Hearts Entwined (Victorian Love Book 3)

by M. A. Nichols

  With her thoughts so full of Lily, Mina didn’t notice the couple ensconced in a darkened doorway until she was standing beside them. With the door fully open, it was clear they did not care about witnesses even if Mina had no desire to be party to such displays. However, the sight of Mrs. Banfield in an embrace far too intimate for such a public place had Mina’s feet jerking to a halt.

  Seeing a woman her age throwing herself at a gentleman barely into manhood had Mina gaping and rooted in place. Even if one ignored the shock of the image itself, it was incongruous with the woman Mina had known all those decades ago: Susannah Banfield of the past had been far more diligent in maintaining a pristine facade.

  Mina felt as though she was staring through a window to the past, but it wasn’t Susannah Banfield who stood before her. It was Amelia Kingsley. Though she’d spent no more than a few weeks in her mother-in-law’s company, it was more than enough for Mina to get a sense of the woman. Brazen was the kindest descriptor for her behavior as she flouted her paramour, who was little more than a boy and was generously compensated for his amorous attentions. Though Mina’s gaze was pointed towards the couple, it grew unfocused as she sifted through the revelations that drew comparisons between Mrs. Susannah Banfield and Mrs. Amelia Kingsley.

  “Do you like spying on others?” asked Mrs. Banfield.

  The young man in her embrace jerked out of her hold, spinning on his heel to stare, red-faced, at Mina. Mrs. Banfield wrapped her arms over his shoulders, nuzzling his neck as she held Mina’s gaze, though Mina’s attention was on the poor lad who looked ready to flee. She’d have to warn Mrs. Brown what her youngest son was up to.

  “Terrance, your mother is likely missing you,” said Mina with a nod for him to leave.

  The young man required no other prompting and scurried to free himself from Mrs. Banfield’s hold. She watched her retreating companion with pinched brows and dimming eyes, looking almost fragile. But it fled with equal speed when she finally met Mina’s gaze.

  “Jealous, are we?” asked Mrs. Banfield, running a hand over her much thinner hips.

  Mina blinked at that question, and in a bout of utter honesty, she replied, “Not in the slightest.”

  “Deny it all you like, but you have always been envious of me.” There was so much satisfaction in Mrs. Banfield’s smile, a spark of triumph glowing in her eyes, but Mina was struck by a realization so clear and obvious that she wondered why she hadn’t recognized it before.

  “No, though I do believe you are quite jealous of me,” said Mina with a hint of awe in her voice.

  Mrs. Banfield’s expression fell, her eyes widening for a silent moment before she broke out in brittle laughter. “Your wits are clearly lacking. What need have I to be jealous of you?”

  With that question, Mrs. Banfield gestured at Mina’s figure with a sweeping motion, as though that provided all the evidence she needed. But Mina felt no flush of embarrassment or spark of anger at that assessment, for her thoughts were fixed on the truth of the situation.

  “You are and have always been nothing more than an awkward, ugly woman with the grace of a donkey, Mina Kingsley,” said Mrs. Banfield with another derisive laugh. But as the woman outlined all of her faults and failings, Mina saw the tightness in Mrs. Banfield’s expression that had naught to do with disgust. With each word, it became clearer to Mina.

  With a half-smile, she replied, “This awkward, unattractive lady won the heart of Simon Kingsley. You offered yourself to him, and he rejected you in favor of me.”

  Yet that was not all. As Mina spoke, epiphanies flooded her thoughts, bringing with them more truths to share.

  “You’ve spent your life being admired, yet even in your prime, a frumpy spinster stole away one of your admirers. Not because of my looks but because he loved me beyond all reason. And with each passing year, I grow more greyed and wrinkled, yet Simon loves me still. More, even. For our love has deepened from those first flutters of infatuation into something deeper and more meaningful than can be conveyed in such a simple word like ‘love.’”

  Mina smiled to herself. Her heart lightened with that statement, bringing with it a flush of gratitude for the many blessings filling her world. “You are jealous because I am happy. And because he is happier with me than he ever was with you.”

  Mrs. Banfield stared at Mina, her expression stoic, though there was a tremble to her lips and a sadness in her eyes that testified to those truths. And whatever elation Mina felt fled in the face of such sorrow.

  “You treat me as though I am nothing, but you are not the first to do so,” said Mina. “My life has been filled with acquaintances and strangers wishing to put me in my place because they viewed me as worthless simply because I had not the looks or social grace to earn their respect. So, I learned to see my value even when others do not.”

  Mina’s heart twisted as she thought about the lady before her and the others who had so often mocked and maligned her. “Whereas you drew your value from others’ admiration, which they gave freely because of your beauty. But that has faded, taking with it the validation you crave. So, you throw yourself at men, hoping to capture a portion of the love and admiration I receive from my husband and children. And even your own daughter.”

  Mrs. Banfield gaped at that, though she said nothing to refute it.

  “I am not jealous, Susannah Banfield. I pity you. Vanity and easy affection have cursed your life.” Turning, Mina strode down the hallway with her head held high, though her heart broke for that poor creature. Whatever their past, Mina did not wish such misery on Mrs. Banfield. A life spent as hers would bring nothing but fleeting moments of joy tinged with the knowledge that they would fade. And Mina’s was too precious and full of goodness to be wasted fearing the opinions of others.

  ***

  Nights were meant for socializing and entertainment, and Victoria had spent her grown years in a constant blur of such goings-on and never faltered despite the lateness of the hour. Yet now she felt thoroughly fatigued. It settled on her like a wet cloak of felted wool. If she were to look in the mirror, she was certain to see dull eyes with dark rings beneath them.

  What little light and life she’d had before the commencement of the ball had drained, leaving her with only enough strength to remain standing. Even escape seemed impossible, as Victoria would be forced to climb stairs to reach her bedchamber, and that was beyond her.

  From across the room, she felt his attention. Though bound to Mr. Flemming’s side at present, Elijah turned his gaze in her direction every few moments, telling her as clearly as any words that he wished to be at her side. And Victoria didn’t know whether to smile or cry at that.

  “And how are you faring tonight?” Mr. Kingsley’s question gave Victoria a start, and she cursed her slow wits that hadn’t noticed his approach.

  “I do apologize,” he said with a grimace. “I wasn’t quiet when I approached.”

  “I fear my thoughts were too occupied to notice. It is not your fault. How is Lily?”

  Mr. Kingsley tucked his hands behind him, a grim expression pulling at his features as he sighed. “Our parents escorted her home.”

  “That is for the best.” Pressing a hand to her stomach, Victoria shook her head. “You must know I never intended for Phyllis or Hettie to do such a wicked thing.”

  “Of course not. You’d never condone such behavior. Though I do wish to thank you for defending my sister as you did.”

  Victoria’s eyes widened. “Why wouldn’t I? Lily is a dear and doesn’t deserve that. I only hope it does no lasting damage, though I fear it will not be the end of it for Phyllis. She seems bent on blaming you and Lily for all the ills of the world, and I fear the fracturing of our friendship will only add to it.”

  Her stomach sank, though she could not tell if it was dread or disappointment wreaking havoc there. The emotions were too mixed to differentiate, and Victoria had not come to any conclusions about whether or not she wished to heal the breach. Their friendshi
p had lasted for some years, but Victoria did not desire a closer acquaintance with someone who would do such a thing. And for her part, Phyllis seemed pleased to make the break in its entirety.

  “But where is your Miss Banfield?” asked Victoria, wishing for a happier subject.

  Mr. Kingsley’s brows lowered, his mouth pulling into a frown. “Mr. Littleton was impudent enough to ask for a dance.”

  Victoria gave a halting chuckle. “Consider yourself fortunate. She is resplendent tonight, and most of the gentlemen desire to stand up with her, but many are too cowardly to ask while you are standing beside her, staring daggers at them.”

  His scowl loosened a fraction before easing away entirely when he met her gaze. “But I did not only come to thank you for your assistance tonight.”

  “Oh?” Victoria gave a vacant smile; she did not know what had him so intent on speaking with her, but she suspected it was not an entirely pleasant subject as his lips pulled into a worried frown.

  Stepping closer, he lowered his voice. “You’ve been out of sorts ever since we broke with each other.”

  Holding onto her placid smile, Victoria gave an airy wave of her hand. “I—”

  But Mr. Kingsley shook his head. “Whatever else may have happened, Miss Caswell, I do count you as a friend, and I don’t like to see you so…” His brows grew tight as he searched for the word. “…overwrought.”

  Victoria’s nerves were strung tight like the strings of a violin, pulled to near breaking, and the slightest pressure of a bow would be their undoing.

  “You acted as my confidant when I needed it most. Might I do the same for you?” he asked. “Perhaps together, we might find a solution to your troubles.”

  Shoulders dropping, Victoria let out a low breath. “Not all problems have solutions, Mr. Kingsley.”

  “True, but when I was on the precipice, a good friend of mine stepped forward to pull me back—regardless of how determined I was to throw myself over it. With some rather unflattering descriptions of my intelligence, if I recall correctly,” he said with a smile.

  A chuckle broke through her tension at the memory of that conversation. “True.”

  “And if I were to hazard a guess, your problem is in connection to the troubles you relayed to me during that conversation. Specifically, your marital goals.”

  “Though we are not suited to be man and wife, I fear you have left all other prospects lacking. No matter where I look, I cannot seem to find someone with whom I wish to spend my life.” Victoria winced, placing a hand on Mr. Kingsley’s arm. “Not that you carry any of the blame for that.”

  “I don’t think it has a thing to do with me.” Mr. Kingsley cast a glance to one side, his gaze landing on Elijah Dixon. Victoria’s eyes widened, her nostrils flaring.

  “Is everyone aware of my feelings?” she said through gritted teeth, though a flash of light-headedness spoke of something more than anger plaguing her. “How did you guess? Does anyone else suspect it? Are we the subject of gossip—”

  “Peace, Miss Caswell,” he said, cutting her frantic questions short. “There was something in your tone when we spoke of marriage that made me wonder if your heart was engaged elsewhere. With a little bit of observation, I came to suspect Mr. Dixon.”

  Placing a hand to her head, Victoria struggled to hold in the groan she longed to give. “You are the second person tonight to ask me about him. It won’t be long before everyone is aware of it.”

  Mr. Kingsley watched her with a pinched expression, his gaze clearly saying he thought her wits lacking. “As my suspicions grew, I spent time with Mr. Dixon—”

  “You did?”

  He shrugged. “How else was I to determine if he is worthy of you? We may not wish to marry, but I do care about you, Miss Caswell. You deserve happiness, and I cannot think of a better gentleman to serve as your husband. He is honorable and determined, and his goals in life align so perfectly to yours.”

  “My goals, but not that of my family,” she whispered.

  “And their goal is for each of your sisters to marry well?”

  “What parent wishes otherwise?”

  Mr. Kingsley bobbed his head to the side with a considering expression. “My parents would wish for Lily to marry happily. Money is of little consequence without it.”

  Victoria’s expression fell. “But your parents can provide Lily with enough of a dowry to make up for a love match’s deficiencies.”

  “And your parents require you to give up Mr. Dixon?”

  Casting a glance to where her mother stood with several ladies, she sighed. “They do not know about him.”

  There was a long silence before Victoria slanted her gaze back at Mr. Kingsley, who stood there, staring at her with disbelieving eyes.

  “You had me completely fooled, Miss Caswell.”

  Victoria’s brows rose. “Concerning what?”

  “Your intellect,” replied Mr. Kingsley in a flat tone, though there was a spark of humor in his eyes to dull the harshness of his words. “I had thought you uncommonly intelligent, but your wits are lacking.”

  Victoria gaped. “Pardon?”

  “You are sacrificing yourself on the altar of familial duty, yet you haven’t spoken with your parents to determine if it is their desire. That is uncommonly foolish. For all your sage advice in the face of my romantic troubles, you seem unable to apply it to yourself.”

  Mr. Kingsley huffed and continued, “You speak as though your sisters’ options are to marry either wealth or poverty, but most in their situation find a happy balance. My mother’s brothers were raised with money, yet none of them have an income to mimic that lifestyle—except Uncle Nicholas, who inherited my grandfather’s estate. But Uncle Ambrose and Uncle Graham are extraordinarily happy with their dowerless brides and living a moderate but comfortable life.”

  Opening her mouth, Victoria attempted to refute that, but there was nothing with which to refute his logic.

  “And if you are willing to marry a pauper and spend several years struggling with him until he establishes himself, why do you think your sisters would feel differently?” asked Mr. Kingsley with a challenging raise of his brow.

  “Oh, now you are just being frustrating, Mr. Kingsley,” she muttered, crossing her arms.

  “You mean sensible?”

  Victoria lowered her lids with a good-natured scowl. “You are far too smug, sir.”

  “And you are far too foolish,” he retorted. “Miss Caswell, you saved me from myself a fortnight ago, and I only hope I can do the same for you. And as an occasionally wise lady once told me, ‘This is your future, so make it what you will.’”

  Chapter 39

  The boisterous nature of the festivities from the night before left Hardington Hall feeling all the more silent this morning. Of course, most of the Nelsons’ guests were still abed, enjoying a leisurely repast or sleeping far longer than seemly to balance the exceptionally late (or rather, early) time they’d collapsed into bed.

  Victoria paced the hallways, her slippered feet sending out a muted echo. A clock ticked in one of the adjacent rooms, and her footsteps unconsciously matched it beat for beat. A yawn crept up on her, starting from her middle and expanding outwards; holding onto that deep breath, Victoria wondered if she ought to attempt sleep again.

  Her eyelids felt filled with sand, scraping up and down with each blink, but no matter how many hours she’d lain in bed, her thoughts would not quiet themselves.

  Arriving at her parents’ bedchamber door, Victoria paused with her hand above the door handle. Retracting it, she stepped away and continued pacing along the corridor outside. But no matter how she thought her way through this issue, she kept arriving at the same point, and there was no ignoring the truth in Mr. Kingsley’s advice. Though she wished to postpone the discussion, Victoria could not waste an opportunity when she knew her parents would be together.

  Without allowing herself to rethink her actions, she knocked on the bedchamber door and slipped in w
hen bidden.

  Papa stood before the mirror, straightening his jacket and giving himself a final inspection, but when he saw her standing there, he turned to greet her with a smile.

  “Victoria,” said Papa.

  The greeting drew Mama’s attention from her place in bed, and she set her teacup on the breakfast tray with a smile.

  “I am surprised to see you up so early,” said Mama. “You seemed out of sorts last night, and I was worried you were unwell.”

  Papa’s brows drew upwards. “Are you ill, my dear? Should I have Nelson send for a physician?”

  Waving away their concern, Victoria shook her head. “I am well enough, though I do need to speak with you about a weighty matter.”

  “Then you found a suitable candidate last night?” Mama moved the tea tray aside and rose to her feet while tying the sash of her dressing gown. “That is lucky, Victoria, for I despaired after you allowed Mr. Oliver Kingsley to slip through your fingers.”

  Victoria opened her mouth to repeat all the many defenses she had used over the past fortnight, but it was Papa who spoke first.

  “There was no slipping through fingers, Mrs. Caswell. Victoria acted as her conscience dictated, so there is no need to criticize.”

  Mama paled as she met Victoria’s gaze. “I didn’t mean it as a criticism, darling. I was simply bemoaning the loss of such an eligible gentleman. He would’ve made you a fine husband.”

  “We do not suit,” replied Victoria, though her mother did not appear to hear it.

  Turning to Papa, Mama frowned. “I still cannot understand why he chose that Banfield girl over our Victoria.”

  “It is a mystery, but there is no accounting for taste,” said Papa.

  “Please listen!” The words came out far harsher than Victoria intended, and she closed her eyes to gather herself.