by Heather Boyd
Melanie sighed at the memory of that night. “And did you see how well that worked out?”
Julia frowned, her confusion evident. “He asked for Imogen’s hand in marriage a second time not long afterward.”
Melanie had been relieved by that development. “He did indeed.”
“But you couldn’t have known he would ask her again.”
“His heart always resided there. He just needed another push—or a fright, as the case was that night—in her direction.”
“You flirted with him so he wouldn’t consider you? Was that why you were so obvious about it?” Julia slouched untidily, her mouth agape.
She smiled slightly. “Nothing terrifies a man more than a woman who appears hell-bent on marriage.”
“Do you know you might just be the most wretchedly devious woman I’ve ever met?”
She shrugged. “His title, my dowry. Some would have considered that a match made in heaven. Which it would not have been, I assure you. It would not have taken long for some well-meaning person to suggest the match to him, so I made sure the idea was entirely unpalatable to begin with.”
Julia grunted. “Teresa said you kept a list of bachelors.”
“The list is, was, merely an amusement to pass a tedious and dull winter in Oxford while my mother urged me to impress other gentlemen.” She eased a folded sheet of paper from between the covers of an older K.L. Brahms book. “I used to try to predict who would make a match before I returned in the summer. I wasn’t often wrong.”
She passed it to Julia and waited while she read it. It was a single page of neat script. An idle fancy of hers. A gentleman’s name, and several potential spouses. Some names had been scratched out, others underlined as she’d settled on her choice for their wife. A few were circled as matches were made.
“Heaven help the man you do set your cap for,” Julia whispered. “He would have no chance of escape.”
Melanie’s smile vanished. “I don’t want children, so marriage isn’t an option for me.”
Julia met her gaze. “I’ve seen you with children, too.”
“As I said, I like other people’s children but I don’t have the temperament for my own.”
“How can you be so sure until you have them?”
She thought about her answer a moment. “I can’t. But I won’t be a willing party to neglect.”
“Should I prepare myself for Valentine to be a terrible father to our children?”
“No. My brother will be an exemplary parent.”
“So, despite his father being so unfeeling and unsupportive, Valentine will be an exception to his upbringing.”
“He already is.”
Julia met her gaze. “Then why can’t you be too?”
Melanie smiled sadly, unsurprised by Julia’s persistence. “You cannot convince me so easily. I have never wanted children of my own.”
“I am trying to understand.” Julia sighed and then grabbed her hand in a fierce grip. “I think any child would be lucky to have you for a mother. You would be strict, no doubt about that, but you would not be cruel. You would love them and care for them all.”
“All?” She shook her head at the idea of having many. She glanced at her trapped hand, and discovered the compulsion to pull back had dimmed a great deal. “Don’t trouble yourself over my spinster state. I think the best course of action is to concentrate on you and my brother.”
“No more dares.” A grin tugged at Julia’s lips as she sat back. “Well, not until after we’ve conquered Scafell Pike together next summer.”
Melanie dropped her head into her hands. The pair were hell-bent on unconventionality. “Heaven help me.”
Julia laughed and then asked the question Melanie had been dreading all week. “Why was Walter George so angry with you?”
Melanie’s heart lurched but she’d practiced an answer well. “I suppose the idea of a woman unwilling to have children offended his sensibilities.”
“It was more than that.”
Melanie bit her tongue, struggling to find a reasonable explanation for Walter’s outburst that could satisfy Julia. “He was also defending his sister, as is his right.”
“He must have been hiding that anger for a very long time,” Julia said, staring at her pointedly. “He’s never shown a hint of it before.”
She had no answer to that. His emotions had been very high that night. She’d never known his thoughts so clearly until now and still felt the pain of his disappointment. The break in their friendship had been inevitable. “He was entitled to speak his mind, and I did ask him to.”
Julia frowned but before she could continue, Valentine burst into the room. “There’s been an accident.”
Walter.
Heart in her throat, she managed to croak out a steadier question instead. “Who is it?”
“Francis Clemens was struck by a carriage at sunrise. He’s dead.”
“Oh, poor Jane and the children!” Melanie reeled. Relief that her first fear—that Walter had been hurt—was acute, but now sadness gripped her because she knew the family. She reached for her reticule and found additional handkerchiefs in a nearby drawer. She stuffed them inside. “I must go.”
“Do you know them well?” Julia asked.
“They are older acquaintances of mine.” Andy’s former friends in Brighton. Melanie had continued to seek out the family long after there was a reason. “Good and decent people, but poor. Mr. Clemens’s passing will be devastating to his wife. I must pay my respects.”
“We’ll come with you,” Julia volunteered quickly.
“No. Please, if you don’t mind, I should like to go alone.” She glanced between husband and wife. “Mrs. Clemens is unlikely to wish for strangers to see her and the children on such a terrible day. I will, of course, pass along your condolences.”
Valentine nodded. “We will expect your return before dinner.”
Melanie struggled into her blue pelisse. “I will do my best not to be too late.”
Ten
“Mr. George, I cannot thank you enough for your generosity,” Vicar Pease enthused as they shook hands across his oak desk.
“Think nothing of it.” Walter set his hat to his head, eager to be on his way to make preparations for moving the Clemens widow and children into their new home since they were set to be evicted by day’s end. It had been a devastating week for them.
With Clemens gone and no surety of income ahead, their landlord had given the widow notice she’d be evicted by today. He’d been horrified when he’d learned of it this morning. “I am happy to help a family in need. If all goes well, Mrs. Clemens should be settled in her new home in a few hours. I had planned visiting her myself and passing along the news. But would you care to visit her new home with me now? I’m on my way there directly.”
“I think that’s a fine idea. I will meet you outside in a moment.” The vicar tugged on his coat. “I’ll just inform my wife that I’m going out.”
The vicar stepped from the room and Walter strolled out to the street frontage, taking a moment to glance around him.
Unfortunately, his gaze caught on Melanie Merton a moment later.
They had not spoken for a week by his design, but he’d not needed to expend much effort to avoid her. According to Julia, she’d largely kept to the house.
He hadn’t wanted to see her. He’d been moments away from humiliating himself by suggesting himself as her husband. When she’d revealed the extent of her indifference to men and marriage and children, he’d lost his temper entirely because it made no sense.
She hurried toward him now though, a determined expression on her pale face. He was surprised to see she was alone, when she’d always been so particular about her maid accompanying her everywhere in the past. He prepared himself to be polite as she drew near. “Miss Merton.”
“Mr. George.” She glanced about, her gaze lingering on the vicar’s front door. “What an unexpected surprise to see you here.”
“I am waiting on the vicar to join me.”
Her shoulders sank and she glanced past him. “I wished to speak to him too.”
“I expect him at any moment.”
True to his word, Pease bowled out of the front door and rushed to his side. The vicar flicked his hand from side to side. “I’ve no time to speak to you today.”
“But I only wanted to enquire about aid for Mrs. Clemens,” she rushed to say before the man could move past her. “She has nowhere to go.”
A disapproving expression crossed the vicar’s face. “We are seeing to that now. She has been taken care of. Shall we go, Mr. George?”
The rude snub startled Walter. Melanie might not have the stomach for the ill and injured, but he was touched that she asked after a poor blacksmith’s widow. The family should have been quite beneath her. “We are just seeing her settled into a new abode now.”
She met his gaze warily. “I am pleased to hear it, especially with winter not far off. Might I ask where she will live?”
The vicar cleared his throat. “Mr. George, did you not say you were in somewhat of a hurry?”
“Not so much as to be rude to Miss Merton.” He gave her the directions. “Would you care to accompany us?”
He expected her to decline.
“Thank you. I should like to see the place for myself so I might find it later.” She nodded and they walked side by side along the cobblestone streets toward the small home he would offer the widow. It was a relatively new purchase, and the broken windowpanes had been replaced only yesterday. All it should require was a thorough sweeping out before Mrs. Clemens and her brood could move in.
Vicar Pease filled the silence with talk of business and entertainments, but largely ignored Melanie. Walter, on the other hand, could not. They had argued; or rather, he had finally spoken from his heart about how her behavior had affected him. He felt awkward around her now and foolish. Walter never liked to let resentments linger. She would not change and he should not have expected it. The fact he was disappointed she wouldn’t marry anyone, even him, was entirely his mistake. Unfortunately, with the Vicar nearby, he could not speak of the matter candidly.
When the small home he’d offered to Mrs. Clemens came into view, he pointed it out to her. “There. I hope it will be large enough.”
Melanie squinted at it, her eyes assessing. “It seems on the small side.”
Walter nodded, agreeing with her. “The home had two bedchambers upstairs and none below. For a family of eleven it will be quite a squeeze, but there is nothing else available in Brighton, nothing else offered to the family. It is the best that can be done at short notice.”
Mr. Pease shook his head, casting another disapproving glance at Melanie. “Of course it will be large enough and Mrs. Clemens will be grateful, as we all should for another’s charity to those in need.”
Walter couldn’t miss the sharpness of his tone, and fumed. He addressed his reply to the vicar. “Believe me, if I had a bigger home that was unoccupied, I would have offered that instead and not have the worry of whether everyone would fit inside. Mr. Clemens was well known to my father, and a good man he was too.”
He caught Melanie’s elbow out of habit and guided her up the short flight of stairs ahead of the vicar before he realized what he was doing. He was supposed to be angry with her, but in the face of such rudeness, he couldn’t seem to suppress his protective instincts around her.
He dropped her arm at the door when he realized she hadn’t eased away from him on her own. She remained close enough that, when he inhaled, the jasmine perfume she often wore filled his lungs. It was a pleasant scent. A subtle fragrance he’d always associated with the woman.
Much like the knowledge that she would only marry a man who’d made something of himself.
Except that wasn’t to be either.
He steeled his heart against that disappointment and unlocked the house using his key.
Inside, the property was a good deal cooler than outside. He kept his hat in his hands and overcoat on to ward off the chill. Melanie, dressed in a light wool coat, rubbed her arms briskly while she inspected the lower floor of the property and then disappeared upstairs, clutching her garments around her as if she were chilled through.
She’ll need a thicker coat for winter.
“What am I doing?” he muttered to himself. He glanced down. For heaven’s sake, the woman can take care of herself. She doesn’t even want a man in her life; much less have me fussing over her. Let it go!
He nodded and then checked the quality of work on the rear windows. By the time he was done with his inspection, so was she.
Her firm nod of approval brought relief. “They’ll manage well enough here. Have the chimney’s been swept in recent time? A good fire will warm up the space enough that they will be very cozy indeed.”
He glanced around. “That is what I hoped for too, so the sweeps were here last week.”
She stopped at his side, a little behind him, as the vicar approached. “Well, this is quite a fine house for the widow until she remarries,” the vicar enthused.
“I doubt she will ever remarry. Mrs. Clemens loved her husband dearly and keenly feels his loss.” He expected the family to need support for some time to come, at least until the elder children found work. “It will suit for the winter and then in the spring, we will see what else can be done.”
He gestured for Melanie to precede him from the house and she hurried away from the vicar and his dark scowls.
The vicar held him back when he would have followed. “I do not like the way that woman constantly sticks her nose where it is not wanted.”
Melanie’s interest in those less fortunate than herself was one of the few things Walter had always liked about her. Despite her haughtiness, she was always very willing to show kindness to widows and children. More than one little girl in Brighton wore a pretty new smock embellished with Melanie’s stitches. He couldn’t understand why she would not want to have her own offspring to spoil. “Is that so?”
“Indeed. She’s hardly the sort to set a good example, the way she taunts proper gentlemen.” The vicar glanced toward the door. “She should be minding a husband’s concerns by her age.”
“Pease!” Walter warned in a low voice. “You are aware that Miss Merton is my neighbor, and my friend’s sister, are you not?”
“Yes, well, I don’t doubt that places you at a disadvantage.” Pease grimaced. “But a man must be free to speak his mind. I’m sure it will be impossible to send her away.”
“Indeed it would be, since I have no wish to do so. Any gossip you may have heard of her is completely false and a product of a small minded and petty individual I assure you.” Walter scowled and ushered him to the door so he could lock the house. “Do not feel you must accompany us to see Mrs. Clemens. Good day, sir.”
He strolled to Melanie, wrapped her arm about his, and steered her away from the man. “Mr. Pease will not be joining us.”
She peered over her shoulder. “He does not approve of me.”
“You heard.”
She sighed and put a distance between them. “It is impossible not to hear someone used to delivering sermons and every other word at the top of his lungs. You’ve no need to speak up for me, or accompany me to see Mrs. Clemens. I can go alone.”
“Impossible. I was going to see her now myself. We might as well walk there together.” He glanced over his shoulder. Assured they’d left the odious man behind, Walter slowed his pace. “I didn’t realize you were acquainted with Mrs. Clemens.”
“She was Andy’s friend. We used to visit her when I was a girl.” Melanie worried at her lip. “We’ve never moved in the same circles, of course, but after Andy died, every Christmas and at Easter, I have made something new for Mrs. Clemens and her girls.”
“I see,” he murmured. He was touched she’d been so generous to an old friend of her governess’s. “Once Mrs. Clemens is settled in her new home, I must broach the subject of he
r children’s futures with her, but perhaps you know the family better than I and could offer advice.”
“There are so many.” An odd catch in her voice when she spoke of the children made him wonder if she ever regretted her decision about not having her own.
“Mr. Clemens was devoted to his wife and she was devoted to him. With such affection, it is inevitable that an abundance of children would follow,” he murmured.
“I’ve been to visit her several times since the accident.” She glanced up at him. “The elder pair of children might suit as a maid or footman if only they were a little older.”
The elder girl was also very pretty, and could easily end up in the wrong sort of company if her mother didn’t keep a watchful eye. “I thought so too. Unfortunately, I don’t know of anyone in need of a maid or footman so young at the moment.”
“Julia does.” Melanie frowned. “Or perhaps it would be correct to say I could need a new servant. My maid now tends to Julia first.”
“That is a very good suggestion. I will speak to Valentine about it tonight.”
“You cannot. I fear Mrs. Clemens would be upset if her eldest child was taken into employment so soon after losing her husband. She quite relies on the girl.”
Economics demanded someone in the family had to find employment, and soon. “At your brother’s house, she will not be so far away as to trouble Mrs. Clemens’s heart, and if there was still concern, perhaps she would be reassured if the girl tended to you instead of Julia.”
“It might work if circumstances were different.” She turned her face away. “I have been thinking it might be better for Valentine and Julia if I wasn’t living with them.”
“Where would you go?” He stopped Melanie outside Mrs. Clemens’s residence and stared into a face grown even paler than when he’d first seen her that day.
“I am reconsidering my decision to remain in Brighton. Perhaps it would be best if I return to my parents before the festive season is upon us.”
He was stunned. “But I thought that business of you leaving was forgotten?”