Chapter Nine
EACH TIME DINA thought over the conversation with Mrs. Macarthur, she flushed with both embarrassment and frustration.
She did not know how Mrs. Macarthur was going to “look into it” and worried on one hand she would do nothing.
On the other hand, she was afraid Mrs. Macarthur would somehow alert the offending parties, thereby allowing them to further cover up their actions.
What if Mrs. Macarthur told Mary that Dina was trying to come between David and Miss Johansson?
What if she told David? Would they believe her?
Dina wanted to think they wouldn’t but could not be certain.
This was David’s mother, the woman whose course he had followed to perfection thus far.
If her course continued to include Miss Johansson, Dina had little hope that anything but that course would be kept.
Should I go to David now?
The idea made her dizzy. Mrs. Macarthur’s doubt of her story was hard enough. What if David didn’t believe her either? What if he also thought Dina was trying to discredit Miss Johansson for her own purposes?
Despite it being a fine day, Dina kept the girls indoors so as not to inadvertently cross paths with one of the many people in the party whom she wished to avoid.
She did not want to scrutinize expressions or tones of voice, catch coy glances between lovers, or wonder what thoughts were being hidden behind the high society manners.
Instead, Dina played floor games with the girls, read books, reviewed letters, and reorganized the toys until she thought she would lose her mind.
On an ordinary day she could forget her own worries by focusing on her charges.
Today, she could not stop the volley of thoughts and fears and regrets from spinning through her attempts to be attentive.
The girls must have sensed her distraction because they were unusually sensitive and petulant.
The day stretched out long and dull until Dina finally ordered all three of them to naps, instead of only Olivia, and put them in separate rooms to keep them from distracting one another.
Rebecca took Dina’s bedchamber to the east of the nursery, Elizabeth the nursery, and Olivia her railed bed in the room the girls slept in on the west side of the nursery.
It took half an hour of going back and forth before all three were finally settled.
Only then was Dina able to fall into the chair she’d moved into the hallway and drop her face into her hands.
Oh David, she thought as tears came to her eyes.
Every other feeling moved aside to reveal the deep sadness she felt for him.
He deserved so much better than what Miss Johansson was offering.
What would you have me do, David? she pled in her mind.
The boy she’d played with and the young man she’d loved would want to know the ugly truth of what Dina suspected, but David wasn’t either of those persons anymore.
He was stoic and careful, and maybe he’d come to accept infidelity as a matter of course.
It broke her heart to think that he could be that changed, and her tears came more freely at the idea that her sacrifice all those years ago might have only been—
“Dina?”
She shot to her feet, startled eyes locked on David’s face. Had she conjured him through her thoughts? That she hadn’t felt the change in air bespoke of how very desolate she was feeling.
“Are you all right?”
She tried to blink back the tears, but seeing him standing there looking at her with so much compassion drew the emotion from her even more.
She wiped at her eyes quickly. Grandfather had had no patience for tears, and she’d learned to keep her own counsel rather than burden anyone else with it.
Burden. There was that word again. That place she felt she’d held in the lives of people around her all of her life.
“You should not be here,” Dina said, looking around the hallway to reassure herself that they were alone.
“I only wanted to speak with you for a moment. We did not have a chance to talk after the excursion yesterday.”
Dina looked at the floor. “There is nothing to talk about.”
“You seemed upset by the situation regarding Miss Johansson.”
Miss Johansson and Mr. Littlefield, she amended in her mind.
“Were you . . . concerned for her?” he asked after she did not respond.
She sniffed and wished for a handkerchief only moments before he handed one to her. She ran her finger over the linen, remembering how she and Mrs. Macarthur had laughed over Mr. Littlefield having two handkerchiefs yesterday. It felt so long ago.
“Weren’t you concerned?” she said after drying her cheeks.
“Yes,” he said, letting out a sigh of what sounded like relief. His shoulders relaxed and his eyebrows came together, the familiar single crease between them. “This house party is one of the first opportunities I’ve had to be in company with Miss Johansson daily and . . .”
It was? He didn’t know her?
The silence ticked between them for several seconds until Dina could not support it. “And?”
He turned to feign inspection of a painting hung in the hall.
“There are people who feel too much time with someone before vows are made to solidify your commitments can lead to unnecessary questioning of one’s choice.
They would have one believe that only after the vows are made is anyone able to adequately find a balance of feeling toward their husband or wife from which love can grow. ”
Dina suspected that counsel to have come from his mother.
He continued to inspect the painting, and she took a step toward him, stopping a few feet behind him, breathing in the air surrounding him and wishing she knew what to say. Wishing she could save him without hurting him.
“I think you deserve to be happy in your choice, whatever choice that is, David,” Dina said, trying so hard to be fair in her advice. She wanted to reach out, touch his shoulder, turn him to face her.
“And if it is too late for that?” He turned, startling when he realized she was so close.
She didn’t step back even though she knew that she should.
He did not move away from her the way he had by the druid stones when a very similar feeling had passed between them.
When he spoke, his voice was no more than a whisper.
“I have made an offer of marriage, Dina. She is everything a man in my position could want in a wife.”
“Unless you don’t trust her.”
“Do you trust her?”
“My trust does not factor, but you should not ignore your own lack if that is what you are feeling. And you deserve to be happy in the life you live.”
“As you are happy in yours?”
Ouch. She was happy, as she’d told him during their first exchange in the yard, but she could not deny any longer that it was an incomplete pleasure. She also could not separate what she wanted from what was best for him the way she once had.
“I cannot be your confidante on this, David.” She took a breath in an attempt to keep her voice from shaking. “I wish that I could, but it is . . . too complicated.”
“You saw everyone’s reaction yesterday, Dina.
” He pointed toward the stairs that led to the rest of the party somewhere in the house.
“Each one of them pretended not to think what every one of us thought when we realized Fiona and Littlefield were missing. They acted as though it did not happen at all. I tried to talk to Mary this morning, and she turned the subject, which is why I am here because I need help to make sense of this, and you may be the only friend I have left who will give me an honest answer.”
Dina swallowed, completely caught between what was right and what was acceptable. He began to turn, and she gave in.
“I believe she is being unfaithful to you with Mr. Littlefield.” She covered her mouth as soon as the words were out.
David froze in his turn, eyes on the floor.
Without turning his body, he looked at her.
Stared. A hundred thoughts behind his eyes were impossible for her to interpret.
Good heavens, what was she doing? Yet she was in for a pound now.
She lowered her hand. “I saw them go into the woods together Saturday afternoon when the men had gone out to the archery range and I was changing my dress. Their explanations yesterday felt like playacting to me, but . . .” Her courage, or perhaps folly, ran through.
“What?” he said in a tired and terse tone. “But what?”
“But I have no proof and fear I am seeing what is not there because of my own . . . protective feelings toward you. I want you to be happy, David. I swear that is all I have ever wanted.” She hated how much she sounded like his mother.
He took a breath and looked forward again, his face in profile as he thought over what she’d said. She held her breath. Would he believe her? Would he show his thanks by taking her in his arms?
“Thank you, Dina,” he said without looking at her. Then he turned and made his way to the stairs that took him away and left her to her burning stomach and flowing tears.
An hour after David had left her, with her stomach still in knots and her better judgement berating her, there was a knock at the nursery door.
She turned from where she and the girls were studying a map of England laid out on the floor and braced herself for another visitor she was ill prepared to receive.
Instead, Lydia, the maid who looked over the children when Dina could not, stepped into the room and held out a card. Dina did not receive many formal notes and took the paper from the girl’s hand with some hesitation. She unfolded the unsealed letter and recognized David’s hand.
Cullodina,
Mary is going to invite you to join the party for dinner. I pray that you will attend despite your desire to remain apart. It would mean a great deal to me to have you there.
Yours,
David