Complications

by Clare Jayne

  “So she loves Jolly?”

  “I think that if she knew how he felt she would be able to make up her mind.”

  “The same argument could be used for him,” he offered. “Perhaps we should leave it to them to resolve.”

  Lottie could not be satisfied with this. She remembered how much she had suffered from Mr Saverney’s treatment and now Amelia was in a slightly similar position. Neither Mr Wrackley nor Mr Brightford were consistently affectionate for long enough for Amelia to be sure either one would propose. Lottie was worried for her friend, particularly when she was still grieving for her father. The men were not being fair to her and Lottie did not want to see her hurt.

  * * *

  “What a lovely estate you have,” Mrs Gallerton said to Mr Wrackley. “Any woman would be lucky indeed to be mistress of such a home.” She threw a meaningful look at Miss Daventry who gave a polite smile but flushed uncomfortably at the pointed comment.

  Mr Brightford had been worried that the ball here might charm Miss Daventry into looking more favourably upon Wrackley, but as the evening’s entertainments began he started to hope it might have the opposite effect. Wrackley, after all, could not dance with Miss Daventry because she was in mourning but he was duty bound to dance with other ladies, which kept him away from her for much of the time.

  He could also see that Mrs Gallerton’s many unsubtle comments were having the opposite of their desired effect and irritating Miss Daventry. The more Mrs Gallerton spoke the less Miss Daventry seemed to want to be here or spend time with Wrackley. Thank goodness Brightford had fallen for a woman with such a delightfully contrary nature.

  Brightford had spent enough time staying with his cousins that he knew around half of the three dozen people at the ball, the group easily fitting into the grand ballroom, so he was caught up in answering enquiries about his health and about Edinburgh for some time. He avoided dancing, though, as there was only one lady he wanted to stand up with and that was impossible this evening. Also, he would not want her to see him dancing with someone else and think his attentions fickle; there had been enough disagreements and misunderstandings between them.

  After a couple of hours Brightford saw Mrs Gallerton distracted by an introduction to another of the neighbourhood’s families, so he headed quickly to Miss Daventry’s side. “It is growing rather stuffy with so many people here,” he commented. “Would you and Miss Harrington care to take a stroll outside. I believe the gardens are quite picturesque in the moonlight.”

  Miss Daventry glanced at Miss Harrington who gave a slight shrug that left the decision up to her. Miss Daventry gave him a bright smile that knocked the breath clean out of his body. “That would be lovely.”

  They headed out, Alex joining them, and Brightford caught a glare from Wrackley. Well, the man had said it was up to Miss Daventry to choose between them. It was a fair fight now and one Brightford was determined to win for the sake of his own future happiness.

  “Oh, how beautiful,” Miss Harrington exclaimed as she saw the gardens brightened by a full moon and lit with dozens of lanterns.

  “It is like magic,” Miss Daventry said.

  Brightford had never seen the expression of wonder on her face before and smiled, touched. Miss Harrington took Alex’s arm and Miss Daventry took his as they strolled round. A few other couples or groups were doing the same but otherwise, after the noise and movement in the hall, the evening was still and peaceful. They even heard the hoot of a nearby owl.

  Brightford let the setting inspire him, sharing light banter with Miss Daventry and offering her several compliments. When they returned to Alex’s home in the early hours of the morning he believed he had made a positive impression – hopefully helping to dismiss from her mind their earlier quarrels – and he was satisfied that Miss Daventry could not fail to understand his intentions.

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  “YOUR BEHAVIOUR last night was abominable!” Mrs Gallerton scolded Amelia.

  They were alone in the drawing room as the men were, as usual, out shooting while Lottie had had to leave to see to some household matters and Mrs Harrington and Mama had letters to compose. At least that was what Mama had said but Amelia suspected that she had just wanted to escape Mrs Gallerton’s company for an hour or two. Amelia had known Mrs Gallerton for less than two months and did not appreciate being taken to task by her.

  “I can think of nothing I did that would warrant your saying that,” she responded, keeping her eyes fixed on her embroidery.

  “You led Mr Wrackley on a merry chase vanishing off with Mr Brightford like that.”

  Amelia gritted her teeth. “I went for a walk outside with three other people, one of whom was Mr Brightford. There was nothing in the least unladylike in that.”

  “Mr Wrackley was not pleased…”

  “Mr Wrackley’s feelings do not concern me,” she snapped.

  “Nor do mine, I suppose.”

  Amelia did not answer and the two of them glared at each other.

  “The trouble with you is that you want to be the centre of attention and you use your beauty to achieve it,” Mrs Gallerton said. “You would rather flirt with first one man then another and think you will get away with such games…”

  “…I do not!”

  “… But you cannot and such behaviour will lose you both men…”

  “Madam, you are not my mother and I will not be lectured by you. I am not playing games with anyone - I simply wish to choose a future that will bring me happiness not blindly agree to marry the first man who looks at me.”

  “You will end up an old maid.”

  She returned her aunt’s glower. “If that happens then I will make the best of it. I want to live my life, not hide away, letting a man make every decision for me and letting the gossip of women cower me.”

  “Do not be so naïve. You live in a world where men are the masters of their households and where the judgement of society can ruin a woman’s life. You cannot give in to Mr Brightford’s sudden flattery. I believe he is just toying with you.”

  Amelia hated the possibility that this might be true. She did not know what to do for the best. “I appreciate your advice, Aunt, but I must decide what to do for myself.”

  “This stubbornness is unladylike.”

  “Perhaps so,” Amelia agreed, abruptly seeing the humour in such a comment from Mrs Gallerton, “but I believe it runs in our family.”

  She was spared any further conversation by Lottie’s return and the two of them went for a stroll around the gardens. Amelia told Lottie what her aunt had said and begged her advice.

  “I feel sure Mr Wrackley will ask me to marry him soon,” Amelia said, “although I have been wrong about that before.”

  “I am certain he will too,” Lottie said, “but I thought your feelings for him were tepid.”

  “They are but I like him well enough. I do not think I would be unhappy with him and you would be close by which would be a great advantage.”

  Lottie stopped beside a statue. “Why would you think of marrying him when you love Mr Brightford?”

  Amelia sighed gustily. “I have not seen Mr Brightford all morning and cannot be certain of his regard. He barely spoke to me when we first got here. Indeed his attentiveness comes and goes in the most unreliable manner. If I only had myself to think about I would not think of marrying without love but I must consider my family’s position. If I do not make a good match quickly then we could face financial ruin. We have already been urged by our man of business to sell our estate but Mama would not hear of it and I cannot bear to see her further distressed.”

  “My poor friend.” Lottie put an arm round Amelia’s shoulders. “I had no idea you had had so much to worry about lately on top of your grief over your father.”

  Amelia felt tears pricking her eyes at this sympathy and blinked them back. Her father’s death still hurt more than she could put into words but she needed to put such thoughts to one side and make a decision.
“I have no idea what I should do, Lottie.”

  * * *

  Mr Brightford returned to the house with the other men for a late luncheon to discover that Mr Wrackley had called upon Miss Daventry and they were out walking together, with Miss Harrington acting as chaperone. Why could Mrs Gallerton not have gone along as chaperone and prevented them from getting any pleasure from the excursion?

  The thought of what Wrackley was saying to win Miss Daventry’s affection plagued him. His heart told him to ask her to marry him before Wrackley could do so, but his sense of honour would not allow it. It was not fair to demand Miss Daventry make such an important decision when her mind was still soaked with grief over the loss of her father. He saw every day how much she and her mother suffered and they should be allowed as much time as they needed to recover.

  Brightford’s intentions must be clear to Miss Daventry by now, so he would wait until they returned to Edinburgh. Then the decision of who to accept was hers. He was confident about her answer.

  Fairly confident.

  He had no idea whatsoever what her answer would be and that, along with Wrackley’s presence, was driving him half insane.

  He went in search of the other men and suggested a ride, hoping that the exercise would distract him. Nathan, of course, insisted that his fiancée might wish to join them and, when asked, Wrackley and Miss Daventry thought it sounded a pleasant idea too. So much for a distraction...

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  THE SUN WAS shining and the world had never looked more beautiful to Lottie as she sat beside her father in the carriage on the way to be married.

  “You are not too nervous?” her father checked.

  Lottie knew that brides were supposed to be scared before they got married but all she felt this morning was happiness. Mr Alexander Fenbridge was the best man she had ever met and she wanted to be married to him and begin their shared life. A month ago she might not have been sure of him but the more time they spent together the luckier she felt. She smiled at her father. “I am not nervous in the least.”

  He patted her hand. “Good girl. Your mother and I are proud that you have done so well for yourself. Fenbridge is an excellent man in every way.”

  “He is,” she agreed, not certain that she deserved any credit for the marriage. She had not set out to secure Alex’s attentions; she had just enjoyed his company and matters had progressed from there. Her present joy was entirely due to him.

  “You coped well with your past disappointment,” her father continued and she gave an involuntary shiver, the reminder of her previous engagement like an ill omen.

  “There is the church,” she said quickly as the building came into view.

  “It is not very large.”

  She had not told her parents that Alex had offered to give her a grand wedding in a cathedral but that she had preferred his local church and the jovial vicar in charge of it. She knew her parents would have wanted all the grandeur possible but this was her wedding and, for once, she had focused solely on what would please Alex and herself. She could not regret it.

  Her father helped her down from the carriage and she felt a moment’s panic - what if Alex had changed his mind and was not inside? A few village children waited outside to catch a glimpse of her wedding dress before ducking back into the church for the service and their smiling faces reassured her. The past was over and she trusted Alex.

  Music began to play and her father led her inside. Lottie saw Alex at once and when he turned round his face lit up at the sight of her. She felt none of her old fears at being the centre of attention; Alex gave her courage as he always had. All she saw was him for the rest of the ceremony and then she was Mrs Fenbridge and everyone was congratulating them both.

  Lottie felt almost overwhelmed by happiness.

  * * *

  Amelia turned round on the church bench when Lottie and her father entered the church. Lottie looked beautiful in her wedding outfit and the wedding was like something from a fairytale with the couple gazing lovingly at each other as they said their vows. Afterwards Amelia joined in cheering for them and throwing rice as they rode off in their carriage together.

  She was still smiling as her party followed the wedded couple back to the Fenbridge estate. Her mother had agreed that they should wear normal dresses, instead of their mourning outfits, just for the day and it was nice to feel pretty again and to not have to worry that her outfit would bring down everyone else’s mood. As they drove along Mr Brightford caught her eye and smiled at her and she could not remember a more enjoyable day.

  When they were in the hall of Mr Alexander Fenbridge’s house and Amelia had hugged the bride and told her how perfect she looked, Mr Brightford approached her through the throng of chattering people. He bowed to her and she curtsied.

  “I would ask you to dance but I know your mother would not allow that during the mourning period,” he said.

  “No. It is impossible at the moment but I feel almost a different person not wearing black today.”

  “You look enchanting.”

  “Thank you good sir,” she said with mock-demureness.

  “I am good today: that is progress.”

  She laughed. “I do not recall ever saying you were not good. It must be your own guilty conscience putting the idea into your head.”

  “Touche!”

  They were prevented from conversing further by the arrival of Mr Wrackley, his many siblings with him. There followed various polite conversations then Mr Wrackley asked if he could speak to her. When they were alone outside he went down on one knee and Amelia’s heart sank. The day had been so promising until now.

  She knew that the sensible response would be to accept him but, despite her earlier feelings, she no longer wished to marry anyone but Mr Brightford. Who had not asked her.

  Mr Wrackley’s proposal was eloquent and seemed heartfelt so it upset her to think of hurting him as she did genuinely like him, but she could not deceive him. “I am flattered more than I can express at your proposal…” she began.

  Perhaps he heard the refusal in her tone as he quickly said, “You need not give me an immediate answer. Would you think it over? I know my behaviour in Edinburgh is against me…”

  Now it was her turn to interrupt him. “Not at all. I am only grateful your friends convinced you that my character was not so terrible as you have been led to think.”

  “Mr Brightford.”

  She was confused. Why would he mention his rival at such a moment? “Excuse me?”

  “It was Mr Brightford who wrote to me that he had been utterly wrong about you.”

  Amelia stared at him, the day darkening as she took in his words. If Mr Brightford had encouraged Mr Wrackley to renew his courtship then he could have no serious feelings for her himself. His friendliness towards her these recent weeks had apparently meant nothing.

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  MR BRIGHTFORD had been less than delighted to discover that Mr Wrackley intended to travel with the parties back to Edinburgh to stay with the Harrington family. Mrs Fenbridge’s parents would return in one carriage while the rest of the group would share another, which would hardly give him a chance to speak to Miss Daventry privately.

  He brightened at the thought that if it was clear how he and Miss Daventry felt about each other then perhaps Wrackley would admit defeat and leave again. This pleasant dream, alas, did not last even until Alex’s estate was out of sight, Wrackley’s behaviour towards her just as attentive and warm as ever. Miss Daventry, however, looked weighed down by burdens today, the happy, witty lady at yesterday’s wedding entirely gone. Perhaps the return to Edinburgh was a painful reminder of her father’s loss or maybe she was recalling her family’s financial difficulties. He did not know the extent of the problem but was sure he could find some way to help them.

  “I believe Mr Harrington offered some assistance to you in the matter of the late Mr Daventry’s affairs,” Brightford ventured, gaining a suspicious look
from Wrackley. “I would be happy to humbly offer my own advice over such matters.”

  “That is kind of you…” Mrs Daventry began then glanced at her daughter.

  Miss Daventry took over the sentence, saying to him with a cool glance, “However, we will not be staying in Edinburgh. We will go to our country estate almost at once.”

  Brightford’s only consolation from this blow was that Wrackley looked just as horrified as he felt. Even Mrs Gallerton looked as if she knew nothing of this plan, which was strange.

  “You will not be gone long, I hope,” Wrackley said.

  “Perhaps a month,” Mrs Daventry said.

  “Or a little longer,” Miss Daventry said. “There may be a number of matters that need to be resolved while we are there.”

  Well, that could not be any more vague. Financial matters? Farming matters? Yet another suitor?

  “I had not expected to be subjected to more exhausting travelling,” Mrs Gallerton complained.

  “We would be sorry indeed if it cut short your visit to us,” Mrs Daventry said, sounding admirably sincere. “However, we would understand if you wished to return home before the winter sets in.”

  “I suppose it would be pleasant to see the estate where I grew up again,” Mrs Gallerton mused and Miss Daventry’s face fell in a manner that would have been amusing in other circumstances. “I recall it is not too great a distance from Edinburgh.”

  Brightford watched Miss Daventry as her mother reassured Mrs Gallerton, who apparently had no intention of going home any time soon. All had been friendly between him and Miss Daventry at the wedding but she had avoided his eye ever since getting into the carriage. Could she have decided to accept Mr Wrackley? No, he realised with relief, there would have been no need to vanish to the country if that were the case. Then what had changed between them in less than a day?

  She was looking out of the window now, her reflection resembling that of a ghost, pale and sad.