Chapter Twenty
Clementine was drawn out of doors by the need to escape, if only for a brief hour of solitude, from her mother’s handwringing and her father’s annoyance over Rufus’s continued delay in offering for her. He had forced the issue and now…
Now, Mama was happy, and Clem felt wretched about the message she’d sent to Rufus asking to meet and discuss their situation.
She walked quickly through Hyde Park with Mary almost running to keep up, unaware that her feet had carried her to their bench until Mary gasped.
“Whatever is the matter, Mary?”
“You haven’t come here in more’n a year and a half, not since—” Her gaze dropped, and a dull red flushed the maid’s cheeks.
Looking around the familiar scene, Clem rested a hand on the back of the bench. “Really, is it that long, Mary? Why do you remember that?”
Mary half turned, looking east along the edge of the lake.
The direction Will used to arrive from.
Clem steeled herself not to do the same.
Too long without a word from him. Too much misery and fending off Papa’s choices of suitors.
“I’m sorry, my lady.” Mary’s eyes glistened with embarrassed tears, making Clem regret the sharpness of her tone.
She softened her voice. “I try not to think of that day, Mary. There is little reason to dwell on foolish hopes. Clearly, I misunderstood Mr. Ravenshoe’s intentions, but soon, I shall put all of that behind me.”
“When you marry Lord Marsden? He’s a handsome man, if you don’t mind me saying so, and a real gentleman.”
“That’s enough, Mary. Of course, he is a gentleman.” Even though her rebuke was mild, Mary’s cheeks turned bright red. Clem gazed across the lake.
When she married Rufus. How did she feel about that?
With no word from Will and her parents pressing for Lord Marsden to come up to scratch, there was every chance poor Rufus would have to make good on his offer when he spoke to her father later this afternoon.
Could she go through with such a marriage?
It would mean never seeing Will again, for a single sight of him might undo her resolve to be a good wife to Rufus and that she could never do.
Her heart clenched and she gasped, turning away from Mary and pressing a hand against her chest.
In a small voice, Mary asked, “Will there be a crush at Lady Lavinia’s .
. . I mean at the Earl of Wrotham’s ball, my lady?
” The maid’s question drew Clem from contemplating an alliance she had never imagined making.
As dear a friend as Rufus had become, he wasn’t the husband she wished for.
But Society demanded that people behaved according to its rules.
For her, that meant a marriage arranged by her parents.
A good marriage.
Blinking away useless tears, Clem sniffed and turned back to Mary. “I do hope so. The more of the haut ton in attendance, the better it will be for our fundraising.”
Support Our Returned Soldiers was not a new initiative.
Charles the Second had founded the Royal Hospital Chelsea a hundred years earlier.
But following Rufus’s revelation of his internal struggles, and then their encounter with the soldier outside the church earlier in the year, her eyes had been opened to the privileged position she occupied in society.
A position she could use to assist in raising funds to actually help the influx of wounded soldiers returning from the war in France.
“All the money we raise will support the hospital and the home for returned soldiers.”
“’Tis a great thing you do for the men, my lady.
My uncle fought at Waterloo. He was one of the first to be sent home, and it’s been a great trial for my aunt to care for him since he returned.
Not that she complains, but he lost his arm, and I fear he lost his mind in that battle.
She says he wakes in the night screaming, and in the day, he sits on the stoop staring at nothing and speaking not a word to her. ”
Clem’s heart went out to Mary and her family.
Each day she spent at the hospital, she heard similar stories—shocking stories—of the damage the war had inflicted on the soldiers’ minds and bodies.
“Then you must be sure to tell your aunt to bring him along to the hospital on Thursday next. There are skilled physicians employed to care for our brave men who have given so much for our country.”
“Thank you, my lady. I’ll tell her.” A ragged line of ducks swam into view. Mary took a step towards them, stopped, and turned to ask, “Is it all right if I feed the ducks? Cook gave me some stale bread from the kitchen.”
“Of course. I will wait here for Lord Marsden.” Clem opened her reticule and took out the newspaper article from late June, carefully clipped from the paper and handled so often it had begun to fade along the crease line.
Lord C . . . is just arrived from the headquarters of the Duke of WELLINGTON, with an account of the defeat of BONAPARTE, with a loss on the part of the French of . . .
So caught up was she in re-reading the account of the great battle that Rufus startled her when he sat beside her on the bench she still thought of as theirs—hers and Will’s. He leaned over and looked at what was in her hand.
“He’ll return, Clem. Trust in him.”
“But the war’s been over for weeks, Rufus. Bonaparte is in exile again. Why hasn’t Will come home yet?”
Rufus planted his walking stick on the ground between his highly polished Hessians and stared out over the lake.
“I will make enquiry at the War Office this afternoon. But you have to realize the end of the war doesn’t mean everyone just packs up and comes home.
There are treaties and such to be negotiated, and passage to be organized for many thousands of men and equipment. ”
Sighing, she folded the article and returned it to her reticule.
“Papa invited me to his study last night, Rufus. He told me to tell you that the announcement of our engagement must be made by the night of the ball at Lavinia’s or else he will accept another offer for my hand.
You are summoned to speak with him today.
He has already drafted a notice for the newspaper, which he plans to deliver immediately after your interview.
Rufus, it will appear in tomorrow’s paper! We are running out of time.”
“Do not despair, Clem. He will want to make a public announcement, and the ball is still more than two weeks away. Perhaps I can persuade him to hold the announcement until then.”
“If you don’t, even if Will should arrive home tomorrow, the world will already know we are to be married. It will be too late.”
“There is still time for Will to—”
She jumped to her feet, her heart leaping with joy. “There he is!”
Why she had chosen that precise moment to gaze down the path Will always took on his way to meet her, she couldn’t say, but there he was, as large as life, his arm in a sling, or so it looked from this distance.
“What? Where?” Rufus also rose and turned, scanning the area.
“On Rotten Row. Will!”
Waving a hand, she began to run, heedless of propriety and the stares of passers-by who came between her and her beloved.
He’s come home, he’s come back to me.
She skirted around a group of ladies and gentlemen, watching her feet as she was forced to go off the path. But when she looked up again, Will had vanished.
She slowed and stopped, scanning along the path as Rufus stopped beside her.
“I can’t see him, Clem. He’s not on Rotten Row.”
“He was there, I tell you. His arm was in a sling, but it was Will. I know it was him.”
Rufus caught her hand and tucked it into his arm. “If it was, I’m sure you’ll hear from him very soon. But Clem, it may just have been—”
“Don’t you dare say it was wishful thinking, if that’s what you were going to say. I know what I saw. Take me to Lady Lavinia’s, please, Rufus? Will was always closer to her than any of his other cousins. She will know if he’s returned.”
With a lingering glance along Rotten Row, Rufus patted her hand and directed her steps back the way they had come. “As you wish.”
They walked towards the gates where his curricle waited, not as quickly as Clem wanted in deference to Rufus’s injury, which flared up whenever it rained. “Oh, why must you walk so slowly, Rufus? I know your leg can stand a faster pace these days.”
“Perhaps you are right, but rushing from the park like a madwoman will do nothing for your reputation, my dear. Besides, if Will is home, your getting hot and bothered now just to hear the news a minute earlier will not make one bit of difference.”
“I know you are right, but it’s been so long, Rufus.
I just want to—” She sucked in a quick breath, cutting off the rest of what she’d almost blurted out.
As dear a friend as Rufus had become, Clem didn’t care to share her memory of one magical kiss with Will.
All she wanted was to be back in Will’s arms, enjoying more of those kisses.
The drive to Lavinia’s home was sedate, with Rufus insisting on decorum and the preservation of appearance. When they pulled up outside, Clem handed her card to the tiger. “Enquire if Lady Lavinia is at home.”
Minutes later, Rufus escorted her into the drawing room. Lady Lavinia rose, and they hugged briefly. Rufus bowed and took a seat a little apart from the ladies.
“Lady Lavinia, I’m sorry to arrive so early. I know you are not usually at home today, but I swear I saw Will in Hyde Park. Is he—has he come home at last?”
Lavinia glanced at Rufus and pressed her lips together. Her gaze dropped to her clenched hands, and she hesitated before meeting Clem’s eyes.
Clem’s heart sank.
Had she been wrong in thinking the gentleman in the park was Will? Or was it that Lavinia had received other news—bad news—about him?
“Please, Lavinia. Tell me if you know something. Anything. Put me out of my misery.”