He strode past Nash upstairs, barely pausing to enquire what room was hers and Nash, after hesitating a full moment, followed him.
Chapter Sixteen
“Edmund!”
Louisa’s evident relief at Edmund’s arrival surprised even him, for as soon as she opened the door and saw him there, with Nash in tow, she had thrown herself into his arms, stiffening only as she realised the implication of his arrival.
“Oh.” She crept back into the room, chewing listlessly on a fingernail. She appeared to be weighing her response, and after an interminable moment straightened, dropping her hands to her sides and lifting her chin so that she might look him directly in his eyes, a flash of the old imperiousness flaring in her delicate features. “You are here, then.”
“I am here,” Edmund replied, glancing over his shoulder at Nash, who looked meekly at the floor and said nothing. “I am here to bring you home, Louisa. Gather your belongings. It is already late and we have a long way to travel.”
“Nash?” Her voice quavered a little, betraying that her attitude was more affectation than genuine.
“He’s right, Lou,” Nash said, stepping into the doorway beside Edmund and smiling faintly at her. “The game’s up. Let’s go home.”
Louisa glanced tremulously from one gentleman to the other, before stamping her feet in frustration or disappointment and snatching up the small bundle she had brought with her: her reticule, bonnet and shawl, all that she might have escaped her aunt’s house with without drawing undue notice.
“You have no other bags?” Edmund asked, although he already knew what her answer would be. What had they been thinking, to embark on such a journey so ill-equipped? “Very well, come downstairs and I shall see about engaging a carriage.”
This would not be an inexpensive acquisition and he drew a breath, thinking it would be the very beginning of what it would cost to put this mistake right. As the trio descended the stairs, Edmund massaged his forehead, where a sharp pain indicated the beginning of a crushing headache. With a sigh, he began to make arrangements with an inn-keeper who was only too eager to be of assistance when enough money was exchanged. Several servants gathered around, whispering and giggling as they observed the crestfallen couple and their weary pursuer, but one glare from Edmund sent them scurrying back to the kitchen.
“You will want to eat before you embark on your dinner, sir. I might set a table -”
The innkeeper’s obsequious attention rankled Edmund’s already fraying nerves, and a drunken shout from one corner persuaded him against any further delay.
“Alas, no. We shall be on our way.”
“Then allow me to pull together some morsels for your journey.” The innkeeper clicked his fingers and one of the absent servants reappeared, springing into action. The innkeeper smiled toothily at him. “No extra charge.”
“You are very kind,” Edmund replied, resisting the urge to roll his eyes. He emptied a coin-purse into his hands and sought through its contents, before offering the whole quantity with a swallowed sigh of resignation. “I trust this will adequately compensate you for your trouble, and the use of your carriage.”
“Quite so, sir, quite so!” the innkeeper beamed, delighted at this unexpected bounty.
The door to the inn flew open and a gruff driver entered long enough to nod at the innkeeper and bit his retreat.
“Your carriage is ready, sir. And here -” He turned to the servant, taking the bundle she offered. “Is enough food to see you on your way. Good evening, sir, and travelling mercies!” He made a vague sign with one hand and Edmund dismissed him with a nod, ushering both Nash and Louisa out ahead of him. You would not imagine them lovers to see the careful distance they maintained form each other and from him. Both of their heads were bent, their eyes tracing the floor as they made their way out of the inn and silently boarded the carriage.
This silence remained long after their journey began and Edmund was grateful for it. He had not the temper or energy to endure any list of justifications he could imagine pouring from either Nash or Louisa’s lips. Leaning his head against the window he allowed his eyes to close, already imagining the reunion that would await them when their small, weary party arrived in London.
He glanced over at Louisa, who was sitting opposite him, a whole seat to herself. She had curled up like a cat and somehow, miraculously, appeared to be asleep. The day had taken its toll on her. Edmund could not begrudge her that, and leaned forward to tug her shawl a little tighter around her, for though their carriage was warm, the night was chilly.
He leaned back in his seat, catching sight of Nash as he did. His friend looked drawn and exhausted, more weary and worried than he could ever recall seeing him. A smirk tugged at his lips. No doubt Nash, too, feared his reception. As well he ought! The man had been idiotic, concocting this scheme and luring Louisa into it and for what? For it all to come crashing down around them before they had even cleared two counties?
“I did not mean it to go like this,” Nash said, his voice little more than a whisper. His eyes strayed to Louisa, heavy with regret and affection, even now. “She deserves better than this.”
“She does,” Edmund agreed. “And are you prepared to do better in future?” He shook his head, marvelling at his friend’s self-pity. “You are not a villain, Nash, nor are you cruel. There is a whole life stretching before you and you might yet make good of this.”
Nash muttered something in response that Edmund did not immediately hear, and he tilted his head a little closer, silently inviting his friend to repeat the comment.
“You do not know how blessed you are,” Nash muttered. “You have fortune enough to live exactly as you choose. Providence has smiled on you. You are lucky.”
“I know, Nash. I am well aware of it.” He paused, massaging his forehead once more. “I think it is you who are unaware of your own good fortune. If you were, you would not have sought to squander it.”
Nash glanced at him, his eyes wide.
“Louisa cares for you. The Turners care for you, as do Mama and I. Why did you not come to us? We might have helped -”
Nash snorted as if the very notion of asking for help was even more ridiculous than the idea he might have received it.
“I suppose there will be no help now,” he said, sourly, kicking his heel against the floor of the carriage.
Edmund turned to survey him, his expression weary.
“What do you think this is?”
“THANK GOODNESS YOU’RE alright!”
Mrs Turner threw her arms around Louisa, and Aunt Brierley threw her arms around both of them, awkwardly ushering the pair to a settee that had been moved closer to the hearth, where an unnecessarily warm fire was blazing.
“I have ordered some tea!” Colonel Brierley murmured, wringing his hands and trotting after the trio with an evident desire to be helpful.
“Thank you, Edmund.” Mr Turner looked older than his years, having aged considerably in a day. He grasped Edmund’s hand in both of his and smiled, at last releasing it and leaning rather heavily on his cane as he, too, made his way into the parlour.
“Yes, thank you,” Juliet said, sliding close enough to Edmund to kiss him and nestle her arm through his. She peered over his shoulder to where Nash stood, uncomfortably, at the threshold, and steered Edmund after her family.
“I had better not stop,” Edmund whispered, freeing himself gently from her grasp. “Nash is dead on his feet and has a hellish reception waiting for him at his aunt’s house.”
“As if he deserves any less!” Juliet retorted, her eyes flashing angrily. When Edmund did not immediately agree with her, she transferred some of her anger to him. “You cannot say that you feel sorry for him! After all that he did?”
Edmund shrugged, rubbing the back of his neck wearily. When he spoke, though, he was quick to appease his fiery fiancée, who turned away, poise to abandon him in defiance.
“Of course I do not approve of what happened,” he said, t
ilting Juliet’s chin up so she would look at him again. He kissed her softly and smiled. “I certainly wish they had gone about it a different way, but I cannot put all the blame on him. Louisa might have refused.”
“Louisa is young -”
“Louisa knows her mind, not unlike her sister.” Edmund’s smile grew. “Tell me, have you ever managed to persuade her to do anything she did not wish to do? Or, contrary to that, persuade her out of her desired course?”
Juliet frowned but was unable to contradict this.
“I still lay the blame for this at his feet.” She would not grace Mr Weston with his name, fearing that it would burn her lips when she uttered it, so furious was he with the trouble he had caused.
“He blames himself, too,” Edmund cajoled. “And he shall have to bear the consequences of his actions, do not fret.” His voice grew serious. “I feel quite sure his aunt will disown him after this. You know his family is not rich, and she has been the source of all his income and support.” He sighed. “It will be a hard road for him to walk alone, and he shall have a great deal of penance to do before she may countenance seeing him again.”
“Good,” Juliet said, folding her arms stubbornly. She looked at Edmund. “You’ll not persuade me to feel sorry for him, Ed, so you might as well stop trying now.”
“Very well.” Edmund’s eyes twinkled and he pressed a kiss to her forehead. “You may be angry at him this evening. I shall take him home with me, I think, where he may be guaranteed of admission past the front door. And tomorrow...” he sighed, rumpling his hair even more than it already was. “We shall see. Things always look brighter in the morning.”
Juliet sniffed, not quite willing or able to give credence to this simple-minded view of things, but she did embrace Edmund as he turned to go, and whispered her own, heartfelt thanks for all he had done in rescuing her sister.
“Don’t blame Nash for everything,” Edmund whispered. “Or Louisa. We’ve all acted a little rash where love was concerned.” He winked and Juliet punched him lightly on the arm so that their romantic parting ended in muffled laughter, and Juliet still wore the ghost of a smile as she retraced her steps back into the parlour.
“Has Edmund gone?” Colonel Brierley asked, hovering awkwardly in one corner, holding a pipe he did not smoke and brandishing a glass carafe, ready to fill any glasses he could find.
“He has,” Juliet said. “With Mr Weston.”
Aunt Brierley seemed somehow gifted with supernatural hearing, because her head darted up at this, her eyes narrowing in suspicion.
“And well he might disappear from this house!” she hissed. “Dreadful man!”
“Sister,” Mr Turner began, his forehead creasing.
“You mustn’t speak of him so!” Louisa wailed, looking up from her mother’s face to her aunt’s. “We love one another, Aunt, and we shall be married. You’ll see.”
“Marry? Ha!”
“Let’s not speak of it any more tonight,” Mrs Turner said, smoothing Louisa’s hair and shooting her sister-in-law a warning look. “There will be time enough for all of that tomorrow. It’s late.”
Late it was, and everyone was exhausted, but nobody seemed willing to leave the comforts of the parlour, so they fell into a kind of stupor, making vague, murmured conversation and merely enjoying the comforts of being all together until the first rays of sunlight dawned.
Chapter Seventeen
Nash had shrugged off Edmund’s support on the morning he went to call on his aunt. In truth, he might have valued some sort of moral support, but he was not sure whether having his friend beside him would help or hinder his case. He drew in a breath, his heart-rate quickening with every step he took along the familiar street to his aunt’s elegant townhouse. Edmund had relented, allowing him to go alone but promising to meet him at the club later to debrief. Nash had bargained him down from the club to the White Lion, an anonymous inn where the pair might avoid being seen by others in their set. Nash was not sure he could face meeting Finch or Heatherington or Gill straight away after surviving the reunion with his aunt.
He had reached the door, now, and raised his hand to knock, waiting a moment before he did so. He had an overwhelming urge to flee, but fought it, knowing that the ordeal would become no less enjoyable the longer he delayed it. Screwing closed his eyes, he rapped three times sharply on the door and was shown up to his aunt’s room, little surprised to see her still in bed and determined to see him nonetheless.
“Would you prefer me to come back later, Auntie?” he asked, from the doorway to her elegant room.
“I would not.” Her voice was little more than a bark, and brooked no disobedience, so Nash took a tentative step forward.
“You look well,” he began, biting his lip.
“No more do you,” she replied. “But I suppose I cannot expect any more than that when you have been on an adventure overnight.” She looked past him to a servant, silently ordering them to close the door and disappear, avoiding any chance of their being overheard.
“What were you thinking, running away with that Turner girl?” she exploded. “You do it to try me, I suppose, to test my patience and my affection.” She sniffed, noisily. “It will not work. You are fortunate I permit you entrance to my house at all after that little scheme!”
“Aunt -”
“Abigail knows nothing about it, yet,” she continued, in a low whisper. “I was fortunate enough to keep the knowledge from her, but she will hear of it in time. I suggest you disappear and allow time to take its effect, rather than jilting her personally, unless you wish to cause her still more pain.”
Nash shook his head, feeling a flash of remorse that he might wound the cousin who had done nothing but be controlled by his aunt, as he had been.
“She will find a better class of suitor, you may rest assured of that. I shall see to it.” His aunt flicked a reproachful glance towards him. “I must say I am disappointed, Nash. I thought you a great many things, but foolish was not amongst them. Well, I dare say you shall recover in time. It is always young ladies who suffer more in these situations.” A flash of interest flickered across her face. “Where will you go? The continent? You might join the regiment and make a name for yourself.”
“I have not yet decided,” Nash began, fumbling with his cuff.
“The clergy won’t have you,” she said, scornfully. “And you can forget any thought of inheritance after this little performance. One task I asked of you, one that would ensure the future happiness of our family and you have thrown my generosity away. I am pleased to know what you think of my name, as well as my money.” Leaning across her bed, she snatched up a bell, ringing it noisily. “You may leave me, now. I shall look for your letter at Christmas.”
Firmly dismissed, Nash allowed his aunt’s servant to escort him to his guest room and gathered his few belongings, pausing at the table he had used as a desk and penning a quick note to his cousin, full of vague explanation and light on detail, suggesting he would be gone quite some time and wishing her well. It would work better if his aunt had not declared to all and sundry that they were engaged, but he did put some faith in her ability to rectify the situation. She would focus all her energies, now, in ensuring Abigail met someone new, and as soon as he had the word of her engagement, he would be free to pursue his own. In the meantime, he must seek to make something of himself. You might join the regiment... That was something he could do. And he had always so admired the dashing red of their uniforms. How well he would look.
Somewhat cheered by this mental picture, he even managed to whistle as he walked the long and winding path to the White Lion, finding Edmund skulking in a darkened corner, nursing a drink and laying out a game of patience with a languid air.
“You survived, then?” he murmured, as Nash sidled up to join him.
Nash said nothing but reached across him to make a move he had missed.
“What now?” Edmund muttered, nodding an acquiescence of the move, which bought him
a few minutes longer of a game.
“I am homeless,” Nash declared, leaning back in his chair and feeling surprisingly unworried by this turn of events. If anything, he felt free. Free of the burden of his aunt’s expectations, free of all obligations...all except one, that is. “I must speak to Louisa, and to her father.”
Edmund lifted his gaze, looking carefully at Nash as if seeing to the very depths of his being.
“You mean to marry her, then?”
“Of course I mean to marry her.” Nash was affronted. “I would not have acted so rashly if I did not care for her.” He winced. “I confess, it was rash in the extreme and certainly did not turn out at all as I supposed, but now...now we may have our time over, and do it properly this time.”
He drummed a rhythm on the table.
“And I wonder if I might trouble you for an introduction. You are a little acquainted with Colonel Black, I believe? Is he recruiting at present, do you know?”
LOUISA’S VISIT TO LONDON had not ended at all how she imagined, but not as terribly as it might have, either. Their journey home to Aston House had nothing of the merriment of their journey from it, although there was a sense of peace and calm that even she could not baulk at. Her future was ascertained, not in the way she had dreamed it would be, but in a way that would lead, she hoped, to future happiness.
Colonel Weston. She smiled, sinking a little further back into her seat in the carriage. It was a little way off yet, of course. Nash had to earn his rank, but he was quite determined. He had said as much when he called, contrite and cautious, to speak with Mr Turner that morning. Their interview had been long, but both men had emerged unscathed, and even shook hands, before sharing their plan with the women who were crowded in the parlour, eager to be told what would happen.
I am engaged, and even though my wedding is some time away yet, I may rest content in the hope of its existence! Louisa told herself, recalling the shy, stumbling way Nash had told her of his hopes to secure a position within the regiment and, with Edmund’s help, to succeed in securing both rank and fortune enough to make a comfortable future for them. He would look so becoming in his regimentals, Mrs Turner had said, with a warmth and encouragement that far outshone Juliet. Louisa glanced at her sister, who was frowning sternly at the countryside they passed. She had not been so quick to forgive Nash, nor to pardon her sister’s part in their foolishness, although Louisa dared to hope that in time she might soften. Edmund would help with that, too.
A Summer Scandal (Seasons of Romance Book 3) Page 12