Chapter 17
CHAPTER 17
“ L ord Darrington,” announced Simons, the Duke of Colborne’s elderly butler, in his rasping but still dignified voice as he held open the door.
Oswald Quince walked past the butler and into the drawing room at Colborne House where Lord Emberly and Annabelle awaited his arrival. His hazel eyes were as jolly and dancing as ever and the smart white carnation in his buttonhole perfectly complemented the gray of his suit.
“How kind of you to call, Lord Darrington,” said Stephen, coming forward to shake the other man’s hand, and gesture him towards the sofa where Annabelle was already seated. “We were glad to receive your note. Annabelle was to take tea with a neighbor this morning but the lady has caught a chill, likely from insufficient care in the open air, just as I warned Miss Crawford about.”
Annabelle and Oswald shared a glance of common amusement at this assertion, both remembering the clash of personalities between Stephen and Victoria Crawford only too well.
“You are only too kind to receive me, Lord Emberly,” Oswald Quince answered with a nod and a smile, sitting down beside Annabelle. “I am glad to provide Lady Annabelle with some diversion as well as extending my acquaintance with you and your wonderful home.”
Stephen looked pleased at this compliment to Colborne House, while Annabelle was pleased that Lord Darrington seemed to know how to best handle her brother.
“Colborne House is a striking building,” Stephen commented. "I have always preferred it to our country estate, which is rather an unfortunate agglomeration of buildings from different eras and styles.”
“Yes, it is a perfect example of restrained neoclassical architecture,” agreed Oswald. “The grandeur of the house is all the more striking given the structure’s simplicity of form.”
“Exactly,” returned Stephen with delight. “If you are interested in architecture, I must lend you a book about Colborne House which includes extensive original sketches from the architect who worked for my great-grandfather, the Fifth Duke of Colborne.”
“I should like that very much. I also wonder if I might prevail upon your goodwill to have a few minutes of private conversation with Lady Annabelle? If she wishes it, of course.”
The request took Stephen by surprise, just as it took Annabelle, but it did not appear unwelcome to him. Her brother seemed to feel no instinctive need to protect her from Lord Darrington as he did from certain other men, including Frederick. He only looked thoughtful as he considered the request.
Annabelle swallowed, feeling a welling of fear in her stomach – fear of the unknown rather than fear of Oswald. When their visitor looked at her and smiled, she realized that her heart was hammering as hard as when Frederick first kissed her, but without any of the pleasure of that encounter.
“Am I to understand that you intend to make my sister an offer of marriage?” Stephen asked calmly after he had thought for a few moments. “That is the only honorable reason I can understand for your wanting to be alone with a young woman.”
“Yes,” Lord Quince answered equally easily. “If Lady Annabelle will do me the honor of listening to my suit, that is exactly what I intend.”
So, Frederick had been right after all. Annabelle’s fear rose even as she nodded her consent to both men for the fateful conversation to take place. This had been what she wanted and planned for, hadn’t it?
“Very well, I shall leave you to talk. Tea will be brought in fifteen minutes and I will return then, unless Annabelle summons me before.”
“Please don’t look so frightened, Annabelle,” Oswald said, as soon as Stephen had closed the door. “It makes me feel like an awful blackguard. It’s only that after we talked at the Orville ball, and I’d consulted my sister and Jacob, this seemed like a good idea for all of us.”
His smile was too good-natured and unthreatening for Annabelle to sustain her pitch of suspense and she relaxed at little at these words, although still not comfortable.
“Your suit is only unexpected. We have only recently met and become friends after all. While I admit that I hoped to find a husband this season, with all the qualities we discussed at the Orville ball, I had no idea of receiving a proposal so soon. No one has ever proposed to me before, Oswald, and I don’t know how to react.”
“We are friends, aren’t we?” Lord Darrington agreed. “That is why I supposed you and I might be able to make a marriage work well. It would give us both freedom and protection of a kind and we could have such fun together, all four of us.”
Now Annabelle was even more confused.
“All four of us?” she reiterated. “You mean that Jacob and Lady Meredith are getting married too?”
At this idea, Oswald threw back his head and laughed.
“No, no. They have never imagined such a thing, although now you have suggested it, I must tell them. It will give them such laughter too. I mean only that the four of us will be fine companions for one another around the ton. Two pairs are often easier for others to fit into their planning than a threesome, I find.”
“I suppose so,” Annabelle commented, still puzzled.
She was growing sure only of one fact: Oswald Quince did not want to kiss her, whatever Frederick might believe.
“Oh dear, I have made this all rather a muddle, haven’t I? I suppose I was just so keen to get everything tied up before Jacob returns to his regiment. He must be my best man, of course. Let me start again at the beginning.”
“Please do,” Annabelle encouraged him.
“I’m in love with someone else, Annabelle. Someone I can never marry and someone for whom society would cast me out if they knew of my love.”
“Not your sister?!” Annabelle gasped in horror, but received only another yelp of laughter in response.
“No, no, no! I am not Lord Byron. Now I have been too melodramatic and must begin again. Let me try a third time to explain so that you might understand.”
“Some men prefer the society of other men, Annabelle. In all ways.”
“Yes,” acknowledged Annabelle slowly, thinking dimly of some such men.
“I am such a man, and there is someone I have loved for a long time. Marriage for me would be a protection and a shield from small-minded prejudice. I would want a wife only for friendship and to divert the eyes of the world from my love.”
“Ah, now I see. You are looking for a marriage of convenience,” Annabelle realized aloud, relief sounding in her voice even as it coursed through her body.
“Yes, that is it exactly. In return for her presence, I would give my wife all that I could: liberty, a title, full access to my fortune. I cannot give her love, but would not object if she too sought it elsewhere, and with discretion.”
Annabelle sat nodding and taking these words in, an uncertain smile growing on her face.
“You’re not going to kiss me, are you?” she checked and Oswald burst out laughing yet again.
“Certainly not, or only on the cheek, as I might my own sister. We would have no need of heirs as long as Meredith marries and has children. Although if you ever did want a child with…someone else, I would understand and accept them as my own.”
“Someone else…”
Annabelle’s eyes grew very round at this idea.
“If you wished it. You are a young woman and it is natural to desire a handsome man who is obviously so very charmed by you, if shy of marriage. In time, bearing a child might become…inevitable.”
This notion was shocking in some ways but also made perfect sense. It was also hard to know whether Lord Darrington was speaking theoretically or had someone in mind, although her own conscience would not allow her to imagine the name or face of an illicit father for her child in such circumstances.
She supposed that all those in the Duke of Blackwell’s sophisticated circle must have such modern and unconventional ideas of love, marriage and getting children. While strange to her, it was not automatically any worse than the idea of bearing children to a man through more traditional means.
“May I have time to think this over, Oswald? I cannot imagine a proposal that would suit me better, or a man with whom I might live more easily, but this has still come out of the blue.”
“Of course, my dear Annabelle. You must take all the time you need to make a decision about the rest of your life, and mine. If you wished, we might also have a long betrothal so that you could get to know me, and Jacob and Meredith better. You truly are a jewel among women and would be worth any man’s waiting.”
After sharing a further smile of understanding with her unexpected suitor, Annabelle rang the bell to summon tea and bring Stephen back to the room.
“Well, then, have you made up your mind?” Stephen asked Annabelle over dinner that evening. “It has been more than eight hours since Lord Darrington called.”
She shook her head with some annoyance. While Annabelle had obviously had to tell Stephen something of Oswald’s proposal, the crucial issues were deeply private and her brother could not understand her wish for time to consider her answer.
“No. Oswald has told me that he does not expect a quick answer, Stephen. I do not want to rush into a marriage, even with someone I believe to be a good man.”
“You will not find better, in my opinion,” Lord Emberly declared. “Lord Darrington has fortune, title and good reputation, despite his very broad circle of friends. I have asked around the ton and he is not a man to play fast and loose with the hearts or reputations of young ladies.”
At this unknowing comment from her brother, Annabelle could not help emitting a giggle. At his own admission, Oswald Quince was certainly not a man to break any young ladies’ heart, or threaten her virtue.
“He is a serious man and you must treat his proposal with the weight it deserves,” Stephen upbraided her, misunderstanding her laughter.
“Yes, he is,” Annabelle agreed. “Oswald is a kind man and a humorous man too. He likes to laugh, just as I do. We might even have a long betrothal if I prefer so that I can get to know him that way. Then I might break it off if it seems we cannot get along.”
“Those sound like rather modern and dangerous ideas to me, Annabelle,” Stephen warned. “Did they come from Frederick? I’ve told you that while he is not a bad person, his influence may be injurious to you…”
“No!” Annabelle interrupted crossly. “These ideas came from Oswald. He knew that his proposal was sudden and wished to give me time to consider it freely. If only you could do the same!”
She pushed away her plate like a petulant child, half in a mind to storm away upstairs to her rooms. Why had Stephen had to raise Frederick right now? She had been trying hard not to think about him ever since Lord Darrington’s call.
“I am sorry, Annabelle,” Stephen said unexpectedly. “I must aggravate you greatly, I am afraid. I am a fit companion more for ailing old men than spirited young women, it seems.”
This unusual apology took Annabelle aback. Was something playing on her brother’s mind? Likely the temporary respite from her father’s sickbed had given him time to think about things.
“You are a good brother, Stephen,” Annabelle assured him. “I know that you want what is best for me. But I am one-and-twenty now and must be trusted to make that decision for myself.”
Stephen sighed.
“You still seem so young to me, Annabelle. It seems only yesterday that you and Penelope were in short skirts and playing with your dolls. Sometimes you are still so impetuous too. It would be remiss of me not to offer you my guidance even though you are no longer a child.”
Annabelle pulled back her plate and took up her knife and fork. There was no point in trying to speak to Stephen. He came from a world she had outgrown and did not wish to live in. She knew that now. She might not be one of the sophisticated inhabitants of the Duke of Blackwell’s milieu but her human understanding and interests had surpassed her brother’s.
The only person she really wished to speak to was Frederick. He might better understand Annabelle’s confusion and the aching in her heart even though she had been offered the very prize she had set out to win. Perhaps he could even explain it to her. Or at least kiss her until the confusion itself no longer mattered…
“I am tired,” Annabelle announced, as soon as the meal was done. “I shall go to bed early tonight, Stephen. I suggest you do the same. It has been a long day.”
Frederick sat morosely at his small campfire on the edge of the woodland of the Heartwick Estate.
“Are you tired, Thunder? We both should be, but I’m not.”
Thunder, his gray stallion, neighed softly and then went back to the nosebag of oats that his master had provided. Restless after dinner, Frederick had saddled the animal himself and ridden hard in a circuit around the nearest three villages before returning to Heartwick itself and sending the staff to their beds.
Even after that he had not wanted to retire. Instead, he had groomed and watered the horse himself before bringing Thunder to this spot and building a fire as though he were a schoolboy again, camping outside as an adventure in the holidays.
“Do I plan to stay out here all night? God only knows. Why am I even asking questions of a horse?”
This time Thunder did not even neigh at the sound of Frederick’s voice. The fire was warm, the mossy ground was soft and the horse was company enough, if he did remain outdoors. There had been another letter from Walden Towers for him that day, not with any real news, but enough implied judgement from his stepmother to make him feel worse than he had already.
…Penelope is faring better with rest, her headaches are less frequent and the physician is content with her health. I trust that my next letter will be the one bearing the best of news for all of us…
Duchess Sarah also wrote that she had been glad to hear of the improvement in the Duke of Colborne’s health and to know that Annabelle had returned to her brother’s care. It was her next lines, presumably commenting on this, that Frederick brooded on.
…I hope that in the long run, you will come to understand that this return to normality was for the best, dear Stepson. The world can be very hard on those who challenge its order and decline to accept their assigned place and role. I should hate to see any young people I care for suffer such a fate. Please do not pursue Annabelle’s company beyond Stephen’s bounds…
Would he ever come to understand and accept the world the way it was? He doubted it. That damned picnic at Colborne House certainly hadn’t helped him to understand anything.
Except perhaps Annabelle’s beauty in a dress of palest green muslin, originally a girlish cut but now made more womanly by new underwear that raised her curves into prominence. There had been little chance for more than subtle glances, given the eagle-eyed presence of Lord Emberly, the Quince party’s aggravating interest in Annabelle, and Victoria Crawford’s inability to get along with Stephen.
He had been able to feel Annabelle’s attraction to him as almost a tangible object as they sat together on the grass. It was something warm and sweet, alive and fascinating to him, like Annabelle herself. When they were so close, Frederick wanted always to hold her, kiss her, tease her, bring her to fulfillment as he knew how…
Stephen might have been right in his accusation that his sister was half in love with Frederick, and that he had encouraged it. So what? He desired what Annabelle could not honorably give him, but he had no intention of taking it. No, instead of taking, he had given. One day she might even thank him for what he had shown her this summer.
“Do you hear that, Thunder?” Frederick asked, sitting up straighter and looking out towards the main drive.
The horse’s ears had indeed pricked up at the same sound that Frederick had heard. There was someone approaching in the distance on the road to Heartwick Hall. He could detect the sound of at least two horses, he thought.
For a minute or two, Frederick’s blood ran painfully hot and then cold with the idea that it could be an express messenger from Walden Towers. He swallowed hard as he thought of his younger sister in labor with twins. Penelope was strong and brave but childbirth was dangerous enough with one child. Duchess Sarah would never have stayed so long if she had not feared for her daughter.
Thinking rationally, however, express messengers normally rode singly and on horseback for speed. Whatever was approaching on the road sounded more like a small vehicle. If it was an unlikely express messenger, Frederick would give no tip for speed and efficiency of delivery tonight.
Could it be a drunken neighbor riding home from the Cross Keys Inn? Sir Harry Bowers, for example, did sometimes stay out late drinking with locals, and would be driven home by one of his footmen. But the most direct route to Sir Harry’s home at Starley House did not pass by Heartwick Hall.
Frederick frowned and dismissed this option too before jumping to his feet and removing Thunder’s nosebag.
“Sorry, old chap. This bears some investigation, I fear,” he said.
Pulling himself back into the saddle, the Duke of Heartwick eased into a gentle trot back towards the main drive.
Who the hell could be out there at this time of night?