by Autumn Rose
Nora almost lost the rhythm of the waltz, she was so surprised. “Oh, we could never do that, my lord.”
The music ended at that moment and Nora was grateful. Although she enjoyed the rare opportunity to dance, she had found it hard to keep time and continue that particular conversation. The viscount led her off the floor and into the refreshment room.
“Come, let us sit down over here. Now, why couldn’t you come?”
“My work, for one.”
“I promise you, Mrs. Dillon, you could have a study to yourself and all the uninterrupted time you need. I am only talking about an informal visit.”
“It just feels too awkward. Lady Lavinia could not want to be with us for that long, and in such intimacy.”
“Lady Lavinia and Jeremy will be going to the country soon enough themselves. Since I can’t imagine what Jeremy would do without Miranda for those two months, I imagine he would be traveling back and forth, which his mother would like even less. If he chose to remain in town, he would not be happy, for he needs and wants to involve himself in the running of the estates. I have been responsible while he was at school, but now it is time for him to assume control. I suggest that a two-week visit might bring about some sort of resolution.”
“I will consider it. But I must be sure that Lady Lavinia does not feel too imposed upon.”
“Well, it will be my hospitality you will be abusing, after all, Mrs. Dillon,” the viscount replied, smiling down at her quizzically.
“I am sorry. You are right. And since it is your own idea, I suppose I must not be too concerned.”
“That is what I like about you, Mrs. Dillon.” Sam smiled. “You do not waste time agonizing politely. You apologize as straightforwardly as you do everything.”
“I did not know you liked anything about me, my lord,” replied Nora, not knowing what to do with such a mixed compliment. Sam was about to reply when Lady Maria and her last partner, the Earl of Hardwich, arrived. Having seen the viscount in the company of an attractive unknown quantity, she decided it would be wise not to leave them alone. The earl sat down next to Nora and Sam and Lady Maria moved off together. Now that their “business” was finished, Nora was left with the most disconcerting memories of their waltz, memories of details she had not been at all conscious of while dancing, like the clean smell of the viscount’s cravat, and the feeling of his arm around her waist. The earl had to repeat his request for the next dance twice before she apologized for her distraction.
* * * *
Miranda was not having as easy a time of it as her mother supposed. Jeremy’s presence did make her feel protected, but also, in some ways, more uncomfortable, for not only did she feel out-of-place occasionally, but also had the added burden of knowing he was there to observe how little she and the young ladies had in common. Oddly enough, it was not the shallow little gossips who asked politely phrased but malice-driven questions about the “quaintness” of Hampstead, or who left her out of a conversation only to interrupt their gossip with profuse but insincere apologies, who bothered her. She knew these young ladies would have acted so with any newcomer. She responded with chilly dignity to their attempts to discomfit her, although she was left with a bad taste in her mouth after the encounters. No, she felt most out-of-place with Jeremy’s close friends, who went out of their way to make her feel at ease. It was not that she didn’t like them. In fact, she was quite drawn to the Honorable Anne Hume, whose plain face was lit by a sense of humor which matched Miranda’s own. Miranda would be glad of the opportunity to know her better, for she believed they could become fast friends despite the differences in background. Of the gentlemen, she most enjoyed the young Marquess of Stoughton, a tall, thin, languid young man who looked every inch the bored and boring aristocrat until he opened his mouth. He was a great mimic, and kept the group laughing with his imitations of several guests. Even Miranda’s sides were aching, so caught up was she in the general hilarity, although she could not appreciate his witticisms fully. After one dance together, when he queried her with quite genuine interest about her childhood in Hampstead, they continued in animated conversation, for he was a great lover of the theater and was thrilled to learn that Miranda knew Miss Baillie and had even been a guest at several opening nights. They went from discussing tragedy to politics quite easily, and a small excited group gathered about them. At first, Miranda was enjoying herself so much that she did not notice that the group, which was initially ladies and gentlemen, grew smaller as the ladies fell away, and by the end, only she and Anne were left. Jeremy seemed to be watching her with approval, but she became dreadfully tongue-tied as it dawned on her that other young ladies did not seem to be interested, or knowledgeable for that matter, in political questions, and perhaps she was making herself conspicuous. She had become so used to speaking her own mind at home that she had quite forgotten herself. She rejoined the ladies and quietly listened as they traded stories of brothers sent down for pranks at school, or the young women who had been successful this Season in making a match. They did speak quite seriously about music, but here Miranda felt even more left out, for her mother had never had enough money for a pianoforte or for music lessons.
She liked these young ladies and she thought they might come to like her too, but she was beginning to see that life with Jeremy would mean many evenings like this, gossiping, dancing till all hours, and starting all over again the next afternoon. For the first time she began to have doubts about her own ability or wish to fit in. It was not that she felt inferior, but she had had such a different life than all these pampered young people that she felt quite set apart. And she was not sure she wanted to be a part of society if it meant leaving behind the freedom she enjoyed as her mother’s daughter.
The only concern Jeremy had that evening, had she but known it, was for her. He was not so naively in love as all supposed, and knew their first attempts to enter each other’s lives more fully would be difficult. He loved Miranda precisely because she was not like the other young ladies of his set. No one would ever have guessed how often he had been bored at a rout or dinner party, for he was nothing if not thoughtful and polite with everyone. He had a few close friends, like the marquess and Anne, and he socialized to please his mother more than to please himself. Like his father, he was much fonder of the country than the city, and he knew from early on he would not be happy with a woman like his mother as a wife. His parents had truly loved one another, but he had seen the price Charles had paid every time he was wrenched away from his home and dragged to London. Miranda was used to a simpler country life and Jeremy knew they would both happily settle in at Alverstone when they were married.
He was pleased rather than horrified at Miranda’s obvious enjoyment of intellectual conversation. Knowing her as well as he did, however, he was sure she was worried about his reactions. He would, no doubt, need to reassure her that she was all he wanted in a wife. As his countess, she would have certain expectations placed upon her and certain duties to fulfill that would curtail her freedom, but she would be able to assume these new responsibilities without too great a loss of her earlier freedom.
Lady Whitford had also watched Miranda closely all evening and was satisfied that she had felt enough discomfort and awareness of her inappropriateness. Things, as far as she could see, were proceeding according to plan. Jeremy, however, looked not at all disturbed, and she worried about that. All in all, however, she considered the evening a success. As did Nora. And also the viscount, but for quite different reasons.
Chapter 10
The week after the dinner was uneventful for both families. Lavinia was occupied with her packing and sorting for the visit to Sam’s and then their return home. Jeremy continued his old pattern of visiting Hampstead at least every other day, and Sam was busy tying up all the loose ends in town before returning home.
On his first visit to the Dillons after the dinner dance, Jeremy and Miranda went off for a walk through the village, leaving Nora behind to work on her
latest heroine’s dilemmas. As they made their way down Well Walk, Jeremy noticed that Miranda was quieter than usual.
“Is something wrong, Miranda? You seem not your usual self.”
“To tell the truth, Jeremy, although I enjoyed myself the other night, I came home worried about us…about you.”
Jeremy waited, for he wanted Miranda to speak her worries first. Although he thought he knew what was bothering her, he did not want to anticipate.
“Jeremy…” Miranda stopped, and letting go of his hand, stood and faced him. “Are you quite sure after the other night that you wish to marry me? I had never realized how many lovely girls you have to choose from, girls who share the same background and who come from better families. They all seem to know just how to go about in society. I realized too late, I’m afraid, that young ladies do not discuss politics or art, but fashion and music or the latest gossip. Why, Jeremy, it would take me years just to learn who is who in the ton, in order to appreciate the on-dits!” Miranda was smiling as she said this, but her eyes were shining with tears.
Jeremy grasped her shoulders and shook her gently before he pulled her head down on his shoulder. “Listen, peagoose,” he whispered lovingly as she let herself cry a little of her anxiety out, “I don’t want to hear nothing but gossip from my wife. I love you because you don’t resemble any of those young ladies, not in spite of it. I only worry that you will change your mind because you don’t want to be bored by the duties imposed on you as my countess. For we will have to socialize, you know.”
“Oh, Jeremy, I was not so much bored as worried that I would disappoint you.”
Jeremy lifted his eyebrows.
“Well, maybe a little bored at times.” She smiled. “Certainly not with the marquess and Anne. But no other lady talked at length with a gentleman as I did.”
“My dear, you don’t have to apologize. The marquess is quite jealous, and complimented me on finding one of the loveliest and liveliest young ladies in or around London. He is my closest friend and I was happy to see you so obviously at ease together. And you will find that my other friends, taken in twos and threes instead of in a crowd like that, are quite able to carry on an intelligent conversation,” he teased.
“I am not meaning to be critical, Jeremy. It is just I am so used to a different way of living that I cannot imagine what it would be like to have wealth and position, and I’m not quite sure I want it.”
“Even if I come along with it?” Jeremy asked his question lightly, albeit with some trepidation.
“Oh, I know I want you,” replied Miranda, so warmly and openly that his heart went back to its regular beat. “Only I am beginning to see that love, in itself, does not resolve all problems.”
“It may not level all of the differences between us, but it will surely help us negotiate them. And while there are differences, they will not always loom as large as they did the other night. You know I prefer the country, as you do, and you will discover more friendly faces among the crowds. And I do not want you to change, nor to change your life, more than is necessary. But it will be different, you know that, my dear?” Jeremy concluded.
“Yes, I am beginning to realize how much. But if you truly don’t want me different, or want someone else entirely, I am willing to do the best I can.”
Jeremy leaned down to her pale face and brushed her lips gently with his. Her arms went quite naturally around his neck and they found themselves caught up in one of those kisses that neither wanted to pull away from. Jeremy detached himself first and said, a bit raggedly, “These kisses are getting longer and longer and harder to end. I think this betrothal must become public soon. I want to announce it now and marry you within a week. I’m not sure I can last the summer.”
“Me either,” said Miranda shyly, as they reluctantly turned back to High Street.
* * * *
Nora watched Jeremy and Miranda closely that week, but saw no signs, after his first visit, that any rift had been created. They had started out as good friends, and that friendship seemed not left behind with the development of romance, but only strengthened by the addition of desire. And desire was there, however they were either unaware of it or keeping it private, thought Nora. The charged atmosphere when they were together was unmistakable and reminded her of moments she thought she had forgotten.
She succeeded in hiding her concern for Miranda and Jeremy, but she had to talk to someone. Miranda could not marry the Earl of Alverstone, and the more Nora was convinced their feelings for one another were not merely infatuation, the more anxious she became. She loved Miranda more than anything on earth, and was coming to love Jeremy. She wanted neither of them hurt, and yet they would be hurt. If they did not back out of their betrothal by the end of the house party, then she would have to forbid Jeremy Miranda’s company. Neither would understand, for she could give them no reason. And then it would be terrible to live with what she had done, and perhaps impossible to live with Miranda.
One afternoon, after the viscount’s invitation had arrived and Miranda had blushed with pleasure and anticipation of two full weeks in Jeremy’s company, Nora could stand the strain no longer. She had spent two hours trying to get her Lady Cordelia out of the clutches of one nobleman and into the arms of another, without success. The silly woman persisted in her attraction to the wicked Lord Soames, no matter what Nora did. Of course, a rake could be irresistible at the beginning of a story, but not at the end. Cordelia must be brought to see the error of her ways before she ran way with him and ruined herself. Only Cordelia was naive, trusting, and passionate, so how was Nora to save her from her fall?
As no one could have saved me, she thought in despair. And now look where it has brought me.
She grabbed her cloak, for it was a gray day and spitting rain, and walked down the High Street to Holly Bush. She knew Joanna was probably working, but she had to talk to someone who knew her and cared about her or she would go mad with worry and guilt.
“Miss Baillie has just finished work for the day and is having tea in the morning room.” The housekeeper smiled. “She will be pleased to see you.”
“Thank you, Mary. I can find my own way.”
Nora knocked lightly on the open door to announce herself. Her friend was standing at the French windows overlooking the garden and horseshoe drive. She turned and smiled when she recognized Nora.
“What a delightful surprise. Come in and join me for tea, dear.”
“I am glad it is only your tea I am disturbing, Joanna, and not your work. For I confess I would have come, no matter.”
“But what is wrong? You look distraught. Come, sit down here and tell me what is bothering you.”
Nora sat down next to Joanna and was tempted, for a minute, to bury her head in Joanna’s lap and cry all the tears she’d been holding in since Miranda announced her betrothal. Joanna had been something of a mother figure for years, but Nora was afraid if she started to cry, she would never stop. For years she had worked toward independence, her ability to support herself and her daughter. It looked to outsiders like it came naturally. And the mothering certainly had. But the independence had been dearly bought, and had never felt completely achieved. She was afraid the whole carefully built structure of her life would collapse if someone even looked at her with affection. So she got up suddenly and started pacing the carpet. Joanna waited quietly.
“You know my story, Joanna, but no one else does, not even Miranda.”
“Yes.”
“I think I was wrong about Miranda and Jeremy. I pray I am not, but if I am, then I will have to forbid their marriage.”
“Are you quite sure that is necessary?”
“Joanna, she cannot marry the Earl of Alverstone. Or anyone of that rank. She is illegitimate; you know that. I cannot believe this has happened,” Nora continued, so obviously distraught that Joanna had a hard time keeping silent. “I stayed here because it was a good place to raise a child. And a safe place. I knew that she would meet someone som
eday, but here, it would be someone to whom birth was no consequence. There are so many writers and artists who flock here, I thought it likely she’d fall in love with someone from a similar background.”
“And would you have told this imaginary artist or editor the circumstances of her birth?”
Nora turned and faced her friend. “No. I know that is wrong, but I would not have felt wrong deceiving someone who was her social equal. Can you understand that, Joanna?”
“Oh, I can understand, dear, but I confess I am a bit amused.”
“Amused!” Nora stated, indignantly.
“Yes, for in family background Miranda is more Jeremy’s equal than this imaginary suitor’s. You are, after all, the daughter of a marquess.”
“I know this sounds silly, Joanna, but I never think of that. And quite understandably, since my family disowned me.”
“You are not sure.”
“My father never replied to my letter asking him if I could come home.”
“And, as I have more than once suggested, he may not have received that letter. Or was away when it arrived. And even if his first response was anger, I’ll never believe he would have turned you from his door.”
“I’ll never know the answer,” said Nora, “for too many years have gone by for me to go home, even if I wanted to.”
Oh, you want to, thought her friend, if you will not admit it to yourself. But you are too proud and too scared. And have to leave that young girl who ran away in the moonlight behind, in order to survive, thought Joanna, wanting with her writer’s mind to end the story happily, returning the prodigal daughter to her home, but realizing that life was quite different from fiction.
“If you would be willing to deceive a poor writer, why not Jeremy’s family? You have lived here safely for years. They would never find out the truth.”
“But I would know I let my daughter marry into a situation where, if the truth were ever discovered, she would be despised. And despise me, and perhaps herself. An earl does not marry a bastard, not to put too fine a point on it, Joanna, and I care for Jeremy enough not to trick him into a marriage he would never have contracted had he known the truth.”
