by Lucy Adams
Catherine’s lips quirked, knowing full well that Merry was simply trying to avoid Titania’s exuberance that would come from hearing that her sister was to go out walking with Lord Weston, even though she had thought as poorly of him as Merry had done at first. “Should you care to walk for a time, Merry?” she asked, suddenly rising to her feet. “It is a fine afternoon, and I have some parcels to take to a few families in town.”
Merry hesitated. “You are to give blankets and food to those who are struggling, are you not?” she asked, knowing Catherine’s tendency towards philanthropic work, which was a source of great frustration to Lady Whitehaven. “Does Mama know?”
Catherine blushed and looked away. “If I am to keep your secret, Merry, then mayhap you might think of keeping mine.” She shot a look towards Dinah, but their cousin was already slightly turned away from them, her nose in her book. “Yes, I have blankets and the like to give to those who struggle in despair and difficulty.”
“Where did you get the money to buy such things?”
Catherine’s blush deepened all the more. “Pin money is useless to me, Merry,” she told her sister, reminding Merry of the small stack of money that she had stored up in her bedchamber, having never had any desire to buy ribbons or the like. “So therefore, I have chosen to give it to others less fortunate.”
“I shall not chide you for that,” Merry replied fervently. “In fact, I shall ensure you have my pin money also for your endeavors, given that I have very little to spend it on.” She hesitated, then smiled. “Although I shall keep a little back so that I might purchase a new book from the bookshop, should you care to walk with me into town? I will be able to show it to Mama thereafter as evidence of why we chose to quit the house.”
A grateful look caught Catherine’s eye as she nodded. “That sounds wonderful,” she replied quickly. “I shall call the carriage and have it prepared. We shall be ready to leave within the hour.”
Some three hours later and Merry was exhausted. Catherine had practically filled the carriage with blankets and the like and, with the aid of the footmen who were with them, proceeded to hand out what she had to those in need. Having been required to step out of the carriage and walk into the dark, dank London streets, where the acrid smells burned her nostrils and the gloom of misery and poverty seemed to reach out and grasp at her sleeves, Merry had found herself both a little afraid for and in awe of her younger sister. Catherine showed no concern whatsoever, believing herself to be quite protected by the footmen who walked with them, carrying what Catherine had prepared. It had been quite astonishing to realize the depths to which some of London’s residents had fallen, and Merry’s heart had softened with the anguish of it all. When Catherine had, thereafter, taken her to a charitable house, where an older lady had greeted her sister as though she were an angel from Heaven, Catherine had given her the remainder of what she had brought and the lady had expressed her thanks over and over again, pressing Catherine’s hands as she did so.
Catherine’s gentle spirit and kind heart behooved her, and Merry felt herself grow in respect for her sister.
“You shall not say a word to Mama, I hope?”
Merry linked arms with her sister as they wandered up the London street towards the bookshop, the carriage waiting for them. “I shall say nothing,” she replied truthfully. “You do wonderfully well, Catherine. Your generous spirit and your concern for others makes me question my own heart.”
Catherine smiled softly, although there was no arrogance in her expression. “I believe God has given me a heart for the poor amongst us,” she replied quietly. “He does not give the same desire to all, and I should not expect you to do as I do, Merry.” She squeezed her sister’s arm gently. “You must find your own path.”
Merry sighed, feeling a slight heaviness to her heart. “At this present moment, Catherine, I find myself a trifle confused,” she said. “Lord Weston and I have both behaved in a rather poor fashion, and yet something about him draws me towards him.” She had not intended to speak so honestly to her sister, but now that she had begun, she could not prevent herself from continuing on. “He sought me out in order to explain something that I had misunderstood, and thereafter, defended me to another.”
“That speaks well of him,” Catherine replied. “Do you believe it to be genuine?”
It was a question that did not spring an immediate answer to Merry’s lips. She looked towards Catherine and bit her lip, wondering what it was she should say. “I want to believe that his kindness and his seeming keenness to call upon me again comes from his heart,” she replied slowly, her eyes fixed on the road ahead. “I find that I want to know him better, Catherine, which is not what I thought when I first met him.”
Catherine laughed softly as they drew near the bookshop. “Yes, he did make a very poor impression, did he not?” she asked, making Merry smile. “The only advice I should offer is that you ought to be careful with someone such as Lord Weston.” The smile left her face and a seriousness came into her eyes. “He is a rogue, Merry, and whether or not he is being one now is yet to be seen. A rogue is well known to be able to don any disguise that he wishes in order to gain victory over those young ladies he seeks to make his conquest.”
“I understand what you are saying,” Merry replied, finding that she wanted to defend Lord Weston but knowing that her sister was speaking words of wisdom. “I shall be careful.”
“And I do wonder what Mama’s reaction shall be,” Catherine added, a slight tug of her lips indicating the mirth that rose up within her. “She shall either be delighted or horrified to hear that you have accepted an invitation to walk with Lord Weston, Merry.”
A slight twinge of guilt caught Merry’s heart. “Mayhap I should have spoken to her before I wrote to Lord Weston,” she admitted, feeling a little tense. “I suppose I feared that she would be overly exuberant. I did not think that she might be displeased.”
Catherine laughed and shook her head. “It will not matter,” she answered, encouraging Merry. “You have made your own decision, as you have always done before, Merry, and that will not come as any great surprise to our dear mama.”
Merry made to answer, made to retort in a teasing fashion that she had very little idea as to what Catherine was saying, only for the bookshop door to open and a lady to stride through, as the door was held back for her. Merry’s steps began to slow as she caught sight of the lady’s face, seeing her to be none other than Lady Reid, who had spoken so harshly about Merry only yesterday.
Catherine shot her a quizzical look, but Merry only shook her head quickly and turned towards the door, making to ignore Lady Reid entirely. After all, they were not introduced and as such, had no reason to speak to one another.
“Ah, Miss Wells.”
She stopped dead; Catherine tugged to a standstill beside her. Quickly, she turned to greet Lady Reid, plastering a quick smile on her face.
“Forgive me,” she said quickly, seeing the sharp gaze that came from the lady. “I do not think we have been introduced.” She let the words hang between them for a few moments, looking at the lady steadily and seeing the flash in her blue eyes. “You were walking with Lord Weston yesterday, I believe.”
“And he then left my side in order to speak to you,” Lady Reid replied, her lips flattening as she looked at Merry with narrowed eyes. “Might I ask what it was you spoke of?”
A tiny gasp of surprise escaped from Catherine, as Merry herself battled her own astonishment. It was more than extraordinary for Lady Reid to ask such an impertinent question, and Merry certainly was not about to answer it.
“It was nothing of particular importance,” she replied firmly, managing to find her voice. “If you will excuse me, Lady Reid, we mean to find a book to read.”
Lady Reid did not allow Merry to take her leave, for she took a small step closer to Merry and shook one finger in her direction.
“You are to leave Lord Weston alone, Miss Wells, do you understand?”
Merry stiffene
d, more than a little astonished by the lady’s lack of propriety and the rude manner in which she spoke. “I do not think that you have any right to tell me what I must or must not do, Lady Reid,” she replied firmly. “Good day.”
“It will be all the worse for you if you permit your acquaintance to continue,” Lady Reid replied fiercely, her voice low and threatening. “Do not misunderstand me, Miss Wells. I shall make things more than difficult for you if you continue to accept Lord Weston’s attentions.”
For a moment, Merry was quite at a loss for words, having never experienced such rudeness nor such an ill manner before. Lady Reid was clearly determined to have Lord Weston for herself and, therefore, wanted Merry to be gone from his acquaintance. Why would she demand such a thing? Surely Lord Weston could not have any sort of true fondness for Merry, so that he would set his face towards her instead of towards Lady Reid? Lady Reid was beautiful, intelligent, and captured the immediate attention of everyone within London the moment she had returned to town, whereas she herself was plain, dull, and certainly did not capture the attentions of the beau monde.
“You have no right to threaten my sister.”
It was Catherine who spoke up now, her chin lifted and her eyes sparkling with anger. Merry felt herself grateful for her sister’s support, moving a little closer to her.
“She is permitted to speak to, associate with, and accept the invitations of anyone she chooses,” Catherine continued, decisively. “Good afternoon, Lady Reid.”
Lady Reid’s hand shot out and grasped tightly to Merry’s arm. “You have accepted an invitation from Lord Weston?” she asked, her voice rising loudly. “What has he asked you?”
Merry’s frustration burned with her, her cheeks flaring with color. “You shall have no satisfaction from me, Lady Reid,” she told her, wrenching her arm away. “It is only to state, once again, that I shall accept whatever invitations I choose, and that such a decision shall be mine alone. I will not listen to your threats nor your demands. Good day to you, Lady Reid.” She gave the lady a long, angry look before turning her head away and marching towards the back of the bookshop, her heart clamoring furiously within her.
Merry could not help but dart one more look over her shoulder, however. Lady Reid was standing as she had been when Merry had left her, her gaze fixed on Merry. Her brows were lowered, her cheeks a dark, angry red, and a tenseness about her frame that spoke of utter fury. Merry could not understand it, for surely Lord Weston was the one to whom Lady Reid ought to speak should she have concern over whom Lord Weston spent time with. Nor did Merry think that Lord Weston would ever consider her in the place of Lady Reid. If it was his affections she sought, then Merry did not think that Lady Reid had anything with which to concern herself.
“Goodness,” Catherine murmured, looking at Merry in surprise as the bookshop door closed behind Lady Reid as she left. “What was that all about? Why does Lady Reid seem so eager for you to step away from Lord Weston?”
Merry shrugged, not allowing Catherine to see just how confused and upset she was. The strength and the anger that had flooded her as Lady Reid had spoken now gave way to bewilderment, her limbs shaking slightly from the shock of it all. Lady Reid was a powerful lady and the threats, whilst Merry had ignored them, could easily be brought to fruition in whatever way Lady Reid chose.
“You should mention this to Lord Weston, when you walk with him tomorrow,” Catherine added, grasping Merry’s hand and taking her to a quiet part of the bookshop where they might speak in hushed tones. “I am certain he will want to know what has occurred.”
Merry shook her head. “I have no reason to do so. Lord Weston can keep his own affairs in check, and since it is merely a walk and nothing more, I have nothing to concern myself over. If he was to seek to court me, however, then that would be an entirely different matter.” She tried to laugh, but the sound stuck in her throat. “Thank you for your concern and your help, Catherine.”
“But of course,” Catherine replied at once, her eyes searching Merry’s face. “But I still think that you should speak to Lord Weston about what has just occurred. It is best that he knows of it.”
Merry shook her head. “I do not think it will come to anything,” she told her sister, trying to push the incident from her mind. “But if he asks me, then of course, I shall tell him the truth.” She smiled at her sister, feeling the tension beginning to leave her frame. “Come now, let us look at the books before we return home. Remember that I must have an excuse to give to Mama as to why we left the house for a short time.”
Catherine laughed softly, shaking her head, and the matter of Lady Reid was set to one side. “Very well,” she replied, with a smile in Merry’s direction. “I shall be glad to return home, I confess, for I find myself quite weary.”
“As do I,” Merry agreed, suddenly finding herself quite anxious about speaking with Lord Weston come the morrow. What if he was to ask her about Lady Reid? What would she say? And would he come to her defense again if Lady Reid was to attempt to enact one of her threats? Or would he simply stand aside and allow the consequences of such a thing to occur without stepping in?
Tossing her head as though to remove her thoughts, Merry tried to focus on the task at hand. She did not need to think about Lord Weston at the present moment. To give him more of her thoughts would allow him to linger there all the more, and Merry feared that, to do so, might begin to bring up feelings of fondness and affection within her heart, for a taste of such a thing had already begun to make its way into her soul.
She was bewildered enough already without allowing that to occur!
Chapter Eleven
“Good afternoon, Miss Wells.”
It did Thomas’s heart a world of good to see Miss Merry Wells at the door, standing ready and waiting for him. She wore a pale yellow gown that he would not have thought would have suited her—but, as she stepped out into the summer sunshine, he found himself thinking that she looked very well indeed. Her dark tresses were pulled back under her bonnet and a parasol hung from her arm. He bowed as she came down the steps towards him, with another young lady behind her.
“My cousin Dinah thought to accompany us,” she told him, making a stab of disappointment lance his heart. “I do hope that is suitable.”
He began to bluster, realizing that she was simply keeping to the rules of propriety. “But of course,” he replied, stammering a little awkwardly. “That is perfectly suitable, Miss Wells. Please.” He stepped to one side and offered her his hand so that she might climb into the carriage, putting a smile on his face and praying that she did not suspect that his first reaction to hearing that they would not be alone had been one of sheer disappointment.
Miss Wells smiled at him, something flickering in her eyes as she accepted his hand and climbed inside – and Thomas found himself so distracted by the questions that filled his mind over what Miss Wells might be thinking, that he very nearly forgot to assist Miss Wells’ cousin into the carriage. She said nothing, moving quickly and not so much as looking at him as she climbed in. Much to Thomas’s surprise, the girl pulled out a book and began to read almost before Thomas had seated himself in the carriage.
“My cousin is very fond of reading,” Miss Wells said, by way of explanation as the footman shut the carriage door. “Now, which park was it we were to attend?”
Thomas cleared his throat and pushed aside all of his thoughts that came with being in the presence of Miss Wells. “I thought, mayhap, St James’s Park might make for a most agreeable afternoon, Miss Wells,” he replied, seeing her smile and nod as he reached up to rap on the roof. “It will not be particularly busy this afternoon – not as yet at least, although we can remain until it becomes so, if you wish it.”
Miss Wells laughed softly as the carriage began to roll away. “You will find, Lord Weston, that I am not at all inclined towards being seen or to seeing others who come out simply in order to do so,” she replied, lifting her eyes to his. “If you wish it, however, th
en–”
Silently thinking to himself that it would be best if Lord Wiltshire saw himself and Miss Wells together at some point, Thomas shook his head and let his eyes linger on Miss Wells. “No, I am quite content as I am,” he told her truthfully, a little surprised to realize that he had no eagerness to go in amongst the ton, such as it was. Was it because he did not want to be seen with Miss Wells? Or was it simply because he did not want any distractions when it came to speaking with her?
“You do surprise me, Lord Weston,” Miss Wells murmured, turning her head to look out of the window. “I thought you might wish to be seen by the beau monde.” She lifted one eyebrow at him, and Thomas found himself flushing quickly. “Is that not the case?”
“You know my reputation, it seems,” he replied quickly, his words tumbling over each other. “I will not pretend that I have not enjoyed all that London society has to offer, Miss Wells,” he continued, trying to find a truth he could share with her without informing her of the wager that had taken place almost a fortnight ago. “For the most part, I find myself enjoying society a great deal, and I will not pretend that such a thing is not the case.”
“Remarkably honest, Lord Weston,” she replied, her eyes searching his expression as though she sought to see whether or not there was anything lacking with him. “That is where we differ, I think.”
He could not help but ask her another question, caught up entirely by what she was saying. “You do not care for society then?”
Miss Wells bit her lip and looked out of the carriage window again, clearly unwilling to speak.
“Come now, Miss Wells,” Thomas said encouragingly, hoping that this would encourage the intimacy between them. “You can speak to me of such a thing without embarrassment, surely?”
“It is not embarrassment that keeps me from speaking so,” she replied, looking back at him. “It is, unfortunately, a habit of mine to keep all that I think and feel entirely to myself. Therefore, I am unused to sharing the truths of my heart, and I find it most peculiar that I wish to do so now.” She stopped dead, her mouth a little ajar as she realized what it was she had said. A dusky pink brushed across her cheeks, and Thomas found himself smiling in appreciation of the sight before him.
