by Rosie Wynter
“Claire Curtis… it is you who has come up to Gretna Green ahead of me?” The man’s body seemed to shift on the spot, torn between running to his horse and staying.
“Yes, Ruben,” Claire answered, forcing herself to sound as definite as possible. She could not let her words fail her now. “You could not know this, but… I was in London around the time news of your elopement with Miss Rosingden became public knowledge. I… I couldn’t bear the thought of your marrying some other woman, after you had made your intentions and feelings for me known. I knew your heart could not have forgotten about me and I knew with absolute certainty that you must only be marrying this young girl, Miss Rosingden, because Lady Helen cut you off. I understand how desperate that must have made you feel, and how it must have driven you to secure a marriage at once. However, I could not simply let you go. I… I stole some money from my aunt and hired a private carriage to reach this place before you. We have always been of the same mind, you and me. I knew that you would look to marry in a place as romantic as Gretna Green, with its storied past and history of impassioned lovers fleeing persecution from disapproving families.”
“Miss Curtis… I…”
“I never had the opportunity to answer your question when you asked me to marry you, back at the assembly, only a few weeks ago. At the time, you knew with all certainty that my answer was yes, but I want to give you my answer now. Will you… Will you stay a while and hear me out? Or…” Claire paused, head lowering as she bit her bottom lip. “Or could it be that Miss Rosingden is indeed the love of your life and I am just some wretch you thought yourself in love with and whom fate has cruelly conspired against?”
“Oh, Miss Curtis,” Mr Hawkins’ voice wavered, his emotions seeming to overtake him for a moment. “How could I have let myself believe that you had abandoned me?”
Claire took a tentative step forward, a slight smile on her features. “Did you truly think that I had abandoned you?” she asked, just a hint of disappointment registering in her voice.
“On that ill-fated night, you did not give an answer after your family interrupted our moment. When they forced you away from me, you made no attempt to prevent them or to plead with them to change their course. Perhaps I was mistaken, but I took this as a sign of your indifference... I assumed your feelings for me were not as big as mine, and so I accepted the reality that my feelings toward you were unrequited. Believe me, I would never have looked at another girl had I thought there was hope for us.”
Claire gave a slight nod as she felt the corners of her eyes dampening. “So then, you would say it is my fault? It is because of my inaction and inability to stand up to my sister and family that you threw yourself into the arms of another?”
“Please, Claire, do not blame yourself. What is done is done, and I bear you no ill will. That you have dared to come all the way up here to save our relationship is proof enough to me that your feelings are genuine, that you really are worthy of my love.” Mr Hawkins moved forward, and he opened his arms wide to embrace Claire. She felt her back stiffen, but she struggled to return the sentimental embrace. As was to be expected, Mr Hawkins noticed her standoffish manner.
“Claire, are you all right? I would have hoped that holding you again would bring you joy…”
“I… I am quite happy,” she replied haltingly. “It is simply difficult for me to accept your embrace when I know that you have another young woman waiting on you. I know full well you must return to the girl you have promised yourself to.”
“No, I will do no such thing,” Mr Hawkins assured her. He took Claire’s hands in his, grasping them tightly as he looked at her with earnest eyes. “Marjorie entrusted me with several deeds and documents of ownership to various holdings that belong to her father. Along with the money she took from her home, we would have enough, you and I, to set up a life ourselves, far from here. If you wished it, we could marry here tomorrow and then charter a boat across the seas. We could make a new life for ourselves in a country that does not care for rank or societal rules. Your sister is in America, is she not? We could journey there.”
“But what of Miss Rosingden?” Claire asked enraged. “She must surely love you as dearly as I do, to have risked so much. Were we to run away together like this–”
“Your generosity of spirit towards Miss Rosingden is moving, but we must think of ourselves, my love. Marjorie is very much a kindred spirit to us both. She understands the changing and mutable nature of love and I do not believe she will begrudge this turn of events. In time, she will find a new love of her own. If her feelings for me are genuine, she will not think unkindly of me for finding my happiness elsewhere.”
Claire took a breath as she entwined her fingers with the poet’s. “If that is how you feel, then let us not delay. I have a room here in the inn. You can stay with me here tonight. We can marry in the morning and then be away from this country and its oppressive rules.”
Claire began to lead Mr Hawkins by the hand, in the direction of the inn. Mr Hawkins followed behind, his arm moving about her waist as they stepped together into the building. After Claire had opened the door, and the two had stepped inside, she felt that grip on her waist tightening.
Waiting in the entranceway was Claire’s aunt, dressed in her nightgown with her arms folded. She wore a disapproving expression on her face, a fierce glare that would have been enough to unhinge any man.
“Claire? What is this?”
Mr Hawkins loosened his grip on her, retreating backwards a step. Claire held his arm, putting all her weight into keeping him where he was. Before he could make it to the door, it was closed behind him by Lord Dalton. There was a loud echo in the otherwise empty room as the door slammed shut. As if emphasising Mr Hawkins’ hopelessness, the earl locked the door and pocketed the key.
“Mr Hawkins. It has been some time.”
The poet wrenched his arm free from Claire, a look of disgust forming on those features, which moments ago had seemed so enraptured and loving.
“You! You tricked me! You do not care for me at all. You came here just to revenge yourself.”
“That is enough.” The earl’s voice was low and carried a warning tone. It was enough to silence Mr Hawkins, and the poet pursed his lips shut. The earl put a hand on the man’s neck, gripping his shirt collar to ensure he could not get away. Mr Hawkins seemed to understand his predicament and opted for a sort of dignified defiance of the situation. He straightened his back and held his hands by his side. He paid no attention to the earl and seemed determined to ignore the duchess’s presence as well. As he was marched towards the stairs and the guest quarters, he paused only once to look at Claire.
“You know, we could have had happiness together. If you could have swallowed your pride and accepted my reasons for courting Miss Rosingden, we could have had a future. Now, what have you got? You may have the satisfaction of seeing me cast out of society and into poverty… you may have crippled me so I can never bring my poetry to the world and gain the recognition I am due. But will this act of vengeance be enough to warm your heart when you die alone and unloved?”
Mr Hawkins let out a yelp as Lord Dalton gave him a hard shove. The earl’s strength made the poet stagger forward, and Mr Hawkins made no further attempt at stalling, as he was shoved away to a place where he could be held securely.
“Pay no heed to the man,” Aunt Lynch said. “He is just raving at his own folly.”
Claire knew this was not quite true, but she did not bother trying to correct her aunt.
“You did a good job of convincing the man to come into the inn. The landlord woke the earl and me as soon as Mr Hawkins tried to leave. I felt certain we had missed our opportunity until I spied you talking with him from the window.”
“I suppose I did learn a few useful tricks and skills from all the novels I read growing up,” Claire said. “They gave me enough guidance to feign love for Mr Hawkins and to tempt him to come inside. I can’t say I took any great pleasure in fooling
him as I did, but it had to be done to keep Miss Rosingden safe.”
Aunt Lynch wrapped her arms about Claire, caressing her hair softly.
“I’m sure the girl will thank you for it in the end.”
Chapter 19
The business of dealing with Mr Hawkins was somewhat more complex than Claire would have liked. She had hoped that a final curtain would be drawn over things after they had caught the man and prevented him from following through with his marriage to Miss Rosingden. However, as life continued to show her each day, the world did not work exactly as it did in her novels.
There was much to be done after she and Lord Dalton had apprehended their man. In the first instance, Miss Rosingden had to be retrieved from the nearby village where she had been staying the night while Mr Hawkins rode ahead to Gretna Green. Lord Dalton volunteered to visit the woman and bring her to Gretna Green, however, Claire opted to make the journey herself with Aunt Lynch. She explained her volunteering for this unpleasant task by saying, “I am the one who most understands how Miss Rosingden feels right now. I am not proud to admit it, but we have both had our feelings toyed with by Mr Hawkins and I hope my own story will help her understand the man’s true character.”
In the end, Miss Rosingden proved to be a stubborn and unrepentant young woman, unwilling to consider even for a moment that running away with the poet was wrong or that stealing from her father was, in any way, a crime. In fact, Miss Rosingden proved to be even more like Claire than Claire herself had feared. As the young woman stubbornly refused to listen to any besmirching of her lover’s name, Claire found herself reminded of the days after the assembly ball when she had clung to her faith in the man, despite everything her sister or aunt had said to the contrary.
Miss Rosingden was dismissive of Claire’s personal testimony. Whereas she accepted that Claire and Mr Hawkins had some kind of history together, she still clung to her belief that their relationship was an old and dead thing. She certainly did not countenance the idea that Mr Hawkins would have chosen Claire over her. When Claire confessed that they had only managed to apprehend the gentleman after she had lured him into the inn with promises of love, Miss Rosingden was quick to shout her down. In the most unladylike way possible, she accused Claire of lying and manipulating the truth to cast the poet as a villain.
In the end, Claire left the management of Miss Rosingden to her aunt – it was obvious that the young woman would not hear or accept anything that passed from Claire’s lips. Claire was disappointed to find her testimony was of no help or comfort to the girl, but she could well understand Miss Rosingden’s state of mind. All Claire could do was pray that time away from the poet would help clear the fog of romanticised love that had smothered the young woman’s reason.
Eventually, Miss Rosingden was persuaded to go with the Duchess of Lynch and Claire to Gretna Green. With Mr Hawkins already in custody and the money and papers they had brought with them seized as evidence, Miss Rosingden had no real choice in the matter. Without money and Mr Hawkins at her side, there was little she could do on her own. Though she railed against Claire and the whole situation she found herself in, Miss Rosingden had to accept, albeit begrudgingly, that her destiny was to return home to her family.
While Claire and the duchess dealt with Mr Hawkins’ latest victim of romance, Lord Dalton saw to the business of Hawkins himself. In his wisdom, the earl decided it was unwise to hold the poet at the inn where they were staying. The blundering innkeeper, whose poor acting had almost scuppered the whole endeavour, had agreed to hold the poet in his cellar while the earl decided what was to be done with the man. By the time Claire and her aunt returned to Gretna Green with Miss Rosingden, Mr Hawkins was gone. Miss Rosingden begged the earl to tell her what had become of her erstwhile lover, but Lord Dalton refused to answer her. He would only say that the man was physically unhurt and would be dealt with appropriately by her father when the time and circumstances were right. As usual, Lord Dalton’s powerful presence denied any objection or remonstration. Miss Rosingden accepted his words dejectedly and was sent to a bedroom where she could recover from the day’s drama and think on her own folly.
Although there was still much to be done, Claire decided to take some time for herself after her disastrous meeting with Miss Rosingden. Aunt Lynch seemed proud and pleased with all of her niece’s decisions of the past days, so she allowed Claire to go down to the River Sark that ran about the outer edges of Gretna Green. Under the usual conventions, Aunt Lynch should not have let her go unaccompanied, but Claire had struck out alone, so Aunt Lynch had merely secured the services of a servant from the inn’s chambers to trail her niece at a short distance. Although Aunt Lynch was appreciative of Claire’s need for solitude, this did not stretch to letting her wander an unknown locale completely alone.
Whereas Aunt Lynch may have been pleased with her compromise in seeming to let Claire do as she pleased, the young woman’s other travelling companion, however, was more concerned for her. Lord Dalton slipped after her and, catching up with the maidservant first, he relieved her of her duty, after assuring her that he would not let Claire out of his sight.
As Claire walked down to the river bank, clutching a stack of papers written in Mr Hawkins’ hand to her chest, she was aware of Lord Dalton following behind her. The earl kept a respectable distance, and perhaps he did not even know that she had seen him. Although, ordinarily, Claire would have been grateful for his company, she wished to carry out this one action by herself. If the earl insisted on keeping watch over her, then she would let him do so, but from a distance. She needed to do just one thing, in solitude, before she could speak to the man again.
After crossing a small wooden bridge over the river, the village of Gretna Green and its people were lost to Claire’s sight. She went down to the riverside, moving cautiously through the shrubs and foliage to reach the edge of the clear waters. She continued to hold tightly onto the papers she had brought with her, making sure not to lose a single one. She stared levelly at the long snaking course of the river; her lips were drawn thin, her body tense. There was something determined in her gaze, and a look of resolution was set over her features, unlike any she normally wore.
It was just as Claire arrived at the very edge of the river, where her walking boots were wetted by the lapping waters, that a cry interrupted her private moment.
“Miss Curtis! Miss Curtis! No!”
Claire had just knelt down on the pebbled shore when Lord Dalton’s voice rang out across the empty space. In surprise, she struggled to maintain her balance and almost fell face first into the river. The whole time, she continued to cling to the stack of papers she had brought with her, stubbornly refusing to let them go, even as her body threatened to tip over. Before she could fall, the earl reached her side after dashing across the bank at speed. He caught Claire up in almost the same way he had when she had fallen out of her carriage at their first meeting.
“Lord Dalton! Contain yourself, let me go!” Claire struggled against the man’s strong, muscular grip. The earl, however, would not oblige her.
“No, Claire, I will not let you go! I cannot let you throw what you have away because of all that has happened. I will not let Mr Hawkins’ mistreatment of you be your ruin!”
Claire’s eyes widened in shock as the earl used her first name. It was enough to bring her to a stop, and she let herself fall still in his arms. Just the sound of her name on his lips caused her heart to skip a beat, and she found tears were quick to well in her eyes. The task that had brought her to the river was hard enough without the earl adding to her burden.
“Claire, please come away from the water’s edge. I know your heart was damaged by Mr Hawkins, but do not let his mistreatment of you lead you to throw your life away. You are not Juliet and Mr Hawkins is certainly not a worthy Romeo. I will not have you give up on life because of him, not when there are still those in this world who cherish you as I do.”
The earl’s expression was as hard as
stone, but his eyes were large and round. He looked frightened, and it was an expression Claire had never seen on his face before. She gazed into his eyes, her brow knotting as she tried to decipher the meaning of his strange words.
“Juliet? Why would you compare me to her at a time like this?” Claire could see the utter panic and concern in the earl’s eyes. She did not doubt for a moment that he was in the grip of some terror beyond anything she had ever known or experienced in life. For a moment, the man’s eyes moved to the river’s edge, and she noticed how he seemed to draw her further away from it. It was at that moment that she understood what madness had gripped the man.
When she finally understood his meaning, she began to laugh. She did not mean to. She knew that the earl was taking the matter very seriously and she did not mean to offend him, but she could not help but see the humour in the exchange.
“Oh my… you thought… you thought I had come here to end my life?” Without realising quite what she was doing, Claire leaned forward and rested her head against his chest. She wrapped her arms around him and held him in a fast embrace. She did not consider the impropriety of the act, she merely wanted to convey her gratitude to him and to assure him that all was well with her.
“Did you come here for some other reason? When I saw the serious expression on your face as you were leaving the inn earlier, and when I noticed that you had a bundle of Hawkins’ poetry with you, I… I could not help but fear…”
“It is all right,” Claire said softly. She heaved a sigh as she rested against him. “I suppose that given my propensity to conform to all the romantic clichés from the books I read, it seems reasonable to believe that I would do something desperate after being spurned. Who knows, maybe the ‘me’ of a few months ago might even have gone through with such an act. But I promise you, I am a different person to the girl you first met at Holdenwood Manor. These last three months have served as a most unpalatable education, but an education nonetheless. I am no longer so prone to wild acts of folly in the name of romantic love. Certainly, I am not about to throw myself into a river on account of that worthless poet. I am ashamed even to think I was once in love with him, and I certainly wouldn’t pay him the dubious compliment of choosing to leave the world rather than live in it without him.”