Chapter 25
Chapter Twenty-Five
Edmund took a deep breath to compose himself.
He picked up the book Rose had dropped and snapped it shut, placing it back on the shelf.
He wore a surly expression, annoyed with himself for letting the situation get the better of him, for letting her get the better of him.
She might have thought he was toying with her, but actually, his feelings were genuine.
By the time he left the library, Rose was nowhere to be seen.
He smiled falteringly at people who passed by, although as the party wore on, it was getting harder and harder to wear his mask of cordiality.
Rose tasked him and muddled his mind. She continually surprised him, most recently with her display during Pall Mall.
“Edmund,” Alfred came rushing up to him. He looked panicked, tired, weary. “We must speak.”
“Alfred, I am afraid I cannot at the moment. I have matters to which I must attend.”
“You must attend to me,” Alfred said. He was usually an amiable fellow who went along with most things, so when he became insistent, it was in a noteworthy manner. Edmund took a breath and then acquiesced, leading Alfred into a nearby sitting room. They were alone.
“You must share your plan with the rest of the family,” Alfred said in a hushed voice. At least he still respected Edmund’s wish for secrecy, Edmund supposed.
“You know I cannot do that. They will only fuss and try to convince me to stay. I wish to leave without any announcement, slipping away like a thief in the night.”
“Then you are placing me in an impossible position. I am grateful that you trusted me to look after your business affairs, but Mary can sense there is something I am not telling her. I cannot go on like this. I swore to honor her, and that vow is the most solemn one I have ever made.”
“You must,” Edmund said forcefully. “Just for a little while longer, until Lydia is betrothed. Then you can reveal everything.”
For a moment, Edmund thought Alfred was going to do as he asked, but then Alfred took a breath and shook his head. He squared his shoulders and looked Edmund in the eye.
“No. I am sorry Edmund, but I cannot do this for you. I have come to think of you as a brother, but Mary is my wife, and I cannot hide this from her, especially not when she is fretting so. My promise to her supersedes any promise I make to you. If you ever gave serious thought to marriage then you might understand. I will ask her to keep this secret, but I cannot guarantee it. I am sorry if you feel that I have betrayed you in this matter,” Alfred said, then strode out of the room.
Edmund called out to him before he left.
“Alfred, I don’t feel that way. I am proud to know a man like you, and I am glad that you found Mary. You are a good man, a far better man than I. I wish I had your integrity,” he said.
Alfred inclined his head, then left the room.
Edmund followed shortly after and found some champagne, hoping that it would dull his senses. A few people came up to him and commented on Rose’s performance during the game.
“I have never known anyone to make a shot like that. It’s clear to me why she was so worthy of that price. I must say that it seems like a bargain now,” Lord Gavlinson said.
“She always was,” Edmund replied with a grin, although there was tension in his eyes, and when he closed his mouth, he gritted his teeth.
The more people praised Rose effusively, the more he kept thinking about her and how she sparked something inside him—something he just couldn’t understand.
He walked away and strolled down a corridor without thinking, until something caught his eye.
It was a portrait of his parents, commissioned shortly after their marriage. The artist had somehow managed to imbue his parents’ emotion into the painting as Edmund could sense the happiness they felt.
It was just a shame it was so short-lived.
“What is the point of it all when it never lasts?” he muttered to himself. “You showed me nothing but lies.”
The house party was due to end the following day.
On the final night, Edmund had arranged for a ball. There would be dancing, loud music, and plenty of food and drink to go around. The mood was jubilant, as it had been for most of the party, though it was not reflected in the host.
Edmund moved about his house with a brooding look.
He adopted a friendly expression whenever he was around his guests, but as soon as he was alone again, that mask dropped, and he looked sullen.
The sooner he was done with these promenades and away from this place, the better, he thought.
Soon enough, he would work on finding Lydia a husband, and then he could be away from here, trekking through darkest Africa and seizing the life he had always wanted.
Rose would be so far away he would probably never think of her again.
At least, that’s what he told himself.
He decided that he would keep as much distance between them as possible, not wanting to fall into the trap of her allure again. He began the night by greeting her and her parents, but then made excuses to speak with other people.
“You promised me a dance,” Clara said, tugging at his jacket. Edmund grinned and led her to the dance floor. He spun her around playfully, and she smiled.
“Have you enjoyed the party, Clara?”
“Some of it, although I wish I did not have a bedtime. I am tired of being a child.”
Edmund smiled wistfully. “Do not grow up too fast, Clara. You can never get these days back again,” he said. Clara gave him an uncertain look, but that was the curse of youth. It never accepted the wisdom of the elders.
Clara wanted another dance, but Edmund caught Mary glaring at him. She marched toward him and took Clara’s hand away, telling her to go and dance with Alfred. Clara looked despondent, but did as her mother instructed.
“Cousin, it has been a while since we danced together,” Edmund said.
“I believe it was my wedding. But I have not come here to dance. I have come here to talk.”
“And I am sure I know what this is about.”
“How could you do this? How could you even contemplate leaving?”
“You know it has always been my ambition.”
“Ambitions change, Edmund. That was the dream of a boy, but you are a man, and you have responsibilities.”
“I have fulfilled my responsibilities, and once Lydia is married, I will no longer have to take care of my sisters. I shall be free to live the life I want.”
“Is that all that matters to you, freedom?”
“That is all there is.”
Mary scoffed at him.
“You know nothing of the term. You have always danced around life, Edmund, never embracing it. I have been a wife and a widow. I have known loss, motherhood, and now true happiness with Alfred. Do you think you will find what you need on another continent?”
“I know if I don’t leave, I shall always experience a sense of resentment. I will not be gone forever.”
“I cannot believe you, Edmund. How you could do this to Charlotte and Lydia… to the family. Even to Rose. I have always defended you to people, but now you are proving yourself to be a rake in every sense of the word, and a few worse things beside. I will keep your secret from Charlotte and Lydia because it is not mine to tell, but you are wrong in wanting this, and I hope you come to your senses.”
The song ended. Mary had said her piece and then curtsied, parting from the dance floor. Edmund wasn’t in the mood for dancing and fetched a drink. His mind was clouded with gloom, and the champagne was not having its desired effect.
“Something is troubling you, my boy. Talk to your grandmother,” Agatha said, sidling up to him.
“It’s nothing,” Edmund denied.
“I saw that Mary was getting animated, and Alfred hasn’t been himself either. And there is something about you… What is it? I know you all think I lost my marbles years ago, but I keep a close eye on things. There is something you’re keeping to yourself.”
“Mary and I were just speaking of childhood memories. Tell me, Grandmother. Do you have any regrets?”
“Oh, more than I can count, but that is always going to be the way with life. We can never accomplish everything we want. We have to make compromises along the way, and hope that in the end the scales are balanced in favor of our happiness.”
“Mother and Father always seemed to get the balance right. They were parents and they still performed their research. They had everything they wanted. Why should the rest of us be beholden to responsibilities when they never had to be so strict?”
Agatha then said something that Edmund did not expect to hear. She adopted a grave expression and gently touched his arm.
“Because you are supposed to be better than them.”
“What do you mean?” Edmund asked.
Agatha lowered her voice as if she was speaking of forbidden things.
“I loved them both dearly. I still mourn them, but they should have taken their parental duties more seriously. They never should have left, not together, at least. They loved you dearly, but they could never quite figure out the balance between being parents and performing their research. They made promises that they could not fulfill, and they put themselves in unnecessary danger.”
“I… I never realized you felt that way.”
“I do not like to speak ill of the dead, especially to you, who should cherish their memories. But they were wrong to leave when they did. They knew the risks involved. They should have stayed because you three needed them to be parents a bit longer. I understand it has been hard for you to take on that title and all those responsibilities, but it is not your fault, Edmund. You have done your best, and you do not have to be like your parents to find happiness. It is all around you,” Agatha said.
Edmund blinked slowly as he thought about her words.
He had never thought of things from his grandmother’s perspective before, how she might have advised his parents differently.
He always assumed that they had things worked out, but perhaps it wasn’t so.
Perhaps it was impossible to have everything in life, but then… what was he willing to sacrifice?
“I am sorry for interrupting, but I wondered if I might dance with the host. It would be a great honor,” Amelia said, smiling sweetly at him.
Still troubled by his thoughts, he accepted Amelia’s offer and walked with her to the dance floor.
A lively tune was being played, and they quickly fell into the steps.
Amelia was a talented dancer, graceful and precise.
However, Edmund couldn’t stop thinking about Rose.
It was she he wanted to dance with, she who inspired him to see things differently, she whom he would be leaving behind.
The promenades had started out as a game to him, a distraction, but they had quickly turned into something more.
“I wanted to thank you for the invitation to this gathering, Your Grace. It has been a wonderful experience, and I have learned so much. Lady Rose is a lucky woman,” she said.
“I am sure she will appreciate you saying so,” Edmund replied.
“And I wished to say that should circumstances change, and you still find yourself in want of a wife, I should not be indisposed to the prospect. I may not have won Pall Mall, but there are other games,” she said with a smile that was caught between sly and sweet.
Edmund responded to her words with a polite smile and nothing else. His mind was in chaos, and he believed that only Rose could bring him peace.
But he’d cast his gaze across the hall and she was nowhere to be seen.
Have I lost her already?