Chapter Forty-Two
Returning to Clayton House after his disappointing talk with Nancy, Gilbert had no wish to speak to any of his family.
Seeing the housekeeper, Mrs. Wilson, in the entry when he came home, he told her he felt unwell and asked to have his tea and dinner sent up to his room.
When Lavinia, concerned at Mrs. Wilson’s report, went to check on Gilbert, he opened the door a small crack and assured her he did not require a physician but only had a dreadful headache and wished to stay quietly in his room.
Thinking nothing too terribly unusual in his request and, since Mrs. Wilson did not report that Gilbert looked dangerously unwell when his meal was delivered that evening, the rest of the Kendalls let him be, assuring themselves of his swift recovery.
Although he claimed a need for rest, Gilbert was, in fact, filled with a curious sort of anxious energy. His mind was racing as he paced his room that first day, replaying every word of Nancy’s rejection, trying to make sense of it.
On the second day, he attempted to lose himself in a book, but his mind would not leave off thinking of his botched proposal.
He remained stunned to have been refused so decidedly and so quickly.
Even his declaration to Nancy that he now realized he and Miss Wells were not a good match had made no difference.
It was obvious Nancy did not believe him, judging from her very pointed comment that Miss Wells’s fifteen thousand would go a long way in overcoming any “mis-match” between them.
He threw himself into a chair and sulked, chewing on a thumbnail, as he considered her words.
She truly thinks me no better than an odious fortune hunter—bah!
To say I only wish for her money? Her father does not possess such great wealth.
I am certain I could have done better than Nancy in London if I had put any effort into it.
It is only that I was so mistaken in Diana’s regard for me that I foolishly focused all my attention on her during the Season, rather than playing the field a bit more.
Curse Diana for taking up all of my time only to disappoint me and leave me with no options at the end of the Season.
Gilbert rose and paced the room once more, his anger mingling with disappointment over his situation.
If only Nancy had not heard of his botched proposal to Diana.
Then, Gilbert felt certain, Nancy would have readily accepted him, for haven’t they always been close friends?
No. He recalled her harsh words over the manner in which he had made his offer.
It struck him that, on that one particular point in her refusal, Nancy had been correct.
Gilbert had made no effort to woo Nancy.
He had not called upon her in a proper, gentlemanlike manner, or sent her flowers, or displayed any of the other possible public indications that he cared for her.
Instead, he just assumed she would be so pleased to be asked to marry him and to enter into a family above her station that a lack of such formal courting would not have mattered to her.
Oh, but it had mattered, Gilbert realized. In fact, he wondered if her firm refusal also signaled the end to their long-time friendship. Gilbert felt a pang of deep regret and sorrow.
If she thinks so little of me to all but call me a fortune hunter to my face, I fear there may be no hope of repairing our friendship, much less my ever being able to renew my addresses to her.
Nancy had always been his steadfast friend, even as he knew Lavinia and Dorothea dismissed her as being somewhat beneath him.
He had refused to quit the association, despite their many hints.
Now, thinking he might have so damaged their relationship that they should soon become only acquaintances who now and then politely nod to each other as they pass on the street filled him with dismay.
Well. She may not wish to marry me, but I must do what I can to heal our friendship. The only question is, how?
Gilbert stood and went to the window, gazing out over the fields behind Clayton House as he considered his next step.
He thought of sending Nancy flowers, but he feared they would be rejected.
He could not write and post a letter explaining his wish to continue their friendship, as that would be improper without an understanding between them.
Indeed, word of flowers or a letter to her home might start rumors in Doddington, which Gilbert knew would be exceedingly unwelcome to her at present.
Turning away from the window with a sigh, he recalled Nancy speaking of her father’s illness. What did she say—that Mr. Slade was in some manner addled in his mind after a fall?
She said the apothecary had prescribed a draught, but it had been ineffective. She did not mention calling for a physician, though. That’s it—I shall send Dr. Baker to her. He is a very skilled diagnostician and can likely alleviate her father’s situation.
Within twenty minutes, Gilbert had left Clayton House and was galloping on his favorite horse towards the village.
That evening, Gilbert dined with the family.
Charlotte and Frederick were also in attendance.
As he always was when his entire family was present, Evan was in a cheerful mood, ordering excellent wine for the table.
“It is time we properly celebrated the safe delivery of your son and my namesake, Charlotte,” he said.
Conversation was filled with laughter and, although Gilbert was more quiet than usual, no one remarked upon it. He listened with only half an ear until he heard Nancy’s name mentioned.
“I made a visit to the Slade’s home today,” Frederick remarked.
“Mr. Slade has been unwell for some time, but I only became aware of it recently. Spending half my time at my other parish has made me somewhat less attentive to my congregants here, and Mr. Lewis is not familiar enough with all the parishioners to notice Miss Slade’s absence while she has been caring for her father.
” He turned to Gilbert. “She is a particular friend of yours, Gilbert, is she not?”
“Oh, well—” he started to say before Charlotte spoke over him.
“Gilbert and Miss Slade were childhood playmates, Frederick, and have remained friendly despite their difference in class. What ails her father? He has always been courteous to us.”
Lavinia nodded in agreement. “Indeed, Charlotte, his businesses have brought him more wealth than our poor little cousin Selina’s family can boast. But as I always say, money does not equal higher rank, even if it may give the appearance of it.
Goodness, imagine if one might be considered a true gentleman simply based on money alone. ”
Gilbert tried to change the subject back to Nancy’s father. “How did Mr. Slade seem to you, Frederick? Is he very unwell?”
“Dr. Baker was at the Slade house when I arrived. It is his opinion that Mr. Slade suffered a stroke, resulting in a fall. The poor man also struck his head when he fell, adding to his injury.”
“Dr. Baker was there?” Evan asked. “I am surprised to hear it, as I know Mr. Slade is not one of Baker’s regular patients, preferring the attentions of the Doddington apothecary.”
Gilbert was pleased that Dr. Baker had acceded to his request to examine Mr. Slade as soon as possible. “Will he recover, do you think, Frederick?” he asked. “What else did Dr. Baker say?”
“He feels there is a possibility of a full recovery, however, only time will tell. Head injuries can have lasting effects. Poor man. It will be difficult for him to manage his business affairs, I suspect. Slade has managers for some of his businesses, but he oversees everything on his own, with no partner. Well, perhaps his recovery will not take as long as Dr. Baker believes. In the meantime, I will offer prayers for him this Sunday.”
“Indeed, we shall all pray for his quick recovery,” murmured Charlotte. “Perhaps we should send over a basket of preserves or something?”
Evan nodded. “An excellent idea, Charlotte—ask Mrs. Wilson for assistance. And perhaps a brace of quail, as well. For Mr. Slade is no hunter, to my knowledge, and has no property upon which to hunt, in any case.”
“He can more than afford his own quail or beef, if it comes to that, Father,” Lavinia replied.
“I should not wish to send over so much that the family is beholden to us, after all. Perhaps two quail and some cheese to go with the preserves. Charlotte and I shall prepare a basket, and we can have it sent over tomorrow.”
“I will be happy to deliver the basket,” Gilbert said. “I had planned to go into the village tomorrow to see the smithy. My favorite horse requires new shoes.”
Evan raised an eyebrow at his son, but only said, “Very well. Thank you, son. That will be most appreciated.”