by Buck, Gayle
Cardiff was attired once more in his greatcoat and the beaver was set on his handsome head. Gloves molded his strong hands. He looked every inch the soldierly gentleman that he was.
Mr. Owen exchanged a few words with his departing guest before excusing himself to retire to his study, where his bailiff was already awaiting him. Mrs. Owen smiled and said all that was civil. Cardiff bowed to his hostess, assuring her of his gratitude for her hospitality.
He turned then to Miss Stafford and found that the polite good-bye that he meant to utter had stuck in his throat. Her beautiful eyes were wide and had darkened with some unreadable emotion. On impulse he said, “Mrs. Owen, may I be granted the indulgence of a few minutes of privacy with Miss Stafford?”
Mrs. Owen was surprised, but she recovered at once. “Of course, my lord. The side parlor is free.” With a soft swish of skirts, she led the way and opened the door. She looked at her niece’s pallid face and smiled encouragingly. “I have a letter to write, Thea, so I shall join you in a short while.”
When Lord Cardiff and Thea had entered the room, Mrs. Owen tactfully withdrew and closed the door behind her so that the two could be alone.
Cardiff stepped close to Miss Stafford. Looking down into her raised face, he held out one gloved hand. She put a trembling hand into his. He lifted her bare fingers to his lips in a lingering salute. His voice was somber as he said, “I did not want to go without telling you what I could not say in front of your aunt or the servants. I shall not forget you, Miss Stafford.”
“Nor I you, my lord,” said Thea in a low voice. She hated to see him go. It was all she could do to maintain her composure. She pressed his fingers hard for a moment. “My lord, I am so very grateful to you.” It was not really what she wished to say, but the conventions would not allow her to say more.
Cardiff smiled down at her. “I am only glad that it has turned out so well.” It was strange. He had reconciled himself to marrying her, and indeed, had begun to look forwards to their union, for it was undeniable that Thea Stafford engendered passion in him. With the mantle of protection cast over her by her aunt and uncle, that was no longer to be their course. He felt a sharp flash of regret.
“Yes,” agreed Thea. The small voice that had questioned and badgered her ever since she had made the decision to seek sanctuary with her uncle now fairly shrieked at her what a mistake she had made in not accepting Lord Cardiff’s offer. Now it was too late and he was walking out of her life. “You will be able to finish your business at last and go back to the army in Spain.”
“Winter bivouac will be very dull after the adventure you and I have shared,” said Cardiff, attempting to speak lightly. He smiled, inviting her to share in his amusement.
“I suspect that might indeed be true,” said Thea on a forced laugh. Suddenly she felt that she had to end the painful interview. “I wish you Godspeed, my lord.”
Cardiff stood looking down at Thea for a long moment. He seemed to hesitate and his hand tightened almost painfully round her fingers. Suddenly he dropped his head and caught her half-parted lips in a swift kiss. He stepped back, relinquishing his grasp on her hand. Without a word, he touched her cheek briefly with one hand.
Thea stared at him, unmoving, her pulse racing. Her heart was pounding in her breast. She tried to say something, to express what was in her heart. But she was held spellbound by the intent expression on his face. She waited for the words he would utter.
She waited too long.
Lord Cardiff bowed to Thea and then was gone. He walked swiftly out of the parlor. The butler was waiting for his emergence into the entry hall and opened the front door. Cardiff hesitated, glancing backwards over his shoulder. No one came forward out of any of the doors to delay his leaving. He told himself that, having already made the rest of his adieus, there was nothing more to keep him. He strode out of the manor and down the steps to his carriage.
* * * *
When Mrs. Owen quietly returned to the side parlor, she discovered her niece sitting on a sofa and staring sightlessly through the frosted window that looked out on the front of the manor and the graveled drive. “Well, my dear? Is his lordship gone?”
“Yes, Aunt.”
Thea’s voice was subdued. Mrs. Owen moved further into the room, her worried gaze fixed on her niece’s averted profile. “How do you feel, my dear?”
There was a wealth of compassion in Mrs. Owen’s voice, and Thea instinctively responded to it. She looked round at her aunt, huge tears blurring her vision. “Oh, Aunt, I feel dreadful! I said nothing but polite inanities, and now I may never see him again! Whatever shall I do?”
“I recommend a good cry,” said Mrs. Owen, quickly sitting down beside her niece in a flurry of skirts and wrapping her arms around the younger woman.
Thea took her aunt’s advice to heart and burst into tears. It was some time before she recovered her composure enough to withdraw from her aunts’ support. Drying her eyes and sniffing woefully, Thea said, “I am sorry, ma’am. Indeed, I do not know what came over me. I do not normally behave like a watering pot.” All of a sudden, she recalled the last time she had wept. Lord Cardiff had been the one to offer her comfort on that occasion. It was an unfortunate memory because it brought tears again to her eyes.
“Perhaps you would like to go upstairs to your room,” suggested Mrs. Owen tactfully.
Thea rose at once. “Yes, thank you, Aunt.” She left the parlor, grateful for the opportunity to hide herself away, and ran upstairs.
Her maid turned a surprised face as Thea precipitously entered the bedchamber. “You startled me, miss!” Her gaze sharpened on her mistress’s tear-streaked cheeks.
“I am sorry, Hitchins. Pray leave off whatever it is you are doing until later. I should like to—to rest for a bit,” said Thea, not looking directly at the maid as she walked over to the wardrobe and made a pretense of looking through her selections of gowns.
“Are you looking for this, miss?”
Thea turned and saw that the maid was holding out a neatly folded linen square. There was an exquisitely embroidered monogram in the corner. At once she recognized it for Lord Cardiff’s handkerchief, which he had lent to her. “Oh!”
“I washed and ironed it, miss. Perhaps you’ll be needing it?” There was a wealth of understanding in the maid’s sympathetic gaze.
Numbly, Thea took the handkerchief. “Yes, thank you.”
The maid curtsied and left the bedchamber, closing the door softly behind her.
Thea waited only until the door was firmly shut before she threw herself onto the made-up bed and buried her face in one of the bolsters, Lord Cardiff’s handkerchief clutched in her hand.
An hour or two later, Hitchins quietly reentered the bedchamber. She approached the bed where her mistress lay unmoving. Even though there had been no response to her entrance, she could tell that her mistress was not asleep. “Miss Thea, your father and your brothers have decided to take their leave, and Mr. Stafford bade me waken you so that he could say his good-byes.”
Thea sighed. “Very well, Hitchins. I shall get up.” She sat up, feeling herself to have been racked by the storm of unhappy weeping which she had indulged in. She had fallen into an exhausted sleep, and now she felt rumpled and creased and altogether out of sorts. She pushed her hair back with one hand. Her other hand still clutched Lord Cardiff’s handkerchief. It was a little worse for wear, being a sodden mass. She slowly opened her fingers and let it drop to the wrinkled bedcovers. Thea turned her back and slid off of the bed.
Hitchins poured water from a large pitcher into the matching basin. “Come wash your face, miss. You’ll feel better for it and besides, it won’t do to show Mr. Stafford those reddened eyes.”
“You are right, of course,” said Thea dully. She washed her face, and at her maid’s urging changed her gown as well. The maid insisted on brushing out Thea’s hair, too, before she was satisfied with her mistress’s appearance.
Thea went downstairs. She found her f
ather and brothers in the parlor with her aunt and uncle. Mr. Stafford and Philip and Thomas were attired for travel in their greatcoats and mufflers and gloves.
“Ah, here is Thea now. I was just remarking that you must have been very tired to have fallen into such a deep sleep for these past two hours,” said Mr. Stafford, wrapping one arm around her shoulders and pulling her against him in a fond embrace.
Thea managed to smile as she emerged from her father’s rare display of affection. She had no desire for her father to question further into her affairs. “I was merely tired, Papa. It has been a fatiguing several days, you know.”
Fortunately, Mr. Stafford was never very perceptive and he accepted her explanation without question. “Well, you must build up your strength as soon as may be, for I suspect that your aunt has many entertainments in mind,” he said with a chuckle.
“Indeed I do, Carter. I hope to introduce Thea into all of the best circles.” said Mrs. Owen. Her quick gaze took in at once the subdued expression in her niece’s eyes. She turned to her nephews and held out her hand to each of them, saying, “I am glad to have had the opportunity to renew my acquaintance with you, Philip, and with you also, Thomas. You must come to visit again, perhaps when the hunting is good.”
The two brothers enthusiastically assured their aunt of their complete willingness to comply with her invitation. Mr. Owen also took leave of the young gentlemen, before he turned to his brother-in-law. “I shall take good care of Thea, Stafford.”
“I am confident of it, Owen,” said Mr. Stafford.
The exchange between them was bereft of most of the former animosity. Thea noticed, of course, but it was as though she watched from outside herself. Nothing really mattered at the moment but the gaping hole where her heart used to be. Strange, how easily it had been for Lord Cardiff to take it with him, she reflected. She distantly wondered if one could survive without such an essential organ. Certainly she did not feel very alive at that moment.
Thea walked to the front door, accompanying her father and brothers. With her uncle and aunt standing on either side of her, she waved good-bye as her family got into the carriage and the vehicle began to drive away.
When the front door was closed, Thea stood looking around her as though she was left at odd ends. “My dear Thea, why do you not go into the parlor and practice your music?” suggested Mrs. Owen.
Thea looked at her aunt and recognized the compassion in that lady’s gaze. A tinge of color rose in her pale cheeks. “Thank you, Aunt. I should like to do that, I think,” she said quietly with a small smile.
“That is a very good notion. I shall like hearing your playing while I am working in my study,” said Mr. Owen approvingly.
Thea smiled again. “You are kind, Uncle.” She turned to walk quickly away towards the parlor.
Chapter Twenty-two
That evening, Thea made an indifferent supper. She pleaded the headache when her uncle quizzed her on it. “Perhaps I practiced too long this afternoon,” she said in feeble excuse.
“I wouldn’t know about that. I only know that it gave me great pleasure to listen to you play, Thea,” said Mr. Owen. He turned to his spouse. “My dear, I believe I have had an inspired notion. Why do we not sponsor a musicale one evening in London? I am positive that our friends and acquaintances will derive just as much pleasure as I do from our niece’s performance on the pianoforte.”
“I like the idea very much, Thatcher,” said Mrs. Owen. She glanced at her niece’s unresponsive face. “Let me give it some thought, for I shall wish everything to go off just as it ought.”
Mr. Owen was satisfied with his wife’s agreement, and while he finished eating dinner he waxed eloquent about the treats in store for his niece in London. In particular, he extolled the city itself. “The metropolis is a place quite unlike anywhere you have ever been, Thea. It is so big and crowded, and the streets will be filled with so many carriages and carts and horses that you will be utterly amazed.”
Thea felt that some response was required of her, even though she could hardly drum up any curiosity concerning a destination that had once seemed like the answer to her prayers. “Oh, dear. I hope that I shall not feel lost in such a crowded place.”
“Pray do not be anxious, dear Thea. Your uncle and I are quite capable of steering you safely through a London season. We shall soon have you feeling quite at home,” said Mrs. Owen reassuringly.
Thea bestowed an abstracted smile on her aunt. “I am certain of that, ma’am. You and my uncle have been more than kindness itself. Will you mind it terribly if I excused myself early and went up to my bedchamber? I fear that I am not very good company this evening since I have the headache.”
“Of course we do not mind, Thea.” said Mrs. Owen in a quiet, soothing voice.
Thea exited, leaving the Owens to exchange a long look with one another. Mr. Owen frowned as his gaze traveled back to the door which his niece had just closed behind her retreating form.
“What ails the girl? She has been listless all day, quite unlike her vivacious style yesterday evening. Is Thea sickening for something?” asked Mr. Owen with a worried expression.
Mrs. Owen gave a small, fatalistic shrug. “I believe Thea is moping over Lord Cardiff’s leaving us. His lordship made a remarkable impression on her in a very short time. I fear that Thea’s heart is engaged, Thatcher.”
Mr. Owen frowned again, the lines in his face deepening. “That’s bad, for Cardiff is not likely to try to fix his interest with our niece. Besides, from what I gathered from his lordship in our talk yesterday, Lord Cardiff anticipates leaving England again, quite soon. So even if he is disposed kindly in Thea’s direction, there is still not the remotest chance that they will meet one another again for some time. Indeed, if ever, for no one knows how long this war will last.”
Mrs. Owen nodded. “That is why I have been thinking today that perhaps we should remove to London earlier than planned. Thea will do better with some distraction. A long shopping excursion and the social functions of the Little Season could suit the purpose to admiration.”
Mr. Owen frowned thoughtfully over his spouse’s suggestion. “Perhaps you are right.” He shot a glance at his wife. “Then let us waste no time. By all means, let us remove to London,” he said decisively.
“I suspect it will be just as well to have a few months in London before the Season’s beginning,” said Mrs. Owen in a practical fashion. “It will enable Thea to adjust to society without it being such an overwhelming shock to her.”
“Quite true. I gave thought to that, as well,” said Mr. Owen, nodding.
“Oh, I do hope it answers,” said Mrs. Owen with a sigh.
“It must, my dear,” said Mr. Owen with firmness. “For it is all that we can do.”
“Yes, I know,” agreed Mrs. Owen.
“I would not be at all surprised if Lord Cardiff attends a few functions until his departure date,” said Mr. Owen. He glanced at his wife. “It would be churlish not to send his lordship invitations to our own parties.”
“Just so,” agreed Mrs. Owen. Briskly, she said, “Well, there is much to be done tomorrow if we are to leave for London before week’s end. I shall send a note at once to our staff at the town house to alert them of our impending arrival. How fortunate it is that I made a trip to town only a month ago, for as I recall, several of our particular friends told me that they meant to remain fixed in town. We shall therefore be able to show Thea a most enjoyable social round.”
“Quite delightful, I am sure,” said Mr. Owen. He frowned slightly. “I trust that the snow continues to hold at bay for the next day or two. Lord Cardiff was undoubtedly right about a significant turn in the weather to be in the offing. I hope we are not to be stuck here now that we have decided to make the journey.”
“I shall begin the task of organizing for our immediate departure at first light,” promised Mrs. Owen. “If we must, we shall leave for London with only the bare necessities.”
“Thank y
ou, my dear. I know you will do your best,” said Mr. Owen. His frown lightened with a happy thought. “Perhaps, if things go as we hope, we shall enjoy a spring wedding.”
The butler entered to snuff the candles and bank the fire for the night. Mrs. Owen encouraged her spouse in his praiseworthy hopes as they left the parlor and made their way upstairs to bed.
The following morning, when Mr. Owen announced to Thea the change in their plans, she was mildly surprised but she accepted the decision without demur. However, as it began to sink into her mind, she realized that Lord Cardiff would still be in London. He could not possibly have embarked for Spain already in the short space of time since he had left the Owen manor. Hope sprang into her breast, and Thea threw herself so willingly into the preparations for the journey that Mr. Owen was moved to say, “See how our decision is already having a good effect, my dear!”
Mrs. Owen agreed and did not confide her inevitable reflections to her husband. She rather thought she had a fair notion of what was going on in her niece’s head. Thea had no idea yet of how vast the metropolis was, nor how unlikely it would be to simply chance upon Lord Cardiff in one of the streets. Indeed, it was improbable that the two would encounter one another at all unless they happened to attend the same function. “And that is one thing that we can do for Thea,” she murmured to herself, a determined light in her eyes. Already she was devising plans for several such elegant functions.
The Owens and Thea got off on the journey to London without difficulty. They rode in one carriage, and another followed carrying their personal servants and the baggage. Before their departure, Mrs. Owen had discharged the chambermaid who had accompanied Thea from the inn, sending the young woman back to her home on the stagecoach.
Tiny flakes started to fall as the carriages started out, but Mr. Owen prophesied that the weather would not turn bad that day. “I am vastly content, dear wife. We have gotten off in splendid time. Even if we are forced to take two or more days on the road, it will not prove arduous,” said Mr. Owen.
