Chapter Thirty-Eight
Gilbert took his time walking back to the Gillingham home. It was a long slog, but he had nothing better to do, he reasoned, and he wanted time to think. He reflected on his time in London, and the more he thought on it, the less satisfied he felt. Particularly when it came to his own behavior.
I hoped my time at the Season would bring me love as well as an escape from my future as a curate.
I thought myself entirely in love with Miss Wells and believed she felt the same.
Instead, I was used by her and my entire suit was a waste of time.
I fear I was blinded by her beauty and money and unable to see how things stood.
Then I missed my chance with another heiress and, instead, Carter can now look forward to becoming a gentleman one day when Miss Landry inherits.
Money and property—I am happy for him, of course, but why could it not have been me?
I might have been very satisfied with Miss Landry, too.
But my friend was correct. I had only desperate intentions behind my thoughts of courting Miss Landry.
When did I become such a selfish creature?
My behavior has been reprehensible. I must do better.
I shall do better. In the meantime, I must now return home and tell my family the terrible truth—that I cannot even apply to the bishop for my certification because I failed to complete my exams. Father will be most displeased.
I must present Father with some plan for my future, and I am utterly without any ideas.
As Gilbert entered his sister’s home, he saw a flurry of activity taking place with footmen carting boxes and trunks, and a peek into the reception room showed maids covering furniture with sheets. He stood, gaping at the sight, when Dorothea called to him as she descended the staircase.
“At last, Gilbert—where have you been? I began to think I should never see you again.”
“I went for a walk. What is going on, Dorothea?” Gilbert asked.
“I have decided it is time to leave London,” she said briskly. “Your suit of Miss Wells did not work out as planned, and there is little left of the Season. I very much doubt you will make an offer to any other lady, and, so, it is time to go.”
“Oh, you are heading back to Haverstone? Well, I would enjoy extending my visit with you by accompanying you there. I long to see Reggie and, of course, my niece, Lucy.”
“That would be lovely, but we are not heading to Haverstone, yet.” Dorothea smiled at him and, after he continued to stand with a puzzled countenance, she threw her hands up, adding, “Have you forgotten our dear sister, Charlotte, recently gave birth? I wish to see her and our new nephew, in addition to the rest of our family, before I return home. I sent an express first thing this morning to Clayton House to expect us.”
“Oh.”
Dorothea gave a merry laugh. “Gracious, one would think I was sending you to jail, Gilbert. You might at least be grateful that you will ride to Clayton House in the Gillingham carriage and not suffer the Post. Now, go and make ready, for we shall depart first thing tomorrow.”
Gilbert only nodded and slowly went upstairs to his room.
He sat a long time, staring out the window, before finally going to the desk, taking out a sheet of paper and, finding a decent quill, wrote a short goodbye letter to Carter, thanking him for his hospitality and wishing him great happiness with his intended.
Finished, he dusted the paper, sealed it, and wrote the direction upon it.
Then, with a heavy heart, he began to pack for the journey back to Clayton House.
Lavinia stood a moment in the drawing room doorway before softly asking, “Miles, may we speak?”
Miles turned his attention from the book he was reading to see his wife, her hands folded demurely and her expression one of hesitancy.
“Of course—come in, Lavinia.”
She entered the room, shutting the door behind her.
As Miles was seated in a single chair, she chose to place herself on the nearby sofa.
He noted her hands were tightly clenched in her lap and she avoided looking directly at him.
When she did not speak for a moment, he asked, “What did you wish to discuss?”
“Oh, so many things,” she said barely above a whisper.
“What a wretched wife I must have been to drive you away and into the arms of that tavern girl. How I focused on nothing but our son during his illness, without a thought to how that must have felt to you.” She slowly raised her head to gaze into his eyes.
Hers were bright with unshed tears. “Miles, I know you are a good man, and would never have sullied yourself with the likes of that chit, had I been a better wife. Please forgive me.”
Miles choked back a sudden sob, left his seat and knelt before his wife, taking her hands in his.
“No, my dear one. I do not believe any person would pronounce me a ‘good man’ after what I did. I should have been more patient and more compassionate towards you. Instead, I was selfish and only cared for myself, while you spent how many sleepless nights in the nursery with our Dickie. It is I who must beg you for forgiveness. I am so sorry.” He gently kissed her hands, still clutched in his own. “I love you, Lavinia.”
The tears spilled from Lavinia’s eyes, and she bent her head to their clasped hands.
“And I love you, Miles. There could never be another for me. I wish for us to be as we were, happy in all things, with our beautiful son and our happy life here. For I could not bear to spend the rest of our days living our lives apart.”
He released her hands and gently wiped the tears from her face. Then he pulled her face to his and kissed her. He felt her respond—tentatively at first, then with more ardor. Her arms went round his neck and she scooted off the sofa to join him, kneeling on the carpet.
“Dearest Miles, I have missed you so. I do not think I realized how much, being so preoccupied with our son.”
He kissed her again and again, pulling her close to him.
Then, he broke away and looked at her with a questioning face.
She nodded, smiling, and the two quickly rose from the floor, and, holding hands, fairly ran upstairs to their bedroom.
He locked the door and the two tore at each other’s clothes to reunite as husband and wife for the first time since Dickie fell ill.
Later, cuddled in his arms, Lavinia said softly. “Now that we have begun to mend our marriage, how can we mend our reputation in the community? For I hate to think of what people are saying.”
Miles nodded. “The damage is all my fault.”
Lavinia held up a hand to silence him. “We shall blame each other no more on this account, Miles. We were both at fault and so must the remedy be ours to devise.”
They were both silent, thinking for a time. Finally, Miles said, “Perhaps we should attend the children’s summer fair together this Saturday. We shall present a loving example to all, which should quickly quell any rumors of disharmony between us—despite the witnesses to my foolish behavior.”
“I agree—that is a very good thought, Miles. We can also take Dickie with us, for he is so much better, and I think he would enjoy the sights and sounds. When the town sees us all together, it will send a strong signal that all is well with us at Clayton House. In time, this whole unpleasant episode shall be forgot—not only in Doddington, but also between us. For my part, I vow never to bring it up or to hold it against you henceforth. For to do so would only remind me of my own poor behavior.”
“How did I ever come to be so lucky to have such a brilliant, caring wife?” Miles smiled down at her.
“Now, that loving sentiment is something I believe I shall remind you of—quite regularly,” Lavinia teased.
He laughed, then kissed her and, at her eager response, moved to claim her again. Perhaps they would be fortunate enough to create a brother or sister for Dickie. Miles could not imagine anything more wonderful than that.