Deborah would not be put off. “Tell me why you covered your laugh, Maryann. You have not done that for years.” She waited a few moments, then added another stick to her fire of demand. “I am a woman existing on the brink of emotion and reason, tell me or I shall burst into tears.”
It might have been a joke, but it very well may not have been. “Timothy compared my laugh to the braying of a donkey, and since then, I have tried to be more circumspect.”
Deborah’s eyes flashed wide, and her hands went to the arms of her chair as though she would push herself up and march across town to throttle the man. Maryann crossed to her quickly and put a hand on her shoulder just in case that truly was her intention.
“It is all right. I have known my whole life that my laugh is hideous.”
“It is not hideous.”
Maryann cocked her head. “Deborah, I don’t need to be placated.”
“Good, because I am not the placating type. Your laugh is loud and full and reflects the joy you feel. I shall beat that boy about the ears for saying otherwise.”
“He thought he was only teasing me. He did not understand how deep my own regret of it has been.”
“But he hurt you and that is unacceptable to me after he already rejected you. I shall have Lucas give him a piece of—”
“You will not tell Lucas to do anything. In fact, it would be best if you told him nothing,” Maryann said, realizing she had underestimated Deborah’s emotional state. “I have forgiven Timothy, and as things are so strange between us, I will not risk resurrecting the topic by having you or Lucas breathe a word of it. He apologized, and I forgave it.”
Deborah’s cheeks were pink and her jaw was set, but at least she was not trying to stand any more. “He should not have said such a thing.”
“But he did, and it is true and all is well.”
“All is not well if you are not laughing. You must laugh, Maryann, I need you to laugh. And I will not allow you to change any single thing about yourself to please anyone, least of all a man.”
Maryann returned to her chair. “Ah, but it is not just a man, it is Timothy.”
That brought Deborah up short, and her stare was a little too hard. For the second time today, Maryann had said too much, and yet she did not fully regret this one. Deborah had shared her secret, why should Maryann not admit hers?
“You do care for him, then? Things have been, as you said, strange between the two of you, and Lucas and I have wondered what to think.”
For a moment, Maryann considered telling Deborah the depth of her feelings, the ache in her chest when she was with Timothy and how much she wanted his company when he was gone. She imagined telling her what it felt like to see another woman on his arm. To unburden herself felt like the most irresistible temptation . . . except that she knew it would not change his heart, or hers, or ease Deborah’s mind, which was Maryann’s first priority now.
“He is Timothy, Deborah, and a very good friend.” Maryann hid her discomfort behind a smile.
Deborah opened her mouth to respond, but Maryann spoke before she had the chance. “I had best ready myself for tonight, and you are not to worry yourself at all. In fact, I think your happy news has even relieved my headache.” She crossed to her sister and gave her another hug. “You rest and eat toast and drink peppermint tea, and I shall dance and socialize enough for the both of us.”
“Miss Morrington?”
Maryann turned from the conversation she’d been having with a few other ladies, lemonade glass in hand—much better than that horrid punch from a few weeks ago—and smiled at Timothy. She had not seen him arrive and excused herself from the conversation so she could devote her full attention to him. It was only when she noticed the man standing beside Timothy that she realized what was happening. He’d found her a suitor. Her heart froze a beat in her chest.
“Good evening, Mr. Mayfield,” she managed.
Just then, Lady Jersey bustled up to them. She was flustered as she looked between the three of them, and her ostrich feathers shivered over her head as though in a breeze. “Miss Morrington, I would like to introduce you to Mr. Timothy Mayfield of Norfolk.”
Timothy cleared his throat to draw the frazzled woman’s attention to him, and then nodded toward the other man.
“Oh, yes, my apologies,” Lady Jersey said quickly. “Miss Morrington, I would like to introduce you to Colonel Berkins. Now if you’ll excuse me.” She hurried off, and Maryann was glad to have very good ears and the ability to be attentive, otherwise she’d have missed the man’s name completely.
Colonel Berkins stepped forward and bowed without fanfare over her gloved hand. He was only a few inches taller than she was and wore evening clothes instead of his military uniform. “It is a pleasure to meet you, Miss Morrington. Mr. Mayfield sings your praises.”
“Does he?” Maryann asked, raising her eyebrows. “What does he praise the most—my laugh, perhaps, or my simpering manner?” Deborah’s news had added some spice to Maryann’s mood these last few days.
She’d meant to throw Timothy off his expectations, but he only grinned wider, his blue eyes sparkling like the sea. “Simpering you are not, Miss Morrington, but wit you have in spades.” He put a hand on Colonel Berkins back. “Colonel Berkins is new to London and not the usual fare.” He wagged his eyebrows at Maryann though she was the only one to see it. “I thought to introduce him to the best woman this town has to offer.”
“Well, if he likes his women plain and old, very good,” Maryann countered with a slight curtsy. Because why not be who she was?
Colonel Berkins laughed at that, a deep sound that drew her attention. “It seems Mayfield was correct in believing you and I would get on, Miss Morrington. I am no great beauty myself nor have I been young for some time.”
Indeed, he had some gray above his ears, and though she would not say he was plain, neither was he handsome. But had he just confirmed that she was no beauty either? She should be offended, yet she was the one who had brought it up. She smiled and nodded slightly, accepting what was.
“Mayfield said you had a beautiful smile, and that seems to be true as well.”
Maryann looked at Timothy. Had he truly told this man she had a beautiful smile? Did she have a beautiful smile? Father often said that her smile lit the sun just as Mother’s did, but no one had sincerely commented on her smile here in London. She wondered if she had forgotten it was an attribute simply because no one had pointed it out. Until Timothy had said as much to his new friend.
“I thank you both for the compliment, then,” she said, looking back at Colonel Berkins and wondering if perhaps he would be her rescue from the feelings she could not unfeel regarding Timothy. How she longed for that relief.
“Well, I am off to find a partner for the next set,” Timothy said before he bowed, turned, and left her alone with Colonel Berkins.
“Um, well, how long have you been in London?” Colonel Berkins asked.
“Nearly four months now. Since February,” Maryann said.
“And you are not married yet?”
Ouch. “Those of us short on looks and long in the tooth tend to stay on the shelf a bit longer.”
“Good grief, I may be in London for years.” He made a face, but then smiled again and shrugged. His self-comfort was engaging. The set currently taking the floor came to an end, and the couples applauded for the orchestra.
“Would you care to dance?” Colonel Berkins said.
She heard a tremor of hesitation in the offer. “Do you want to dance, Colonel, or are you offering because you find yourself at Almack’s and that is what is expected?”
He laughed again, and the sound moved through her. “You have caught me, Miss Morrington. I do not love to dance, but I am willing if you would like to. It is a good way to interact, and, as I understand it, there is not much more to do here but to drink p
oor punch. Mayfield warned me away from it quite directly. Said he has never been the same since a particularly bad batch.”
“Perhaps you have not known Mr. Mayfield long enough to know that he has a flair for the dramatic. As I have already vetted tonight’s concoction, I can assure you that it will not do you any harm. There were some empty chairs near the window on the far side of the room last I looked—perhaps we could take the set to get to know one another rather than force you to dance.”
“Oh, you are the holiest of angels,” he proclaimed and put out his arm. She smiled, took it, and hoped that Timothy was watching.
One set’s worth of conversation turned to two. On the third, Mr. Ramsey, one of Maryann’s newer admirers, found them and asked her to dance. She excused herself from Colonel Berkins’s company, but as she made the steps and turns of the dance with Mr. Ramsey, she kept thinking about Colonel Berkins. About how he had sat with her so long. About how he had kept her from thinking of Timothy. Still was, in fact, except that when she thought about how he kept her from thinking about Timothy she actually was thinking about Timothy.
When the dance finished, she was surprised to find Colonel Berkins moving toward them.
“Might I have the next?” Colonel Berkins asked.
“Certainly,” Maryann said.
The men traded her off, and she reentered the floor with Colonel Berkins.
“I would not make you dance if you wish not to, Colonel Berkins.”
“It was unfair for me to keep you from the floor for two whole sets, and I feel sure that other men have noticed the same so I shall not miss my chance to occupy your attention one set longer, then I shall not impose any more.”
“You are not imposing if your attention is welcome.”
He smiled widely, and she returned it, remembering how Timothy had told this man she had a beautiful smile.
They took their places and moved through the dance. Though he may not have liked dancing, he was confident of the steps. She wondered if he knew about her fortune.
Colonel Berkins was true to his word and did not take any more of her time that evening, save for sitting beside her during the cold supper. She was glad for the chance to speak with him again and by the end of the night could honestly say that he had been the brightest part of the evening. Brighter even than Timothy.
The next morning, the colonel called and they had a lovely visit, with Deborah acting as chaperone. When he left, Maryann caught Deborah watching her.
“You like this one,” Deborah said bluntly.
“I do,” Maryann said, picking up her needlework. She was working on a new cover for the piano stool back at Orchard House. She’d wanted daisies, but white silk did not always wear well, so she’d chosen pink instead. She hoped to have it finished by the time she returned to the estate in another month.
“And he is a friend of Timothy’s?”
“I do not think Timothy knows him well—I daresay I have spoken with him more than Timothy has—but they share a mutual friend, though I don’t remember who.”
“What is Colonel Berkins’s situation?” Deborah asked, also picking up her embroidery. She was planning a set of handkerchiefs for Father for Christmas.
“He has recently finished a commission in the King’s army, where he spent a great deal of time in Spain, mostly. He’s returned to a bit of acreage left to him by an uncle in Shropshire and is in negotiations with a mining company in regard to its use in that industry. He has come to London for a wife.”
Deborah’s head snapped up. “He told you that?”
“Well, I asked him, so it is only polite that he answer me.” She could not hold back her grin as she pushed her needle through the fabric.
“You asked him if he had come to London for a wife?”
Maryann lifted her eyes. “Yes. I tire of the games, Deborah, and feel that I have lost most of them. Why not change them up and be honest and direct?”
“Because it is ill-mannered,” she said tightly. “And it reflects poorly on your character and your family.”
Maryann had not thought of it in quite that way, but she was not fully dissuaded. “I have only spoken so boldly with him, no one else, and I did so because I thought to put him off in order to get back at Timothy when I started. But then it turned on me and ended up being a very nice evening.”
“Get back at Timothy? What do you mean by that? You mean for the horrible thing he said about your laugh?”
That seemed ages ago. “For thinking I needed his help in finding a husband.”
Deborah set down her stitching. “But you are trying to help him find a match, are you not? What is wrong with him doing the same for you? You’ve been in London four months. I think it fair of him to help after being such a disappointment himself.”
How could Maryann truly explain the complexity of her relationship with Timothy? She tried to find an answer, then gave up. It barely made sense to her and would certainly make no sense to anyone else. She kept sewing and tried to keep the topic easy, though it was anything but. She did not like to upset Deborah in her delicate condition, but her sister’s heightened emotions made that difficult sometimes.
“It does not matter,” Maryann said. “Suffice it to say that I like Colonel Berkins very much. Time will tell if my opinion stays as rosy, but for now he is the most interesting prospect I have met so far.”
“Oh,” Deborah said, finally returning to her work.
Maryann had expected more and glanced up from her silk to see Deborah wipe quickly at her eyes.
“Deborah,” Maryann said, setting her work in her lap. “Whatever is the matter?”
“Nothing.” Her sister sniffled and wiped at her eyes again. “Pregnancy does such things.” She sewed a few more stitches, but likely could not see well enough through her tears. Maryann waited her out, and finally Deborah looked up, her chin trembling. “I had so hoped you and Timothy would find an accord, and I have held out hope all these months that what I see between you two would blossom. Even after you told me of the horrible things he’d said about your laugh. I talked to Lucas and he said that it might yet come together.” She lifted her shoulders. “I felt better, but if Timothy is introducing you to his friends, then, well . . .” She wiped at her eyes again, and Maryann set her work aside fully so she could cross to the settee and put her arm around her sister’s shoulder.
Deborah sniffled. “Timothy is Lucas’s closest friend, and his only friend who does not annoy me, well, until recently. Were the two of you to marry it would keep you and me connected. After losing Mother, and with James being married to that ninny, I see my family slipping away from me and . . .” She sniffed. Took a breath. “And so I had hoped that the right match would keep you closer. It seems silly now, especially after Timothy’s cruelty to you, but, well, there it is.”
Maryann remained quiet until she trusted herself to speak evenly. “My dear sister,” she said, then kissed her sister’s forehead—had she ever done that in the whole of her life? “I do not need Timothy to keep me connected to you. Please do not worry yourself over that in the slightest. I am not going to disappear into my husband’s life, no matter who he is, and I cannot imagine my future without you in it.”
“If Colonel Berkins is from Shropshire, he will want to take you there with him and I shall have this baby without you and . . .” She began to cry again.
“And I am a woman of fortune,” Maryann reminded her. “And I shall not enter into any marriage contract that limits my ability to travel wherever and whenever I choose. You will not lose me.”
“I could not bear it,” Deborah whimpered.
“And you shall not. I should like your blessing to try to find my happiness with Colonel Berkins—or another man if necessary, however.” She would be wise not to put all her eggs in the Berkins basket. After all, she had only known the man for the space of one evening and on
e morning visit. “Can you grant me faith that I will not let anyone or anything separate me from you?”
“Of course, I want you to be happy,” Deborah said and sat up straight. “I am sorry. I am so undone.”
“For good reason.” Maryann returned to her chair where she picked up her stitching. “Now, tell me how you are feeling and what plans you have made.” Deborah had not been out of the house in well over a week.
Deborah cried happy tears when she explained that Lucas had agreed to name the child after Mother if it were a girl, but then sad tears when she confessed that Lucas’s mother wanted them to move in with her until the baby was born. Deborah could not abide having the baby anywhere but in Orchard House, and Lucas had not yet taken up the campaign with his mother.
The next callers arrived, and Deborah excused herself while Maryann entertained Miss Callifour and her sister for half an hour. She sewed for another quarter of an hour alone before telling Herrington that she was finished with her visits for the day.
She rang for Lucy even though she felt guilty about the errand she was going to ask of the girl.
When Lucy arrived in the drawing room, Maryann asked her to close the door and then waved her to share the settee with her away from any prying ears or eyes.
“What is it, miss?” Lucy asked, her eyes sparkling with delight at the subterfuge. They always talked in Maryann’s bedroom, but this newest task was not one that Maryann felt could wait—Lucy would be going out tonight.
Maryann kept her hands in her lap. “Last night, you asked if I had met anyone you should follow up on and I told you that I hadn’t, but that was not true.”
Lucy’s pale eyebrows shot up. “Miss?”
“I had not thought I needed to have him investigated as he is so forthcoming and open.” She met the maid’s eyes, promising herself that should she and Colonel Berkins marry she would never tell him of this. Unless by then she knew he would find it funny. That was something to ponder on later, as well as whatever Lucy might learn in the meantime. “I am reminded today, however, of how complex a thing love and marriage can be.” She paused for a breath. “Could you find everything you can on Colonel Charles Berkins as quickly as possible? He hails from Shropshire and says he has a piece of land there he is looking to mine. He’s been in the King’s army until recently and spent time in Spain but is now renting a modest home in Kensington. Will you make sure he is everything he has said he is?”
Daisies and Devotion Page 11