Chapter 4
Suddenly, I found it difficult to breathe in the constricted space of the carriage. The wide open fields looked much more inviting, even in the pouring rain. I scrabbled at the latch, intending to make a leap for it, but Mr Fitzroy’s warm firm hand closed around mine.
‘What are you doing?’ His tone was one of concern, but I didn’t trust that he really was worried. He’d made his feelings and opinion of me quite clear.
I shook off his hand. ‘How dare you touch me! Let me out of this carriage. At once. ’
‘No,’ he said calmly, holding on to the latch so I couldn’t release the door. ‘I shan’t. You are being irrational, and in that state, you are liable to do yourself an injury.’
‘Irrational? I’m not irrational. I’m perfectly in my right mind , and I demand you open this door!’ I cried.
‘No. I. Shan’t,’ he repeated slowly and clearly as if he were talking to an imbecile, which made my blood boil.
‘Fliss, please,’ Harriet begged. ‘We’re almost home.’
My sister’s distress cut through my ire and touched the saner part of my brain. So I sat with my eyes closed, breathing hard, keeping the cascading hurt and anger locked tight inside me. Mr Fitzroy did not speak again during this time; if he’d said anything remotely provoking, I would not have been responsible for my actions!
As soon as the carriage halted outside our house, I threw open the door and made to alight. But in my haste, I stumbled, my hand clutching wildly at the air until a strong grip around my waist steadied me.
‘Here.’ Mr Fitzroy guided my foot onto the small step. ‘Careful, it’s slippery.’ His hand moved from my waist when I was anchored and took mine to guide me down. When I let go of his hand, out of the corner of my eye, I saw him open and close it rapidly as if in pain. But I had hardly touched him, let alone strained his fingers!
I heard Harriet thanking Mr Fitzroy for the ride home, but I couldn’t look at him as I was now feeling ashamed about my outburst. I managed a half-hearted bow and scurried up the path and into the house.
I went straight to my room and burrowed into my eiderdown, creating a kind of cocoon for my misery. Strangely, I was so distraught that I could not even summon tears. The ones that had brimmed in the carriage had been chased away by anger, and I shook with vexation and even moaned a little in my darkened lair. There was no way that I could marry Samuel now, even if I had been dragging my heels about doing so. If he turned around and asked me tomorrow, I’d have to refuse him. There was no way on earth I could be married to a man who I had seen bestowing affection on another woman—in a country lane no less!
It seemed like half an hour that I suffered, but it was probably only a few minutes later that Harriet was there and cradling my prone patchwork quilted form. ‘Oh, Fliss. Trust it to have been Samuel of all people! How utterly mortifying for you.’
I let out a loud groan of despair, and she rubbed my back and made soothing noises. ‘I know, dearest, I know. He’s wounded you deeply.’
I sat up and flung the cover back, impatiently swiping strands of hair from my sweaty face. ‘Even worse is that Mr Fitzroy witnessed the slight! He saw me dancing with Samuel and making eyes at him. Now to have him learn of him discarding me in this manner—I shall die of shame!’
Harriet rubbed my arm sympathetically. ‘Dearest, I do not think Mr Fitzroy even knew it was Samuel on the road or saw what he did. I am quite sure that he was facing away from the window when it occurred. Besides, he seemed more concerned that you would fling yourself out of the carriage and do yourself an injury.’
Her lips twitched, and I frowned. ‘Oh, I see. Now you’re making fun of me.’
‘Of course not! But you are a little more concerned with Mr Fitzroy’s opinion of you than the loss of Samuel, don’t you think?’
I sighed and lay back on the pillow and pressed my hand around my chest area, trying to discern the current level of pain.
‘It is true that the heartache has lessened even during the short time we have been speaking,’ I admitted. ‘But I shan’t ever forgive Samuel for making a fool of me.’
Harriet shook her head emphatically. ‘I never much liked him anyway. You can do much better than Mr Green. But if you do meet someone else, just please promise me you won’t go sneaking out at night. It’s unseemly.’
‘Yes, I promise,’ I said idly, not really believing I should keep such a promise if my passions were duly stirred. Indeed, now that I was thinking clearly, it was plain that Samuel was not right for me. There were a number of things about him that irritated me intensely, such as making loud chewing noises when he ate and talking endlessly about crop rotations, farm animals, and market prices—if we were married these things would become even more irritating.
Then there was the small matter of my being terrified to have children after what had happened to my mother. It was the thing that I had wanted to discuss with Samuel after the dance as I thought he should be aware of it before he made me a serious offer. Being from a large family, I knew that he would likely expect me to produce a number of strapping sons to carry on the Green lineage. Thankfully, I’d never let our amorous encounters stray into that intimate a nature, or I might have had to marry him by default. I wasn’t sure exactly what he might have said to alleviate my nagging fear, but that was now a conversation we would never have. He’d made his own haystack, and now he had to lie in it. No, as of this moment, I was completely unattached to Samuel Green forever more; and I was free to spend time with any other gentleman I liked. It was a pity, however, that there was no other gentleman that I was remotely attracted to.
***
Our excursion into town had another unfortunate consequence: Harriet caught a cold. It was severe enough to make her feel extremely poorly and unable to leave her bed for almost a week. It was no trouble on my part to play nursemaid as she was a most uncomplaining patient and bore her symptoms (a headache, runny nose, and an irritating cough) without complaint, indeed as well as she had borne Mr Pringle’s silence. I thought that I should be struck down too because of my extreme emotional shock about Samuel—but no, I was as hale and hearty as ever and had no ill effects from it. To be quite sure, whenever our cook, Sue, made Harriet horehound tea with honey, I also drank a cup. And when she prepared her a herbal steam inhalation, I requested another bowl for myself to keep her company. To be extra sure of my health, I also gargled some vinegar from the pantry (but only once because it tasted horrid!).
Taking heart in Mr Fitzroy’s information about Mr Pringle’s return and despite feeling under the weather, Harriet could not hide her anticipation every time the post came. I tried to keep her emotions balanced on the matter, but unfortunately, when one is ill and letters do not appear when one wants them to, it can send one’s spirits into a slump. I could not magically make a letter from Mr Pringle appear short of pretending to write it myself! All I could do was distract her from dwelling upon it with cheerful discourse. Aunt Snelling also dropped by several times with the latest village gossip, an abundance of lemons from her tree, and a mewling kitten she’d rescued from three youths who had been teasing it, which provided much welcome diversion .
Still, it was with some relief that I excused myself from nurse duty one afternoon and left Harriet, much improved and sitting up in bed reading her Gothic novel, to visit Jane.
I found her in the sty, emptying a bucket of slops to a litter of hungry piglets. ‘Hello, little sisters,’ I said, peering over the slatted fence. ‘My, you are greedy wee things but so much prettier than us!’
Jane chortled. ‘I fear Mr Fitzroy will never live that remark down for as long as you live, Fliss.’
‘Longer,’ I replied. ‘I will come back from the grave and haunt him. He’ll awaken in the middle of the night to ghostly oinking and think he’s gone mad.’
We left the noisy piggies to their meal and made our way up the slate path. ‘Henry is entertaining a friend, and Father is tutoring his students, so it’s a rather male-dominated house this afternoon. But we shan’t be disturbed upstairs.’
Pausing at the kitchen to request tea and cake, we ran upstairs to her parlour and I made myself comfortable on the sofa.
‘Is that another letter to Cassie?’ I asked, seeing numerous inked pages spread out to dry on the table. I inclined my head to see, but she tucked them out of sight into her writing slope before I could get a good look.
‘Yes, nosy one.’
‘You always write so much to her. Honestly, if Harriet were to go away, I doubt I’d be able to summon the energy to scribble a postcard.’
‘How is Harriet? I heard she was unwell.’
My eyebrows raised slightly. Aunt, I assumed, was the instigator of that information. News travelled quickly in our small village. I wondered if Harriet’s cold had reached Mr Pringle’s ears yet and if it might encourage him to pen a supportive epistle.
‘Coming right, I expect her to be up and about in the next day or so. She’s past the worst of it. Now she’s just bored.’
‘How did it occur?’ Jane unlaced her boots and joined me on the sofa, tucking her stockinged feet under her. ‘Not from the dance surely. That was a while ago.’
‘No, we walked to Overton last week and got caught in a shower coming back. Luckily, Mr Fitzroy came by and offered us a ride in his carriage at just the right moment, or she could have been a lot worse.’
‘Did he now? Well, I hadn’t heard that part of it. Do let me hear the whole story!’ Jane’s eyes burned with curiosity, and I knew she wouldn’t tell anyone apart from Cassandra, who was discretion itself. So I relayed how I had been trying to hide from him outside the haberdasher’s.
‘And how did he look? What was his manner? ’
‘As haughty as ever,’ I said, sipping my tea and eyeing the generous chunk of moist ginger cake we’d been given. I sunk the knife into it and took a generous helping for my plate. After eating invalid food on Harriet’s behalf all week, I was starving. ‘He was polite enough to stop and converse, I suppose. But I had no wish to prolong the conversation.’
‘Of course not.’ Jane nodded her agreement.
‘I talked with him only to find out Mr Pringle’s whereabouts, and he supplied that readily.’
‘Yes, he’d been to London.’
‘Oh, you knew?’
‘I found out yesterday from Father. He mentioned Mr Pringle had returned.’
The strong ginger from the cake and Jane’s confirmation mingled to make my spirits feel quite uplifted for Harriet’s sake. Thank goodness , I thought in relief. No more surmising. He’s truly back!
‘But carry on,’ said Jane impatiently, waving her cake fork at me. ‘Get to the part with the carriage.’
‘Well, when we were walking back, it started raining. And Mr Fitzroy was passing and enquired if we would like a ride. Harriet said yes before I could stop her. If I were by myself, I would have preferred getting wet. It was most awkward sitting in the carriage with him. He’s not the easiest person to converse with. ’
I paused, feeling reluctant to impart what happened next, and took a deep breath.
‘Unfortunately, we happened to pass by Samuel and a young woman. They were ...’ I shook my head but could not say the word. Kissing.
‘Samuel is engaged, Flissy,’ said Jane gently. ‘I found that out yesterday as well. When Father walks into town to visit people, he finds out all kinds of news. I’m so sorry.’
I lowered my plate to my lap, the ginger cake suddenly losing its appeal. I stared at her.
‘ Engaged ? Are you sure?’
‘Yes, Samuel asked Father if he could marry them in three months’ time.’
I swallowed, and she grasped my hand.
‘I knew that he was lost to me when I saw them together, but hearing the words aloud makes it sound so final. Who is she?’
‘Penelope Matlock, a farmer’s daughter from Overton. She and Samuel became acquainted a month ago at the assembly that was held there. Both sets of parents were approving of the match, and he was encouraged to propose. However, apparently, it took a stern word from his father for him to follow through.’
I shifted uncomfortably. ‘I assume that was because he still had some lingering regard for me.’
No wonder Samuel had been bringing up the subject of marriage more insistently lately; he had another woman waiting in the wings! Anger rose in me again, but as quickly as it came, it was dispelled. I must be a very accepting kind of person to forgive him for this slight. A less benign type of woman wouldn’t be so understanding. At this rate, I’d be congratulating him and attending the wedding without so much as a snub!
‘You must be awfully cut up about it,’ said Jane sympathetically. ‘After all, he was always banging on about asking you to marry him.’
‘It has taken me by surprise, but I now think it a blessing rather than a curse.’ I told her about Samuel’s propensity to chew loudly and talk about crop rotations.
Jane giggled. ‘Oh dear. I suppose Miss Matlock will find out his annoying habits in due course. You know what they say: “marry in haste, repent at leisure”.’
I didn’t smile, and Jane looked at me.
‘Don’t be glum, Fliss. There is a better match for you, I know it. Someone much more worthy than Samuel Green.’
I sniffed. ‘To be quite honest, I have no interest in anyone. I’m off men entirely.’
Jane smiled mischievously. ‘What about Mr Fitzroy?’
I looked at her, slightly shocked. ‘ Him ? There isn’t a man on earth I’d rather not marry. Imagine waking up every morning to see those piercing eyes boring into you and that grumpy expression.’ I shuddered at the thought. ‘Besides, he has a twitch.’
‘A twitch?’
‘Yes, in his right hand. When he transferred me out of the carriage, he opened and closed it several times as if he were in pain. It was most odd.’
‘That is strange,’ said Jane thoughtfully. ‘Maybe he has some kind of nervous condition? I’ll look it up later in Father’s medical book.’
I yawned and stretched. ‘Anyway, enough of Mr Stonyface. I should go and tend to the invalid and see if she wants to take a small stroll in the garden. Don’t get up. I’ll see myself out,’ I said, levering myself off the sofa. ‘Thank you for the tea, and please give my compliments to your cook for the ginger cake. It was most ... stringent.’
‘All right. Tell Harriet I shall come and visit you both in a few days. Let us hope that she receives her longed-for letter in the meantime.’
‘We can only pray,’ I said, not feeling too confident of it occurring.
At the doorway, I looked back to see Jane was busily writing at her desk. Speaking of letters, she is probably finishing hers to Cassie now that she has information to impart about my failed romance , I thought. In some way, I wished I was Cassie receiving the news as told through Jane’s sharp-witted observations rather than being the subject of it. But at the same time, I didn’t want to censor her as I knew writing gave her great pleasure and that she would always refer to me in the most sympathetic terms.