Miss Wilton's Waltz

by Josi S. Kilpack

  They began walking the perimeter of the room, talking to acquaintances and remarking about the week ahead. Bath was a small enough city that the entertainments were limited; most people saw the same plays and the same operas. There was another musicale on Saturday afternoon in the lower rooms, a traveling orchestra from Scotland that was causing excitement since they would be a change from the typical classical music.

  “Miss Keighly. Mr. Asher.”

  Aiden inclined his head in greeting to Mrs. Warner, a new acquaintance of Miss Keighly’s. The women had shopped and dined together a few times—women made friends so quickly. He imagined that after he married Miss Keighly, she would entertain quite often. He would need to make his peace with that.

  “I heard back from my sister and gained the address,” Mrs. Warner said. “There are three spots open for winter term.” She handed over a folded notecard, then leaned in as though to hide what she said next, although she had to know Aiden would overhear. “She agreed it would be just the place for your ward. They have . . . considerations.”

  Aiden felt a flare of suspicion but kept his expression neutral. Miss Keighly thanked Mrs. Warner and tucked the note into her reticule. They moved forward again.

  “What was that about?” Aiden asked.

  “Mrs. Warner’s sister once taught at a school for girls in Wales. She’s found the address so that we might inquire about Catherine’s possible enrollment.”

  “We?”

  She looked at him, smiled, and then tapped his arm. “Of course we. We would make the decision together, Mr. Asher. I only wanted to gather some referrals, much as I did for Mrs. Henry’s school here in Bath.”

  Aiden felt himself tightening like a rope.

  “I have no interest in sending Catherine to Wales or any other distant school, Miss Keighly. She will remain near me throughout the duration of her school years.” He had to speak through a smile as they continued to nod greetings at the people they passed.

  “But that decision was made before— Good morning, Mrs. Simmons.”

  Aiden met Mrs. Simmons’s eyes and wished he could talk to her right now instead of Miss Keighly. She had given him good counsel in the past; perhaps she could help him out of this muddle.

  “Good morning,” Mrs. Simmons said.

  “And how is Catherine today?” Miss Keighly said as though she were not at that moment orchestrating the removal of the girl.

  “Very well,” Mrs. Simmons said, inclining her head politely. “She and Lenora were working on a puzzle when I left.”

  “A puzzle?” Miss Keighly sounded surprised, her eyebrows drawn together.

  “Catherine responds very well to games, so Lenora has found a way to combine letters and puzzle pieces. I do not really understand it myself, but Catherine enjoys it.”

  “I’m sure she does,” Miss Keighly said. “I would have adored doing puzzles instead of composition.”

  “I’m glad to hear she is well,” Aiden interjected before Miss Keighly could add anything else. “Please give her our regards.”

  “And Miss Wilton too,” Miss Keighly said.

  “Certainly,” Mrs. Simmons said before she moved on. She caught Aiden’s eye long enough to raise an eyebrow.

  He hoped she saw the desperation in his eye, but Miss Keighly continued forward, and he was forced to walk with her. He tried twice more to return to the topic of Catherine’s schooling, but they were interrupted both times. He decided to wait until they had finished the morning promenade.

  The rain had not slackened in the least during their turns about the room, and they huddled under the umbrella as they made their way through the puddled streets toward the White Hart. Delaying the conversation had only encouraged more boldness on Aiden’s part. He spoke at the first opportunity he could.

  “I will not send Catherine to Wales, Miss Keighly.”

  “Of course we will, if it is the best place for her.” As ever, she was calm and perfectly composed.

  “The best course for her is to remain connected to what is left of her family. I only agreed to Mrs. Henry’s school because I could stay nearby and support her through it. I will not send her across the country to a school I know nothing about.”

  “Which is why I will send for some literature about what they have to offer. We would certainly not send her somewhere we had not properly investigated. You know I am in full support of her education, Mr. Asher, but you cannot believe that she is getting what she needs in Bath.” She gave him a rueful look. “Puzzles? Games? Surely you are as disappointed to hear of that as I am. She needs a proper education if she is ever to succeed in this world, and knowing that her day is filled with games, in addition to the prizes you insist to continue rewarding her with, surely helps you realize that she needs something more than this.”

  “Miss Wilton is making good progress with her.”

  Miss Keighly scoffed. “She coddles the girl.”

  The tension Aiden felt returned full-force, like a frayed rope near to splitting. “Once Catherine has caught up, she will return to Mrs. Henry’s school.”

  “Catherine will never catch up if she is not taught proper fundamentals. The school in Wales is for girls who have the very difficulties Catherine has exhibited. The teachers are trained to address her struggles, not bend to her will.”

  She meant physical punishment, demerits, restraints, and confinement designed to break their students like horses. Like the school in Germany, Aiden thought.

  “I will not send her away, Miss Keighly. I am pleased with the current arrangement and have full confidence that her situation will continue to improve. I appreciate your interest, but I ask you not to pursue this further.”

  “You act as though I made a commitment of some sort, when we have not even received the literature. Surely you agree that we should make an informed choice.”

  “I will not send her away, therefore there is no reason to send for information. I will ask again—do not pursue this course.” The tightness he’d been feeling had seeped into his tone, and he did not attempt to disguise it.

  They walked in silence until they reached the White Hart. A footman opened the door and took Aiden’s umbrella. Miss Keighly turned toward one of the sitting rooms set off the entryway, and he followed her. She turned to face him in the empty room.

  “I understood that we would make decisions together,” Miss Keighly said, her eyes showing the first sign of anger he’d ever seen from her, which only fortified his refusal to retreat. “As your wife, I expect to be your helpmeet and fulfill my role as Catherine’s mother.”

  “I had thought we were of the same mind in regards to Catherine—that she needed a family, a home, and support. She is improving at a steady rate here in Bath, and I will not abandon her or send her away as everyone else has done.”

  The determination in Miss Keighly’s eyes showed her to be a formidable opponent. “I was of the same mind after her last failure, Mr. Asher. Bath seemed to be the solution, but she has failed here as well. You are being selfish in your decision by choosing what is best for you rather than what is best for her—or, rather, us.”

  “Selfish?” he repeated. “I have turned my life upside down to help her.” He’d said as much to Catherine several times, but never to anyone else.

  “Yes, to assuage your guilt of the treatment she received in your absence. You have already done more for her than anyone could expect.” She stepped toward him and he tensed. Would she attempt to appeal to some other part of him? Quick on the heels of that thought was the realization that he had nothing to fear. He did not respond to Miss Keighly physically, so there was no risk that her feminine wiles might blind him to his goals.

  She placed a hand on his arm—he felt no warmth, no invigoration. For a moment, Lenora flashed into his mind. His body responded to her memory a hundred times stronger than it did to Miss Keighly, who was
so close to him.

  Her expression softened, but he could feel the calculation of it. “I admire your devotion, Mr. Asher, but we shall be a family of our own come January and cannot allow Catherine to be the deciding factor in our life together. You have done all that is required, but this slipshod effort to maintain the facade of education is too much to bear.” She trailed her fingers down the sleeve of his coat. He felt nothing but frustration as he tried to keep his temper in check. “I must warn you that I am devoted to convincing you that this is the right course, the best course. For all of us.” She smiled, as coy as he’d ever seen her.

  He lifted her hand from his sleeve and stepped away from her. She frowned.

  “It is not guilt that motivates my devotion to Catherine. I care for her because she is my family and a priority in my life. My motivation in proposing to you was to give Catherine a family—you know this. Sending her away is at complete odds with my hopes for her. For us.”

  Miss Keighly’s expression changed. “Is Catherine a higher priority than your wife?” She folded her arms over her chest.

  “Yes,” he said without hesitation. “I came back to England, for her. I proposed to you, for her. I came to Bath, for her. She has been my motivation for everything; I thought you understood that. If you are unable to accept that, then perhaps you should reconsider your decision regarding our engagement.”

  Her expression turned thoughtful, and she cocked her head to the side. “It is Miss Wilton, isn’t it?” There was the hint of a laugh in her voice, as though she had suddenly discovered a hidden meaning and now understood the joke. “You want to keep Catherine under Miss Wilton’s tutelage so that you might remain close to her. Is that what you discussed with her in the stables last week?”

  Aiden felt his neck heat up but stared at her coldly. “Miss Wilton has nothing to do with my commitment to Catherine, aside from the progress she is making under her teaching.” In fact, getting away from Lenora would be a relief. Perhaps then he could forget about her completely. Keeping Catherine under her care kept him in a state of constant discomfort. “And you will not insinuate such ideas again. I have no prospects with Miss Wilton.”

  Miss Keighly adopted a neutral expression. “We will talk about the school situation later, when you are not so . . . invigorated.”

  She thought he would change his mind. She believed that by stowing the topic for later, he would be more reasonable. She expected to get her way.

  Aiden kept his voice level when he spoke again. “Catherine is, and will continue to be, my first priority, Miss Keighly, above even you, and then with shared commitment when I have children of my own. Can you abide that?”

  She held his eyes for a few seconds. “And if I am the mother of those future children, I still shall not rise in rank on your scale of priorities?”

  “Not to the point that you will ever make decisions regarding Catherine’s care.”

  “You would shut me out of such things completely?” She scoffed, as though she still did not believe he was being serious.

  “On this matter, yes, I will. It is obvious that you have disregarded my commitment to her, therefore I can only trust my own instincts.”

  Miss Keighly took a breath, then unfolded her crossed arms and straightened the cuff of her pelisse. “As I said, I believe we should discuss this another time.” She turned toward the door, dismissing him, and pounding the last nail into a coffin he had wanted to bury for some time. It was clear that, should they marry, this would be a continued argument. She did not believe his determination and felt she could sway him.

  “You have twenty-four hours to cry off from our engagement, Miss Keighly.”

  She turned to face him, her eyes wide. “What did you say?”

  “It has become clear to me that we have irreconcilable differences that will not allow for a happy or companionate marriage between us. I had hoped—” He stopped. No, he had not hoped. “I had thought that we might make our arrangement work, but it was always for Catherine’s sake, and yet your interests for her are not what I thought them to be. Rather than put ourselves in a situation where we would be on opposing sides of such a long-term and important issue, it would be better that we end our connection now and move on separately with our lives.”

  Miss Keighly narrowed her eyes. “It is Miss Wilton again. You have been looking for—”

  “It is not Miss Wilton,” he said with a growl of frustration. He tempered it before he spoke again. “It is Catherine. And the fact that we are not compatible. Have your solicitor send me a settlement request, and please accept my apology for wasting your time. I shall always be grateful for your initial acceptance, and regret that we did not better understand one another’s motivations. You have twenty-four hours to cry off through a letter addressed to me, preserving both our reputations in the process, or I shall do it, come what may.”

  He strode past her and left her standing in the middle of the room. He grabbed his umbrella on his way out the front doors but did not open it. He welcomed the cold rain on his face, hoping it would cool his temper and slow his racing heart. For an instant, he felt exultation—he was free of Miss Keighly, or would be soon. Lenora had told him not to break the engagement, and he had broken it anyway—regardless of whether Miss Keighly decided to take the responsibility of it publicly. Would he crawl back to Lenora and beg, again, for her consideration? The thought made him angry, and he stomped in a puddle for the satisfaction of watching the water explode—much of it landing on his pants and dripping into his boots. These women were making him completely mad!

  If Lenora had wanted him, she could have had him weeks ago. He’d given her every opportunity to do so, fairly throwing himself at her feet and at her mercy. She had slapped away every attempt in the name of honor and commitment—which was exactly why he’d told Miss Keighly the engagement was over. His honor and commitment was to Catherine first, and yet Lenora had never managed to see that. Perhaps he could not trust his heart’s choice of Lenora any more than he could trust his mind’s choice of Miss Keighly.

  Perhaps he needed to accept that it was more important for Catherine to know of his love and devotion to her than it was to give her the family she’d never had.

  Aunt Gwen invited Lenora to join her card party on Friday night. She and a few friends took turns holding the ladies-only games of whist, and while Lenora was not much for cards, she agreed to join them. Mr. Asher had collected Catherine that afternoon, and playing cards would be a good way to distract her from the quiet of the house.

  Lenora also accepted Aunt Gwen’s offer of sherry and, as the night wore on, felt herself softening in response. The women got louder, the laughter more effusive, and the game much harder to win. After changing tables following the third round, Lenora was seated next to Mrs. Warner, a woman she’d met only once before; she’d come as the companion to one of Aunt Gwen’s closer friends. Partway through the round, Mrs. Warner asked whether or not Lenora would be returning to Mrs. Henry’s school in time for the winter term in January.

  Lenora felt herself tense, hating to be reminded of her dismissal, or resignation, or whatever it had been. “I am quite comfortable in the work I am doing now with Miss Manch. I don’t foresee a change anytime soon.”

  “I meant after Miss Manch goes on to Wales. As I’ve heard it, Mrs. Henry is rather bereft without you.”

  Lenora had to repeat what she’d heard before she responded, wondering if the sherry had made her confused. She faced Mrs. Warner. “Wales?”

  Mrs. Warner lifted her penciled eyebrows. “Yes, to that school for troubled girls.” She leaned closer and lowered her voice. “I’m sure it is such a relief for Mr. Asher to have her established in an appropriate school. He’s done too much for that girl already, if you ask me.” She straightened and played her hand.

  Lenora’s mouth was dry. A school for troubled girls? In Wales? Yes, Lenora had once deemed Cath
erine a good candidate for such a school, but that was before she understood the girl’s past and her challenges. In the weeks since Lenora had been working with her on a regular basis, she’d come to realize that the difficulties Catherine faced in learning may never be remedied. The way the letters changed in her mind had not improved, but she was improving in so many other ways. She could memorize anything and was progressing in her ability to read music. Lenora was more and more encouraged every week that with a few considerations, Catherine could rejoin the girls at Mrs. Henry’s school come spring, though she may always need help with written work. To send her away to a school for troubled girls now would be devastating.

  Lenora kept her composure throughout the rest of the round, asking a few well disguised questions to glean more information. Mrs. Warner was only too happy to comply. According to Mrs. Warner, Miss Keighly had always planned to send Catherine to a school as far away as possible. She did not understand Mr. Asher’s devotion to the girl even if she saw the kindness behind it. The wedding was planned for January, not summer as Mr. Asher had told Lenora in his letter of explanation.

  “I’m sure that’s why she’s left Bath so suddenly. She only has three months to plan the wedding. I think it will be a relief to everyone once Catherine is properly settled. Some children are truly incorrigible, pity that it is, and the sooner she is put away the better.”

  Put away.

  It was all Lenora could do to respond with a polite smile and a nod. Her hands shook as they held the cards, and her stomach twisted in knots, but she managed to keep her composure until the party ended and the last of the guests were shown out. When Lenora returned to the parlor, Aunt Gwen was enjoying her whiskey.

  “Remind me not to invite Lady Barbara again,” Aunt Gwen said with a shake of her head. “She has all the sportsmanship of a three-year-old. I’ve never seen such whining from a grown woman.” She finished her glass before holding it out for the footman standing near the door.