Chapter Thirteen
A WEEK PASSED, and the easy recovery between Neville and Lila seemed proof that whatever their feelings had seemed to be during his absence was not the true state of things.
Lila hoped for the same change to take place regarding her feelings for Mory, but those were proving harder to forget.
She thought about him all the time, wondering if she would see him again and, if she did, how they would act toward one another.
She imagined he would be polite, and it would nearly kill her.
Over and over again she replayed their final conversation, trying to accuse him of being unbending or cruel, but none of those accusations fit.
Not really. It was her vanity that had driven her actions, and she could not fault any man for not wanting to pursue such recklessness.
It seemed her nature was not so easily changed after all.
In dark moments she wondered if it were the same matters of personality that had led her mother to such extremes.
And yet even such fear of blighted character did not keep her from the corner of Uncle’s study.
It was the second Tuesday, after all, and she was curious as to whether the sheep had fetched the price Uncle Peter was hoping for at the auction.
That she felt unfit for company and in need of time apart while she licked her wounds gave her another reason to hide with her crochet and listen in on matters far more interesting than the state of her thoughts and conscience.
Neville had gone hunting, and so she had no one to miss her presence this morning.
The sheep did fetch a good price at the auction, and Uncle was considering investing in a coal mine now that the industry was flourishing in this part of the country.
The men were concluding their business about the same time Lila finished a shawl she would give to Eloise on her birthday next month.
She couldn’t snip the yarn without risking being heard, so she bundled up her craft and silently replaced it in the basket, then settled against her corner to wait for the business to end.
She leaned her head against the wall and closed her eyes, drawing her knees up to her chest. If it were not so cold, she might be able to fall asleep.
Rest had not come easily these last nights.
There was a knock at the study door. She did not open her eyes.
“Mr. Luthford to see you, sir.”
Her eyes popped open, and she sat up, turning toward that portion of the room even though it was blocked from her. Mory had moved to a boarding house a few villages over and she had missed him terribly. Why was he returned? And why did she know nothing of it?
“Yes, thank you, Wilhite,” Uncle Peter said casually, as though Mory’s arrival was not unexpected. “Please excuse me for cutting our meeting short, Mr. Jeppson.”
Lila didn’t realize she’d stopped breathing until she had heard the men stand, move toward the door, and then Uncle wish Mr. Jeppson a good day. She carefully filled her lungs so that her head might be right upon her shoulders again.
“Good morning, Luthford,” Uncle said. “Please do come in and take a chair.”
“Thank you,” Mory said. “I appreciate you seeing me.”
His words washed over her, and finally she could exhale, though she did it slowly, so as not to make a sound.
She should not be here, she knew it, and yet even if there were a way to leave now, she would not go.
Though she was ashamed of herself for it, she would not give up this chance to hear his voice and know what he’d come to discuss with her uncle.
“Not at all,” Uncle said. His chair creaked, indicating that he had sat down again. “What can I help you with? Have you found a place?”
“There is one that looks appealing,” Mory said. “But it is not what I’ve come to speak with you about.”
“Oh?”
“No, at least, not the only thing. I spent much of the last week pondering my situation and evaluating my future. As you know I gave up my military career to be the Englishman my parents always wanted me to be, though they were unable to prepare me for that future as well as they would have liked.”
“I do understand that, Mory. For what it’s worth, I know it was the regret of your father’s life that things were not managed better for your sake.”
“I bear them no ill will,” Mory said. Lila smiled sadly, her heart softened by the fact that he didn’t seem to bear anyone ill will.
He was such a good man, and yet she had destroyed her chances of being in his life.
“I am grateful for the opportunity I have been given, only I am having a harder time picturing myself in this place than I thought I would.”
“Understandable, considering the extent of changes that have taken place for you. You are not second guessing your decision to settle here, are you?”
“Perhaps a little,” Mory said. He shifted in his chair, and Lila wished she could see him as well as hear his voice.
He was so close. Then again, he would not speak so openly if she were in his company.
“I do not regret leaving the military. Without a war there is little to do but run drills, but I have wondered if the reason I have not felt particularly drawn to any of the properties I have explored is because my future does not lie in Shropshire after all, perhaps not even in England.”
Lila closed her eyes and dropped her chin to her chest. He was leaving because of her. She had given such a poor impression of English society that he could not find a desire to be a part of it. The shame and guilt was excruciating.
“I am very sorry to hear that,” Uncle said. He let out a heavy breath. “I had hoped that you would feel welcome here.”
“It is certainly not upon your shoulders that I have not felt at home. You have been everything kind and inviting. But you know that I came with the intent to find a living and a wife.”
“I hope it not too bold to mention I had hoped you would find both here. I can only suppose you have instead found neither.”
“Not . . . necessarily.”
Lila’s breath caught in her throat, and she now wished, more than she had ever wished for anything in her life, that she had not hidden in this corner.
Hearing that Mory had found another woman, one who pleased him more than such an addle-headed child like Lila would cut her in two.
She would then die behind this desk—here and now.
She clenched her eyes together and was tempted to cover her ears, except some twisted part of her wanted to hear.
Who had she lost Mory to? Who would take the place she had only begun to imagine could be hers before she had ruined everything?
“But that is why I am here today. When first you wrote me about Lila . . .”
Lila’s eyes popped open.
Mory continued, “You expressed your deep affection for her and hoped that, along with settling in High Ercall, I might consider her. As I have explored my thoughts and hopes and ideals, I have considered that I might find greater happiness abroad, if, that is, I had the right sort of wife who might find that happiness with me.”
Lila could not breathe once again. He couldn’t mean . . .
“I am persuaded to think Lila might be the very type of woman able to endure the lifestyle required when one lives outside of England,” Mory said. “She is smart, curious, enthusiastic, and energetic.”
“She is also impulsive and young.” Uncle’s voice was no longer so casual.
“Such things would not work against her in India. For instance, impulsiveness, when properly directed, can lead to willingness to try new things and experience new society. Such abilities are essential to living differently than one has done.”
“Lila has made no mention of this to me,” Uncle said. “She has been moping about the place in your absence, but I was unaware of a connection between you. It is not like her to keep such secrets.”
“I have not spoken to her,” Mory said. “And I will not without your consent. I am not ignorant of the cost such an arrangement would be for you, sir, and after the good will you have extended toward me, I will not pursue this course without your blessing.”
Uncle let out a heavy breath. “I never imagined Lila going far,” he said with such sorrow that tears came to Lila’s eyes.
“I have always known her prospects would be different than if she were my daughter, but I have taken comfort in the fact that she would likely marry someone from this county and therefore remain near me.”
“I understand,” Mory said. Was that surrender in his voice? “And that is why I wanted to speak to you. I would not wish to cause myself unnecessary expectation. I thank you for—”
“I am not finished,” Uncle said. “I would miss her terribly, but I would never deny my Lila the desires of her heart. I cannot guess what her answer might be, but if you would allow me to speak with her—”
Lila could be silent no longer. “Wait!” she shouted, then scrambled out from behind the desk on her hands and knees.
Mory saw her first and sprung from his chair, either because of surprise or good manners or both. “Lila?”
She jumped to her feet, but stayed rooted on that piece of floor, facing off with Mory across the room. Uncle Peter stood and rounded the desk.
“What on earth are you doing, Lila?” he said, grey eyebrows drawn together as he looked her over. He looked past her at the desk, and his eyes went wide. “Have you been eavesdropping?
“Yes, Uncle,” she said with a pained expression. “A few times a week I crawl into that childish hiding place and listen to every conversation that takes place.”
“Goodness gracious, child.” He closed his eyes and lifted a hand to his forehead in a weary gesture.
“Don’t shame me, Uncle,” she said in a pleading voice. “I only want to hear of your sheep. Men always talk of more interesting topics than women are allowed to discuss.”
She glanced at Mory, fearing that he would be equally scandalized, but instead he had his lips pressed together while his eyes danced, as though he were holding back laughter. His reaction emboldened her that much more.
“I am the most aggravating person, Mory,” she said, giving him a pleading look. “I am curious to a fault, terribly independent, and—”
“Exactly the kind of woman I could live a full life with,” Mory cut in.
He crossed to her and took both of her hands in his.
“I have wished that there were a woman, somewhere in England, who might have an adventurous spirit to match my own. A woman who had the confidence to leave the familiar and embrace the unknown, who might have the curiosity and determination a life abroad would require.”
The sound of Uncle Peter clearing his throat reminded Lila they were not alone.
She looked past Mory to see her uncle standing a few feet behind him.
He smiled at her, a soft and loving smile.
“I believe I should leave you two alone,” he said.
“I shall call for tea and meet you in the parlor when you are ready.” He bowed slightly and left the room.
With the sound of the door closing, Lila looked up into Mory’s face again, her whole body tingling like it did whenever she stepped from the bath on a winter day. “I have replayed my attempt at an explanation and wish there were better words to say it.”
He crooked a smile. “Oh, I think you said it well enough.”
“I do not believe I could ever say it well enough,” she said, shaking her head. “The days since you left have been the darkest of my entire life. I thought I would never see you again, but . . . you came to speak with my uncle?”
Mory smiled and took another step closer, until she could smell the scent of salt upon his skin—never mind that he hadn’t been at sea.
“I was convinced I could have India or I could have a wife and family—not both. I chose the latter and felt sure the right woman would make everything right. And then I met you—a woman different than any I had expected to find in an English drawing room.” He reached up to run his thumb along the curve of her jaw.
“After leaving Franklyn Farm, I began to wonder: what if I found a woman who wanted to see the world beyond Britain?”
“I am that woman.” Lila nodded so fast his face blurred for a moment—his beautifully imperfect face.
“And I can promise that I shall never behave so badly again. I shall not insult your horse, and I shan’t prattle on about politics or gossip or talk about those things that are unseemly for a woman to discuss. You shall make the decisions and—”
His look of disappointment brought her up short. “Ah, but that would be a shame,” he said.
She blinked, completely confused.
“I would, of course, prefer that you do not behave in ways you believe I would dislike, but I can’t think why a woman should have less interest in politics than a man would, and a woman ought to have more interests than embroidery and watercolor.
” He paused to smile. “I am not here today because I want to make you into the kind of woman some silly magazine would tell you to be. I’m here because of the woman you are.
A woman with a sharp mind, quick wit, and willingness to go after what she wants, and then apologize to a man’s face when she realizes she’s behaved badly.
I cannot think of another woman in the world with as much gumption as I have seen in you, Lila. ”
“It has been the trial of my uncle’s life,” she said.
“But not yours.”
She could not withhold a smile. “I have only ever regretted my boldness when I thought it kept me from you.”
He smiled widely. “On the contrary, it is exactly what drew me to you,” he whispered.
He put his hands on either side of her face and cocked his head slightly to the side.
“I cannot promise you great wealth, fancy dresses, or even comfort at all times, but I can promise you my heart and the adventure of a lifetime if you will agree to be my wife and come away with me.”
“I could never want for more,” she whispered, raising her chin half an inch higher. Then she pulled back. “Only, I would want to come back and see my uncle now and again.”
Mory nodded. “Any other demands?”
“Only one,” she said, rising up on her toes so they were almost eye level with one another. “You see, I have never been kissed, but when I have imagined such a thing—I really am a very wicked girl—I hoped it would be something I would feel from my head to my—”
The sensation of his lips upon her own stunned her, but she did not pull away.
His hands moved from her face to her waist and pulled her closer in a quick motion that took her feet off the floor.
He then wrapped his arms around her back, holding her against him and awakening senses she had only ever read about in novels her uncle did not know she read.