Chapter 12
Twelve
That evening, dinner was quieter than usual, and we all retired a little early.
The next day, I avoided the drawing rooms where the guests were gathered.
“They’re playing cards,” Millicent informed me as she retreated with me to my little alcove again.
It was really Mrs. Merryweather’s alcove, but she rarely ever took the time to even take her tea, so busy was she with running the household, and never in her little alcove.
But it had a window looking out on the garden, and I liked to sit next to it while I sipped my tea and ruminated.
“I must tell you something I overheard yesterday evening.” Millicent spoke in a low voice, even though we were obviously alone.
My heart sank a bit as I braced myself. I could tell that what she was about to say was not going to be good.
“Rose Rutledge was speaking with Miss Allen about how well you played at pall mall, and I heard her say, ‘She probably had nothing else to do at that little school for orphans.’”
“Well, she’s not far wrong,” I said wryly, trying to sound amused as I tamped down my other emotions.
“But it’s cruel of her to say it, and I only hope Lord Brookhaven doesn’t marry her.” She pressed her lips together as if she’d just said something very daring.
I really was grateful to have her as a friend, but I might be more grateful if Millicent shared less about the unkind things Lord Brookhaven’s guests said about me.
That evening after dinner, Lord Brookhaven seemed quiet. He left the room twice and came back each time smelling like pipe smoke. He spoke little and seemed not in a good humor, reminding me of the first time I saw him on the roof the evening I came to Lowndesbury House.
I had not been sleeping very well, and when I could no longer stop myself from yawning, I excused myself. Millicent had already whispered to me that she would stay and see if they gossiped about me again.
I wanted to assure her that I cared not a whit about their gossip and didn’t want to know what they might say about me, but I refrained and left to go up to bed.
“Miss Robbins.”
I turned on the stairs and saw Lord Brookhaven looking at me from the landing.
“Are you well?” he asked.
“I am, but I’m tired.”
He stared up at me, but it was too dark to see his expression.
“Good night, then, Miss Robbins.”
“Good night, sir.”
I turned to continue up the stairs, but when I glanced over my shoulder he was still standing there, gazing up at me.
The house party resumed the next day in a similar fashion. At dinner, I was seated between Mr. Thomas Merritt and Lord Markeley, both of whom were unusually quiet. Then, near the end of the meal, their eyes met over my head.
Mr. Merritt leaned down and said quietly, “It seems as though Lord Brookhaven has developed an affection for you, Miss Robbins.”
My heart jolted. “Wh-what do you mean?” I could barely breathe.
“We think he may even be considering asking you to marry him.”
My cheeks grew hot. Mr. Merritt’s expression was one of disapproval, almost anger.
“That is right,” Lord Markeley said, forcing me to turn in his direction. “And you must not allow him to ruin himself.”
“I am sorry, Miss Robbins,” Mr. Merritt said, drawing my attention back to him, “but you will ruin him if you do.”
My thoughts were whirling. Could it be true? Could he really want to marry me? And would that truly ruin him?
“I am sure you are mistaken.” I still sounded breathless.
“Perhaps,” Mr. Merritt said.
They went on eating. I could see Lord Brookhaven staring in our direction. I forced myself to take a bite of my roasted potatoes. I chewed but it took me some time before I could swallow past the lump in my throat.
“You won’t be doing him any favors by saying yes if he does ask you,” Lord Markeley hissed near my ear. “He’ll be cast out by good society, by all the best families, by his peers.”
Mr. Merritt added, “If you care for him, you will refuse him.”
“Remember your place,” Lord Markeley said.
“What are you saying there?” Lord Brookhaven was glaring in our direction. “Merritt? Markeley?”
I was frozen in place. My vision began to grow dim. I wanted to sink through the floor.
At the same time, somewhere deep inside me, a bubble of joy was hiding in a safe place, waiting for me to examine the fact that Lord Brookhaven had made these gentlemen think that he wanted to ask me to marry him.
Lord Markeley looked nearly as frozen as I felt. But Mr. Merritt said, “We were just asking Miss Robbins if she would teach us her secrets, how to play pall mall.”
Everyone was staring now.
Did I look as red-faced as I felt? Could everyone read my thoughts?
I did my best to appear confident and gratified by their desire to learn to play pall mall, but I ended up just staring down at my plate.
Or at least I directed my eyes at my plate.
My vision was still blurred and I could attend to nothing.
Please don’t look at me. Please talk of something else.
Finally, other conversations resumed, and Mr. Merritt and Lord Markeley fell silent.
I dared not glance in Millicent’s direction, even though she was sitting directly across from me. I started pushing the food around with my fork, with no intention of putting it in my mouth.
Surely Mr. Merritt and Lord Markeley were mistaken. Lord Brookhaven would never ask me to marry him. How could he even fall in love with someone as lowly as I?
The strange thing was that I hadn’t felt so lowly these last several weeks that I’d been at Lowndesbury House.
And since the commencement of the house party, I’d felt as if I were the equal of any of the lord’s guests, at least in sense and education.
I’d seen how cold they often were to one another, and certainly to me.
Even toward Millicent, simply because . .
. well, I wasn’t sure why. Was it because her father was less wealthy than they were?
Or did they think there was something lacking in her manners and demeanor?
Or was it simply because they didn’t know her and could detect no gain from becoming her friend?
If I were wealthy, if I had inherited a fortune or possessed an old and respected family name, they’d have treated me differently. And that was the problem. They were not kind people, and therefore it was impossible for me to respect them.
Which brought me around to the problem that had been niggling at me for days: Why would Lord Brookhaven invite such people to his home for fourteen days for an intimate house party? Surely he could see what kind of people they were, that they were selfish and petty and cruel.
But seeing Lord Brookhaven next to them had made him stand out even more than he already did. He was good and he was kind. He was not like them. Had he had the same realization? And had he seen the contrast between them and me?
I was flattering myself. I was not so good. I thought all manner of unkind thoughts about the other guests. And here I was comparing myself to them, when that was clearly not a Christian thing to do.
Mr. Merritt, Lord Markeley, and Miss Rutledge must have all been mistaken about Lord Brookhaven wishing to marry me.
He probably said something favorable about me, perhaps complimented me to Mr. Merritt and Lord Markeley in an unguarded moment, never imagining that they would think he wished to marry me.
It was all just a misunderstanding. That was the simplest explanation, and in my experience, the simplest explanation was usually the right one.
I thought of the shame that Mr. Merritt and Lord Markeley would assign to him if he married his governess.
And they were not the only ones. No doubt the entire ton would shun him, aghast at him marrying a lowly governess.
How the mothers of young ladies hoping to marry an earl would hate him—and would hate me even more.
If he did love me and then married me, would I shame him? Could his love for me survive that kind of adversity?
I’d always dreamed of marrying for love, of being the most important person in someone’s life.
I’d always thought that husband would be a rector or a steward.
I’d never truly believed I’d inspire love in someone who was titled, certainly not an earl.
It was . . . ludicrous. And to believe that an earl could give up his social status for me, well, it wasn’t believable.
The thought of being married to someone who was ashamed of me, who would grow to resent me, hate me for marrying him . . . it was perhaps worse than never being loved at all.
Young ladies wished for security, status, and position, but I also wanted a family.
I wanted love. It was the only thing I could imagine that would make me feel whole and content.
And if Lord Brookhaven lost his position in society and then came to resent me .
. . No, I shouldn’t marry him, even if he asked me.