“And that is his folly,” Nora said quickly. “He will never do it, not after he’d made me a promise. I know that you want to persuade me of my wrongness in this area, William, but I’m afraid it won’t do. I’ve made up my mind, and it was so painful that I do not wish to discuss it further.”
“And what are you going to do? Languish here at home and consider all that has happened?”
“I am not,” she answered quietly. “Lady Colbourne has graciously invited me along with her and Lady Diana on their next trip to Europe. I will not pretend that I have any particular affection for Lady Colbourne, but she has offered me an escape from all this that promises to last the better part of a year. I will go with her, and that will give Gerard – Lord Colbourne – the time he needs to recover and remember me no more.”
“Nora –”
“I can’t!” she cried, throwing up her hands. “Leave me be.”
William stared at her for a long moment and then shook his head and began walking out of the room. “I think you are making a mistake,” he said quietly.
Then, turning at the door, he added, “You say that Gerard will recover from this, and I warn you that you have gravely underestimated his feelings. I have known that man for most of my life, and I have never been more confident that once you send this letter, he will be crushed in the extreme.”
Nora raised her chin, trying to keep her composure. “Perhaps,” she said softly. “But there are a great many things that one can do even when one is shattered. It isn’t the end.”
William shook his head in frustration and left the room.
Nora sank down on the chair as soon as she found herself alone again and carefully refolded the letter into place. As each flap of paper went down, she eased it crisp and neat along the edge with her fingers and then pressed the letter at last to her lips.
Chapter 36
Gerard had to read the letter twice before he fully believed it, and even then, his mind went through a cacophony of protests against the news hidden inside. He could hardly believe that Nora meant what she wrote, nor that she was able to write it so coolly and with apparently such a decisive nature. She laid out the reasons why she could not marry him, many vague, but not untrue.
The only thing missing from her kind and properly worded letter was any mention of her heart or his. My dear sir, she had written near the end, I hope only that you will be able to recover in full the time that you have spent in my company, and that our arrangement will not long beset your memory.
It infuriated him, thinking of those last phrases, that she would be concerned about his memory – how could she imagine that she would long be out of it? When he closed his eyes at nightfall, he saw her face, pale and bright, her eyes luminous and staring into his soul. He found that now, with the knowledge that she would not be his forever folded and tucked away in the breast pocket near his heart, he couldn’t drive her from his mind no matter how hard he tried. And he tried.
Three days after receiving the letter, still reeling in confusion and attempting to concoct some manner of response without any real success, Gerard learned about his mother’s intentions for the coming year over dinner.
“Diana and I are planning a visit to France,” his mother said coolly when they were all gathered around the table. “I am going to London tomorrow to be certain of our shipping arrangements, and Diana is to travel and meet me there in a few days’ time.”
“So soon?” Gerard asked, frowning. He looked across the table at Diana, who still had her eyes fixed on the plate before her and was not engaging in any way in the conversation that would usually have had her nearly giddy with excitement.
“We’ve talked about this trip for some time, Gerard,” Lady Colbourne said, as though his confusion was unfounded. “I believe that Diana is getting a bit older than I had expected for this manner of travel, and next year she’ll be out during the season and unable to run abroad at a moment’s notice.”
Gerard nodded numbly. It felt eerie, all these changes tumbling around his ears on the heels of Nora’s refusal. “How long do you expect to be away?”
“Many months, I suspect,” Lady Colbourne said. She smiled kindly at him, and he saw a certain reticence in her eyes. “Just short of a year, if we’re able to get into southern Europe as I so dearly hope. We will stay with your father’s friends in Nice.”
Gerard looked up again at Diana. “How do you feel about this, Diana?”
She raised her eyes to him for a moment, and then looked uncomfortably at her mother and dropped her gaze again. When she spoke, her voice was so low Gerard almost didn’t hear it.
“I suppose the one good thing,” she said, “is that I will have the company of Miss Pembroke on the journey, which shall be a diversion from an otherwise dreary year.”
“Diana,” Lady Colbourne’s voice took on a scolding tone. “You are sharing too much too soon.”
Gerard felt a jolt of confusion at the name of the woman he had loved and lost, and he turned to his mother in surprise. “I think not, Mother. You must explain yourself. Are you taking Miss Pembroke with you to France?”
Lady Colbourne now looked decidedly uncomfortable. She drew in a shaking breath and waved her hand in the air dismissively. “Yes, although I don’t know why you’re making so much of it. It was my understanding, per your explanation yesterday, that you and Miss Pembroke are no longer in any sort of attachment. And therefore, there can be no objection to me taking her away from England for a year. In fact, I thought you might rather like the idea of time away from the painful reminder.”
Gerard blinked at his mother in silent astonishment. He could feel that something else was afoot besides the reasons mentioned in Nora’s letter. This sudden trip to France and then on to Italy, with his mother arm-in-arm with the woman she had professed to dislike so thoroughly, was a warning sign.
“What have you said to her, Mother?” he asked. “How did you convince her to accompany you?”
“My son,” Lady Colbourne said, laying her napkin down carefully on the table beside her and speaking very slowly, as though to a child. “Miss Pembroke is many things, but mouldable is not one of them. I would not have convinced her of anything without her consent, I assure you. I know that you are facing quite a bit of difficulty during this severing of your friendship, but I am afraid that is due to her decision, not mine.”
Diana pushed back her chair and stood suddenly, her eyes still on the ground. “I must excuse myself, Mother, Gerard – I’m not feeling so very well.”
She turned and slipped out of the room, and Gerard turned his attention back to his mother.
“What is the matter with her?”
Lady Colbourne sighed. “Honestly, I don’t know.”
“So you’re going to take the woman who has recently broken our engagement on a year-long tour of Europe. Do you think that is altogether proper? It is not distancing me so very far from her after all, Mother.” Gerard could just see Nora in his mind’s eye, strolling amid the gardens of Nice that she had professed to wish to see on many occasions, painting along the seaside, travelling to all the places she longed to experience. He had allowed himself to imagine all that with him at her side. Now that it wasn’t to be, he felt weak with the loss of her dreams as well as his own.
“She will be as far away as I can manage,” Lady Colbourne said stiffly. She had lost all vestiges of patience now and stood as Diana had done. “I know that you are going through a dreadful time, Gerard, but I can only see that good will come of some distance from this girl and some time to focus solely on the estate and its matters. Perhaps one day you will see the same.”
***
While Gerard could not imagine a day when he didn’t think of Nora, he could see some merit to pouring his attentions into the matters of estate all around him. When his mother rolled out of the drive in a carriage bound for London, he turned immediately to the gamekeeper’s hut and began putting into action some of the ideas he had concocted alongside
William and Nora for the saving of the estate.
He was only occasionally in the house, and those times felt the emptiest for Diana seemed bound and determined to avoid him and all he could think about were the days when Holcombe had held the laughter of the bright-eyed Miss Pembroke as well as his own family.
The estate was a reprieve, but only just, for there were memories of Nora there as well. On the day when Gerard received the first shipment of sheep and unloaded them, he couldn’t help remembering the walk where Nora and William and he had first stumbled upon that idea.
Then there were the tenants who remembered her and asked after the lovely Miss Pembroke. And though he was able to turn them aside with talk of her visiting eventually, at the heart of it he felt her absence most sorely.
One day he walked back through the clearing and then the little bit of woods where he had come upon her by the tree. He paused by that same tree and was almost able to see her there, painting a little scene of the mundane and adding fairies in amongst the expected. He turned at the sound of footsteps and saw with surprise that William Pembroke was striding towards him along the path.
“William,” he said, looking up in surprise. “We didn’t know to expect you.”
“I am not able to stay long,” William said. “I’m bound for London this very day, but as I rode by your family estate, I could not help but turn aside. There is a matter that is weighing very heavily upon me, and I wish to give you all the information encased that you might better determine your course.”
Gerard nodded, and for a moment there was only the still and quiet woods around them and the bubbling of a tiny stream. William sighed.
“You have received my sister’s letter, haven’t you? I can see it all about you.”
“What do you see?” Gerard asked quietly. “Do I look as defeated as I feel?”
William nodded silently.
Gerard shook his head. “It was not to be, it seems. She sent me a message on the subject that was very carefully and properly worded, not at all brash as the Nora I had grown to know, but the sort of letter that I suspect she spent many hours poring over before sending. I cannot argue with her reasons, vague as they may be, but I confess –” he paused, getting his emotions under control yet again, “– I confess that I am still perplexed, and distressed, by this sudden turn of events. I had begun to dream of a life with her.” He shook his head again and looked at the ground. “You will think me very fragile, perhaps.”
“I think you a man in love,” William answered him frankly. “And I was also perplexed to hear of her decision. I came because I believe I have a piece of information that might further shed light on her reasons, something she would not want you to know, but something that would nonetheless have influenced her considerably.”
Gerard frowned. “Is there another?”
William smiled weakly and shook his head. “Nor do I suspect there ever will be, after you my lad. No, I learned a few days past that my father, who is suspicious of you after all the events that have transpired and the misunderstandings that followed, has denied Nora her dowry if she chooses to marry you.”
Gerard took a step back. “That is extreme, but you are not telling me that Nora thinks I would choose her dowry over her?”
“I do not know what she is thinking in full, but I suspect whatever she is doing she is doing because she thinks it is best for you both,” William said. “I can’t stay long, friend, but I want you to have all the facts before you proceed.”
“Proceed?” Gerard gave a bitter laugh. “How am I to proceed, I ask you? It seems to me that my course has been all but set, and there was no room in her letter to suppose that she wished to continue our connection. I believe my only course is to stay here at Holcombe and make my father proud, to tend to my duty, and revive my estate as best I might.”
“Are you going to seek another wife?” William asked drily. “One that better fits your needs?”
“There could not be a better one than she that has denied me,” Gerard answered him at long last.
The two men walked together back to the house. It was the day that Diana was set to leave for London, and William agreed to accompany her for propriety’s sake in the carriage. Diana had packed the day before and showed her face only to bid her brother goodbye. When William stepped away for a moment to give them some privacy, Gerard took his sister’s hand and smiled gently at her.
“I know you are saddened about Miss Pembroke,” he said kindly, “but you need not have held yourself away from me this past week. I have missed our little talks, and when you return from Europe you will be a quite changed little woman. Do not forget me.”
Diana looked up at him, and tears filled her eyes. “I won’t forget you,” she said quietly. “But, Gerard –?”
“Yes?”
She bit her lip and dropped her eyes. “There is something I wish to tell you, but I fear our mother would not altogether approve of my sharing it with you.”
Gerard frowned. “Is this why you’ve been keeping your distance from me, Diana?”
She nodded, a blush coming into her cheeks. “I’m embarrassed, for I overheard something I shouldn’t have overheard, and I have been uncertain about whether or not to share it with you….” She trailed off, and then took a step backwards. “No, I ought not here, like this.”
“Diana, tell me.”
She shook her head and moved to climb into the carriage. “I wrote you a letter,” she said, standing on the first step. “It is in your upstairs solar. I don’t want to tell you if you aren’t ready to hear, but it’s about Miss Pembroke.”
William was far enough away that he hadn’t heard the interaction, but Gerard lowered his voice and drew near. “You look worried, sister. Do not let us part in this fashion. Whatever you have to share, you cannot hurt me with it I assure you.”
She shook her head. “It’s not like that. I only fear that I am betraying our mother’s confidence by sharing it.”
She ducked into the carriage and pulled the door shut behind her. The last sight Gerard had was of her pale face as she pulled the curtain closed and the carriage rolled out of sight. He hesitated only a moment, confused by her confusion, and then went back into the house and dashed to his solar. The letter she mentioned was not, as he suspected, in plain view.
It seemed that she had not fully decided whether or not to tell him about it until he was directly in front of her, and then given only the minimal information to find the letter required. In the end, it was tucked between the pages of the book he had been reading on a side table, unsealed, with only his first name scrawled across the front. He opened it and began to read.
My dear brother, it began in Diana’s neat, shrinking handwriting. I have gone back and forth about whether or not to even write you this letter, and in the end I’m not certain I will have the foresight to put it into your hands myself. I am not one for speaking my mind or changing the course of relationships with my courage, as well you know, but I was privy to some unexpected conversation that I believe you ought to know about before you make your final decision about Miss Pembroke.
Gerard paused in his reading and, although he was alone, laughed bitterly aloud. “Why is it that people continue to think I have some sort of decision-making power in this situation?” he said into the empty room. “Nora has made her choice, and I can do nothing about it.”
He went on reading, and as he did the words began to fall on him in a chilling fashion. You know that I have the highest regard for Miss Pembroke. She has been a dear friend and confidante to me. When Mother and I went to see her at their house a week past, I was under the impression that Mother had finally come around to seeing Miss Pembroke’s charms and meant to make amends. She did indeed speak thusly whilst at their house and in the general group, but at the end of our meeting she asked for a few moments alone with Miss Pembroke. I went inside to look at a painting, but as I looked out of the window I noticed how quickly Miss Pembroke’s confidence fell during the
conversation and it came into my head to slip back into the garden and hear for myself.
A Baron Worth Loving: A Historical Regency Romance Book Page 23