Miss Armistead Makes Her Choice

by Heidi Ashworth

  “Dinner is served, sir.” Evans laid a tray on the table in front of his master.

  “Thank you. Please let Cook know how very pleased I am with her amenability.”

  “Very well, sir. Will that be all?”

  Colin had need of only one thing but was fairly certain the butler hadn’t a cure for an ache in the chest that grew with every passing moment. Appalled at a sudden surge of blinding tears, Colin picked up his fork and took a stab at the closest item on his plate. He had not wept since he was a child and felt that weeping would not help him now. Tossing the fork aside, he pushed back his chair, went to the painting over the fireplace and regarded the colors through the prism of his tears.

  “Sir?” Evans inquired.

  “Pray, forgive me. There is one more thing,” he said, never taking his eyes from the painting. “I would like this taken down and wrapped up before breakfast in the morning. Have it sent to Miss Elizabeth Armistead in care of Lady Augusta, Sommersby House, with a card of congratulations on the young lady’s upcoming nuptials.”

  “Very good, sir.”

  The butler asked no more questions and immediately departed, to Colin’s great relief, as he would have none witness the moment when his heart finally gave way.

  Matters were not much improved come morning. If his heart had indeed broken the night prior, it had done nothing to relieve his pain. Either way, the dining room was now a grievous reminder of all he had lost. He should not be surprised were he to open the door and find pieces of his heart scattered like a trail of rubies across the antique rug. As such, he resigned himself to again taking meals on a tray in the library.

  Once he had his breakfast diverted and had ensconced himself in his chair by the fire, he noticed that his calendar attested to the fact that he had only known Miss Armistead even existed for a single fortnight, a fact he could hardly credit. It seemed as if he had known her for the better part of his life; all that had occurred prior was merely a prelude to what should prove the seminal moment of his life: the one in which he had fallen in love. Such pitiful thoughts proved damaging to his appetite and he had made little inroads on his breakfast when the door to the library opened and Analisa rushed in.

  “Oh, Colin! You look positively dreadful!”

  “Why thank you, that was all that was wanted,” he said in what were meant to be bantering tones. However, when he saw the stricken look on her face, he pushed aside the tray table, rose to his feet and opened his arms wide.

  She surged into his embrace and burst into a bout of weeping so violent as to thoroughly wet his coat in so short a time he could only wonder.

  “Oh, Colin,” she said between sobs, “she is to wed that . . that . . man!”

  “Yes. It has been her intention from the beginning. She never led us to believe otherwise.”

  “But he is blind!”

  “I do believe she values that in him above all else,” Colin said sadly.

  “But to be stuck in the wilds of Scotland! With him!”

  “It is most tragic, I agree,” he said, willing down his own passionate objections on the subject.

  “But . . But, she is so beautiful! And he can’t even see her!”

  “One can only assume he loves her for her internal beauty. There is much of it to love.”

  “As do I. As do you! Have you not told her, Colin?” she begged.

  “Yes,” he said, closing his eyes against the throb of pain that invariably rose when he thought of the moments when he had so thoroughly expressed his feelings on the subject. “Her course is set and she is determined. My declaration was not enough. Perhaps it is I, myself, who is not enough.”

  Analisa pulled away from his shoulder to search his face. “You? Not enough? That is an impossible notion. No, it is something different.” She dragged herself out of his arms and fell into a chair. “I believe it must be a matter of trust.”

  “She has not known me for long.” He ran a hand through his hair. “Perhaps that accounts for it.”

  “No, it has naught to do with you; it is her. I believe she fears that you, or any man she weds, cannot see past her outward beauty in order to love her for how she sees herself, whom she knows herself to be.”

  The words he had said to Elizabeth on that very subject only the day prior came to mind. “She should have no misgivings on that score,” he said as he sat in hopes it would disguise the trembling in his limbs. “I am persuaded you are correct in that this could be the reason she first agreed to marry him. However, I have left her in no doubt as to my feelings in regard to her inner beauty. I am persuaded she took me at my word.”

  “Very well, then, it is something else. What could it be?” Analisa asked as she looked to him with anguish in her eyes.

  “She has made a promise and she cannot break it,” he said, rising again to his feet to pace the room. “At least, those were the words she spoke. At the time, I had been willing to accept it as the truth but now that I have met him . . ” He threw his hands into the air in despair. “It is not only his circumstances that are of concern; there is something repulsive about him. How she could have failed to ascertain it, I am at a loss to say.”

  “Perhaps it is a romantical notion that has blinded her to the truth. What could be more appealing to a young girl than an injured soldier who, near death, has rallied purely through her attentions to him? Why, it could almost be a novel along the lines of Mrs. Radcliffe!”

  Colin gave a harsh laugh. “Now you go too far!”

  “Perhaps, but not by much. Oh, Colin! What are we to do?”

  “We? Where is the ‘we’ in this?” He turned to see the tears start again in her eyes and went to take her hand. “I am ever so grateful you are here. You are the best of sisters and I shall be devastated when you are too much occupied to spare time for your lonely brother.”

  “Colin! Never!” she admonished.

  “Yes, for that is the order of things, which brings me to the subject of my lack of persistence. I shall return my attentions to finding you a husband, just as I ought to have done in the first place, and you shall carry on as if we had never met Miss Elizabeth Armistead.”

  “But, how can I?” she cried, pulling her hand from his. “I was persuaded she was to be the sister I never had. I should have loved her nearly as well as you, if not better; you can be so vexing at times! And what of you? A second heartbreak in the course of a month is insupportable!”

  Colin walked to the mantle and absently flipped through a stack of invitations. “Where do we go tonight?”

  “You don’t mean to say that you intend to go out?”

  “I must if I am to find you a husband I shan’t dislike excessively.”

  Analisa sprang to her feet and took the stack of invitations from his hands. “It’s the Scott-Montgomery musicale tonight but I am persuaded you are not up to it. Your eyes are red-rimmed and haggard, your hair is standing on end all over your head and your mouth appears as if it has forgotten how to smile.”

  Colin smiled. “I have already rectified the last and the others can be cured by cool water and some judicious combing.”

  “Well. I suppose it could be managed. A musical evening is far less taxing than a ball or a rout as you shan’t be expected to converse overmuch.”

  “Indeed. I shall sit in the corner and search the audience for a suitable prospect through a looking glass,” Colin said with as much cheer as he could muster.

  “Looking glass? Next you shall tell me that you have become Sir Anthony!”

  “Ah, yes, I knew there was something I ought to tell you. Tony was meant to have fought a duel over the honor of a girl he does not admire but to whom he has unaccountably become engaged.”

  Analisa’s mouth dropped open and they stared at each other in abject horror until, suddenly they broke into insuppressible laughter. “How ironical that the always proper and so refined Sir Anthony should find himself in such a ridiculous fix!” she managed to say amidst her tears of merriment.

&nbs
p; “It is certainly not the manner in which I thought his bachelorhood should come to an end,” Colin riposted. “He shall never live this down!”

  Analisa fell back into a chair and dabbed at her tears with a lace handkerchief. “It is a mystery how closely related is tragedy and hilarity,” she said with a chuckle. “I could not say if these are tears of joy or sadness.”

  Colin heaved a sigh and hastily turned away lest the quickly returned sorrow had made itself apparent on his face. “Doubtless Tony finds nothing joyful in it. He, however, is on his own. It is with you I needs must be most concerned.”

  “Then you shall escort me to the musicale?” Analisa rose and laid her hand on his arm. “Do say that you shall arrive in time for dinner. Mama and Papa shall be most pleased to see you.”

  “I think not,” he said, putting his hand over hers. “I am not yet prepared to be peppered with questions or their disappointment when they receive woefully inadequate replies. But soon, I swear it,” he added. “But see here, do be ready in time; I abhor being late.”

  “Yes, yes!” Analisa insisted as she headed for the door. “Don’t I know it?”

  It wasn’t until he was certain she was gone that he dropped into his chair by the fire and sank his head into his hands. She had spoken so many of the words he hadn’t allowed himself to so much as consider. As painful as the interlude had been, he loved her for it. He had so often in the past weeks thought to show his appreciation for her with a little gift and decided that this was the day.

  Within the hour, he had combed the offensive hair and was making his way down Bond Street in search of an appropriate token for his sister. As he turned into his favored jewelers, he thought perhaps a pendant or a hoop ring of dainty pearls would be just the ticket. He was about to hail the proprietor when he realized the identity of the customers upon which he waited; Elizabeth and Mr. Cruikshank.

  Quickly, Colin returned to the street and berated himself for his wish to return to the shop and shamelessly eavesdrop. Finally, he decided that it was unlikely that he should be called to account by a blind man and a woman who wished to keep his interest a secret. Seduced by the ease of it, Colin entered the shop as quietly as possible and made certain that he was not in Elizabeth’s line of vision.

  “I intend to buy you the finest ring in the establishment,” Mr. Cruikshank insisted. “Have the man show you whate’er you wish.”

  Colin could not help but notice that someone had given Mr. Cruikshank a clean shave and set of linens. He had to admit that the improvement was notable. It did little, however, to improve Colin’s mood.

  Of course, the money used to buy the ring would come from the funds her father gifted her upon her departure, but no matter; Colin was in agreement that Elizabeth should have the finest jewels money could buy.

  “I should be happy with a simple, gold band,” Elizabeth demurred.

  “Nay, that shouldna do! At least have a row of diamonds or rubies!”

  “I should like that, Duncan. Thank you! However, I would feel better if it were pearls rather than diamonds. They are so very dear!”

  Colin could not believe what he was hearing. A hoop of pearls was what he aimed to purchase as a mere token of appreciation for his sister. Certainly Elizabeth deserved something far grander as a wedding ring. If it were he, he should choose nothing less than a rose-cut cluster of diamonds or, far better, emeralds. No! Both!

  “Well, none can claim that I didna try,” Mr. Cruikshank said cheerfully. “What is that you are writing, m’dear?”

  Colin dared to step a shade closer, determined to see what Mr. Cruikshank could not and learned that Elizabeth was, indeed, writing on a piece of paper that lay on the counter.

  “I am only giving the proprietor the address to which to deliver the ring,” she said as she left off writing and pointed through the glass case to an object Colin could not perceive. “I am persuaded whatever I choose it shall need sizing and rather than returning to pick it up later, we might have it delivered.”

  “Very clever of you, lass!” Mr. Cruikshank crooned.

  “Then it shall be the ring and the brooch,” the proprietor announced.

  “No, just the lovely pearl ring,” Elizabeth said but she nodded her head very clearly in the affirmative. She then drew from her neck the ribbon from which dangled the little silk bag that Colin knew contained a lock of his hair. “Should you have any questions or difficulties, I have written my direction on the paper.” She proffered to him the bag with two hands.

  The shop owner took it from her with a wink of his eye and a finger to his nose. “I shall do just as you have asked, Miss. And, sir, I congratulate you on your upcoming nuptials!”

  “Thank you,” Mr. Cruikshank said with a slight bow over the stick he leaned upon. “I am persuaded I shall be the happiest of men.”

  Colin was so absorbed in the scene that he did not think to step out of the shop ahead of them and was struck by the expression on Elizabeth’s face when she turned to see him standing nearly in her path. He admired her fortitude in holding her tongue, but the tears that sprang to her eyes spoke volumes.

  “Come, Mr. Cruikshank,” she said as she took his arm. “I shall lead you back to the carriage if you are done with your shopping for today.”

  Colin stepped aside, swept his hat from his head, and executed a deep bow. When he looked up, the pair had vanished. He had not expected to see her out and about with a blind man, had thought himself safe from seeing her again. Shaken by the encounter, he made his way slowly to the counter and attempted to remember why he had ventured out of the house that morning.

  “Ah, Mr. Lloyd-Jones?” the shop owner, from whom Colin had purchased Cecily’s wedding ring in addition to a few other sundries, greeted him. “How might I help you today?”

  “It is ironic, is it not, that I came for a ring very much like the one you have just sold. Suddenly, however, it seems thoroughly undesirable. I think I should like a hoop of garnets, instead.”

  As the shop owner moved to another case to find an example of what Colin requested, he scrutinized the case that contained the object Elizabeth had pointed to through the glass. It couldn’t have been a ring since that had been already selected and placed on the counter for her inspection. His search produced a tray of brooches, all suitable for the preservation of a lock of hair curled inside the setting in place of jewels.

  “Might I also inspect this tray of brooches?” Colin asked.

  “Yes, indeed,” the proprietor said as he produced the tray requested. “Oh, pardon me, this one,” he explained as he drew the largest one from the tray, “has been sold.”

  “Might I ask if it was to the young lady who was just in the shop.”

  “Yes! Are you acquainted with her? Well! She was forced to write me a note as her intended is quite, quite blind. She wishes to have a lock of her hair set in the brooch that I assume she intends to present to him as a wedding gift. I should think a brooch a bit inappropriate for a man to sport on his coat but perhaps it is only intended for a keepsake.”

  “Yes, I am persuaded you are correct,” Colin said with a frozen smile. “Thank you. As for the ring, I have thought better of it.” He could only imagine how Elizabeth’s sensibilities might be injured if Analisa were to sport such a ring, one grander than a wedding ring and presented to her by her brother. It would not do. With a tip of his hat, he quit the shop and made his weary way home again.

  Chapter Fourteen

  “Elizabeth, my love,” her mother crooned from the passage outside her daughter’s chamber door. “A package has arrived for you.”

  “So soon?” she cried as she drew open the door and looked about for the expected parcel from the jeweler’s. “But, where is it?”

  “In the front hall, of course,” her mother said, her eyes bright with curiosity. “It is far too large to traipse it up the stairs.”

  “I am astonished!” Elizabeth replied as they moved down the stairs as quickly as their skirts allowed. “I h
adn’t expected anything to arrive today but my wedding ring from the jeweler’s.” The additional purchase of the brooch she abstained from mentioning.

  The contents of the package were made immediately known to her the moment she saw it. “It is the painting that hung in Mr. Lloyd-Jones’ dining room,” she explained, her heart sinking. Though she would treasure the painting for the rest of her life, she had cherished the notion that it would be treasured, instead, by Mr. Lloyd-Jones. Perhaps he did not wish to be put in mind of her; the thought make her heart sink even lower.

  “How marvelous!” her mother exclaimed as she read the accompanying card. “And how thoughtful! He could not fail to note how much you admired it and now he has sent it to you as a wedding gift.”

  “Yes, I suppose that must be true.” Elizabeth pulled enough brown paper from the frame to verify that it was, indeed, the same painting and restrained a sob.

  “Elizabeth, my dear, are you quite all right?” her mother asked.

  “Yes, of course. It’s only that I suppose I felt that Mr. Lloyd-Jones held me in higher regard.”

  “Foolish girl! This is a most generous gift, so generous as to be nearly exceptional.”

  “I daresay you are most correct, Mama. It’s only that I had hoped he would keep it, as a remembrance of me.”

  Mrs. Armistead cocked her head and gave her daughter a piercing look. “I do believe there is more to this painting than I can know. However, it seems to me a selfish notion to wish him to pine after you. Is that what you truly want, my dear?”

  “Why should he pine after me, Mama? We are only friends, just as are I and Miss Analisa.”

  “Elizabeth! You know I do not believe a word of that! I should be surprised if any but Mr. Cruikshank did. It is a blessing he is blind or he should see the truth, as well.”

  “Mother, what a thing to say!” Elizabeth admonished as she dropped her face into her hands and began to weep. “I suppose it is true that I love him, just a little,” she said tearfully. “And I suppose he loves me, just a little, as well.”