Chapter 19 #2
He did not appear to disapprove. Instead, he extended his hand to me, as he did when he asked me to dance at all the balls we’d attended together. But this time he stood gazing into my eyes.
My heart mimicked the beating of the nearby water as it rushed and fell off the edge of the cliff.
I should move away, but I felt frozen. Just when I began to feel too nervous to meet his gaze any longer, he turned his head toward the waterfall, placed my hand on his arm, and led me toward it. He stopped and stared down at the pool of water about twenty feet below.
The water fell past giant rocks and disappeared into the dark pool below, then flowed languidly, the stream following a path that led around a bend and into the woods.
My eyes, however, were drawn to the falls, the loud, rushing water, white and foamy, how it endlessly fell, refreshing everything, making the surrounding moss and ferns and grass glisten with droplets.
“What do you think?”
I realized Jeremy was watching me instead of the waterfall. Would he kiss me, as he had the last two times we’d been alone?
The thought was so disquieting, I started saying whatever came to mind.
“It’s beautiful, a beautiful waterfall. I’ve never seen such a large waterfall in nature. It’s so much lovelier than the waterfalls at Vauxhall Gardens.”
“It isn’t really the same thing, is it?”
“No, this is much better. It brings to mind the God who created the earth and filled it with good things, beautiful, natural things.”
He was looking at me again in that intense, startling way.
Was Miss Freeman right about Jeremy’s feelings for me? When had he changed?
I gazed at the waterfall again, my hand on his arm. “It makes me feel a bit dizzy, looking down like this.”
“May I hold your hand? It is easy to slip and fall.”
“Of course.” I lifted my hand from his arm, and he took it in his much larger one.
His fingers felt strong, and I swallowed, knowing that it wasn’t entirely proper for us to be here together, to be holding hands without even gloves to separate us. That is, unless I was sure I was going to marry him. And I wasn’t sure, as I’d repeatedly told Juliet, Jeremy, and myself.
I was afraid to meet his gaze lest he move closer and kiss me.
Truly, it was unnerving to be so close to the edge of the cliff, to know that if I fell, I’d be broken on the rocks below. I was not a drop of water, after all. I was flesh and bone. And I was exceedingly aware of Jeremy beside me, holding my hand, his warm skin touching mine.
I watched the water a while longer, and then I took a step back, my knees shaky.
Jeremy said, “Shall we sit?”
He led me to the nearby bench. I let go of his hand as I sat, then he seated himself beside me.
I could still feel his warmth on my hand, my skin fairly tingling. But it was only me. I was sure he wasn’t feeling any of this.
We watched the water tumbling over the precipice from this safe distance on the bench. What was he thinking? And then I noticed the sketchbook on the bench beside him.
“Were you drawing?” I asked.
“I was.”
“I didn’t know you were an artist.”
“I wouldn’t say that I am an artist, precisely.
” He had a self-deprecating half smile on his lips.
“I do like to draw, on occasion. I haven’t done it for some time, but .
. . the Lake District could make an artist out of almost anyone, I think.
Shelley has even accused me of becoming his friend simply so I could visit him here.
” His smile deepened, but then was gone.
“I once accused you of becoming friends with my sister with the intent of getting closer to me, and that was wrong. I was wrong. I hope you forgive me.”
“You already asked me, and I have already forgiven you.” I was amused.
He was being so open. I wasn’t used to seeing this side of him.
I might have liked it if we were just friends, but as we were engaged, everything he said took on additional meaning, made me judge how sincere, or insincere, he might be.
“Truthfully,” I went on, “it was a fair assumption, given the way my aunt was announcing publicly how glad she was that I was getting close to you by being friends with your sister.”
“You can hardly be blamed for what your aunt says. Besides, I had made the assumption even before she said it. You must have thought me the most conceited man in England.”
“I did think you quite arrogant.”
“Yes, I can imagine.” He shook his head.
We were quiet for a moment, then I said, “Were you sketching the waterfall?”
“I was.” He opened the book carefully, as if he were trying to only show me the one page.
“That is very good,” I said. It was a perfect likeness of the upper part of the waterfall.
“No, it is not ‘very good.’ It is the scratchings of a rank amateur, but I do enjoy it. When I am in the mood for it.”
“Well, you have much more talent for drawing than I have. I am afraid I am not the accomplished lady everyone expects. I cannot draw, I cannot sing, and I only play a little. But I have read extensively. I will say that in my favor.”
“You are far too modest.” He was smiling again. “I have heard you play, and you are very good, and I do believe I have even heard you sing with Juliet once or twice, and you have a lovely voice.”
“No, no, you mustn’t say that. If you will not allow that your sketching is good, then I cannot allow that my singing is good.” I laughed at the thought. I knew my limitations and shortcomings, after all.
“All I can say is, I enjoyed hearing you sing.”
“And I enjoyed looking at your sketch of the waterfall.”
“Touché.”
“May I see some of your other sketches?” I looked pointedly at his sketchbook.
He frowned and raised his brows rather dramatically. “I was afraid you would ask that.”
“You aren’t afraid of criticism, are you?”
He shook his head. “Why do I get the feeling you are manipulating me?” But he held the book up to his face, peeling back just the corners so he could choose one, then opened it and showed me. “This is Mosspoint, our estate in Bedfordshire.”
It was a large home on a hill, overlooking a valley with pastureland and sheep grazing.
“That is lovely. And you cannot say you are not an artist, for it looks perfect, every line, and very detailed. Although I am no expert, even I can see it is very fine work.”
“Thank you.” He bowed his head.
I wanted to ask to see more of his sketches, but he obviously didn’t want me to see more, and I didn’t want to embarrass him.
“I should probably escort you back. You may be frowned upon by Mrs. Wilson or Mrs. Shelley when they hear of you walking out here on your own. I’m sure Shelley would have warned you not to come alone, as there is some danger of falling, had he an inkling that you might try to walk here without one of us accompanying you. ”