Marjorie Farrell

by Autumn Rose

  Sam did not return to the city until a week after the announcement. He had been detained by problems with one tenant, and a long-promised visit to Sutton. Simon and Judith had been happy to hear of the betrothal, as was the viscount himself. Whatever Mrs. Dillon’s objections had been, he said to the duke and duchess, they must have been overcome by the obvious rightness of the match. The duke agreed, but wondered to himself just what had transpired. He assumed Nora had left the decision up to Miranda and Jeremy, as he had advised. Perhaps he would find out at the wedding.

  When Sam returned, he immediately rode out to Hampstead with Jeremy. The little house was in an uproar, what with putting the trousseau together and packing up Miranda’s personal belongings. Nora seemed at ease with Jeremy and caught up with the excitement. Yet there was a difference in her Sam could not put his finger on. She was involved and removed at the same time. He felt some part of her was just not there. At the same time, that air of self-sufficiency was subtly changed. He had a glimpse, from time to time, of the vulnerable girl she must have been.

  They had no chance on that visit to talk alone, so Sam could not ask what had erased her objections, or even joke about the failure of their scheme. He watched her as she helped her daughter, and realized, with some surprise, that Miranda appeared the calmer of the two. Nora was flustered and disorganized, picking up a book in one room to bring to another, and returning with it still in her hand. Or putting something down, like her scissors, and ineffectually searching for them, and summoning Miranda, who found them immediately. From the joking comments between them, Sam decided that while Miranda seemed a naturally calm person, Nora drew on her writing and gardening to center what was perhaps a more…passionate nature? He hoped so, for the more he was with Nora, the more he appreciated her and desired her. These little glimpses of absentmindedness intrigued him, for they were the first break he had seen in that independence of hers. Although he imagined that it might, in the long run, be exasperating, he found himself wanting to be the one she turned to ask anxiously: “Now, where did I put my scissors? I just had them.” He was ever on the verge of saying, “Damn, the scissors, woman. Come here and let me love you.”

  At any rate, this was the first chink in her armor he had seen so far, and it gave him hope she was not as self-sufficient as she appeared. He wondered if she had had any offers of marriage over the years. It was possible she was one of those people who loved only once. As it seemed I was, Sam thought to himself as he recalled the years he had kept his heart intact even with the most charming and lovable of mistresses. But if he could now feel as excited as a young man on seeing his love, then why might not Nora feel the same about him? There would be plenty of time and many opportunities to woo her, thank God, now that she was in the family. He would go slowly and carefully, he decided. Nothing too obvious.

  Nora was fleetingly aware, from time to time, of Sam’s gaze, and when she lost her scissors for the third time that morning, she was conscious that his look of amusement was also a look of affection. She put her head down as she felt herself blush. Luckily there was nothing else to show how flustered she became. No one had looked at her with that kind of appreciation in years, and she opened herself up to it for only a moment before remembering that it was just that openness which had brought her all the pain of the past few weeks. She closed off her awareness of Sam’s lean frame lounging against the bookcase as he watched them put the finishing touches on Miranda’s going-away dress. She would not let herself imagine what his hands would feel like on her shoulders, she would not let herself be betrayed by her body again. She managed to pull herself back to the task at hand: hemming Miranda’s dress, and finding herself very relieved when the viscount’s visit came to an end. It was difficult, but not impossible, to put him out of her mind, for much of her time was taken up with getting ready for the wedding.

  Chapter 23

  The weeks before the wedding went very quickly. Jeremy stayed in town, and visited Hampstead almost every day. The viscount occasionally accompanied him, but more frequently purposely stayed away, despite his desire to be with Nora. She was too busy, and he knew there was no progress to be made when she was in this distracted state.

  Miranda and Nora would again travel south, this time to stay at Alverstone. The wedding was to be informal and take place at the parish church. A few intimate friends of the family, like Simon and Judith, would be there, as well as family and contemporaries of Jeremy who lived close enough to make the journey in one day. Lavinia, who had not yet had the opportunity to plan a ball or dinner to celebrate the betrothal, decided a formal dinner on the eve of the ceremony and a wedding breakfast would satisfy her need to entertain.

  Although Jeremy had described it to them, neither of the Dillons was prepared for Alverstone. If the viscount’s house had at first seemed intimidating, this was even more so. As they drove up the long driveway and caught their first glimpse of the house, a long mansion which obviously dated back to Tudor times, but had been added to over the years, Miranda looked at her mother with sheer terror in her eyes. Nora knew at that moment her daughter was ready to flee home to the cottage.

  The servants were all lined up to greet them, and Jeremy proudly introduced Miranda to each one. The unreality of the past few weeks was broken, and Nora felt like a mother again, and not an actress playing a role. She spent the next few days reassuring her daughter that, yes, she was doing the right thing, that she could handle her responsibilities and would not be bringing some sort of disgrace upon Jeremy by marrying into his family.

  Nora herself felt a bit intimidated. Although she had been the daughter of a peer, their family, which numbered a few Catholics in the background, as did many in Northumberland, had lost land and homes over the centuries. They had held only Moorview, the small estate in Cumberland, and a town house in London. The luxury that surrounded them here was overwhelming, and Nora wondered that Jeremy had managed to grow up such an unspoiled young man.

  The viscount did not arrive for two days. Nora found herself looking forward to his arrival, for although Lavinia was not looking at her with hostility, Nora knew this was not the marriage she wanted for her son. And Lavinia was clearly being her most dignified, as befit the mother of an earl and groom-to-be: the relatives who had arrived were all Lavinia’s contemporaries and as unremittingly polite as she was.

  There were opportunities to ride, thank goodness, and Jeremy offered Nora a lovely little mare as a present to his soon-to-be mother-in-law. It would be hers for whenever she came down, which he hoped would be often. Nora was delighted with her, and on the morning Sam arrived, was returning from a ride, when she heard hoofbeats behind her.

  She was relaxed, and so happy to see someone with whom she could converse in more than polite monosyllables that she gave him a heart-stopping smile as he slowed down to a walk beside her.

  “I see Jeremy gave you his present early,” Sam said, speaking casually but wanting more than he could have thought possible that smile of welcome to have been for him as a lover rather than as a new friend.

  “Yes, and she is a love. Perfect for me and my rusty riding skills,” Nora said. “Gentle, but not an old plug. Did you ride all the way?” she queried.

  “Yes. My chaise is behind me, with my luggage and presents.” The viscount smiled. “And how have you and Miranda been surviving?”

  “May I be frank?”

  “I have never known you to be otherwise,” teased Sam.

  “I think we were both ready to run back to Hampstead at the first sight of the house. I have had to reassure Miranda that she will indeed make a fine countess. And the guests who are here do not make it any easier.”

  “Ah, I would venture to guess that you have met Lavinia’s side of the family.”

  “Yes, and they are so…well, I should not be so critical,” said Nora shamefacedly. “But the formality is chilling. How did Jeremy ever become who he is?” she asked, without thinking of the insult implied to Lavinia.

&nbs
p; Sam laughed out loud. “I can always count on you to get to the heart of the matter, Mrs. Dillon. It is a shame you never knew Charles.”

  “Jeremy’s father?”

  “Yes. He was a delightfully unassuming man. Jeremy is much like him. He preferred the country, and only his love for his wife got him into town for the Season. He was good for Lavinia. He loved her very much, and she needed the security of that. It was as if her better self emerged when she was with him. When she lost him, she lost the one who strengthened her weaknesses. But she is a good woman underneath all her superficiality, and deserves much credit for Jeremy also.”

  “Oh, I do not doubt it.” Nora hesitated before asking hesitantly: “She must have been quite beautiful when she was young?”

  “Yes, she was. She had many men in love with her, but was fortunate and wise enough to pick Charles.”

  Nora heard something in the tone of Sam’s voice, and without thinking, blurted out: “And where you one of the young men in love with her?”

  Sam turned and smiled ruefully. “Why, yes, how did you guess?”

  “I don’t know. Something in your face occasionally when you look at her, and something in your voice just now. Please forgive me. It was unspeakably rude to ask such an intimate question.” Nora was feeling miserable, embarrassed by her outspokenness, and unhappy, for some reason, that the viscount had once been enamored of the countess. Was perhaps still enamored. Well, she would not make herself the complete fool and ask him that. She was happy when they came in sight of the house, and began to chat about inconsequentials. Sam could tell she was embarrassed. If she fell to wondering about his feelings for Lavinia, which her questions indicated she might be, he was not at all displeased.

  Chapter 24

  Sam’s arrival seemed to speed up the days remaining till the wedding. More guests arrived, including Simon and Judith, and the unending formal dinners were a thing of the past. Conversations became stimulating, indeed, occurred, thought Nora, and Miranda had another woman to allay her fears. Nora was a little jealous, but on the whole very happy that Miranda had made such a good friend in the duchess.

  They had left Lady Sophy behind with her nurse, and Judith was obviously suffering from her first real separation.

  “We knew that this would be too much for her, and I still worry she will think we abandoned her. She was crying so when we left that I almost turned back and let Simon come alone.”

  “They are terrible, aren’t they, those first few moments when you leave,” agreed Nora. “But I remember whenever I left Miranda with anyone, she would tell me that Miranda stopped crying almost immediately, and went happily about her play. I think the mothers suffer more than the children.”

  “Perhaps you are right, but I will be happy to get back,” sighed Judith, and then immediately apologized. “It is not that I am not delighted to be here for the wedding, you understand?”

  Nora and Miranda assured her that they did, both thinking what a nice person she was, and hoping that if she had managed to survive becoming a duchess, perhaps Miranda could survive the changes in her circumstances also.

  * * * *

  The dinner was a great success. The whole county came, or so it seemed, and Miranda was exhausted after the first hour. Jeremy stayed close by her, and Nora was thankful for Sam’s presence, for were it not for him and Judith and Simon, she would have felt even more peripheral than she did, for it was clear Jeremy would now be Miranda’s intimate and her support.

  Nora and Simon sat out a few country dances together. She expressed admiration for his dancing, having marveled at the way he and Judith waltzed together, as though he were sighted.

  “I would offer you a waltz,” Simon replied, “but I fear I am too used to my wife’s guidance to risk it with anyone else at such a large gathering.”

  “You partner each other as well off the dance floor,” observed Nora.

  “Yes, I am very lucky.”

  “And the duchess…she is very lucky too.”

  Simon smiled. “I am glad you think so, Nora. I value your opinion. And your friendship, which I trust I have?”

  “Indeed.”

  “Tell me, did you ever speak to Miranda and Jeremy?”

  “I followed your good advice. She surprised me, Simon, for she herself told Jeremy she couldn’t marry him and why. It was he who convinced her. We all decided her background would remain a secret. I still have doubts, though,” Nora murmured.

  “You shouldn’t. It would do no good for anyone else to know. I think they are meant for a happy life, and I am pleased if I had any small part of that. But what of you? Won’t you be a bit lonely now?”

  Nora was touched by Simon’s concern. “Of course, but I cannot imagine me living in Miranda’s pocket. Although they have offered me a lovely little house on the estate. But I could never live this kind of life.”

  “You did once.”

  “Not really. Northumberland was different. My family’s estate was small compared to this, and perhaps because of the wildness and the weather, things were a bit less formal there.”

  “Well, things are a little less formal at Sutton, and you must come for a long visit.”

  “Thank you, Simon. I promise I will after I have settled a bit into my new life.”

  “You are looking very serious, the two of you,” said Sam, who was returning Judith after a dance. “Come, Nora, let me have this next waltz.”

  Nora touched Simon on the arm in farewell, and moved off with the viscount. She could not relax, however, for she was too conscious of Sam’s arm around her waist, of his height, his own now-familiar smell, the small scar at the corner of his mouth, which she realized added to the quirkiness of his grin. Sam could feel her tension and wondered if it was only from the events of the past weeks. She had seemed happy to be with him over the past few days, but she might like him, yet feel no attraction. He did his best to relax her by making amusing comments about some of the guests, but he could feel the distance that she placed between herself and him. She held herself just a fraction of an inch further away than was necessary for propriety. Of course, he could console himself by imagining that some reaction was better than none. Surely were she indifferent, she would be less conscious of their closeness? He certainly hoped so.

  Chapter 25

  The next morning a heavy fog shrouded the countryside, and Nora feared it would last all day, casting a pall over the festivities. But by nine it had burned away, to her great relief, for she wanted the day to be perfect for Miranda in every way.

  Nora’s hands shook as she helped her daughter dress. The ivory silk hung perfectly and she thought that with her pale-rose complexion and the pearls, her daughter looked beautiful, as though all the colors that are inside a shell had taken on a woman’s shape. Nora herself looked lovely, but she was not even aware of it. The viscount was, however. He watched her pale, set face as she emerged from the carriage and knew that she must be in the grip of conflicting emotions: happiness, pride, anxiety, and perhaps sadness as she remembered her own wedding? He wondered if she still felt bound to the dead lieutenant.

  For Nora, the ceremony and the breakfast that followed were a blur. Sam was, in part, correct: she was not only happy for Miranda, but also felt she had completed the work that had been given to her. Miranda was a lovely young wife, more mature than she herself had been at the same age, and Nora had no doubts about the rightness of this match. But the tears that had risen when she and Jeremy exchanged vows were not just tears of happiness. They sprang from a deeper source, for she had never uttered those solemn words to anyone, nor had anyone wished to commit himself to her for life. And now that part of her life was over, and she could not feel the unalloyed happiness for Miranda she should. She was ashamed of herself for it, but there it was.

  And so, back at the house, when the viscount brought her her second glass of champagne and asked her solicitously if she had been reminded of her own wedding, she almost lost control.

  She tur
ned the beginning of what she knew to be hysterical laughter into a cough, and gripped the glass so tightly that it broke in her hand. She looked, as though from very far away, as a drop of blood welled up from her finger and turned the dripping champagne pink. Sam rushed off to get a napkin, and she stood there holding the broken glass in her hand, feeling she herself had been broken. She took a deep breath, telling herself that all she needed was to get through this day, see the young couple off and return to Hampstead in the morning, where she could seek the comfort of her bed. She would crawl into it and never get out.

  “Let me see your hand, Nora.”

  Sam’s return startled her and she stuck out her hand to him without thinking and then drew it back, exclaiming that it was nothing, just very stupid of her to be so nervous, but it was her daughter’s wedding, after all.

  “Stop being so damnably independent and let me see that finger. There might be glass in it.” He examined it carefully and pronounced it clean, and Nora brought her hand automatically to her mouth, sucking at the cut and looking at it for all the world as though she were little Sophy and not a grown woman, thought Sam. He wanted the right to comfort her and the opportunity to make her forget that dead husband of hers. But today is not the day for that, he thought, and he offered his arm and led her to the table.

  * * * *

  Nora managed to get through all the well-wishing and Miranda’s departure. They were going to spend a few days on one of Jeremy’s small estates in Cornwall.

  “It is by the sea, Mother, so we will be able to take long rambles by the shore.” This was not, of course, a fashionable honeymoon, but Jeremy himself had suggested it. “We will travel to the Continent soon,” he had told her, “but for these few weeks I want you to myself.”