What a Woman Desires

by Rachel Brimble

  Matthew smiled, his kindly eyes shining with amusement. “You are most assuredly a different woman than many. Then again, we’ve known each other since we were children and I see nothing different in you now than I did then. I don’t doubt you’ll find a way that suits you, Jane, your mother, and the tenants come the end.”

  Monica groaned and closed her eyes. “How can you find this amusing?”

  Matthew laughed. “I don’t. I’m just saying I believe in you. I know you’ll do the right thing . . . I just have no idea what that will be, I’m afraid.”

  She snapped her eyes open. “Will I? All I know is I am three and twenty, and Jane twenty; neither of us deserves to be ruled by what our father has done, or what a husband will do. The thing that hurts the most is that the tenants are the innocent ones in Papa’s selfish ministrations.” She stared into Matthew’s eyes. “I need you to help me find someone who might want to buy the estate, or maybe even someone who has loved Jane before her inheritance. I know nothing or no one in the village anymore . . .” Tears burned. “And I am so afraid of getting everything wrong.”

  Matthew’s gaze locked on hers, his expression thoughtful as he studied her. Monica waited. She trusted Matthew’s good judgment. Not how she trusted Thomas’s, but Matthew would undoubtedly be another good ally during a long battle.

  He cleared his throat and leaned forward, placing his forearms on the desk. “Your mother cannot be of any help to you at all?”

  “None. She has no firm hold on reality anymore. If she did, she would carry out Papa’s wishes to the letter. It is up to Jane and I what happens next, but neither of us has any idea where to begin.”

  “Hmm.”

  Monica waited as his eyes glazed in thought. Handsome, twenty-six, and comfortably well off, Matthew Cleaves was a perfect catch for any woman . . . it was unfortunate he was married or Monica might have been sitting in front of him urging a match with Jane.

  “Well”—Matthew cleared his throat—“mightn’t I suggest a dinner?”

  Monica raised her eyebrows. “A dinner?”

  He shrugged. “Why don’t you host a dinner and invite as many of the gentry in the village as you see fit? You’ll gain a good prospective for how the community feels about your father’s untimely death and you becoming the mistress of Marksville. They have tenants, too, and will be able to advise you.” He smiled, his eyes twinkling with mischief. “They also have eligible sons and a dinner might do some good in rousing your mother. Whatever you decide to do, you will need the support of the community. Opening Marksville’s doors to these people will most likely open doors for you and Jane too.”

  Monica slowly nodded as she considered Matthew’s advice. “A dinner is possible, I suppose.”

  “And what of Thomas?”

  She stiffened, cursing the immediate heat at her cheeks. “What about him?”

  “Well, I don’t believe for one moment he’s been quiet on the subject. What has he to say about your inheritance?”

  The heat traveled from her face and over her body. Surely it was written all over her face how things had progressed between her and Thomas? A week had passed since their lovemaking and neither had mentioned anything further about her inheritance . . . or each other. Instead, they’d talked of the day-to-day work to be done, Mama’s care, and Dr. O’Connor’s treatment of her mother. Nothing of their passion or feelings.

  Blinking back unexpected tears, Monica lifted her shoulders. “What Thomas has to say about Marksville is neither here nor there.”

  Matthew barked out a laugh. “I see, and so you’re hoping not to upset the tenants but are going to employ Thomas as little more than a groom now?”

  Thomas’s distance over the last few days twisted her heart. “That’s what he is. He’s made that perfectly clear.”

  “He is so much more than a groom.” Matthew smiled. “Your father relied on Thomas as a man would a son. Mr. Danes would never say it, but Thomas was his constant, his support, and the first place he went in order to discuss the managing and prosperity of the estate.”

  Monica swallowed. “In other words, Thomas could run Marksville with his eyes closed. Is that what you’re saying?”

  Matthew nodded. “Exactly, but at the end of the day, he needs his job. Thomas is a proud man, Monica. Any brusqueness on his part would have been provoked. Are you two not getting along?”

  The heat at her cheeks blazed hotter. “We’re . . . we’re getting to know each other again.”

  “So you’ve haven’t had crossed words?”

  “Why do you ask?”

  “You seem agitated, uneasy even, just by me mentioning his name.”

  Dragging her gaze from Matthew’s astute appraisal, she glanced toward his study window. “We’ve disagreed from time to time, yes.”

  He exhaled. “Well, if you take my advice, I would ensure he knows how important he is to you and Marksville. Include him in your plans and take his opinions onboard. Thomas knows what he is talking about and would only say things that he knew to be right and felt deep in his heart. The man deserves for you to accept what he has to say and do your utmost to honor it.”

  Monica faced him, words freezing like ice water on her tongue.

  Could a passion like ours last a lifetime? You know as well as I do such a thing is impossible.

  Thomas’s words resonated in her ears and her eyes burned with traitorous tears. She lifted her chin. “I will. From now on, Thomas’s wisdom will also be mine.”

  “Good. Then send out those invites to as many of the influential people in Biddestone as you can manage . . . maybe even ask Thomas to join you at the table. That way, he will be able to hear firsthand what is being said.” Matthew sighed. “I will do what I can to help you and Jane, but I truly think Thomas is the man to lean on right now.”

  Monica’s stomach knotted. Hadn’t she been telling herself that from the moment she returned and laid eyes on him? She forced a smile, stood, and clasped her reticule in front of her to hide her trembling hands. “Thank you. I’ll get those invitations issued and you will be there, of course?”

  “I’ll look forward to it.” Matthew stood and came around the desk, holding out his hand, gesturing for Monica to leave the study ahead of him. “Why don’t I go upstairs and see if I have a dinner jacket for Thomas to borrow?”

  Monica smiled. “That would be very kind, thank you.”

  He nodded and left her alone in the hallway. When Matthew disappeared upstairs, Monica gripped her reticule a little tighter and stared blindly at a spot on the opposite wall. Matthew was right, Thomas mightn’t want her as his lover, but he did want what was best for Marksville. One way or another, they would find the new owner of the estate.

  A few minutes passed before Matthew’s footsteps on the stairs jolted her from her thoughts. Monica turned and smiled. “You found something.”

  He held out a jacket and trousers. “I’m sure the jacket will be a little tight considering the size of Thomas’s shoulders compared to mine, but if he agrees, it will do for the dinner.”

  “I’m sure he will. If there’s one thing Thomas loves, it’s Marksville. Enduring an ill-fitting jacket for an evening will be easy compared to what he’s prepared to do for his family.”

  Matthew smiled and with a hand on her elbow, led her to the front door and out into the bright July sunshine.

  She hesitated on the doorstep before turning to face him. “Oh, I almost forgot. What is your opinion of Dr. O’Connor?”

  Matthew frowned. “Well, he’s young but keen to be a valued member of the community as far as I can tell. Why do you ask?”

  Monica opened her mouth but struggled to find the right words or questions to articulate her deliberations. “He’s . . . I want to like him. Something appeals to me about him, but I’m not sure what. I think he’s ambitious and maybe a little smitten with Jane, but it’s more than that. I think he truly loves Biddestone and everything about it.”

  “And?”

 
“And another part of me is reluctant to trust him.”

  “Why?”

  “Well, he suggested to Papa to put Mama into an institution for a start.”

  “Really?”

  “Yes, really. But when I challenged him, he promised not to suggest such a thing again and the matter was laid to rest, so maybe I was hasty in my judgment of him.” She shook her head. “I just . . . there’s something in his gaze that leads me to think the man is desperate to be accepted above anything else.”

  “And that leads you to distrust him?”

  “No, it leads me to want to trust him.” She met Matthew’s eyes, her heart heavy in her chest. “When I look at him, I see far too much of myself. He’s lonely, Matthew. More than that, afraid he always will be.”

  “Will you invite him to attend the dinner?”

  Monica nodded. “Yes . . . yes, I will.” She smiled. “Who knows? Maybe the good and lonely doctor might be the perfect candidate to take over Marksville.”

  Matthew laughed. “Well, that’s quite a plan. I wouldn’t think he would have that sort of money. Plus, he has no personal knowledge of the people who work there. Who is to say if he did take on the estate, he wouldn’t move them all on? Isn’t their future your main priority?”

  Monica’s shoulders slumped. “You’re right.” She inhaled and waved her hand in a gesture of nonchalance, even though her new plan to court Dr. O’Connor to the idea of Marksville gathered momentum. He seemed a reasonable man. Surely, if she told him the importance of keeping the tenants in their homes and jobs . . . “Well, anyway, I’d better go before Jane comes looking for me. Look out for that dinner invitation.”

  With a smile, she made her way down the steps and along the street, all the while feeling the weight of Matthew’s curious stare at her back. With each step Monica covered, her resolve to make the upcoming dinner a success burned brighter.

  “But you are still thinking only of yourself.” Jane slapped her hand onto the bedcovers beside her. “When will you stop being so selfish?”

  Monica flinched as Jane’s accusation sliced through her plans with precision and purpose. She walked across the length of her sister’s bedroom, fighting to hold on to her burgeoning temper. “That’s not fair. I am thinking of all of you. I have thought of little else within a week of coming home.”

  Jane glared. “How can you say that? I went to the city with you and I saw you, Monica. I saw the way you light up in that theater. It was clear to me, and Mama, that if possible you would have stayed right there, never to return.”

  The venom in Jane’s words and the strength of her fury provoked Monica’s temper further. Why had I thought Jane any less hardy than me? We are of the same blood and borne of the same parents. Why would Papa’s plans and Mama’s need to serve his wishes not have driven the softness from her as well? Sadness for the loss of the sweet-tempered sister enveloped Monica and she slumped. “All I saying is, won’t you at least consider Dr. O’Connor as a possible candidate to buy the house? He is ambitious and wants to build a life in Biddestone. We could even negotiate selling to him a little at a time if he cannot afford its entirety straightaway. Maybe you’re right, maybe I do want to take you and Mama back to Bath, but you cannot say I haven’t tried to like it here too. You’ll be happier in the city, I know you will.”

  “Why? Because it suits you to think I will? You have no more certainty of that than I.” Jane stood from where she had been sitting on her bed and approached the window. With her back turned, she shook her head. “When I asked you to come here, it wasn’t to turn our lives upside down.” She turned and crossed her arms. “I thought with Papa gone, there was no reason for you not to come home permanently. Clearly, I could not have been more mistaken.”

  Monica stared. How did she tell her sister facing Thomas every day was more than her heart could possibly bear? Staying at Marksville was no longer an option, despite feeling a slowly building pull toward it.

  “I have a life I love, Jane. I cannot just throw it all away because of tradition and the fact people seem to think the only way for Marksville and its tenants to go on is with me at the helm.” Monica fisted her hands on her hips as determination welled inside her. “The estate will thrive regardless of me being here. If we sell to the right person, a person who truly wants it, we would have passed Marksville to trusted hands. Why can you not see that?”

  “Because it’s ours. It belongs in the Danes family.” She glared. “We should be here and love Marksville as Papa did.”

  “Why? Who says that we must? I do not understand. . . .” Monica stilled, realization hitting her hard in the center of her chest. “My God, you loved him, didn’t you? Despite Papa envisioning nothing more for you than seeing you chained to Mama as her companion, possibly for the rest of her life, you still loved him.” Monica closed her eyes and slumped her shoulders. “I just assumed—”

  “Then you assumed wrongly. I don’t want to leave. I have a life in this village.” Jane left the window and came forward until she stood just a few feet from Monica, her eyes gleaming with unshed tears. “I admit I wanted you to come home and help me with Mama, the estate, and everything else, but I really thought you would want that, too, once you were here.”

  Monica stared as further heartbreak pulled at her. “It will never be what I want.”

  A solitary tear rolled over Jane’s cheek and she took Monica’s hands. “I want to marry and have children, but I want that here, not in Bath or anywhere else in the world, in fact.”

  Tears filled Monica’s eyes. “Then you should stay here. At Biddestone. But the house will be too much for you to run alone. We must find a buyer. If you sell Papa’s apartment in Bath, you will have enough for a house in the village and plenty of money to live on.”

  Unable to bear looking into Jane’s sad and desperate gaze a moment longer, Monica gently drew her hands from her sister’s trembling grasp and walked toward the window. She stared at the tree-lined avenue, before casting her gaze to the right. Her heart kicked to see Thomas tending one of the many hedges surrounding Marksville’s vast lawns. She closed her eyes. “We must find someone to buy the house and then I will halve the proceeds with you. This house doesn’t make you happy, Jane, the village and its people do. I will come back and forth as much as possible, but I can see no way of resolving this without one of us sacrificing our heart’s desires. I don’t want that for you, and I don’t want it for myself.”

  Silence.

  Opening her eyes, Monica stared at Thomas’s broad back as he reached out his arms and released and clenched his hands. The muscles in his back rippled and the tendons in his forearms flexed and moved in a show of pure, unadulterated masculinity. Her center pulled and her heart quickened as memories of his careful, yet fiery lovemaking rose and flooded her body. She needed to get away from Marksville—she needed to get away from Thomas—before she was pulled back into the eye of the storm she’d fought so hard to escape.

  She turned. Jane stood in the same spot, her arms crossed and her face etched with frustration. “I will miss you so much. I’ve liked having you home again.”

  Monica exhaled and came toward her, pulling Jane’s hands from their tense position. She squeezed her hands. “I can’t stay here, Jane. If I do, I will wither and die.” Monica closed her eyes, but it didn’t stop her tears from falling. “I think I love him, Jane. I think I love him and I can’t stay here where I can see him every day and not touch him . . . not love him.”

  “What? Who? Who do you love?”

  Monica slowly opened her eyes. “Thomas. I love Thomas. I have to leave before one or both of us wastes our lives on a love that would be selfish to pursue.”

  Jane’s eyes were wide but dancing with happiness. “You love Thomas?”

  Monica nodded. “Yes, and you can stop that foolish happily-ever-after look in your eyes. If this were about propriety and class, I would say damn it all and ask the man to marry me myself.” Monica swiped at her cheek, her other hand tremb
ling around Jane’s, and she laughed dryly. “But it’s not, it’s about Thomas’s love of the country and mine of the city. We aren’t right for each other, and I love him too much to expect him to turn to my life if I won’t turn to his.”

  “But surely—”

  “No, Jane. I have to go.” Monica released Jane’s hands and inhaled a shaky breath. “But it’s also your time now. Let me take Mama back to the city with me. It’s my turn to care for her now.”

  “But—”

  “She has friends there, Jane. Lots of friends, and I can afford the best medical care. I’ll arrange for a nurse to look after her while I am working and then spend every other possible hour with her myself.”

  “But—”

  “Please.” She cupped a hand to Jane’s jaw. “Please, tell me you think this the best solution for us all. If not, then I will think of something else, but I cannot stay here.”

  The seconds ticked by and then Jane smiled. “All right. We’ll see if we can sell the estate to someone who will keep everything as it is and our tenants in their homes and employment. If we can’t, then we must think of something else.”

  Monica smiled. “Agreed.”

  “And if I know you at all, you already have someone in mind.”

  “Maybe.”

  “Who?”

  Monica cleared her throat as a sudden unease rippled through her. Am I wrong to pursue the doctor? I don’t know him. What if he buys the estate and then evicts Thomas and everyone else from their homes? She inwardly cursed her doubt. Unless she stayed herself, there would never be any guarantee of what would or wouldn’t happen. It was a risk she was bound by her future happiness to take.

  She paced a few feet away and then turned to Jane once more. “What do you think of Dr. O’Connor as a possible candidate?”

  Jane raised her eyebrows. “Dr. O’Connor?”

  Monica hesitated, not wanting to tell Jane that it was possible the doctor planned to seduce her as a way of gaining access to Marksville. “I just think he has ideas of grandeur, and if I’m proved right, there’s nothing wrong with you and I offering what he wants on a plate.”