Chapter 6
Chapter Six
The route between Avington House and the Pershings’ hired residence ought to be a familiar one by now.
Yet something struck Richard about the significance of his trip today as he weaved through the streets that separated him and his future bride.
Today, he approached as a man betrothed.
And while the circumstances that led to his betrothal might hardly be ideal, he was committed to ensuring that his subsequent marriage be as much of a proper marriage as it could be.
It wouldn’t be a chore to be married to Adelaide Pershing.
She was beautiful, as Catherine had been.
And despite her youth, there was a tenacity to Adelaide that made Richard believe her capable of navigating the inevitable upheavals of marriage, children, and the management of a household.
And for someone who hadn’t so much as visited Granville House once beyond signing the papers to accept the reward, Richard had to acknowledge it was high time he took over the estate with a proper mistress by his side.
Buoyed by a cautious sort of optimism, he drew past Piccadilly and turned the final corner.
Then he stopped short at the sight of a slender young girl sweeping the small side garden of the house he intended to visit.
It was not an unusual sight to see servants about this time of the day. There was nothing misplaced about the gesture. But one glance was enough to tell Richard that this was not just any servant.
This was the girl he once saw at the window, before she’d been whisked away.
This was a girl whose complexion hinted at a connection closer to the family than the downstairs staff.
In fact, for a brief moment, the way she tilted her head to swipe at her tears, reminded Richard starkly of Adelaide herself.
He approached slowly, his mind mapping a dozen different possibilities. He was very nearly upon her before she noticed him.
“Oh, sorry, sir!” She jumped back, eyes wide, before she looked down to rub away the evidence of her crying. It was a futile endeavor, of course, for her young eyes only puffed up more under her scrubbing, and her face grew ever redder. “Didn’t expect you coming this way, Colonel.”
So she knew him.
But he didn’t know her.
During the family’s years of growing up in Beniton Hall, the three eldest Avington brothers often had their share of secrets or concerns that they did not share with Richard or little James.
And even in the army, there always were layers of confidentiality amongst officers.
Being left out of a secret had never deeply affected Richard.
But this one sat ill, particularly if it was a secret that involved his future wife.
“What is your name?” he asked the young girl, setting aside any need for pleasantries.
“Macy, sir.” Her voice trembled slightly.
Macy—so this was the elusive Macy, whose very name seemed capable of making Adelaide comply with almost anything her aunt demanded of her.
At this distance, face to face, it was impossible to deny the resemblance.
The slip of a girl had to be related by blood to Adelaide Pershing, in one way or another.
She looked slightly too old to be Adelaide’s child—what with the hem of her dress already hovering closer to her knees than her ankles. But he supposed stranger things had happened.
“Why are you crying?” he asked instead.
“Ade—my mistress.” Macy sniffed, her small hands tight around her broomstick. “She spent the entire night weeping.”
Now that was not the news he’d expected.
Richard swallowed. He himself had hardly slept the entire night.
He’d attributed his unrest to concerns regarding his impending marriage.
As a man who’d entered the assembly hesitating about whether to court the lady or not, it had been a remarkable and shocking turnaround to emerge from it engaged.
Had Adelaide been just as surprised by the turn of events?
Or was she merely mourning having to marry him?
Richard frowned. Given the way things had unfolded at the assembly, Adelaide had plenty of reasons to be distressed. He did not necessarily have to think himself to be the reason.
It was a scant comfort, and perhaps a presumptive one, but Richard allowed it for his own peace of mind.
“Is Miss Pershing very unwell?”
“She is to be married,” Macy cried, looking almost as young as a ten-year-old child for a moment.
“Does she not wish to be?”
“Miss Ravenstone wants her to, but Adelaide—” the girl burst into a fresh round of tears. Richard watched uneasily until she resumed control of herself. “Of course she does not wish to marry.”
“She does not?”
“Men are horrible creatures, and they—" Sounds echoed from the main house, and Macy jumped as if reminded of her tasks. Her eyes popped round in apparent fear. “I’m sorry, sir. I’ve said too much, sir.”
“Macy, please, if you could but tell me—"
She hurried off to give the other corner of the garden a few harsh sweeps before disappearing indoors.
Richard paused for a moment, ruminating over why marrying him would be such a horrible thing for Adelaide.
And when he could find no clear answer, he turned himself towards the door and knocked.
He was a soldier, when all was said and done.
And whether or not a soldier knew what he was about to face in battle never changed the fact that he did have to face it. He would simply have to soldier on.
“Come, come, do come in, Colonel,” Miss Ravenstone ushered him into the parlor without a trace of last night’s scheming in her manners.
Richard remained on his guard, uncertain about the woman’s hidden agenda.
It was difficult to ascertain if she was merely a shallow social climber or a woman with more deeply-hidden machinations, but he was determined not to be caught unawares if she tried to pull some other trick this morning.
“Our dear Adelaide is all anxiety to be reunited with you.”
Judging from what the young girl Macy had said a moment ago, Richard had no reason to doubt that his bride was indeed anxious. Whether that anxiety was over her desire to see him again or not remained to be seen.
“I came as soon as I properly could, madame,” Richard answered.
“Of course. Of course.” Miss Ravenstone smiled, the grin ill-fitting on her angular face. “One cannot be too eager to meet one’s betrothed, surely.”
“Certainly.”
They approached the center of the parlor, where Adelaide stood, her eyes pensive. She looked smaller than usual today—looking younger than twenty for the first time in Richard’s eyes.
He tried to hide his sigh. It was not unexpected for her to appear slightly more fragile. Last night’s altercations and a whole night of weeping would render any woman weak.
Still, he had hoped to find an ally in her, not another soul to reassure amidst the strangeness of their circumstances. The way she shook in her white dress certainly seemed to indicate she would be more of the latter than the former.
“See how she trembles—so eager to see her future husband,” Miss Ravenstone talked over her niece’s obvious discomfort.
“Surely, you cannot be so cruel as to ignore her anxiety to be wed, Colonel Avington. A quick bishop’s license, and a few papers signed, and she would be all yours before the week is through. ”
Adelaide let out a small whimper at the way her aunt said ‘all yours.’ Richard didn’t have the heart to blame her.
“Surely, the banns can be sufficient?” Richard turned away from his betrothed for a moment to address her heartless guardian. “There is no reason to fuel speculation.”
“Oh, of course, of course. But I was only thinking of how to smooth the lovers’ path, that is all.” The aunt laughed harshly. “Now, if you could only sign this settlement, Colonel.”
“You have drafted a settlement?”
“Well, seeing that our purpose of coming to town is to provide my darling niece with a Season, it seemed prudent to be prepared.”
“But you cannot have anticipated that she would wed, or whom she would—”
“Colonel.” A small yet firm hand landed on his arm. Richard swiveled to meet two soulful, determined eyes. “My aunt forgets herself. If you do not wish to sign a settlement—or to pursue the engagement at all—”
“But of course he must sign it!” Miss Ravenstone cried. “Those flighty romantic notions have made you silly, Adelaide. A good marriage requires a foundation of clear expectations. It cannot—”
“A good marriage requires trust, and respect. Wouldn’t you agree, Aunt Dinah?”
Richard watched with fascination as the older woman openly considered how to defend her preferences, before choosing instead to accede. “Well, that is only right, of course.”
“May I have a moment alone with the Colonel?”
Her aunt scoffed. “Why would you need—”
“I would appreciate a private audience, Miss Ravenstone,” Richard intervened. “Seeing that we are engaged to be married, surely, you may be a trifle more indulgent.”
The woman paused, her calculating eyes jumping between the two of them. Then she drew herself taller. “Very well. But no more than a quarter hour, mind you. My niece has a reputation to maintain.”
It was a futile protest, given her own hand at destroying said reputation, but Richard chose not to argue.
Miss Ravenstone withdrew, closing the door behind her. Richard turned just as his young bride rested a hand on his forearm and whispered, “Colonel, I am so dreadfully, utterly sorry.”
Kind eyes looked down towards her. Adelaide swallowed. She’d never voluntarily touched a man before, even in as innocuous a place as a clothed forearm. Touch, particularly of the male variety, had always been something offered to her—something she accepted, whether willingly or reluctantly.
The fact that she’d reached out of her own volition today surprised even her.
She retrieved her hand gently. “If only I could stop my aunt, I would.”
He continued to watch her, as if observing a problem.
Adelaide waited. She didn’t want to be a problem, especially not to a man who had been nothing but courteous towards her.
But from the moment she’d agreed to his impulsive proposal in the darkness outside the assembly room, she’d become exactly that: a problem.
“What hold does she have over you?” Came his question—gentle, yet direct.
Adelaide breathed in sharply. She had no secrets. She had not exactly had much opportunity in her life to create secrets of her own.
But she carried her parents’ secrets—and the very weight of those secrets often threatened to consume her whole.
“I never said Aunt Dinah threatened me,” she replied.
“And yet you let her arrange your life against your liking.”
“Not entirely.”
“Did you wish to marry Mr. Bamburst?”
Adelaide shuddered. “Never.”
“Did you wish to marry someone else? Is there a boy back home who has caught your fancy?”
“No—there is no one.”
“And yet you spent the entire night weeping, as if marriage was to be a death sentence to you.”
She looked up at his statement, expecting anger. Yet his gaze hinted more at curiosity and perhaps even an ounce of hurt.
Adelaide sniffed. “How did you know?”
“Macy told me.”
“Macy!” She gaped in alarm. “How did you—”
“I ran into her sweeping the garden. I’ve seen her, around the house—but never spoken to her before today.”
Adelaide fought her tears. “I am sorry.”
“You say that as if her existence is your responsibility.”
“No. And yet her well-being is my concern.”
“I did not think you old enough to have a child of her age.”
“A chi—” Adelaide did not know to show relief or bewilderment at the implied question. “No, she is not my child. I do not have a child. Much as Mr. Bamburst and his ilk might try, I am untouched.”
“Forgive me. It was not my intention to pry.”
“You have every right—if we are to marry.”
“And we are to marry, are we not?”
Adelaide watched him, surprised at how he appeared almost eager to see through their hasty engagement.
“If we must,” she answered softly.
“Surely, you must understand your need for protection after last night’s events.”
“You are too kind, sir.”
He scoffed. “I do not think of marriage as an act of kindness.”
“If it can spare me from the likes of Mr. Bamburst, then it is.”
“I suppose that is something.”
“My fears are less for myself.”
The colonel paused before asking, “Are you speaking of Macy?”
Was she? Adelaide had her own share of concerns, but Macy’s well-being was chief among them. “Yes.”
“Is she your responsibility then?”
“Not by law.” Adelaide sighed. If only she were of age, she might have tried to find a way. And yet here she was, as helpless as a pawn in her aunt’s hands.
Her betrothed waited, as if expecting her to divulge more information. But how could she? It was bad enough that the colonel knew Macy existed. Revealing the true circumstances of Macy’s birth could only lower their family even more.
He sighed when she said no more. “I suppose I must talk to your aunt about the settlement.”
“Yes. Although I doubt she shall make it easy.”
This time, at least, he smiled. “I think an army colonel can handle a grasping spinster, don’t you?”
She looked up towards him. Years of living, especially those spent on the battlefield, had etched themselves onto his features.
He was not a young man, although younger than the other widowers and lechers her aunts preferred.
Adelaide could only imagine the trials and horrors that the colonel must have lived through over the past decade.
And yet here he stood, speaking to her without a hint of condescension. As a man, as a soldier, as a gentleman of wealth—he owned every possible advantage over her. And yet his chivalry remained undented.
A small part of Adelaide longed to hope. She longed to believe the goodness the colonel’s very presence seemed to promise. But since when did good things ever prove true? Even the loss of her father, welcome as the news had been, came with the tragedy of losing her mother alongside him.
Yet given the circumstances, there was little else Adelaide could do but hope for the best—for herself, and for Macy.
“Of course,” she answered the colonel softly.
He nodded, bowed over her hand, and slipped out the door.