Chapter 2 #2
Papa had always refused, and she had felt a wretch for being dissatisfied with the beautiful life she had at Wetley.
Arabella had sworn to herself that she would prove she could be trusted to make wise decisions and not give him cause for concern while in London.
She might have lived a sheltered life, but her education and upbringing had equipped her well.
Silence followed her attempt to defend Papa and reassure Felicity she had not been living a life of deprivation—even if Arabella had sometimes secretly felt that way.
No one understood how deeply Mama’s untimely death had affected Papa or how much assistance he had required with Arabella’s sisters, Mary and Catherine.
She had become somewhat of a mother figure to them, for even now they were only eight and eleven.
Their progress down the wide, lantern-strewn path was soon halted when Mr. Fairchild came upon friends. Arabella and Felicity were introduced to Mr. Frederick Yorke and Mr. Sebastian Drake, whom Arabella gauged to be somewhere between five-and-twenty and thirty years of age.
Mr. Yorke, a handsome young man with an amiable smile and confident demeanor, took the place beside Arabella as the group turned into the winding paths that would lead, according to Mr. Drake, to the much-lauded Cascade, a waterfall in the middle of the gardens.
“Are you enjoying London, Miss Easton?” Mr. Yorke inquired.
“Yes,” Arabella replied. “I have only been here a few days, but it is a welcome change from the countryside.” She stole a glance at him beside her, and only now did she realize how few men near her own age she knew. Papa’s guests were generally twice Mr. Yorke’s age.
“There is much to be said for the country,” Mr. Yorke said, “but I admit that, for me, there is nothing like the tumult of London. It is ever-changing, full of opportunity.”
Arabella was inclined to agree with him. London had an energy she had never experienced and was eager to explore.
The path continued to wind, and Felicity’s laughter filled the cool night air. She and Mr. Drake seemed to be getting on very well.
“Are you certain this is the way, Drake?” Mr. Yorke asked.
“Of course I am,” Mr. Drake replied genially. “Been here a hundred times.”
“A hundred?” Felicity repeated incredulously.
“Very well. Five, then.”
“I have been here just as often,” Mr. Yorke said, “and I am quite certain we took a wrong turn.”
“Are you?” Mr. Drake stopped and faced Arabella and him. “Shall we test your theory?”
Mr. Yorke looked at him skeptically. “Test it how?”
Mr. Drake shrugged. “Some of us go your way, the others go mine. We see who arrives at the Cascade first.”
Mr. Yorke put out a hand. “Done.”
Arabella listened with a hint of unease. Did they intend to send her with Mr. Yorke, and Felicity with Mr. Drake? It would doubly violate her promise to Aunt Louisa, for it would separate her from Felicity and put one of them alone with a gentleman—and the other alone with two.
Was two better than one?
Not that any of these men seemed dangerous, but Aunt Louisa had not qualified her warning against the opposite sex. Indeed, she had been very clear that even chivalry was to be regarded with a wary eye.
“Shall we prove Yorke wrong, Miss Fairchild?” Mr. Drake asked Felicity.
“Oh, yes! By all means.”
“Yes, indeed,” Arabella added, taking a step closer to them and away from Mr. Yorke.
Mr. Drake looked at her for a moment, then smiled. “We could use your impeccable sense of direction, Miss Easton.”
Arabella had no such thing. In fact, more than once, she had spent an hour in Wetley’s labyrinth precisely because she could not remember her way out, but she would not admit as much, and she was soon walking with her cousin and Mr. Drake.
Mr. Yorke and Mr. Fairchild followed behind for a bit, debating between them which direction to take.
The sound of the music from the Rotunda grew faint as Mr. Drake recounted a story to Felicity just steps ahead of Arabella. She glanced over her shoulder as they turned to the left and was surprised to find Mr. Yorke and Mr. Fairchild gone. Had they turned back in the opposite direction?
“Perhaps we should run,” Felicity said to Mr. Drake in a conspiratorial voice. “Then we are sure to arrive at the Cascade first. Come, Bella!”
Arabella turned her gaze ahead again only to find her dress had snagged on an errant branch from the nearest hedge.
“Drat.” She stooped to free herself. The nearest lantern was behind her, causing her own shadow to obscure the entanglement. It was inconceivable to her how a quick snag could possibly result in such a tangle of thread and twig. “Just a moment.”
Silence met this request, and she looked up.
Felicity was not there. Nor could she hear her laughter.
Arabella’s heart began to race, her fingers working quickly at the snag—too quickly, it seemed, for her efforts to free herself became more complicated still.
“Felicity!” she called, ignoring the guidance of her old governess, who had forbidden her to raise her voice. She had also forbidden her to be alone in public places, so Arabella had no choice but to violate one of the woman’s maxims.