Chapter 22 #2
Madeline cleared her throat. “You surprise me, John. Why do you feel you must be rushed?”
“Because I can see what’s going on with Mr. Coates.”
Madeline stiffened. “I beg your pardon?”
“Maybe you don’t see it, but he’s fallen in love with you.
I saw it in his eyes the night he came to my house during the storm, searching for you.
I saw it again when you came out of Lady Thurston’s room, after the doctor tended to her, and I saw it in his eyes just now.
He didn’t want me to speak to you. So I can’t in good conscience let you go on living here, especially when Mr. Coates is engaged to your sister.
I’ve had a mind to propose for a while, and I decided I ought to do it now, before something terrible happens. ”
“Something terrible…such as?”
“Before he…you’ll pardon me if I don’t say it, miss.”
Madeline sat very still. “I am not sure what you are suggesting, John, but I assure you, I have a will of my own. You needn’t worry about anything untoward happening under this roof.” She recalled the day she’d punched a Yorkshire vicar between the eyes.
John leaned back, only somewhat appeased. “Still…sometimes appearances matter more than what truly is. So my proposal still stands, Miss Oxley. I…I want to marry you.”
Madeline felt all the air sail out of her lungs.
She understood that John did genuinely care for her; she knew it with absolute certainty.
It wasn’t exactly the most romantic or heartfelt proposal she’d imagined—considering he made it appear that he was doing her a favor, rescuing her from a possible scandal—but he was a decent man. She knew that, too.
But did she love him?
No.
Could she ever love him?
No, she could not. She loved only one man.
She had to admit, however, there was something safe about being with John Metcalf. She noticed that her heart was not racing, and she felt no anxieties. There was nothing confusing about him.
The truth of it was that he was not a danger to her, for there was no intimate connection between them.
Nothing fragile. She could marry John and simply live a comfortable life in his house, farming the land, gardening, and fearing nothing, for essentially, she would continue to live alone—at least in the depths of her heart and soul.
She could retreat into her own thoughts most of the time and make casual conversation with John when he was at home, and he would not know that she was keeping anything of herself from him, for he had never seen the real Madeline.
He had never even suspected that there was a real Madeline beneath the polite surface that she showed to the world.
Adam knew it, and he made her feel so vulnerable.
Yes, John would be safe.
Still…she could not marry him. She would be making the same mistake Adam did not want to make—marrying Diana, who he did not love. He had said it would be a disservice to both parties involved.
John deserved more.
Besides that, Madeline suspected that John didn’t really love her either. At least not passionately. He was proposing to her because she was the only single woman in Cumberland, and he was afraid someone else was going to snatch her up before he had the chance.
Madeline reached for his hand. “I’m sorry, John, I cannot marry you.”
He blinked a few times. “But why?”
“Because I am not in love with you, and you deserve to be adored by the woman you marry. I’m not the right one for you.”
“But you’re the only one,” he replied.
Madeline smiled gently. “That’s because I’m the only unmarried woman in Cumberland above the age of twelve.”
He managed a laugh. For a moment, they both sat on the bench in companionable silence.
Madeline stood and hugged John. “I’m sorry. I hope we can still be friends.”
“I guess that will have to do,” he replied.
She took some comfort in the fact that she had not broken his heart. She could see it in his eyes.
She said good-night to him and turned to go back inside. Stepping into the front hall, she peered into the parlor.
There was Diana, all smiles and laughter, playing her heart out on the pianoforte while Lord Blackthorne turned the pages for her and sang along. What a silly little ditty it was that they played. Madeline had never heard it before.
Contrarily, Adam sat in the chair by the fire with one leg crossed over the other, gazing dolefully into the flames.
Madeline’s knees went weak at the sight of him in the firelight, looking so handsome and elegant.
So somber. She longed to throw all her foolish caution to the wind and go to him.
Pull him to his feet in front of everyone and tell him nothing mattered more to her than he did—for no one in her life had ever treated her better, or managed to open her eyes to what true love really was.
It wasn’t about loyalty or duty. It was about tenderness and affection and kindness. It was about how you treated someone.
And it was about the magic and passion of a soulful connection that defied explanation.
Madeline took a deep breath and slowly approached her sister. She didn’t even wait for the song she was playing to come to an end. Madeline tapped Diana on the shoulder.
“I need to talk to you. It’s very important. Would you gentlemen excuse us, please?”
They all stared at her in shock, and rose to leave the room.