The English Proposal: Christian Victorian Era Historical (Window to the Heart Saga Trilogy Book 1)

by Jenna Brandt

  “That is so untrue, Henry. I care a great deal about you. I loved you. I still do, but I do not think it is the love that a wife feels for a husband. That is what scares me.”

  Turning away from her, all she could see was the slump of his back. “Do you feel that way about him?”

  “Yes, undeniably yes. He makes me feel things that I have never felt before, things I never thought possible.”

  “What do you want me to say? I know what you want, and yet, I cannot force myself to free you. You have been everything I have ever wanted in life. I cannot see my life without you in it, without you being my wife.”

  “Henry, you mean so much to me. I also cannot see my life without you in it. My earliest memories have you in them. You and my father have been my whole world ever since my brother died, but now, things have changed and it cannot go back to the way it used to be.” Swallowing the newly formed lump in her throat, she forced out, “I want Richard to be my life now.”

  Moments passed and she continued to stare at his back. Margaret wanted to comfort Henry but realized nothing could make this easier. There was nothing she could say or do that was going to lessen his loss.

  “Then I give you your freedom, Margaret, for it is the only thing I have left to give you that you want. You no longer need to consider yourself betrothed to me.” She could hear the crushing ache in his voice, and she started to reach out to grab him and keep him from leaving, but put her hand down without saying a word. It was better this way.

  Pausing momentarily at the front doors, Henry turned around and looked at her. “My biggest fear is that you will realize too late that he doesn’t love you the way you think he does. He is diabolical and selfish, and he will stop at nothing to destroy me, including using you.”

  “He may have been that way years ago when you were in the military with him, but he has never been anything but caring and considerate with me.”

  Shaking his head in disbelief, he stated with raw passion so clear in his voice, “I really do love you, Margaret. More than you will ever know, I am afraid.” And with those final words, she watched her oldest friend walk through the door, shutting it behind him without looking back.

  Margaret had not talked to Henry since he had ended the betrothal. It had only been yesterday, but it felt so much longer. She had not realized until he walked away that not only was he her oldest friend, but he was also her best friend. They had spent countless afternoons together riding horses, taking walks, going on picnics, or playing cards. Even though she had not been in love with him, she had loved spending time with him, and now all of that was at an end. She had not realized how much it was going to hurt to lose him.

  “Daughter, I need to talk to you.”

  She was sitting at her windowsill, staring out, trying to find some way to make sense of the spiraling mess her world had become. She concentrated on the outside, seeking anything that would give her hope for her future.

  Turning from the window, she faced the earl. “Yes, Father, what is it?”

  “I talked to Henry early today, and he told me about the conversation that took place between the two of you. He told me how he relinquished his claim to you. But the truth of the matter is that the betrothal was not between him and you, but between his father and me. Therefore, since his father is dead, I am the only one who can break this contract.”

  She was beginning to see where this was going and did not like it at all. Slowly standing up, she narrowed her eyes at him.

  “You will still marry Henry. You may not understand now, but you will in time. You are meant for each other. Whether you see it or not at this precise moment, it is so.”

  “I cannot, Father! Not only do I want a future with another man, but Henry would never want to marry me after all of this. Do you not see that?”

  “One would think so, but remarkably, it is just the opposite. As I said, I talked to Henry this morning, and he said that he still loves you and would still be willing to marry you.”

  “Still willing to marry me? Do you hear yourself, Father? It is an obligation to him. Too much damage has been done to be repaired.”

  He waved off her appeal. “You are young and have no idea how life really works yet. You are infatuated with the duke. It will pass and Henry will still be there. Henry and I talked of this matter a great deal, and we both believe that these feelings you claim to have will pass in time.”

  She balled her hands into fists at her side. It took every inch of her self-control to fight back her rising anger.

  “I love Richard, Father. I know that as I know my own soul.”

  “You talk of nonsense. You have no idea what love is or what the traits of true love are.”

  “Then by all means, Father, share them with me,” Margaret said sarcastically. Then, with doubt, she asked, “What makes love love?”

  While looking at her, he shook his head. “You are so young, daughter, but then I met your mother when she was your age. I knew the moment I saw her that I wanted to marry her, but that was only the beginning. I want you to recognize that love is not self-serving or conceited. It does not remember our iniquities or think evil thoughts of others. Love is gracious and honest. It can withstand anything and always bears hope. If you could grasp these aspects, you would realize that Richard does not embody them.”

  “Father, you have studied the scriptures and I know you want me to understand the realities of love, but I have never met the man who exemplifies those traits, not even you.”

  “I know, but I strive to be them, daughter, and that is what I see in Henry. He also will strive to be those things for you. You see, love is not only a feeling but an action. Even when your heart does not feel like loving, you act it out. Emotions are fickle, and one moment you feel one way, and the next you feel completely different. But true love will act and trust that the heart will follow behind. I see this in Henry, and I fear that I do not see this in the duke.”

  She thought about that a moment, then, with her usual stubbornness, refused to let it penetrate her own beliefs.

  “You know my feelings, Father, and what I want. But we both know that in the end, I will bow to your wishes because I have no other choice but to do so.”

  “In time, my daughter, you will see that I am right. I only want what is best for you. One day, I will not be here, and I want to know that the man you marry will love you and take care of you no matter what.”

  “I wish you loved me enough to let me make my own choices.”

  “I love you enough to do the right thing for you, even if it means you end up hating me for it.”

  Chapter 8

  It was her wedding day. By all rights, she should be overjoyed, but here she was about to cry. And they were not tears of joy but of pure distress.

  Two weeks had passed since her father informed her that she was to still marry Henry. He chose to move up the wedding date to secure the deed was done promptly.

  She did not want to walk down that aisle and vow before God, family, and friends that she was going to love, honor, and cherish Henry for the rest of her life. Oh, she would make the promise, but her heart would never belong to anyone but Richard. She kept hoping for a miracle to happen, anything to change what was about to take place.

  There was nowhere to turn and nothing to save her from her plight. She had begged, pleaded, and threw herself upon her father’s mercy, and yet, he was determined to have this carried out.

  What puzzled her most was that Henry still wanted to marry her. Why? She had rejected him and fallen in love with his bitter enemy. Yet, on the other side of the door, down the aisle, he was waiting to make her his wife.

  Feeling a tear at the corner of her eye, she quickly wiped at it. She was not going to cry. She had faced worse things in her life, and she was not going to cry over this.

  Pulling herself together, she stood straight with pride. She was not going to bow, now or ever, because of the injustices life brought her way. She was going to get through this and
somehow it would get better.

  She reminded herself that her tears were saved for Randall. Her brother’s death, seven years ago, had not just been hard on her; it had destroyed her father as well. He refused even now to talk about his lost son.

  When they had gotten the letter telling them of his death, she had thought it was a letter saying there was a delay in his coming home for a visit. Instead it told them that he was never coming home again. Her brother had been lost at sea and was presumed dead. The ship that was supposed to bring him back home had gone down in a horrible storm off the coast of France.

  At first, she had not cried because she did not believe the news. She remembered telling herself, My brother is not dead. He is going to be coming home to me any day now. I just know it.

  That was the first time she had sat on the windowsill, looking out in search of something that could give her hope. She stared out over the ocean, hoping against all hope to see his ship on the horizon. For days, she clung to her belief that he had not gone down with the ship as she sat by the window, waiting for him to arrive, hoping against all odds that he would come up the drive in a carriage, hop out, and wrap her in his arms in one of his safe and caring embraces.

  And it was in that precise place where her father found her the day of her brother’s memorial.

  He moved over to her, saying, “You should get ready for the memorial, Margaret.”

  She did not respond but continued to stare out the window, waiting for some sign to make everything all right again.

  Somberly her father pleaded, “Margaret, we need to leave soon. Please, get dressed.”

  Glaring at him, she snapped, “I need to do no such thing! He is coming back, and I am going to be here to see him when he does.”

  “He is dead, Margaret, and there is nothing we can do about that. We can honor him by being strong, but you need to let go of this false hope, for both our sakes. Because if you do not, neither one of us will be able to get past this.”

  She ran up to her father and started to pound on his chest, screaming at the top of her lungs, “He is coming back! He cannot leave me! I already lost Mother. Not him too!” Collapsing into her father’s arms, she sobbed, “I need him so terribly, Father. He has always watched out for me and been there. What will I do without him?”

  He pulled her tightly into his arms and patted her on the back, holding her for several moments before saying, “We will get through this, my girl, and we will be all right. I love him too, you know. But we have to let him go.”

  She continued to cry hysterically, and finally after some time, said, “I know… and I will let go. I just cannot believe that Randall is really dead.”

  Margaret had made a promise to herself and her brother after that day that she would never cry again. Her tears would be her bond between them. She would not break that promise now by crying for her own lost life. She would not allow anything or anyone else to be a part of that connection.

  Moving to the nearby mirror, Margaret critically examined herself. She was frightfully pale. Her skin stood out in stark contrast against her dark features.

  Hoping she had applied enough powder to hide the dark circles under her eyes, she added a few more pats for good measure. She hoped when she pulled down her veil, it would discreetly cover the evident distress on her face.

  Her hair was artfully arranged around her face, and her dark violet eyes were clear and bright from the unshed tears she had been holding back since this whole thing began.

  Margaret’s father had insisted on a fancy wedding gown made of the softest silk. Tiny iridescent crystals were sewn throughout, and her veil was made of the finest ivory lace. Its many layers flowed down the back of her, cascading over the train of her dress, which poured out behind her and filled the entry hall.

  She pushed at the folds of her gown, smoothing out creases and fluffing here and there, doing anything to keep her mind off the upcoming event.

  The earl had spared no expense on her wedding, and she knew that just beyond the doors, past the mountains of flowers that lined the aisle, her future husband, a man she could not see a future with, was waiting to make her his for all her life.

  It seemed only as if it was last night that she was at her first ball, and here she stood, waiting to be married. Many months had passed since the first night she met Richard, and not one day since had passed that she had not thought of him and how he made her feel.

  Sighing silently under her breath, she determined she was as ready as she was ever going to be. She took her place in front of the doors to the sanctuary. Pulling herself up straight, Margaret lifted her chin high. She was going to get through this.

  Sarah came and handed her the bouquet of pink peonies, giving her a reassuring smile. “It will be all right, my lady. You will see.”

  She started to form a rebuttal but decided to refrain, opting to say nothing instead. She was tired of fighting to convey her feelings. Besides, she knew her feelings did not matter.

  If I just keep breathing one breath at a time and think of nothing else, I will get through this, she thought, trying not to let the panic set in.

  Who was she trying to fool? She could not stay here and go through with this wedding! She was getting as far away as she could.

  Margaret picked up the multiple layers of her dress, twirled around, and bolted quickly towards the front doors, pushing past a startled Sarah. She darted through the doors and into the bright spring light.

  She glanced left, then right, then rapidly flew down the stairs. Turning to the right, she went around a corner, putting her back against the wall of the chapel and leaning her head against it.

  Closing her eyes tightly, she sighed, shaking her head back and forth. What was she doing running away like that? This was not going to solve anything. At best, it would delay things a few minutes. But more than likely, it was only going to make the situation worse and create a scandal for the gossips to talk about.

  “What are you doing out here?”

  Her eyes flew open and head snapped to the side. She gasped in surprise. It was Richard!

  She put her hand over her mouth without thinking and then forced herself to put it down slowly.

  Margaret looked at the love of her life for several minutes, taking in his appearance. He did not look very well. In fact, he looked as if he had not slept since their last encounter at her home. His eyes were red and his hair was tousled. It hurt her to see him this way.

  After several moments of silence, Margaret replied, “I could ask you the same. Why are you here? I thought you would be as far away from this place as possible.”

  He smiled grimly. “The thought had crossed my mind, but I decided to wait outside on the off chance that perhaps you would think twice about marrying him. I had hoped I would see you before you went through with this.”

  “Why?” she asked with puzzlement in her voice, and then added in defeat, “It is hopeless.”

  “You are wrong.”

  She licked her lips subconsciously and replied, “There is nothing I can do. My father has told me how it will be and nothing will change that.” She blurted out with despair, “I… I cannot go through with it! I do not love him!”

  “You have no choice now, unless….”

  Hope flooded her as she ran up to him, grabbing his arm with both hands. “Unless what? Tell me. Whatever it is, I will do it.”

  “Unless… you run away with me.” He gathered her into his arms, whispering in a pleadingly urgent voice, “We can elope and spend our honeymoon abroad, and when things have settled down here, we can return as husband and wife.”

  Stepping back quickly, as if his mere words had physically slapped her, she stated, “I cannot do that! What of my father… Henry… my honor? It would be a huge scandal, and I cannot do that to them. It would kill my father and make Henry the laughingstock of England.” She turned her back to him and whispered, “I am sorry I cannot do what you ask of me.”

  “But Margaret, you w
ill never be happy with him. You know this, as do I.”

  “It is true. I know I will never feel for him the way I feel for you, but I am duty bound.” She swallowed the lump that was forming in her throat as she clenched her eyes tightly shut. “I am sorry but this must be the last time that I speak with you.” Margaret reopened her eyes, adding, “Please, this is my final request of you. Let me be, move on, and I will try to do the same.”

  He grabbed her arm and pulled her around to face him. “What of me? What of us? Does that not matter? Why can you not think of me or yourself before your duty?”

  She averted her eyes. “My duty to my family comes first. I cannot disobey my father.” She looked up to meet his eyes. “I want to be with you, but I know now it will never be.”

  Putting her hand on his arm, she pleaded with him, “Please, find someone else. Move on with your life… for I am lost to you. Forget me and let me go.”

  She started to turn away when he reached out to grab her, pulling her into his arms and whispering, “I will not. This will not end here. I swear it upon everything I hold dear. One day you will be mine, no matter what it takes. I will not let you go. Do you hear me? Never.”

  Her heart beat fiercely and her head was spinning out of control. She knew that if she did not move away from him now, she would end up on a boat with Richard.

  She pushed against his chest. “I cannot be here with you.”

  He backed away, staring at her without saying a word, waiting for her to make the next move.

  She swallowed, trying to force the sudden dryness in her mouth away. “I have to go. I should have never come out here in the first place.”

  “But you did. Can you truly tell me that you can forget how I make you feel?” he asked.

  Shaking her head, she replied in a distraught whisper, “No, I cannot forget what I feel for you.”

  Sliding past him, she started to walk away, but then turned back around for an instant. “But I can push it away and not think about it. For my own sanity, that is what I must do. I beg you to do the same.”