Love Stories of Enchanting Ladies: A Historical Regency Romance Collection

by Bridget Barton

  “And whilst I do enjoy your letters immensely, my dear, I would much rather see you in person,” Ariadne said, clearly determined to have the final word on the matter.

  “I shall bear that in mind. And I must admit, I would be very pleased to have you here as a guest whenever you have a mind to come, my dear. I am only five months into my mourning, and I have begun to feel like a prisoner here.” She laughed lightly, but the fact of the matter was it was true.

  “Oh, what a beautiful little drawing room and such a calming shade of green. And to think, it is all yours, you need not share it,” Ariadne said. “Oh dear, I suppose that sounded rather insensitive.”

  “No, not at all. And it is not as if I have not thought the same thing myself. If I am honest, I felt the relief from the first moment. That first evening I spent in here alone, no Augustus, no decanter of brandy in my sight to make me feel nervous and unsettled.” She smiled a little at the memory. “I sat in this very chair until it was almost midnight. Despite the pangs of guilt, I felt free for the first time in a long time.”

  “It is peaceful here, Eliza. In a way, I must admit to a little envy. You truly do have a house all to yourself. I know it is not terribly big, but even the largest of houses seem to shrink somehow when you are sharing them. It is a sort of quiet little pleasure that most of us will never know. For instance, my father’s house is large, but my family are always in it. Wherever you go, there always seems to be somebody there already. And then one day, no doubt, I shall marry and move from my father’s house into my husband’s house and find the same set of circumstances exist. I think I would like a little time to myself as you now have.”

  “Yes, I daresay I ought not to complain about it. I truly am very comfortable here.”

  “But?” Ariadne said knowingly.

  “It is a strange thing, but I suppose I am a little lonely at times. Lonely in a way that I was not at Lytton Hall. I know that sounds ridiculous, for I was terribly isolated there, especially after Augustus chose not to allow me to leave the house at all. But I was not entirely alone in there.”

  “No, you had Mr Winchester to confide in,” Ariadne said and nodded. “You must miss his company.”

  “I suppose I do really,” Eliza said airily, feeling certain it was a little more than that.

  She had not spoken to Daniel in the months since he had last visited her. But, of course, he was only doing what she wanted by not coming, and so she knew she did not really have cause to feel aggrieved. But still, she did just a little.

  And her solitude at the Dower House had given her plenty of time to study his comings and goings until she had a very good idea of which days he visited his new employer at Lytton Hall and even the approximate time of his arrival and departure.

  Whilst that knowledge only afforded her a few moments of watching from afar as he rode his horse past the Dower House and up the long driveway to the hall itself, still she rarely missed the sight of him. And when she did miss him, when he did not come, or she had misjudged his own schedule, she always felt a little bereft.

  She supposed, in the end, brief moments in time absolutely characterized her friendship with Daniel Winchester.

  They had never been able to have more than a few minutes in each other’s company, and so it seemed fitting now that she put equal effort into catching a glimpse of him here and there for a few seconds.

  “What about your mother?” Ariadne said gently. “I am cautious in saying such a thing, for I know how she let you down. But perhaps the time has come for a little reconciliation. I am sure that the next few months of your mourning would fly by if you had somebody other than me to visit you. Perhaps for your own sake, a little variety in the company you keep would be very welcome.”

  “I understand entirely what you are saying, and I understand exactly why you are saying it. And I do appreciate your kind care of me, Ariadne,” Eliza said, and an image of her mother came to mind unbidden.

  “But I am afraid that I still cannot think of my mother, even the happier times, without my mind immediately searching for the details of everything that came after the happiness. I know the right thing to do now would be for me to forgive her, perhaps even one day to forgive my father. But I am not sure that I could yet say the words, much less mean them.”

  “You need not explain, not for a moment. I understand, and I shall not push you. After all, only you will know if and when you are ready to take them back into your life.”

  “I think the thing which tore at me, which made it all so very fresh in my mind again, was the idea that my brother Henry is engaged to the woman he loves. I know I ought to be more charitable and be pleased for him, for we were never enemies. But it made me see how important it was to my family that my brother be happy and have what he wanted in life, and for me to have anything but as long as my mode of living provided them with the funds to keep my happy brother in a most happy situation.”

  “When you put it like that, it makes my own blood boil, and they are not even my family. But do not rule them out entirely, keep the idea that you might one day want them back again tucked away somewhere in your heart, just in case.”

  “I shall do just that, Ariadne if only to please you,” Eliza said. “Now then, would you like a little tour around the place first, or would you like to do that after we have had some tea?”

  “Oh, tea please,” Ariadne said, and Eliza rose to her feet and crossed the room to the bell rope. “I think I have talked my throat dry.”

  “It is always the way when we two are together, is it not?” Eliza laughed.

  “We always seem to have so much to say.”

  “Goodness knows, that is true.” Eliza made her way back to her seat. “But I suppose our separation always makes it worse.”

  “Then we shall not be separated like this again, shall we?” Ariadne said as if to remind her that there was no reason for the two of them to converse by correspondence anymore.

  “No, we shall not.”

  “And hopefully I can do something to take the place of dear Mr Winchester. Although I am sure that I shall be a very poor substitute.” Ariadne laughed mischievously.

  “Of course you will not be a poor substitute. You will not be a substitute at all; you are my very dearest friend.”

  “Oh yes, I have no doubt. But I also have no doubt that Mr Winchester holds something of a special place in your heart too.”

  “Oh, I do not know about that. He is a very pleasant man, obviously, and he did a great deal to help me which I shall never forget.”

  “Yes, yes,” Ariadne said airily. “But you are not fooling me for a moment.”

  “Goodness me, whatever do you mean?”

  “Eliza, you know you may tell me anything in the world. At least you always did know that you could.”

  “Of course, of course. And nothing has changed, Ariadne. I know that I could trust you with the deepest, darkest secrets of my heart and never have a fear that you would do anything other than keep them close to you.” She shook her head. “You must forgive me, for fear and secrecy became as second nature at Lytton Hall. Another thing that easily becomes a habit, I daresay.”

  “I daresay but let us get back to the subject of Mr Winchester.”

  “Alright, if we must.” Eliza knew that it would be easier to simply give in to Ariadne. “And as I have already said, I do miss the little conversations we used to have over at the hall.”

  “Have you never seen him?”

  “He called upon me here not long after Augustus died. I am bound to say that I was feeling a little nervous about it, given the concerns I had about Nella West and any idea that she had told her lies to anyone other than my husband.”

  “Yes, that is understandable.”

  “And so, I did not allow him to stay for long. I could not even enjoy his company because of my nerves. I told him that he could not really call upon me whilst I was in mourning.”

  “For the whole year?” Ariadne said and seemed aston
ished.

  “You know what a serious business mourning is for widows. And believe me, for the widow of a Duke, one cannot help feeling the eyes of the county fiercely on you at all times.”

  “I understand that, but the county cannot see you. You are in this tiny Dower House on the edge of a vast estate, some miles even from the hall itself. Who is there to know if you have a friend call in? And who is there to say that you do not have some business with Mr Winchester? He is an attorney after all.”

  “I suppose so. And it would be nice to speak to him again. But I was most firm about my period of mourning, and so I cannot think that he will call upon me again whilst it continues. And even then, he might not. A year is a long time, is it not?”

  “It is not so long if feelings run deep.”

  “Deep?” Eliza said in a strangled squeal that made Ariadne laugh. “He is an acquaintance, a friend, why on earth have deep feelings suddenly fallen into this conversation?”

  “Because I have long suspected, my dear Eliza, that you have fallen in love with this man a little bit.”

  “But he was Augustus’ attorney.”

  “I know, and I am not suggesting, as Nella West did, that there was anything inappropriate between you, for I know you better than that. And you know me better than to suspect that I am casting aspersions.” Ariadne’s tone had regained its familiar admonishment.

  “But there was a little closeness there. Not a physical closeness, obviously, but a good deal of understanding between the two of you. My dear, he was always something of a central theme in your letters to me, always there to help when you needed him.”

  “Yes, he rescued me more than once, and I am still grateful to him. But to say that I have fallen in love with him is to stretch the facts. I have a very high regard of him, that much is true, but nothing more.” Even as Eliza spoke the words, she knew that they were not entirely true.

  She had never contemplated the idea that she might love Daniel Winchester. After all, it was a complication that she had never been foolish enough to entertain when Augustus had still been alive. And even in the months since he had died, her nerves had not entirely settled down.

  There was always the fear that Nella West might suddenly reappear, ready to spit venomous lies and disrupt Eliza’s new-found peace completely.

  And then there was Miles, for she had still not quite forgotten him.

  “What is it, Eliza? Have I upset you?”

  “No, of course, you have not. You never upset me, Ariadne, and you must always speak freely.”

  “Then why do you suddenly look so sad?”

  “I can hardly tell if it is because I miss Daniel Winchester or if I am still saddened by my loss of Miles.”

  “You still think of Miles?”

  “Not very often, for I have never encouraged myself to do so. I have always done my best to divert my attention away from any thoughts of him when they occur. But I suppose because I have done things in that way, I have never truly been able to let go of him.”

  “I daresay it did not help to see him at the Duke’s funeral.”

  “No, it did not really. And yet hardly anything of worth passed between us. He simply gave me his condolences, and I thanked him. It was as if there was nothing else to say.”

  “Perhaps you have let him go more than you think?”

  “Perhaps I have. And yet I cannot help thinking I was simply startled to see him there and the whole thing had taken me off-guard at a time when my heart could take no more.”

  “I cannot help feeling I should not have begun this conversation. I have forced you to think about things that you are not yet ready to think about, and I daresay that all you need is a little more time to decide what it is your heart truly wants. Or who it is.”

  “Perhaps it is nobody at all. Perhaps all my heart really wants is peace and contentment, not excitement and fear with the ever-present threat of loss hanging over everything. If you do not give your heart away, you do not risk losing it, and you do not risk having it broken.”

  “Perhaps, as with the idea of your mother, I should leave you to think about it at your leisure. I shall not pursue it anymore. Especially not now that tea has arrived,” she said with a bright smile as the door to the drawing room opened and the housekeeper bustled in with the tray.

  Chapter 28

  A few weeks later, Eliza was out on the edge of the Dower House grounds when Daniel Winchester rode slowly by on his way up to the hall. She was, of course, there by design, feeling certain that he would be due to attend the hall on that day.

  She had set herself up with a little trivet and some scissors and was making a pretence of clipping some of the wildflowers which grew just outside the boundary, hoping that their paths would cross at some point as she did so.

  When the sound of hooves drew her attention, she looked up and was pleased to see Daniel looking back at her. He slowed his horse, although he looked at her a little cautiously.

  She was in the eighth month of her period of mourning, a time when such strict observance to its rituals seemed naturally to lessen.

  “Good morning, Mr Winchester,” she called out to him and was pleased when he drew his horse to a halt and smiled over at her.

  She had not seen him at such close quarters since that day so many months before in the little drawing room of the Dower House. He seemed more handsome than ever, with his pale hair and blue eyes and the commanding way he rode a horse.

  When he jumped down from the horse, Eliza felt her heartbeat quicken and allowed herself to enjoy the anticipation for a few moments. After all, she was the one who had waited for him. She was the one who had contrived to be in just the right place at just the right time so that she might see him.

  And yet, the old feelings of fear seemed to be dancing around the corners of her mind. She did what she could to ignore them, but she knew they were there all the same.

  “Good morning,” he said as he led his horse over to where she was standing.

  It had been so long since she had seen him close that his height and the broadness of his shoulders struck her afresh.

  He really was such a strong-looking man with such a steady, calm manner, that it was little wonder she had felt that feeling of safety with him from the very first.

  So many memories came to her that she could hardly pick through them. There were flashes of images, one after the other.

  Daniel sitting opposite her in the morning room, his handsome face kind and caring as he listened to her upset at her mother’s letter.

  And then Eliza running for her life, only to find herself suddenly safe in his study, protected by the man who would have fought the Duke with his bare hands if it had been necessary.

  “I hope you are well, Mr Winchester. You certainly look as if you are in good health,” she said and felt suddenly a little shy.

  “I am very well, thank you. And I hope that you are managing nicely here?” he said and peered around her and the thick foliage to the Dower House beyond.

  “Yes, I am managing very well. It is very peaceful here. There is never any drama of any kind.”

  “And I am sure that you are very glad of it.”

  “Yes, very glad,” she said and wondered if it was even possible to attain the old feeling of familiarity and closeness that they had experienced at the hall.