might avoid it,” Fiona whispered. “Mr. Doherty even now walks through the door.”
Caroline could not deny the flutter of her heart when she looked up and saw him standing there; the hand of a restive little boy in each of his, his black curls tumbled along his brow and his large, blue-gray eyes alight.
“Master Charles, Master Christopher,” Caroline said with gladness, “how good of you to come. Miss O’Sullivan should very much like to be shown about the room. I suppose you two know more about it than any one of us.”
“I know all there is to know about this place,” Charles said proudly, perhaps as an antidote to his sniveling the day prior.
O'er The River Liffey (Power of the Matchmaker) Page 8