Chapter 27 #2
Done with her task, she pulled the watch on her chatelaine to inspect the time. Fifteen minutes before the play began. There was still time to take a breath as Philippa had suggested.
Exiting through the basement door, she took the stairs up to the grounds behind the playhouse. Located on the wharf, the cold river air beside the Jericho squeezed her like a fist.
She breathed a sigh of relief, stars shimmering high above. The gentle susurration of voices travelled toward her on the wind—guests coming to watch the children of St. George’s perform the play produced by the Duchess of Avon, whose madness now seemed secondary to her shiny new title.
She winced at her name, leaning on the balustrade at the river’s edge.
And though she should have known better than to walk alone in the dark, she was surprised when she sensed someone approach.
“Your Grace,” a voice spoke in the darkness.
She looked around, stunned. The stranger crept forward into the soft light of a lantern, and finally she could see who it was.
“Mr. Elston,” she greeted. “What are you doing?”
“I was stretching my legs before the play,” he gave as an unconvincing excuse. “But really… I am quite glad to have run into you.”
Amelia curled a brow, then laughed. “This was Philippa’s doing, wasn’t it? She sent me out here on purpose, expecting that we would meet. If you have come on behalf of the duke—”
“I have not,” he cut in. “Not directly, anyway. He is here, if that matters to you…”
Amelia started.
“But,” George said immediately, “he will come nowhere near you. He fears making things worse. No one sent me as messenger.” He smiled sheepishly. “Well, no one nearby…”
“I don’t understand.”
“I wanted to speak to you about Nicholas, and I feared I could not approach you honestly, given how passionate you have been in denying him the chance to talk with you.”
Despite herself, Amelia cringed at her cold treatment of Nicholas. Her stomach clenched involuntarily at the thought of him, her skin prickling all over. Mr. Elston sheepishly settled beside her on the metal balustrade.
“Do not blame Miss Ashwood, or anyone else,” he murmured. “She was concerned for you, as am I.”
“You do not know me, Mr. Elston.”
“That is fair,” he shrugged with a small laugh. “But whatever hurts and worries Philippa has an equal effect on me.”
He fell silent, then reached into his coat pocket and extracted a small pink box.
“I plan on asking her to become my wife tonight,” he declared, eyeing it curiously.
“Oh…” Amelia felt herself smile, tears stinging her eyes. She took the box and opened it, finding two rings inside. “That is so wonderful. She will be so happy.”
“Yes, I hope that to be the case. She has made me so very happy, too. I love her more than I thought it was possible to love anyone.”
He looked out over the glittering black expanse of the river. On the other side, faraway windows glowed with firelight.
“These rings were kept at the family house in London,” Mr. Elston explained. “I had to recruit a friend to fetch them for me.”
Amelia ran a finger over the twin rings, feeling she knew who he meant.
“The duke’s brother is a strange individual.
On the surface, it seems he cares for no one but himself, but I believe that to be far from the truth.
We corresponded over these rings, and he asked for nothing in return for this service except a favor on my behalf.
He wanted me to ensure that you and Nicholas did not fall apart—as though I were capable of such a thing. ”
She frowned. “That hardly makes sense.”
“Why ever not? Samuel thinks highly of you. And I know Nicholas does, though I doubt he has admitted to himself the magnitude of his affection for you. Samuel feared he had put a plan in motion that would ruin you both, though he only ever hoped it would help… And that is why I cannot stand by lamely as you deny the duke the chance to explain himself.”
Amelia clicked the ring box shut.
“He reminded Nicholas about Summer Harrow when he was last here in Oxford. You must know the name by now?” George nodded when Amelia remained silent—the S clicked into place.
“Samuel all but baited Nicholas down to London to resolve things with her, knowing Nicholas could never be told to love you as you both deserved—knowing you would never truly find one another so long as he had secrets unresolved.”
“So, this was all a plot…?” Amelia did not know how to feel, frowning deeper. “It does not change the fact that Nicholas did go to London, and that he lied.”
“Only to protect you both. Some lies are necessary.”
“You do not believe that,” she whispered. “You would never lie to Philippa. And that is why my marriage to the Duke of Avon will be nothing like yours and Philippa’s. I do not know what he has told you, what Samuel implied, but it must be wrong. There is not… He has no…”
She could not bring herself to say that he did not love her. And she did not know why.
He took the ring box from her and admired the rings with a sad smile.
“I have known the Duke of Avon an exceedingly long time. Much too long for my own good. We have been dissimilar in all ways. But I have seen more of myself in him this last week than ever before. There is more than a heart of stone in his chest. If you would but allow him to speak with you, all could change.”
Maybe, Amelia thought, that was exactly what she feared. She could not trust herself to objectively judge the excuses he would give her.
She still loved him.
It swept over her like a wave, so powerful that for an instant she could not breathe.
The river whispered beside them. Mr. Elston’s face was pale in the moonlight. He was being sincere.
“All I ask is that you meet Nicholas at Riverside Court and speak with him. In this life, things are never resolved by running away from them.”
She swallowed hard.
“I fear there is no time,” she murmured.
He sighed. “The play is starting soon, I know—”
“Not the play.” A tear slipped unbidden down her cheek, and she cursed herself, rubbing it away forcefully. “I am leaving England with my brother early morning on the morrow.”
“What?” Mr. Elston asked breathlessly. “Why? There is too much for you here. Miss Ashwood, the orphanage… To say nothing of your husband. You cannot go. No!”
“It must be so.”
“I will not allow it. You cannot leave him like this.”
“Mr. Elston…”
“Look.” He turned, shook his head. “If ever there was a part of you that cared for him, discuss this openly with him. You may find that things are much different than you believe them to be.”
“And if they are not?”
“Then you will take that boat tomorrow and know that you were right.”
Amelia paused, sighing. How could she explain what she felt? How could she say that she wanted nothing more than to stay here and become Nicholas’s wife in earnest—to be healed and sane and loved?
I will regret this, she thought, biting her lip.
“If what you are saying is true… Then you may take a message back to Nicholas,” she murmured. “And if he does not come… Then I will know.”