Chapter 16
Camilla could not reflect upon the moment at the theater the night before without falling into the intensity of her feelings all over again.
Heart flutterings, confusion, indignation that he would awaken such things in her at all—and obstinacy.
He would not win her over again so easily.
But she had to own that Pembroke had been unlike his usual self.
He had always treated her with casual intimacy, a cross between how he might treat a beloved sister and a friend for whom he had not sorted out his feelings.
Last night, something had shifted. This casual intimacy had turned into a focused one.
His words and gestures gave her the sensation that he was on the hunt, and she was his quarry.
She wondered if he applied this charm to other women, even those of low repute.
She did not see how anyone could resist it.
But she did not wish to think about all of that now.
Instead, his promise—warning?—that she would think a great many more things about him in the future traveled through her mind in an endless loop.
Whatever could he have meant by that? It had sounded both like a challenge and a promise.
As though he intended to pursue her with the aim of winning her heart.
But could she trust that from a man who seduced without intending to and quit the field without remorse?
By severely taking herself to task, Camilla forced the issue from her mind.
This piece of distracting confusion was not the only thing to occupy her.
That day, Mr. Islip lingered after morning calling hours, and in front of her mother, sisters, and brother, asked if he might have a private word with Camilla.
Her eyes widened at his boldness, but she could not welcome it.
Lady Poole acceded to his request and, with an encouraging look at Camilla, ushered the others out of the room.
Joanna turned to give her a bolstering smile, and Camilla felt like reaching her hands out to beg them all to stay.
That impulse gave her all the answer she needed if she had been in any doubt.
“In the short while that we have come to know each other,” Mr. Islip began as soon as they were alone, “I have come to see in you the ideal woman for the role of my spouse. I have reason to believe my sentiments are returned, or I should not have dared to address you.”
Camilla’s cheeks scorched from nerves, and she clutched her fingers together tightly on her lap.
She knew she should intercept his speech, but she saw for the first time just how inept she was at handling a proposal of marriage she did not want.
Why, I am still a girl, she realized with dismay.
She searched for the right words and found none.
“Your silence gives me reason to hope—”
“No!” she exclaimed suddenly. Her nerves turned into mortification at his look of shock, and a flush crept into his own cheeks. She was handling this terribly ill.
“Mr. Islip, I have enjoyed our dances together,” she began mendaciously. She stopped and swallowed over a dry throat, her mind grasping at how she might let him down in the gentlest way possible. “And I have enjoyed the two walks we took in Hyde Park. I am afraid—”
“I have not given you enough time to decide, have I?” His expression lightened. “It seems I have rushed my proposal. Allow me to spend more time furthering our acquaintance. Do not give me your answer now.”
Camilla rapidly considered his request. He was right that they had not had much time to come to know each other.
But in the few times they spent in each other’s company dancing, walking, or simply conversing, she had experienced nothing like the galloping pulse that erupted whenever Lord Pembroke was near.
She knew deep down that she would never feel that way about Mr. Islip, and that it was better to let him know her decision now.
“You are very kind. I am also greatly honored by your attention. But,” she bit her lip, thinking that not even coming this far had made it easy to finish, “I am afraid I would be misleading if I allowed you to continue to hope. My sentiments for you are not of a romantic nature.”
“Ah,” he exclaimed with a small grimace, which he quickly recovered from. “If that is the case then there is nothing more to be said. I am only sorry to have approached you in a way that must be disagreeable to you.”
Miserable, Camilla stood and held out her hand. “The apology must be mine, for you have paid me a great compliment with your offer, and I am only sorry I cannot accept it.” He bowed over her hand, then quickly took his leave.
Camilla sat in the silence of the empty drawing room.
As the heat receded from her cheeks, she contemplated her first proposal.
When a girl dreamt of receiving an offer of marriage, it did not include the painful one that occurred when two hearts did not align.
She hoped that Mr. Islip would find someone who would make him very happy and wished she had told him that. It was too late now.
Her mother came in quietly and closed the door behind her. “I saw Mr. Islip leave.” She sat beside her, studying Camilla’s face with a perceptiveness she had not expected.
“I have turned him down.”
Lady Poole greeted the news without surprise. “I expected as much.”
Camilla turned to her, desperate for reassurance.
“Did you know that he would propose to me before today? Had I given him false cause to hope?” And after a brief pause, “Do you think I was wrong in refusing him?” As soon as the words were out, she knew it didn’t matter whether anyone thought she had acted in error.
She could not marry a man who did not set her heart racing, no matter how worthy he was in other respects.
“Many a gentleman will propose marriage when they are scarcely acquainted with a girl, so knowing when and if he will propose is not something that one can predict. However, only you can know your heart and whether a match is right for you. So if you have turned him down, it means that you were right to do so.”
Since Camilla did feel that turning him down was the right course, her mother’s words brought her comfort. “Thank you, Mama. You relieve my mind.”
Lady Poole patted her hand. “When the match is right, you will know it.”
Camilla held on to that assurance even while wondering whether it would hold true for her. The only gentleman who had ever captured her fancy was notoriously fickle. She might believe him to be the right match for her until the Thames froze over again, but it did not make it so.
Mr. Islip would no longer be in the picture, but for reasons she could not understand, Mr. Laverock still was, and she did not know if she wished to encourage his continued court.
Sometimes she doubted whether he was truly who he appeared to be.
His wit came with a cutting edge at times that in the next instant would be masked with one of his smiles.
If that were all, her course would be clear—she must discourage his attention.
But there were enough moments when his charm and warmth seemed so real, she could only think herself to have imagined the other instances.
Besides that, he was handsome and never failed to amuse her, and there were few enough gentlemen like that in her orbit.
It was clear she would need time to know him better, but after what had happened with Mr. Islip, she also feared suffering another precipitous offer before she could be sure of her own mind.
What to do? Gentlemen held all the cards, for if they wished to refrain from making a proposal, they need merely disappear from the scene. If they wished to marry a woman, they had only to seek a private audience. Not for women such straightforwardness. They could only wait or endure.
If only it were possible to say bluntly, “Mr. Laverock, I do not feel I know you well enough to listen to an offer of marriage at present, and I beg you will not make me one until I can better understand your character. With that unpleasantness out of the way, I do enjoy your company and would like to continue meeting without expectations on either side.” Alas, no woman could say such things.
She hoped she was not setting herself up for another painful conversation.
Mr. Laverock proposed to take her walking in Hyde Park, an innocuous enough invitation which she accepted.
Once they reached the path along Rotten Row, she greeted Lady Berkley who stopped her carriage to speak to her.
A little farther on the path, she greeted Abigail Quarles and Lady Milton, although with less pleasure, and wondered where Bernice could be.
Dorothea’s friend, Anne Davenport, walked with her husband, and Camilla introduced them to Mr. Laverock.
From a distance, Mr. Wilmot and Mr. Weatherby tipped their hats to her.
It was a gratifying sensation to be acknowledged by so many members of Society, and a far cry from when Dorothea first began her season.
As Camilla and Mr. Laverock continued on, a carriage traveled in their direction carrying Felix and Sophia.
She was pleased to see that a bloom had noticeably returned to her sister’s cheeks.
Felix pulled on the reins, and after they had all greeted one another, Mr. Laverock went to exchange some light conversation with him.
Camilla used the opportunity to go to the side where Sophia sat and reached up for her sister’s hand.
“Are you well?” she asked discreetly. Mr. Laverock could not be privy to this conversation.
Sophia answered with cryptic assurance and a broad smile. “Very well. By the by, did you receive a letter from Dorry? They are coming to London in a week.”
“Are they indeed? I was not aware of it.” Camilla squeezed her sister’s hand in excitement. “When did you receive your letter? We have not had one.”