by Rose Pearson
“I think I will take my tea in the drawing room,” she said, by way of explanation. “If you will excuse me.”
She hurried towards the door, praying that she would not be followed, only for her mother to call her name as she came out after her.
Arabella closed her eyes. “Yes, mama?”
Lady Blackford did not look to be angry, although her expression was rather tense.
“Arabella, you must consider your future.”
Wishing she could groan aloud, Arabella did not stop in her attempts to reach the drawing-room unhindered. She walked quickly, ignoring her mother as she hurried alongside her.
“You must marry!”
Arabella let out a sharp breath, swung around on her heel and planted her hands on her hips. “Why must I? As I have said before, I am waiting for Jacob’s return.”
“You cannot wait that long,” her mother said, decisively. “I am aware that the Duke of Crestwick has recently lost his eldest son and that they hope for St. Leger’s return so that he might take up his duties as the new heir, but that is beside the point. Your sisters are both to wed very soon – although their matches are not at all what I would have chosen and they will certainly feel the folly of their choices once they are wed – therefore, it is entirely down to you to make sure this family has some manner of respectability.”
Arabella resisted the urge to roll her eyes. “Mama, both of my sisters’ beaus are quite respectable.”
“That is not what I mean,” Lady Blackford stated, sharply. “You are to marry a gentleman with title and wealth. You cannot wait in the hope that St. Leger will return home and, even if he did, he may no longer be interested in you, after your rejection of him.”
Forcing her anger to remain under her control, Arabella chose her words carefully, growing more and more frustrated with every moment. “Mama, we are quite a respectable family. My brother will soon return from the continent to take the title and control of the estate. He will marry and produce the required heir, I am quite sure. Therefore, it does not matter who I choose to marry, just as it is not of any particular consequence who my sisters choose to wed.”
“It will matter to you!” her mother exclaimed, clearly growing a little exasperated. “It will matter when you find yourself in a much poorer situation than you are at this present time, when you do not have the ease of living that you currently enjoy!” Her voice rose, her cheeks flaring with colour. “Your sisters will have that to deal with and I know full well that they will not find it particularly easy. Love may be what guides them at this present moment but it may not last and then what shall they do?”
Arabella pressed her lips together, lifted her chin and looked directly into her mother’s eyes. “Mama, my sisters have made their choice. I shall make my own choice also.”
Her mother blew out a breath of frustration. “You are determined to wait, then, to see if St. Leger will give you another chance?”
“What else can I do but that?” Arabella persisted, wishing that her mother could understand. “First you chide me for refusing him, which I know full well was both foolish and misguided, and now you urge me to forget him and seek another!” Despite herself, her eyes filled with tears. “Why must you be so harsh with me?”
Her mother drew herself up, her expression as hard as her words. “It is for your own good, Arabella. There is no use in waiting for a gentleman who, I believe, will not wish to see you again. Therefore, you must think of your future and of this family’s reputation. It is your duty.”
Arabella wanted to say more but found that her heart was beating with such torment, with such pain, that it was all she could do to keep her composure. Making to turn on her heel in order to leave her mother’s side and seek the quietness she required, Arabella was stopped by the sound of running feet.
It was one of the maids.
“A letter for you, Lady Arabella.”
Arabella grasped it at once, her heart beating painfully as she looked down at the seal and saw that it was from the Crestwick estate. She was somewhere between hope and fear, breaking open the seal with shaking fingers and unfolding the letter carefully.
Her eyes ran over the words but her mind refused to accept them. From far away, it seemed, she heard her mother calling her name, her fingers grasping at Arabella’s arm.
The world seemed to shift underneath her, her eyes losing focus as the letter slipped from her fingers. She could not believe it, could not accept it. Surely the letter could not be true, surely it could not mean that Jacob would never return. There had to be some sort of mistake. He could not be dead. He could not be gone from this place for good. It could not be.
Swaying slightly, Arabella closed her eyes and felt tears on her cheeks. Her mother put a steadying arm about Arabella’s waist, urging her forward into the drawing room, until Arabella found herself resting on the chaise longue, her mind and heart heavy with grief, regret, and pain.
He was gone. He would not be coming back home again, would never again take her hands and smile into her eyes.
She had lost him forever.
Chapter Two
Six months later
Arabella smiled delightedly as Martha walked back down the aisle, arm in arm with her new husband. They were looking at each other as they walked, their eyes aglow with the love they had for one another.
Mr. Brackham was not, of course, a particularly wealthy gentleman and certainly did not have any title to speak of, given that he was the second son of a viscount, but that did not seem to matter to Martha. Even though her mother had persisted with her dire warnings about Martha’s difficult future, should she continue with her planned engagement to the gentleman, Martha had simply ignored her mother’s words and had begun to look forward to the day she would be wed. It was a small affair but Arabella felt herself truly happy for her sister, slowly beginning to believe that Martha would have a wonderful, joyous life, even if she were not as rich as she might have been, had she married another.
Her other sister, Rosalind, sighed with contentment, putting one hand on Arabella’s arm. “She looked very happy, did she not?”
“She did,” Arabella agreed, looking at Rosalind and seeing the happiness and the longing in her own expression. “Your wedding is not so far off now, Rosalind. I can tell that you are as eager as Martha to wed!”
Rosalind laughed gently, her cheeks colouring. “One cannot help but be eager for one’s wedding day,” she replied, as the family began to file out of the church, ready to greet and congratulate Martha. “Especially if it is to be a happy affair.”
“Indeed,” Arabella murmured, wondering how her mother expected her to smile and laugh and engage in conversation with any of the gentlemen here when her heart was still full of Jacob. She had no interest in any of them, not when she was still lost in her grief over Jacob’s death, and yet her mother had insisted that she do her utmost to acquaint herself with as many gentlemen as possible.
“You still miss him?”
“Of course I do,” Arabella whispered, as Rosalind fell into step beside her. “It is quite unbearable at times, especially when mama insists that I am to wed another within the year.”
Rosalind made a small sound of understanding. “Our mother has her own ideas about our happiness,” she said, slowly. “Even though our brother has returned and has promised to ensure that we are all well taken care of, either through our dowry or our continued residence at the estate, mama cannot help but fear for each of us. She is doing all she can to guide us in her own way, even though she continually tries to insist that I must find a gentleman of a higher title than my Baron!”
Arabella laughed, seeing Rosalind shake her head. She knew that her sister would not be swayed, in much the same way that Martha had ignored her mother’s pleas to end the engagement.
“She has nothing else to do but worry about us,” Rosalind finished, as they walked outside into the sunshine. “Allow her to tell you whatever it is she wishes, but let your own heart
guide you, Arabella.”
“I will,” Arabella promised, as they hurried towards Martha to press their congratulations on her. Her sister looked more beautiful than Arabella had ever seen her before and, even though she was grieved still over the loss of Jacob and over the reminder of what could have been, she did all she could to focus solely on Martha’s happiness.
“And you are Lady Arabella, of course.”
Arabella stifled a sigh as yet another gentleman came to bow over her hand, aware that her mother, who had brought each and every one over to her, was expecting her to be both charming and elegant.
“It is very good to make your acquaintance, Lord Hartson,” she said, without meaning a word of it. “How are you acquainted with the happy couple?”
Thankfully, this seemed to distract Lord Hartson from his intention to bow and scrape over Arabella’s hand, for he launched into an explanation about how he knew the family of Martha’s husband, going into great detail about their connection, whilst Arabella did her best to remain interested whilst inwardly dying of boredom.
Lord Hartson was, in the end, removed from her side by the sight of another young lady with whom he was acquainted. Arabella let out a sigh of relief as she smiled, thinking that none of the last five gentlemen her mother had insisted on introducing her to had been anything like Jacob St. Leger. None of them had made her smile, not one had appeared to have anything of particular interest to say and certainly she did not find even one of them to have a handsomeness about them that caught her eye.
No, none would compare to Jacob.
“Arabella, you must stop attempting to find fault with each and every gentleman I bring to you,” her mother hissed, her eyes a little narrowed. “I can see what is going on inside that head of yours and it is quite ridiculous! You must forget St. Leger and allow yourself to consider your future without hinderance!”
“Then let me make my own choice when it comes to whom I speak to and whom I seek to be introduced to, mama,” Arabella begged, putting a gentle hand on her mother’s arm so that Lady Blackford would not think her rude. “I cannot allow my heart to free itself so soon from the love and regret that ties it.”
Her mother shook her head in despair. “It is foolish to cling onto such affections, my dear,” she said, with a good deal of sympathy that surprised Arabella completely. “I know that you loved St. Leger, and that you have found it difficult to deal with the regret and the sorrow that has come with the news of his death. But you must not allow that to continue to hold you back. You have been six months without him, and I have allowed you that time to deal with your grief without pressing any other gentleman into your acquaintance, have I not?”
Arabella nodded, having to admit that this was the case. “Yes, mama. You have.”
“Then allow me to try to guide you towards a new path,” her mother continued, with more gentleness than Arabella had expected. “One that might help you to see that you can find happiness with another, even though, at the present time, you might not even wish to consider it.”
Arabella closed her eyes briefly, wishing that she had simply been able to enjoy her sister’s wedding breakfast without being pushed into considering her own future. “Very well, mama,” she said, heavily, knowing that her mother would not accept a simple refusal. Besides which, she had to admit that Lady Blackford had left her quite alone for the last few months, not at all insisting that Arabella forget Jacob St. Leger immediately or trying to further introductions with any particular gentlemen. Perhaps her mother was right, as much as Arabella did not want to admit it. “Although I pray that you will only introduce me to one or two more, mama. I am growing a little weary of new introductions!”
Her mother hid a smile, although there was a gleam of triumph in her sharp eyes. “Very good,” she stated, quietly. “Now, come with me. The Earl of Winchester has been eager to make your acquaintance but he has been quite caught up in conversation with Lady Petronella, but I see now that he is gone from her side. Do hurry up, Arabella, and try to smile. The Earl of Winchester is both handsome and wealthy and may very well do for you!”
But he will never be Jacob.
Thrusting that thought aside, Arabella walked alongside her mother towards the Earl of Winchester, allowing herself to study the gentleman as she did so. He had the bearing of a wealthy and titled gentleman, and there was a kindness in his smile that appeared to reach his bright blue eyes. He was rather stocky and not overly tall, which was quite the opposite of Jacob. Thick, fair hair was swept back from his forehead, giving the Earl an almost regal appearance.
She felt a small swirl of nervousness as her mother greeted the Earl warmly, wondering why such a gentleman had been eager to make her acquaintance.
“My lord, allow me to introduce my youngest daughter, Lady Arabella.”
The Earl’s eyes flickered with interest as Arabella curtsied, leaving him a little tardy when it came to his own bow.
“How very good to make your acquaintance at last, Lady Arabella,” he said, his voice warm. “I was introduced to your sister some years ago, and your mother also. Although I do not think you were in London at that time.”
Arabella smiled tightly, seeing her mother’s sharp look. “Indeed,” she murmured, knowing that she had never sought to be introduced to any particular gentleman, regardless of his title or wealth. “I may have not yet been out, my lord.”
The Earl looked a little abashed, but then set his shoulders. “Well, I am very glad to make your acquaintance now, Lady Arabella. The rumours about your beauty are, I am glad to say, all quite true.”
Arabella looked up at him in surprise, a little taken aback at such a compliment. “I thank you,” she murmured, aware that her mother was slowly backing away so that she might be caught by another acquaintance and leave Arabella and the Earl alone. “You are very kind.”
“But I speak the truth!” the Earl protested, as though she had refused to accept his words. “You will find, Lady Arabella, that I am not a gentleman inclined towards lying, no matter what the cause.”
She lifted an eyebrow. “I did not say such a thing, my lord.”
“And yet there is something in your eyes that says you are not quite as eager to accept my compliment as I had hoped,” he stated as if he had been able to look into her soul and see her continued disinclination towards both his company and his conversation. “Perhaps you are unused to such praise, although I can hardly believe it.”
Arabella felt a slow blush creep into her cheeks despite herself. “That may be,” she replied, a little coyly. “I cannot say for certain myself.”
The Earl of Winchester’s smile grew. “Then I think you shall have to steel yourself against all the wonderful words of praise and even adoration that will come your way when you go to London,” he stated, with a broad smile. “For you are certain to have such lavish compliments pressed upon you from every side.”
Arabella blinked, a little surprised. “London?” she repeated, looking at him in confusion.
“Yes,” he replied, with a chuckle. “You need not pretend, Lady Arabella, for your mother has quite given you away. I hear that you are to go to London for the Season.”
“Oh.” This was news to Arabella, who had not heard her mother speak of any such notion over the last few months, although she could not exactly say such a thing to Lord Winchester now. “But of course.”
“Your sister is to be wed from there, I believe,” Lord Winchester continued, clearly unaware of Arabella’s surprise. “And then you will stay for the rest of the Season. I cannot tell you what delight this brings me.”
Arabella blinked rapidly, trying to work out what her mother had said to the Earl of Winchester whilst doing her best to remain composed and entirely at her ease. To go to London for Rosalind’s wedding was one thing, but to remain there for the Season was quite another. Her mother was evidently eager to have Arabella wed and settled by the year’s end. Perhaps then Lady Blackford would find the peace she was so evidently
without at this present moment.
“Do you think, Lady Arabella, that I might call upon you when you return to London?”
The Earl’s voice was faint and Arabella had to cling on to it in order to drag herself back to the present situation instead of losing herself in confusion and doubt. “I beg your pardon? I could not quite hear you over the… din.” Her cheeks burned with embarrassment. There were not a great number of guests and there certainly was not a large amount of noise from their conversation but thankfully, the Earl did not appear to notice.
“I was hoping, Lady Arabella,” he said again, with his eyes fixed on her own, “that I might call upon you when you are in London. I should like to further our acquaintance.”
Arabella stared up at him, her mind filling with memories. It was not the Earl that stood before her for a moment, but Jacob, his eyes bright with hope, his smile warm and loving.
And then he faded away, leaving her with the Earl of Winchester instead. He was not Jacob. He could never be Jacob and it was this knowledge that brought both a heaviness and a relief to her heart.
Yes, Jacob could never be replaced, but her mother was correct in trying to encourage her to think of what her future could be instead. The Earl appeared to be kind and well-mannered and was obviously eager to see her again - she could not simply refuse him because the man was not Jacob St. Leger. That would be quite ridiculous.
You are only going to become a little better acquainted with him, she told herself, putting a small smile on her face. This is not a marriage proposal. It is simply a desire to get to know you a little better.
“But of course,” she found herself saying, despite her heart screaming at her that this was some sort of betrayal of Jacob. “I would like that very much, Lord Winchester.”
The Earl beamed as though she had granted him some wonderful boon. “Capital, Lady Arabella,” he declared, grasping her hand, and bowing over it. “I look forward to seeing you again very soon.”