Chapter Twelve #2
Mariana hugged her cousin. “I came with you willingly, if you remember.” Both girls were crying and Mariana hiccupped slightly.
“Actually, I like being here. There’s so much more to do than visiting stiff ladies and drinking endless cups of tea.
The only things I really miss are the theaters and the bookshops. ”
“As soon as we can, I’ll treat you to a trip to the theater. And I believe there are some good bookshops in Carlisle. I know you want to explore the castle there, too, even if it is in ruins.”
The girls resumed their walk, their breath misty on the cold air.
Above them, snow-laden branches bore frosty decorations of icicles and red berries.
The path opened out onto the wide south lawns of the baron’s house, now a carpet of brilliant white.
The tracks of a hare could be seen clearly and a robin redbreast hopped on the edge of frozen pond chirping loudly as it tried to find some water to drink.
Since Christmas, Gwendolyn had been feeling more optimistic about the future. “Perhaps we can start a little shop somewhere. We could sell bonnets and gloves or haberdashery.”
“We could,” Mariana agreed. “We’ve learned all kinds of things in the last few months and can be self-sufficient, if we can find a sponsor to set us up.”
The cousins had reached a door on the side of the house that was closest to the library and Gwendolyn pushed it open with the ease of familiarity. Since Christmas, Whitcombe had softened towards Gwendolyn and had begun treating the girls as if they belonged at High Fell Manor.
They deposited their cloaks and bonnets in the small foyer and then walked to the library, chatting and laughing as they greeted servants who were carrying out their duties in the rooms along the way. They hurried down the corridor, seeking the warmth of a log fire they knew would be burning there.
Gwendolyn opened the door and stopped, her mouth open and confusion written across her face.
*
“Gwendolyn! My dear girl.” Robert Walker stood up and almost rushed across the room, his arms stretched out in welcome.
“I have been searching over half of England to find you and here you are. I was flabbergasted when I heard that you are staying so close to my family home.” His eyes swept over her rounded stomach.
His expression became more serious, almost a caricature of concern.
“I am sorry that I was called away to my military duties before I could fulfill my duty to you, but if you had written, I would have come to you immediately.”
As Robert Walker talked, he led Gwendolyn towards the sofa and sat down next to her.
Much closer than was comfortable for her.
He completely ignored Mariana who shrugged her shoulders and wandered over to a chair near the window where she usually read while Roland and Gwendolyn talked or played chess.
Roland had started forward to greet the cousins but paused when he saw how Gwendolyn focused completely on Robert. He returned to his desk and sat down, half-turning his back on them so that they could become reacquainted. And so he didn’t have to watch his dream slip away.
He straightened his shoulders and resumed writing a letter he had left when Robert had arrived.
He had to get over his infatuation with Gwendolyn Burroughs.
Robert’s arrival and Gwendolyn’s response were a timely reminder that he needed to focus on his duty, not his desires.
Gwendolyn Burroughs was meant for the gaiety and bustle of London and the Beau Monde, not the quiet backwaters of a county far from the pleasures the world offered.
Circumstances had brought them together but he had never had much of a chance of winning her heart.
It would be best to let her make a life with the man she loved.
After all, she had surrendered her maidenhood to Robert, he reminded himself bitterly.
And when he had dared to touch her, she had slapped him.
He conveniently forgot how sweetly she had allowed him to give her a spoonful of trifle on Christmas day or the number of times he had sat close to her, brushing his hand against hers as they played chess or read a book together.
*
Gwendolyn tried to put what distance she could between Robert and herself but the sofa was small and he sat closer to her than was comfortable.
She was still numb from the shock of seeing him again, especially here in the wild countryside of northern England.
And even through her numbness she was shrewd enough to detect that his words now were so at odds with the way he had left her at the Cartwright’s ball that confusion and dismay stole her ability to talk.
She let him rattle on about his journey to the north and his expectations for a comfortable future when he inherited the baronetcy from Roland.
The mention of Roland’s name goaded Gwendolyn out of the stupor and she looked at him.
He was sitting at his desk absorbed in writing a letter and checking details in a ledger.
He had not even greeted her today, obviously relieved to hand her over to his cousin.
She bit her lip. Despair gripped her heart.
When she had opened up to Mariana about how her feelings for the baron had changed, she had only touched the surface.
In her secret heart she harbored such intense hopes she wasn’t sure what to do with them.
And so she kept them wrapped away but, late at night when the movement of the baby kept her awake, she allowed the love she had begun to feel for him flood her thoughts and heat her body.
But in the harsh light of day, she knew that he tolerated her because he was innately a gentleman, not as the consequence of his aristocratic title, but because of the nobility of his character.
And that was also why he would never consider forming an attachment to her.
She would never be mistress of this beautiful house or work side-by-side with the baron to improve the lives of the people who lived on his estate and in the surrounding villages.
Once her child was born, she and Mariana would leave this area and she would never see him again.
The baby kicked and she drew in her breath and rubbed her stomach lightly.
Robert rattled on about his experience in the militia and his recent decision to rent a country house in a fashionable neighborhood of Hertfordshire within an easy ride of London.
He didn’t notice her movements or ask after her well-being as Roland usually did when he noticed such actions.
Robert hadn’t even mentioned the baby, although her huge belly was not easy to ignore.
Robert took her hand in his and gazed earnestly into her eyes. “And when we host house parties, people will be able to stay at the Lion’s Head Inn or return to London easily. We won’t need a London house. The Grafton Hotel is a good pied a terre for when we go up to town.”
Bewildered, Gwendolyn realized she had lost track of the conversation. Was Robert Walker courting her? Or did he presume that their previous arrangement was still in place?
She studied his face, noticing for the first time the weak droop of his mouth, the puffiness of his cheeks that reflected his love of easy living, and the shiftiness of his eyes that didn’t seem ever to settle on any specific point.
He seemed to take it for granted that she would welcome his presence and his offer of a life together.
Did he know that the baby was his and would he accept the child into his home?
Surely he would not deny his own offspring a home?
She shot another glance at Roland and then cast her dice where they would bring her the most sure future.
At least if she married Robert Walker she would regain a semblance of respect and return to some of the life she had left behind.
And although she had no pretentions that Robert loved her, at least she would have the joy of motherhood.
With one last regretful thought for her lost hope of winning Roland’s affection and admiration, she drew upon all her previous skills of flirtation and flattered Robert with coy smiles and batted eyelids.
*
Robert Walker paced up and down the library in High Fell Manor. “Do you think Gwendolyn was upset by something I said when she was last here? She hasn’t visited in the last fortnight.”
Roland glanced at the snow-covered garden he could see through the window. “January weather is not conducive to pleasant walks. You could ride over to Low Fell and see her there.”
Robert scoffed. “I will never understand your penchant for low company. I’d be the laughingstock of London if people found out that I had entered the house of a farmer, even a prosperous one.”
“And yet they will be your neighbors and tenants if you ever inherit High Fell. Besides,” Roland struggled to speak though the tightness in his voice, “your affianced is residing there and if you wish to continue in her good graces, you should at least make an effort to see her.” He didn’t add especially now when her baby could arrive any day.
But he spent far too much time wondering how she was faring and hoping that her labor would be easy.
Unlike his cousin, he had called on her once or twice when the weather permitted during the last two weeks.
Each time she had greeted him cheerfully and neither time had she inquired about Robert, although in one conversation she had spoken of what it would be like to live in Hertfordshire and whether members of the ton would forget her indiscretion when she was respectably married.
Roland was saddened to think she would settle for a future so shallow and uninspiring.
He tried to convince himself that a leopard could not change its spots and her real nature had reasserted itself as soon as a member of the Beau Monde showed an interest in her.
And yet he knew, in his heart of hearts that the Gwendolyn he had learned to know and love over the last few months was the real one.
Robert looked around the large, comfortable room as if he had never seen it before, an expression of distaste on his face.
“I will never live here. Doing so has turned you into a curmudgeon and recluse and I have no desire to forsake the civilized world for the dubious company of yokels. I will sell this place when it is mine.”
Roland sat back and studied his cousin. “The entailment prevents that kind of reckless action.”
Robert shrugged. “Then the rents on the farms and cottages will have to be increased and there might be some hermit who will want to rent this estate so that I can continue to live in and near London. Gwendolyn’s dowry will help towards financing life in London.”
Roland was thoughtful. “Gwendolyn’s dowry? Has she not mentioned that her father disowned her?”
Robert made a sound somewhere between a snort and a groan. “So that rumor is true, then. Well, no doubt when she is married he will relent and allow her to receive her dowry. The marriage settlements were almost finalized before I left London and he will honor them.”
“And if he doesn’t?” Roland asked.
Robert scowled. “There are other options, but the rumors that I deflowered the Burroughs girl are making mamas cautious of letting me near their daughters.”
Disgust roiled in Roland’s stomach. “Do you ever think of anyone but yourself?”
Robert shrugged. “Why shouldn’t I? At least I haven’t cut myself off from all emotions and refused to follow my heart.”
He sauntered out of the room in search of something to fill his boring hours.
Roland swiveled his pen between his fingers.
Was he cutting himself off from his chance of happiness by putting his fastidiousness ahead of his joy?
Had he given up on Gwendolyn too quickly?
Was he placing too much weight on the opinion of others rather than on what would be best for her? And for him.