Chapter 13
Chapter Thirteen
Edith and Mr. McTaggart spent the rest of the evening envisioning their future lives together.
During the colder months, she would sew curtains for the cottage windows and spend time in the kitchen at Aldmist Fell with his mother, learning to make his favorite Scottish dishes.
When spring arrived, she would plant an herb and vegetable garden.
Mr. McTaggart spoke of adding a water closet now that a woman would be living under his roof. The room off the bedchamber, with its excellent light, would make a fine sewing space, at least until they needed it for a nursery.
He would teach her to drive a small cart as well, so she could make trips to the village for whatever she needed to make the cottage their home. He had even decided which side of the bed would be his.
“The one closest to the door, to protect you, lass.”
“And if an intruder comes through the window, I’ll be the first out the door,” she’d teased.
Last night, she allowed herself to savor her happiness. But now, she had to face an unpleasant task. Edith took a fortifying breath and raised her fist to knock on Lavinia’s door. Her heart raced as she heard light footsteps approaching.
Lavinia greeted her with a smile. “Edith, come in. We missed you at supper last night.”
Edith tried to gauge from her friend’s expression whether Lady Thorne had mentioned her private meal with Mr. McTaggart, but Lavinia was as unreadable as ever. Squeezing past her, Edith took a seat in the same chair she’d stumbled over yesterday. “Did I miss anything exciting?” she asked lightly.
“Supper was pleasant, though uneventful.” Lavinia settled into the chair opposite, narrowing her eyes as she studied Edith. “You look a bit pale. Are you certain you’re well?”
Edith’s guilt must have shown on her face. “Of course,” she replied breezily, hoping to end Lavinia’s scrutiny. “Why wouldn’t I be?”
“Indeed.” Edith smoothed the wrinkles from her skirts, avoiding Lavinia’s gaze. “I’m better now.”
She didn’t want to cause any trouble between the sisters by revealing that Lady Thorne had told a white lie on her behalf. Lavinia let out a relieved breath. “Thank goodness. I was worried you wouldn’t be well enough to travel next week. I’ve convinced St. Ambrose to return early.”
Edith’s hands trembled slightly. Perhaps this conversation would have come more easily if Lady Thorne hadn’t kept her supper with Mr. McTaggart secret. “I…um. Next week is inconvenient.”
Lavinia’s blue-green eyes widened, and she scooted forward to clasp Edith’s hand.
“You are ill, aren’t you? All the color’s drained from your face. I knew I should have insisted on Lord Thorne sending for a doctor. Well, it isn’t too late.” She hopped from her chair and marched toward the bell pull.
“I’m not sick,” she blurted. “I am betrothed.”
Her friend’s head whipped around; her mouth formed a silent “O.”
“I was with Mr. McTaggart last night.” Edith fidgeted with the pillow ruffle beside her. “He asked me to marry him, and I accepted.”
Lavinia released the bell pull and slowly returned to stand in front of her. “Oh, Edith…”
Edith stared at the floor, unable to meet her friend’s disappointed gaze. “I’m sorry, Lavinia. You were counting on me, and I’ve let you down. Perhaps Mr. McTaggart would understand postponing—”
“Please stop talking.”
Lavinia flung her arms around Edith and hugged her so tightly that Edith couldn’t catch a breath for a moment.
“It’s marvelous you are marrying the handsome Scot. My sister has nothing but praise for his character. I believe he’ll make you a good husband.”
When Lavinia released her, Edith laced her fingers together on her lap. “I cannot bear the thought of abandoning you after all you have done for me. If you need me in London, I’m certain Mr. McTaggart would understand.”
“What have I done for you that you haven’t done for me in return?”
Edith pursed her lips. “You haven’t forgotten you saved my life. Your false modesty only makes me feel worse.”
Lavinia sighed and sank to the floor at Edith’s feet.
“You shouldn’t be sitting on the floor in your condition,” Edith scolded.
Her friend ignored her. “I didn’t realize we were keeping tally. How many marks does saving one’s life earn? Ten? Twenty?” Lavinia flicked her hand. “It doesn’t matter. We’d have an equal number of marks. You saved my life as well.”
“No,” Edith murmured. “I was dying. I wouldn’t have survived another night if you hadn’t taken me in and cared for me.”
“I was dying too. Inside. One more night, and I would have drowned in my despair. I’d lost everything—everyone I loved. It was too much to bear.”
Lavinia reached for her hand and squeezed it.
“Then you came along and gave me a reason to hope. You became my family, Edith. I had someone to care about other than myself. I had a purpose again. We were going to make it out of the brothel together, and nothing would stop me from making a better life for us.”
Nothing would have stopped Lavinia? Not even if it meant following a path she didn’t want?
Edith’s stomach churned with uncertainty. She had never considered that Lavinia’s reluctance to marry St. Ambrose might stem from not loving him.
Lavinia would be bound to the marquess forever once she had his child. Edith didn’t know how she could be happy with Mr. McTaggart if Lavinia was miserable.
“D-did you make St. Ambrose fall in love with you so we could have a better life?”
Lavinia’s spine stiffened. “How could you ask me such a question? August is not a puppet. I was aware of his attraction to me, but it was mutual. I must admit, when the other girls told me of his wealth, I hoped he would offer his protection. But what power do I have to bend a man to my—?” Her hand fluttered to her mouth, her eyes filling with horror.
“Oh, Edith. Have I misused him? Did I manipulate him by encouraging his attentions?”
Edith scooted to the edge of the chair, but Lavinia wouldn’t meet her gaze. “Of course not. I’ve spoken out of turn.”
“But my intentions were selfish in the beginning,” Lavinia said. “I have doomed our relationship, haven't I? Everyone will believe as you. They will say I’ve bedeviled him. Why else would he want someone like me?”
“No, that isn’t true. You and Lord St. Ambrose are not doomed. You love each other. I’ve known it for a long time. I should never have been so reckless with my words.”
“August is so very easy to love.” Lavinia pressed her lips together, struggling to keep her composure as tears welled in her eyes. “I do not think I can bear to lose him.”
“Then you should marry the man.” Edith grabbed her friend’s shoulders, wishing a good shake would open Lavinia’s eyes to what Lord St. Ambrose could give her. “The marquess has kept it no secret he intends to have you for his wife. Why are you fighting him?”
“You don’t understand.” Lavinia swiped at her eyes with shaky fingers. “Once others begin to scorn him, he’ll wish he had never set eyes on me. What if he sends me away... forgets about me? I don’t want to be left alone in one of his remote country houses. Even my child could be taken from me.”
“St. Ambrose would never treat you so cruelly.”
“How can I be sure?” Lavinia’s voice was hoarse, raw with emotion. “My own father sold his flesh and blood to pay his gambling debts. Before he lost everything, he wasn’t a cruel man.”
“He isn’t your father,” Edith said fiercely.
“I know, but how can I be certain August won’t change? A man’s honor is crucial to his influence with other men. Without alliances, he has no power.”
Edith knew very few gentlemen, but she was sophisticated enough to understand that Lavinia spoke the truth.
Nevertheless, she refused to believe Lord St. Ambrose hadn’t considered the risks of marrying his mistress or taken steps to ensure his survival.
While he was tenderhearted and loving with Lavinia, he had a hard edge that would make any man hesitate to cross him.
“I think you’re underestimating him,” Edith said.
Silent, Lavinia picked at a loose seam on the arm of the chair, saying nothing. After a while, Edith gave up on her speaking again and huffed in frustration.
“You’re afraid. Despite what you believe, I do understand. I’m afraid too, but sometimes you have to trust that what you see in a man is a true reflection of his character.”
Lavinia glanced up, her lips curving into a soft smile. “Your Mr. McTaggart’s character is beyond reproach. You’ll have many years of happiness with him.”
“You could have the same with Lord St. Ambrose. You just need to be brave.”
“I don’t want to talk about me anymore.” Lavinia pushed herself up from the floor and returned to the chair across from Edith. “Tell me about your wedding. Have you chosen a day?”
Edith paused, saddened by the realization her friend likely would miss her nuptials given her impatience to return to England. “Mr. McTaggart wants a church wedding.”
“This could take longer than I expected,” Lavinia mumbled, as if speaking to herself. She raised her sculpted eyebrows in Edith’s direction. “Is there a way to rush the crying of the banns?”
“I am afraid it’s not possible, even in Scotland. I’ve been told I needn’t be a member of the Church of Scotland to marry Mr. McTaggart, so at least there is no delay from that end. Still, there are fifteen days between the first crying of the banns and the last.”
“I see.” Lavinia nibbled her bottom lip, appearing to mull this over. Eventually, she shrugged. “Very well. I see no alternative. You cannot marry without your family bearing witness.”
Edith’s breath hitched. “Does that mean you are staying?”
“Nothing would keep me from your wedding,” she answered, smiling broadly.
Edith let out a shrill shriek and leaped from the chair to hug her friend.