by Fanny Finch
This must be the universe gifting him with something after taking his former intended from him so cruelly. He must not waste that opportunity.
Of course, he was not about to get down on one knee and propose marriage right that moment. It would not be proper. Nor did he want to.
He must go slowly. Grow to know her better. Miss Weston, he was sure, had plans for all of them to spend more time together. Activities, more dinners and so on.
When he was secure in his choice of Miss Everett, he could properly court her.
He was not going to let himself fall in love in an instant and then roll pell-mell head over teakettle into the heat of it without first getting his bearings. Not this time. He was going to be smart about this.
And if Miss Everett turned out not to be the woman that he wanted to marry then he would know long before he proposed to her.
But how were you supposed to know that Miss Reginald was not the person you were supposed to marry? His thoughts, as always, sought to betray him.
How was he supposed to know? She had been perfect right up until she had given into her father’s demands. He could not have seen that, could he? Not until the moment that it happened. And it could not have happened until he proposed and asked for permission, could it?
But things were different now, he reminded himself. Things were better. He was rich now. He was distinguished for his service. Perhaps most important of all, he was older and wiser.
He was not going to let himself fall like that again.
He would be careful.
“The next dance is starting,” he pointed out to Miss Everett. “I wonder, would I be able to request the pleasure of your company for the dance?”
“You certainly may,” Miss Everett replied. “I would be delighted.”
He led her out onto the dance floor. This would be a marvelous chance to see what kind of conversationalist Miss Everett was. That was what a dance was for, after all, was it not?
Well, that and seeing how well she moved and looked in her frock. Dancing was a chance for ladies to show themselves off in form as well as in wit and personality.
Chatting with Miss Everett throughout the dance was pleasant. Robert had to wonder if she knew that it was a sort of audition.
Of course she must—but that was what all courting began as, wasn’t it? The man and the woman were both auditioning one another for the post of husband and wife respectively.
Miss Everett proved herself to be well educated in books and the classics. She was witty and had observations about the rest of the people in the room that left Robert chuckling for most of the dance.
Yet he could not help but compare her to Miss Reginald, try as he might to avoid thinking of his former intended.
Miss Reginald was also skilled in books and the classics. Her father had insisted upon an educated and intelligent woman. The late duke had hated stupid people, and no child of his was going to be so.
Robert could recall Miss Reginald telling him of the demands that her governess had made upon her at her father’s request. How harsh her father had been.
“He only wanted the best,” she had told him at one point. “He refused everything except for exceptionalism in everything that was done or said by myself and my brother.”
Robert remembered feeling heartbroken for her. Miss Reginald had come to love reading, thankfully. Especially poetry.
But it had been cruel, he had always thought, that her father should push her to be so accomplished. Her childhood had been filled with lessons. Lessons in painting, musical instruments, embroidery, singing, reading, writing poetry and calligraphy for its own sake as an art form, dancing, and so on.
No wonder, Robert had always thought, Miss Reginald was so dignified. She’d had to be. How else was one to endure such endless demands? One must either break or develop the most stoic of countenances.
Miss Everett was far from stoic but her knowledge was just as good as Miss Reginald’s, at least in the manner of reading. She was not so well versed in poetry.
Robert told himself that it was no matter.
Yes, he and Miss Reginald had often spoken of poetry to one another. They had exchanged lines from poems in their letters to one another. They had even tried to make up a few of their own with minimal success—neither of them was cut out to be the next Lord Byron.
But it had not mattered the real quality of the poems. Only that they were sharing them with one another. The spirit of conspiracy and creativity had been upon them.
It had been quite childish in some ways to tell the truth. But was that not what love did? Did it not make one see the world as a child would once again? Did it not fill life with a new kind of wonder and gaiety that had previously been forgotten?
Miss Everett, Robert could tell, was far too serious for that sort of thing.
But of course she would be. She had not grown up the daughter of a duke. Her entire life depended upon marrying someone and she had been surrounded by impetuous and spoiled cousins.
However, he reminded himself, Miss Reginald seemed serious to most of the people that she met. She was not a lively person. Miss Everett, in fact, was more lively in manner than Miss Reginald.
If Miss Reginald could be impressed upon to indulge in such silly nonsense as writing poems to her fiancé, then surely Miss Everett might be the same way.
Robert did think that perhaps Miss Everett’s wit had something missing in it. It seemed to sometimes hold too much acid in its tone.
Not that she was truly malevolent in her words. Certainly she was better at reading the room and watching her words than Miss Perry was at times.
But there was lacking the genuine thoughtfulness and warmth that he had so appreciated in Miss Reginald…
For Heaven’s sake, man, he wanted to yell at himself. How could he possibly get on like this? When he kept only comparing the ladies he was with to another woman? A woman with whom he had no chance and from whom he was supposed to be moving on, he might add.
He had seen her dancing with Mr. Tomlinson. He was rich enough now thanks to his uncle. No title, but that was now something that she did not have to worry about.
Unless her brother was following in his father’s footsteps.
In that case, he might very well see Miss Reginald with Mr. Norwich. The man liked her. He had said as much on their way home last night from the dinner.
He was not actively pursuing the lady just yet the way that Mr. Tomlinson seemed to be. But who knew? It would not be long, Robert was sure, before Miss Reginald’s charms prevailed upon him.
After all, Robert had been rejected flat-out by the woman many years ago. And her charm was still working perfectly fine on him, even from across the room.
It was rather frustrating, to say the least.
When the dance ended, Robert escorted Miss Everett back to her evening escort, Mrs. Weston.
Mrs. Weston was a woman of failing health but she had once possessed great spirit, as Robert recalled.
“Ah, Captain Trentworth!” she said as he approached with Miss Everett. “There you are. I hope you will indulge an old woman by giving her a few moments of your time. We hardly got to speak at dinner last night.”
“It is not at all an indulgence,” he replied. He allowed Miss Everett to be led off by another man who asked her to dance. He bowed to Mrs. Weston. “It was always a pleasure to speak to you previously, when I visited your house.”
“Ah, yes, when you were courting Miss Reginald.” Mrs. Weston’s eyes gleamed. Miss Weston was truly her mother’s daughter. “You know, it always saddened me when that bully of an old man would not allow her to marry you.”
“She is the one who broke off the engagement.”
Mrs. Weston gave a snort. “My dear boy. Allow me a moment to be indelicate. I am sick, you know, and we must make allowances for people in the throes of ill health such as myself.
“I can see your bitterness written all over your handsome face. And it is in your voice just now
, when you spoke of her. And I tell you plain that if you blame that girl for the way that she behaved, well, you do not know women at all, do you?
“Would you ever go against the orders of your commanding officer in the navy? I should hope not, for disobeying orders will lose you the war.
“And if you would not go against him, why, then how can you expect a girl to go against her father? And such a powerful father as well. That man was a duke, you know, my boy. He could have shut her off from all of society.
“And what was she supposed to do then, hmm? Sit at home and do nothing but knit while you were away? No friends? No callers, no balls to distract her? And what if you were killed in the war? She would have been completely alone and left with nothing, and her father would not have taken her back.
“You know that he would not have. He was a stubborn old fool. I know, we must not speak ill of the dead. But we had an understanding, the former duke and I. I did not lie in my opinion of him while he was alive and I think he would thank me to not start lying about my opinion of him now that he is gone.”
“I’m sure that he is looking down on you with appreciation,” Robert managed. He bit down hard on the inside of his cheek to keep from laughing.
“My dear boy, if he is looking upon us and observing us now, he is not looking down,” Mrs. Weston said sagely, with a wink. “He is looking up.”
Robert had to turn his laughter into a snort. “No wonder your daughter is such a terror, Mrs. Weston. I can see quite plainly where she gets it from.”
“Her father has often told her to look at what I do, and hear what I say, and then do the opposite,” Mrs. Weston replied. “Captain, I am quite serious in what I am telling you.
“For all of my jokes, this is a very serious matter. You could go out and earn what you were not gifted. She could not. It was simply not a risk that she could take.
“And could you ask any person that you loved to undertake such a risk for you? What a selfish and thoughtless, I dare say, way to behave. You are a loving man, I think. You were treating poor Miss Perry with such kindness just now. She will learn, you know. Most girls do.
“Do not be bitter over it. Think of the position she was in. I certainly cannot blame her for it. We are not all heroines in great operas, you know. Those ladies who sing so shrilly and are always willing to throw themselves upon the knife for true love.
“I think it’s the fact that most of them are Italian. But anyhow, my boy—and do not give me that look, I am old enough to be your mother and can therefore call you whatever I please. If only for your own sake, learn to look upon her with kindness again. Forgive her.
“For if you do not, it will eat at you. And where will you be then? Do you want to spend the rest of your life angry and wasting your energy on someone when you are not even getting anything good out of it in return?
“Nobody wants to deal with a man whose back is twisted from the bitter, gnarled nature of his thoughts. Do not become that sort of man.”
“I appreciate the lecture,” Robert replied with a smile in spite of himself. “You are full of wisdom, as always.”
“She is still free, you know,” Mrs. Weston said, undaunted. “I have rarely seen an affection between two people as I saw between the two of you when you would call upon the house.
“If I were you and I had a second chance at such a thing, I should not give it up. Not for the world.”
“And I suppose that Mr. Weston’s courtship of you was not filled with such passion?”
“It was filled with fondness,” Mrs. Weston replied. “But the deep and abiding love that poets are so happy to spout out like waterfalls… no. It was not that.
“Oh, don’t give me that pitying look. I have been quite happy. He has become my greatest friend, I shall have you know. Scallywag.”
Robert couldn’t hold in his laughter this time. “Mrs. Weston, you are truly a terror.”
“Oh, good. That is my main goal in life now, you know. Beauty has failed me. Age and health are rapidly fleeing from me. My wit is all I have left.”
“And your wisdom.”
“Oh dear, if you think that I actually have any of that, Captain, I do worry about you.”
“You were only just now asking for me to take heed of your wisdom,” Robert pointed out.
“As well you should, for compared to you and your foolishness I am a sage.”
Robert laughed again. “I shall think on what you’ve said.” He took her hand and pressed it warmly. “Shall I leave you to your observations of the ballroom, my lady?”
“If you could find my wayward daughter and send her to me, I would appreciate it, thank you, Captain.”
Robert chuckled, bowing, and went off to find Miss Weston.
Chapter 11
Georgiana could hardly keep her heart from leaping into her throat as she left the dance floor and saw Captain Trentworth walking onto it… with Miss Perry.
Of course, why would he not? He knew her and it was practically the sacred duty of the men in the ballroom to make sure all the ladies got an opportunity to dance.
Captain Trentworth probably knew very little of the people about. He would have to ask Miss Perry or Miss Everett to dance. It was the way of things.
Still, Georgiana could not prevent herself from wanting desperately to flee the ballroom.
It was not the case and she knew it, yet she felt as though every eye in the room was upon her. Watching her watch Captain Trentworth with Miss Perry. Asking her silently how she felt, if she was going to fall apart, if she was going to remember to breathe.
She wasn’t sure about that last part. Breathing felt rather difficult at the moment and it had nothing to do with her outfit.
Miss Perry seemed to be entertaining the captain very well. She was making him smile and even laugh a few times.
But that was nothing, truly, was it not? Captain Trentworth had always been easier to make laugh than Georgiana had been.
Indeed, the first time he had made her laugh, she had known that he was the man for her. She did not laugh easily and never had. A side effect of being raised by a stern father and stern governesses who followed her father’s example.
But Captain Trentworth had been able to do it.
She had not laughed since she had broken off their engagement. At least, not at any time that she could recall.
“You are distressed,” Julia said, sidling up to her. “And after you had such a lovely dance with Mr. Tomlinson. Tell me, what ails you now? What brings that look to your face? And how was Mr. Tomlinson?”
“I fear that you might be right,” Georgiana admitted. “He was quite frank about some things, such as what a lady ought to know about running an estate and all. And he seemed quite interested in me. Asking all sorts of questions, you know. None of the usual talk about the weather.”
“You see?” Julia said with glee. “I told you so, did I not! But why do you say that you are afraid that I am right? Is there something wrong?”
“It is only that I barely know him,” Georgiana replied. “And he seems to be moving along quite quickly.”
“My dear, I’m being frank here if only because you have insisted that it is so—you do not have much time. Your words, you will recall, not mine. I think that you are still young and eligible enough.
“But if you are convinced that you do not have much time then what are you doing waiting like this? Surely it is a good thing that he likes you so well and so quickly?”
“If only I knew that he truly liked me so well. I am well connected, you know. I will have a large sum to give to my husband upon our marriage. I have good breeding. What if he is only after those? He is so well spoken and has leapt right into what seems to be a flirtation after only a single dinner with me.”
“Most men are quick to act,” Julia pointed out. “Especially with ladies they truly esteem. And he probably fears that you will be snapped up by someone else. Captain Trentworth, perhaps.”
“You can see well e
nough that Captain Trentworth has not spared a thought for me at all.” Georgiana could not keep the despair out of her voice.
Julia followed her line of sight and saw Captain Trentworth dancing with Miss Perry. “Oh, my dear. I am sorry that it pains you. You are really still holding a torch for him, aren’t you?”
“It is nothing to speak on.”
“But you did not see him as you were dancing with Mr. Tomlinson. Captain Trentworth’s gaze went straight to you. I saw it, for I was going to go over and speak with him myself. Until I saw how he was looking at you. His eyes were ablaze!”
“You are, as ever, prone to dramatics, Julia.”