Chapter 16 #2
He was in the study, poring over a sheaf of papers, but when he heard her enter, he shuffled them together and set them in the drawer.
“Ah,” he said, “I was hoping to speak with you.”
“And I you,” she said, feeling suddenly nervous.
“Have a seat, then,” he said, nodding at the chair across from the desk.
She sat and clasped her hands in her lap, trying to gather her courage. It had felt much easier to express her sentiments when she had been speaking with Felicity yesterday.
“I think that went quite well,” Papa said. “Farnham seems very taken with you, my dear. Not that it is any surprise.” He regarded her with a smile.
She looked down at her hands, glancing at the fading spot. It was enough to give her the needed resolve. “Papa, shall you be very disappointed if I do not wish to marry him?”
Silence met this question, and she brought her gaze up.
His brow was knit, his expression intent. “Why would you not wish for that? Farnham is an earl, Arabella, from an established family with considerable wealth. He could care for you in the way you deserve—in the way to which you are accustomed. What have you against him?”
“I have nothing against him,” she said. “It is merely that I do not think…” She paused, trying to choose her words carefully. “I simply do not think we suit.”
Papa’s brows snapped together. “Suit? Of course you suit. What would possess you to say such a thing?”
“He is perfectly respectable, of course, and I am certain he will make some young woman very happy, but I do not think I am that young woman. We share no common interests.”
“Arabella,” Papa said with a hint of impatience, “you cannot comprehend the lengths to which I have gone for your happiness. For years, I have sacrificed and saved, putting my own interests aside for the sake of ensuring your education and your marriage portion so that I could be certain you would be properly cared for when the time came for you to marry.”
She sat on the edge of her seat, eager to reassure him. “I quite understand that, and I am eternally grateful for it. Please do not think otherwise.”
His deep frown lingered. “How can I not think otherwise when I provide you with the perfect match and you hesitate because of…what? A fear you do not share common interests with the gentleman I selected with utmost care and concern? Do you expect that there are a bevy of earls and viscounts with a burning interest in dinner gowns and taffeta? Or that, if there were, they would be unmarried, with estates not leveraged to the hilt?”
“Of course not.”
“Then please explain to me, Arabella: what interests do you expect to share with your husband?”
She met his gaze and swallowed. How could she possibly explain to him that it was not any particular defect in Lord Farnham that made the thought of marriage so distasteful to her?
He might have had an obsession with fabrics or have known every issue of La Belle Assemblée, and she would not have wished to marry him.
Now that she knew what it was to converse so easily and happily with a gentleman, to search every crowd for his face, to see him when her eyes were closed as easily as she did when they were open…she did not know how to wish for anything less in the man she married.
Papa awaited a response, but she had none to give. She could not bring herself to tell him that, after everything he had done for her, the only person she could fathom marrying was the untitled man who had not even been able to bring himself to meet Papa.
“Arabella, you are young. It is natural for you to feel nervous at the prospect of marriage, but surely you understand that I want the best for you? I have decades of experience beyond yours. You must trust that I know what is right for you. Everything I do, I do for you.”
Her stomach swam with guilt and dread, but she nodded.
“I trust this hesitation is not the doing of your cousin,” he said with a hint of severity.
“Felicity seems to harbor a great many romantic ideals. Do not make the mistake of prioritizing a hope of some silly infatuation over the things that truly matter in a marriage. Infatuation will inevitably run its course, and it so often turns to dislike.”
Arabella still said nothing, for she was torn. Papa was right. She did not have experience. The entire world of friendship and courting was new to her. Perhaps her life would be most agreeable with Lord Farnham. Perhaps what she felt for Mr. Hayes was only infatuation.
And yet, could she ever grow to dislike him? It seemed impossible.
“Might I have time to…consider things?” she asked.
Papa’s lips pursed. “What is there to consider? Do you not trust me?”
“I do,” she hurried to say.
But did she? If she truly trusted him, would she not have let him guide her?
“Opportunities like a match with Lord Farnham do not come along often, Arabella. He is eager to move forward, and so am I. It will not do to make him wait.”
Arabella’s heart began to thud, and a sense of panic filtered through her. It seemed he meant for her to become engaged to Lord Farnham soon. “I simply feel…unready. It has all happened so fast.”
Papa sighed, regarding her with concern.
“It has certainly happened more quickly than I had anticipated. There is nothing to be done about that, however. I promised Farnham we would speak on the matter before he returns to Manchester. I would hate for us to be saddled with a lifetime of regret if he slipped through our hands.”
Arabella’s stomach swam. For her part, she was more concerned she would be saddled with regret if he did not slip through their hands.
Papa grimaced sympathetically. “Take a few days, my dear. I shall put him off.”
A sigh of relief burst from her, and she laughed shakily. “Thank you, Papa.”
He winked at her. “Anything for my Arabella.”
There was a knock on the door, and Felicity’s voice came through muffled. “Bella? Are you joining us?”
“Yes,” she replied. “I am coming now.” She looked at Papa. “We are going for a walk in the Park.”
“The fresh air will do you good.”
It certainly felt like liberty to inhale the fresh air at the Park, but she suspected part of that was due to the simple fact that Lord Farnham was gone.
The weight of the future hung over her like dark clouds in the distance, however. It felt as though her days were numbered—a melodramatic thought, perhaps, but she could not help how she felt.
Neither could she help looking for any sign of Mr. Hayes in the Park as they walked the varied paths.
She felt a sense of urgency about seeing him that she could not explain.
Why had he been absent at every recent party? She had been certain she would see him at one, at least.
There are things in my life that I cannot divulge to anyone, much as I may wish to. Things that put me and those around me in danger.
That was the explanation he had given her for why he had not stayed to meet Papa. Was it also why he had not made any appearances recently, despite Mr. Yorke, Mr. Fairchild, and Mr. Drake doing so?
What if she did not see him before she became engaged to Lord Farnham?
She grasped Felicity’s hand.
Her cousin looked at her with confusion as they stood at the edge of a pond, watching the ducks bathe themselves. “What is it?”
“Last night, you spoke of arranging…things for Mr. Hayes and me. Did you truly mean it?”
Felicity’s eyes widened, then lit with sudden energy. “Every word. You may safely leave it to me.”