Enchanted Summer: (Regency Romance)

by Gay, Gloria

  Neither of them said anything. Was he feeling the current of feeling between them as she was?

  Finally he spoke.

  “I have wanted to tell you how sorry I am for my behavior in the wood, Miss Meade.”

  “Please. You don’t have to apologize. It isn’t necessary. I am only sorry to have caused you grief.”

  “I wish only to hear that we may still be friends,” said Robert, “and that my actions have not jeopardized that which is of most value to me, your good opinion.”

  “They have not. I am honored that you should consider me your friend,” said Celia in a voice that came out as a whisper, so afraid she was of being overheard by anyone who would report to Caroline. “I, too, wish to be your friend.” But she turned away from his gaze. She feared that if she continued looking into the dark blue depths of his eyes she would break down, admit that her love for him was as strong as his and thus ruin her family’s chances for a decent life. His nearness was becoming overpowering.

  “I’m glad that we may still be friends,” his voice like hers, was a whisper.

  “Of course—always,” she said without looking at him. She knew that she must not look into those eyes, for to fall into them would be the same as ruining her family’s future in her uncle’s’ house.

  The waltz came to an end and Scott reclaimed her. She did not come near Robert again during the rest of the evening

  CHAPTER 12

  Caroline had organized an after-party gathering the next day which did not include Celia or Bella. She and her sister Sylvia had left at mid-morning and were gone all day. Bella felt the slight far more than Celia, who welcomed it with relief.

  “Caroline is so insensitive,” said Mrs. Meade to Celia. She glanced at Bella, who was quietly turning the pages of her scrap book.

  “I have a good mind to go to Worth with this,” she added.

  “It would do no good, Mama,” Celia looked up from the book she was reading. Caroline’s actions had not bothered her overmuch since she had heard Lord Merrick had declined the invitation.

  “Why would it not, pray?” asked Mrs. Meade.

  “Caroline becomes worse when she feels cornered. It’s best to leave well enough alone.”

  “Caroline has the manners of a Hottentot,” said Mrs. Meade, a peeved expression in her eyes. “How she expects to ensnare that excellent young man, Lord Merrick, when he is everything she is not…”

  “Mama, please.”

  “Celia, I cannot understand how you can stand by and allow her to belittle us so.”

  “We are in a delicate position in this house, Mama,” Celia said wearily. “The less we do to make that position even more precarious the better our situation here shall be. You must remember how it was at Spitalfields and that we could very well end up there again but in worse condition than before, for we would be forced to live in a boarding-house if Caroline does a good enough job of convincing her father. So, please, Mama, do not add to an already bad situation.”

  “We cannot always be bowing to Caroline’s insults, Celia.”

  “We should not force our friendship on her, Mama. If she wants to have her own friends why should it not be so? How can you be comfortable with her friends when she never misses the chance to say disguised insults to you at which her friends laugh, to support her?”

  “Celia, you do twist things so. I have not said I intended to force my company on her, I merely wonder why it is she dislikes us so.”

  “You don’t merely wonder, Mama. You constantly complain of not being included as if you want to do something about it. And to tell you the truth, that scares me. I hope you will remember that we are here on suffrage. Uncle Worth made it an explicit condition of our acceptance here that Caroline’s social life would not be disrupted by us. Have you forgotten that condition so fast?

  “Of course I haven’t forgotten, Celia. “And don’t think I haven’t noticed that Lord Merrick’s eyes are often on you and never on Caroline. That must cause her to twirl in anger in private,” added Mrs. Meade in triumph. “Like the witch she is.”

  “Mama,” said Celia, her voice edgy, “Uncle Worth delineated the steps that he would be forced to take should Caroline become so displeased with us she would want us evicted.”

  “Just listen to you, Celia,” said Mrs. Meade in an agitated voice. “You haven’t realized how much you have gone over to Caroline’s side, to the point that you now side with her against your mother and siblings and even against yourself.”

  “Mama, you are overwrought,” said Celia standing up. “Perhaps we should continue this discussion at another time.”

  “Oh, Celia, I’m sorry I spoke thus,” Mrs. Meade hurried to amend. “Please sit down, dear and finish your tea. You’re right. We should comply with the rules. God knows that awful girl would throw us out to the wolves—if there were wolves about.”

  “You must remember, Mama, that Uncle Worth, however dear he is to us, was merely Papa’s cousin on his mother’s side. Granted that our father was as a brother to him and they were inseparable, he cannot feel a larger obligation toward us than if he had been Papa’s brother. He does more than would be expected of him, much more. I believe we should help him and try to adhere to his simple request as often as we are able to.”

  “I bow to your sensible approach, Celia. I cannot even bear the thought of our returning to our former life, turning gowns over several times until they are in worse condition than Mrs. Bundy’s servants’ clothes…”

  “Mama, we would not even be able to return to even that kind of life. Ours, if we should be unlucky enough to be tossed out because of Caroline, would be a much worse place than we knew before. The few rooms we had in that little house are not an option anymore. Uncle Worth stated to me that he would arrange for us to live at a boarding house.

  “Yes Celia. You’re right, of course. I would not survive in a rooming house, you know I could not.”

  “I know that well, Mama, and it’s for that reason that I am appealing to you to not impose your friendship on Caroline. You know Mrs. Bannister has taken a liking to you and she has a nice little circle of acquaintances. You don’t need Caroline’s friends.”

  “Yes, Celia. You’re right and I’m so sorry, to burden you so.” Mrs. Meade sighed heavily. “I promise you that I shall not try any more to seek Caroline’s company. Let her go her own way, if that’s what pleases her. I shall not interfere.”

  “Mama, you have given me great peace of mind, and I thank you for it.”

  “Well, it’s little enough to give you, considering all you do for us,” said Mrs. Meade in an unusual admission. “I’m sorry I was so peevish.”

  “Perhaps,” said Celia, “you could coax Bella into talk of the ball, for she mopes so.”

  “Yes, I shall do that, dear,” Mrs. Meade stood up and headed toward her daughter’s bedroom, which adjoined hers.

  Soon Celia could hear them talking animatedly and then she heard Bella laughing merrily. Celia listened to them for a while, glad that Bella had been lifted from the doldrums. But she could hear clearly every detail of the ball recreated and gone over and over again until she could not bear any more of it.

  With a quick word to her mother she went to her rooms and donned her short cape and boots. She then went quietly out of the house and into the little wood. Dark clouds seemed to hold rain so a cool breeze was blowing, a clear sign that the summer was ending.

  The little wood and the Shelton forest where she had known happiness at times unbearable in its beauty.

  The edges of her cape and the hem of her skirt and her scarf pounded about her body with the wind.

  She kept along the path, hardly looking up. Then the grief that she had suppressed returned full force, so that she cried out. Tears streamed down her face and she brushed them away.

  She would stay in the Delaney wood only.

  As the hours slipped by she tread heavily down every lane and every hidden path the wood possessed, unmindful of where she was
going. Small creatures darted here and there at her approach, scurrying behind trees or burrowing into holes.

  The coolness of the wood reminded her of how she had forced her heart to be each time she met Robert.

  The wind had picked up and cold rain suddenly slashed about, surprising Celia with the sudden turn of weather. Her light short cape was no shield and she was soon drenched through.

  Coming out of the woods, Celia hurried her steps on her way back to the house and so dazed and lost in thought she was that she did not hear the heavy footsteps until the tall form of Scott Bannister loomed before her, surprising her out of her trance.

  “I’ve been sent to fetch you, Miss Meade,” Bannister said, “and it was a most welcome errand your mother has given me.”

  His voice was uneven as sudden thunder from low swollen clouds that had held on to the rain let go suddenly and the rain slammed down upon them in startling sheets that blew about so that they both exclaimed at the sudden assault.

  “We’re getting wet to the skin,” Scott exclaimed with a laugh. He glanced at Celia to see how she was faring as he pulled his heavy cape closer over his wide chest.

  Startled by Scott’s sudden appearance in the wood’s path, Celia had not seen him except as a dark form before her. And then the rain had startled her further.

  “Good Lord, dearest Miss Meade,” he said, “What has possessed you, to stay so long out of doors with this threat of rain?” He moved closer to her and peered at her wet face. When he saw that Celia was completely soaked and the air chill, he took off his long cape and wrapped it around her shoulders, his arm embracing her protectively as he helped her back along the path against the wind that was beating on them.

  So miserable was Celia with the sudden soaking and her sad mood that she was grateful for Scott’s aid and the comfort of his cape as the rain soaked her hair and face. She looked up at him and smiled in gratitude, unable to utter a word in the loud clashes of thunder, wind and rain. It had been foolish to have stayed out so long.

  Scott was in high spirits from this reception to his gallantry. “I wish I had met you earlier, Miss Meade,” he yelled out to be heard as they walked briskly along the path amid the thunder, rain and lightning. “I’ve been wanting an opportunity for a quiet talk with you!” His voice disappeared in the thunder that rippled in the sky. He tried to keep up with Celia, because in an effort to reach the house Celia had increased her pace almost to a sprint.

  “You must not jeopardize your health in such a way,” he said above the wind’s roar, as his arm circled protectively around Celia’s shoulders and the wind and rain whipped about them with such force now that they struggled to walk. Celia was forced to walk against the wind due to the direction they must take, back to the house,

  “I care very much what befalls you,” he said, yelling to be heard amid the rain and thunder. “I’m glad I asked your mother where I could find you. She had begun to be concerned by your absence and told me you were most likely to be found in the Delaney wood.”

  Scott stopped as Celia tripped on an embedded rock on the ground and took the opportunity to make sure his cape covered Celia’s form completely. Celia trembled a little at the sudden cold and rain. “I must make certain you’re able to make the walk back,” Scott said to her, “for we’re walking against the wind and I can see the cold rain is seeping into you, Miss Meade.”

  Celia was in such a misery of emotion and her world so much in disarray that she welcomed Scott’s attentions as she would have those of an older brother, not realizing that Scott was mistaking them. She had often wished that Fred had been the eldest instead of her, and thus would have had the care of the family. These wishes, this hope for an older brother she would never have, were in her eyes as they looked at him.

  Scott looked down at eyes and mistook Celia’s expression as a welcome and impulsively bend down and kissed her cold lips.

  A second before Celia was to push Scott away in astonishment a cold voice separated them as with the sharp blow of a sword.

  “I beg your pardon,” said Lord Merrick, “I thought the wood empty at this hour.”

  Celia looked up at Lord Merrick and away from him in rapid succession. She had seen the look of disdain he gave her and it was like a slap on her face. All three were standing at the edge of the wood.

  How could she ever explain to Robert how that kiss had come about and that it meant nothing?

  Celia pulled Scott’s cape closer about her as the cape trailed the wet ground.

  “What brings you to the Delaney wood at this ungodly hour, old chap?” asked Scott genially as the three took the path back to the house.

  “An invitation from Caroline for afternoon tea,” Robert responded curtly, and he kept a stony silence the rest of the way.

  Scott, undiscerning in matters of the heart, kept up a light chatter directed at Robert, as all three struggled against the wind and rain to get to the house, even though neither Celia nor Robert uttered a single word. Scott had the air of the happy lover whose advances have not been rejected and who, basking in bliss, has time to chat with mere mortals. His attitude was painfully obvious to his silent companions.

  Celia could say nothing that would not make matters even worse, so she kept silent, while Robert kept his eyes away from her, although he frowned all the way back.

  After what seemed an age they arrived at the house and were greeted by the sight of a merry gathering around a blazing fire. Scott ushered Celia toward the hearth and Celia, as lifeless as a ghost did not resist.

  She had snuffed the last dim glow of her fated love. If before Robert had offered the gift of his friendship his look now proved even that was now withdrawn.

  Through a careless moment she had lost her one prized possession—his friendship. She saw her life stretch out before her wearily, with its lifeblood wrung from it.

  Tears stung behind her eyes, tears she could not allow to flow until she was in the privacy of her bedroom.

  For the rest of the evening, she looked at Robert only when his glance would not detect hers, guardedly, as she now knew she would always look at him.

  Robert sat in a group that included Caroline and Beatrice Longard and a young man Celia did not know and whom Caroline had not bothered to introduce to her.

  Caroline was in high spirits, brought about no doubt by the fact that she sat next to Robert and for a while commanded his attention. She expanded, spoke louder than usual and appeared to want to extract laughter with her wit. She had a ready audience in Beatrice, who celebrated Caroline’s every word and laughed loudly at every turn.

  Jack, who had been sitting by Bella, now moved to where Caroline was and joined in the laughter. Only Robert said nothing, nor did he laugh once.

  Caroline’s eyes moved around the full room and alighted on Mrs. Meade. Her shapely lips moved downward at the corners as they did when something displeased her. She said something aside to Beatrice, their heads coming together at her words. Beatrice looked up to where Caroline’s glance directed, at Mrs. Meade, and the girls laughed again. It had escaped her mother’s notice, but it had not escaped Celia’s.

  Caroline turned to Mrs. Meade. “And when are we to meet the mythical Sir Hugh Downing, dear Mrs. Meade,” she said, “your venerable cousin, that is, madam?”

  Celia was appalled that Caroline was baiting her mother in public. Celia moved to warn her mother before she spoke, but was too late.

  Mrs. Meade, excited at the opportunity to mention her cousin, did not realize Caroline was taunting her and searched her mind to make a favorable impression on the group.

  “Why…let me see.” Mrs. Meade recalled a curt note she had received from Sir Hugh in the expanse of four or five years; this to countless letters from her.

  “My cousin, Sir Hugh, has not been in great health lately so he is not corresponding at the moment.”

  “And what ails Sir Hugh, exactly,” asked Caroline, set on exposing Mrs. Meade.

  “Why…”

&
nbsp; “Is he perhaps not eager to have you visit him, Mrs. Meade?” she asked cruelly, and at a look of horror on Mrs. Meade’s face, went on, “Or is it possible Sir Hugh has been trapped in a dungeon these last few decades and that is why no mortal has had the felicity of gazing upon him?”

  “A dungeon?” Unable to understand what Caroline meant, Mrs. Meade turned around looking for Celia, a vague expression on her face. “Celia, dear, what does Caroline mean?”

  “Perhaps,” interposed Lord Merrick as Celia reached her mother and took her hand in hers, “Sir Hugh would not care to have his health discussed in public. And also,” he added, “a turn at the pianoforte would distract us all from thoughts of dungeons.”

  “Of course,” said Caroline quickly, heading to the pianoforte before anyone beat her to it and flashing a beaming smile at Robert.

  Celia was thankful that Robert had diverted Caroline from humiliating her mother further but she dared not glance at him for she did not trust her eyes not to betray what she felt for him. Instead, Celia got up, feeling the room too hot, and headed for the terrace. Scott, on seeing her leave the room, joined her as she walked to the terrace. And had Celia glanced back at Robert, she would have seen his frown as he saw Scott hurrying after Celia.

  CHAPTER 13

  Celia lived in agony after the incident in the wood with Scott Bannister. The scene would come back to her again and again in vivid detail: the instant when she had looked up at Scott when he had said her name and she, her thoughts with Fred as she wished he had been the head of the family rather than she, had looked at Scott and Scott had mistaken her look for one of welcome.

  How to explain to Robert that Scott’s kiss meant nothing to her when there was no chance to do so? And what did he think of her now? Did he think of her as a flirt who would flit from him to Scott with amazing ease?