Light Among Shadows

by Murray, Tamela Hancock

  “My wife?” The thought was too delicious!

  “Yes.”

  Tedric’s emotions crashed to the ground. “But I cannot offer her a title or the estate.”

  “She does not impress me as one who is concerned about titles. As for the estate. . .” Cecil shrugged. “You can live here as long as you like. In fact, I want you to live here.”

  “But as the second son, that is not my right.”

  “The privilege is not without obligation,” Cecil said. “I expect you to continue to care for the estate and bring it back to its former glory. I do wish you to keep my bedchamber in the south wing ready for me when I care to return to the country to hunt.”

  Tedric thought for a moment. “I see no reason why that would not be agreeable.”

  “I am sure, especially since you shall not see much of me. You are perfectly aware that I much prefer to live most of the year in London. And as for income, you have Mother’s money.”

  Calculations flew through Tedric’s brain. “Yes,” he answered. “I suppose I do have a reasonably secure life to offer her.”

  “Do not delay,” Cecil urged. “It is well before bedtime. Send a message to her father that you will be seeing him on the morrow to ask for Miss Pettigrew’s hand in marriage.”

  Marriage! Tedric swallowed.

  “If you act quickly, Pettigrew may even send you an answer tonight.”

  “Tonight.” Tedric noticed his palms had become sweaty with high anticipation. “Are you sure? Are you perfectly sure?”

  “Yes, I am sure. I have never been as certain of anything in my life.”

  Eighteen

  The following day, Abigail heard a knock on her bedroom door as she dressed for the morning.

  “Come in, Missy.”

  The events of the previous night had left Abigail wrestling with her thoughts and feelings, and sleep had eluded her. Last evening, in the space of a half hour, she had journeyed from believing she would marry the love of her life to suffering a broken betrothal with a man she had never wanted. She had been confident of her future the night before, but in the light of day, uncertainty clutched at her.

  The exchange between Father and Cecil had served only to deepen her depression. She wondered what had transpired between the brothers at the Sutton estate after the fateful meeting. Abigail was certain that Cecil had portrayed her father to Tedric as a dishonorable deceiver. Tedric would most likely avoid her at all costs now!

  Her aching heart betrayed her with its constant yearning. How could she have let herself fall in love with Tedric? If she had known he could never be hers, Abigail would have kept her feelings at bay. Now it was too late. She gave her sleeve an angry yank as she pulled it onto her shoulder.

  She sighed. What good would ripping her dress do? She had no right to believe she should escape the consequences of her foolish actions.

  Heavenly Father, deliver me from this torment of doubt!

  “Mornin’, M’lady,” Missy said.

  Abigail startled and then spun around to face the maid.

  “I beg pardon, M’lady. I didn’t mean to scare ye none.” Missy curtsied.

  “That is quite all right,” Abigail assured her.

  Abigail rued the day when Missy would leave. Since the betrothal was broken, the Suttons were bound to send for their maid soon. She tried not to look at Missy for fear emotion would overtake her.

  Abigail summoned her most cheerful voice. “I have been waiting for you. Here.” She turned her back to the maid. “I need help with these buttons.”

  “I’ll help ye, M’lady.” She felt Missy’s hands come into contact with a button and pull the opposing cotton toward it. “But are ye sure ye want to be wearin’ such a plain house dress to see yer beloved?”

  “My beloved?” She swirled to meet Missy’s eyes, which were fixed on her. “I have no beloved. Not after last night. Please, should anyone call today, tell him I am not at home.”

  “I don’t understand, M’lady.”

  “I do.” Griselda’s voice sounded from the entrance. “I thought you would say something so foolish.”

  “Good morning,” Abigail blurted out of years of forced habit.

  “Good morning.” Griselda’s footfalls, slow and uneven with her waddling, approached until she stood before Abigail.

  “I am not being foolish,” Abigail protested.

  “I beg to differ.” Griselda investigated Abigail’s gray dress. She tilted her head toward Missy. “You. Dress her in the garment she wore last night. And style her hair.”

  Missy stopped buttoning the dress. Frozen in motion, the maid obviously awaited Abigail’s approval.

  “No, Griselda,” said Abigail. “Did you not hear what I said? I am not at home for callers today.”

  “Do as I say, Missy,” Griselda commanded.

  “Yes, Ma’am.” Missy curtsied and hurried to the wardrobe to retrieve the dress in question.

  “Now that I think about it, I suppose you might have a good idea,” Abigail noted. “Perhaps if Lord Sutton sees me in the same dress, he will assume we are even poorer than he thought. Perhaps he will take pity on me and spare me the lecture. Perhaps he might even decide to marry me after all.”

  “Do you think I am ignorant of last evening’s events?” Griselda asked. “I spoke with your father. He related the entire episode.”

  “Then you know very well that I have no beloved.”

  “Au contraire. I believe you do.” Griselda arched an eyebrow. “I understand that Tedric Sutton’s name was mentioned.”

  Upon the utterance of Tedric’s name, Abigail’s stomach felt as though it were leaping to the base of her throat. “And what does it matter if his name was mentioned?” she managed to ask.

  “You were mistaken in your assumption that Lord Sutton is here to see you. Your visitor is not he, but Tedric Sutton.”

  “Here? Where?” Abigail rushed to look out of her window.

  “In the parlor,” Griselda informed her. “He is waiting to see you.”

  She turned and faced her stepmother. “I do not want to see him. Send him away,” Abigail spat out.

  “I beg to differ,” Griselda answered. “I think you want to see him very badly.”

  “What does it matter? Father would never approve. Not after last night. Lord Sutton all but called Father a liar to his face.”

  “Are you really willing to hold Tedric responsible for Lord Sutton’s words and actions?” Griselda wondered.

  “Are you forgetting that they are both of the same family?” An unpleasant thought occurred to Abigail, stabbing through her being. “Perhaps Tedric is here to admonish me further for the way I treated his brother.”

  “Nonsense.”

  “How do you know?” Abigail queried.

  Griselda paused. “A woman can tell by the look in a man’s eyes.”

  Abigail remembered the look she once thought she had seen in Henry Hanover’s eyes. She had long since realized that his way of surveying her was nothing more than lust. How she had misconstrued his intentions!

  Her thoughts moved to Tedric. His eyes never bespoke an unsavory love or hinted at any impropriety. Abigail had no brother, but examination of Tedric’s actions toward her could only point to the fact that he thought of her as nothing more than a future family relation. Had that connection not been anticipated, Tedric might well have left her on the road that night. No wonder he had acted with such disdain when she gave him the gifts. No wonder he had never tried to hold her, even to kiss her cheek. . . .

  “Tedric Sutton awaits,” Griselda reminded her.

  “I wonder what he wants?” Abigail’s heart beat with a mixture of curiosity, fear, and anticipation. “Maybe I should tell him to go away. Perhaps see him another time.”

  “I do not advise that. I happen to know that the Suttons’ messenger arrived late last night with a letter for your father. I did not have the privilege of reading it, but I wonder if that letter was from Tedric, asking your fath
er for your hand.”

  Abigail felt her blood race with excitement. Then a horrible thought occurred to her. “Or the messenger may have been delivering a letter from Lord Sutton to break off the betrothal formally,” she countered. “Where is Father? I want to ask him about the letter.”

  “He has gone into the village. I suspect he did not anticipate you would be receiving a caller this early in the morning. Despite the early hour, you must see him. If you do not, he may never come back.” Griselda’s gray eyes looked into Abigail’s.

  “Tedric was never mine,” Abigail whispered.

  “I believe he is now, if you want him to be. He loves you.”

  “What do you care about love?” Abigail quarreled. “You only wanted me to marry Lord Sutton so I, and consequently you, could gain access to the Sutton fortune. His younger brother stands to gain none of the Sutton holdings. So what would a marriage to Tedric offer you?”

  Griselda’s neck whipped ever so slightly toward the fire and back, as though Abigail had taken her hand and slapped her across the cheek. “Have we not progressed in the least, Abigail? Have you not developed the least bit of affection for me during your time here?”

  Abigail let her gaze drop to the floor. She searched her heart before she answered. “Yes.” She lifted her face toward Griselda. “Yes I have. More affection than I ever thought possible.”

  “And I, you. Go to him, Abigail. Do not worry about the consequences of money. God will provide for us.”

  “Do you truly believe that?”

  “Now that I have been delving into the Word with you, I believe it. ‘Are not two sparrows sold for a farthing? and one of them shall not fall on the ground without your Father. But the very hairs of your head are all numbered. Fear ye not therefore, ye are of more value than many sparrows.’ ” Griselda sent her a smile no less triumphant than that of an eager pupil looking for the approval of a stern governess. “Matthew chapter ten, verses twenty-nine through thirty-one,” she cited.

  “Yes, that is one of my favorite passages as well.”

  “So you see,” Griselda said, “even if you only meet with Tedric to tell him you never want to speak to him again, you should give him the courtesy of listening to what he has to say.”

  “Well. . .” Abigail hesitated.

  “Remember, you are a Pettigrew. Appearances are everything.”

  “All right. I shall go.”

  “Good,” Griselda said. “Now, will you allow Missy to prepare you for your meeting? I am perfectly willing to send the maid out with a round of tea and biscuits for your guest to consume as he waits.”

  “I hope my toilette shall not take quite that long.”

  Griselda exited, a knowing smile covering her face.

  “Are ye ready to dress proper?” Missy asked.

  Abigail nodded. “I am ready.”

  Since Missy had become more adept at styling her hair, Abigail was ready only a few minutes later. Slowly, she donned the rose-colored dress, making sure the lace curved about her neck to conceal any immodest flesh. If this meeting would truly be her last with Tedric, she wanted him to remember her at her most beautiful.

  “Ye never looked lovelier, M’lady,” Missy assured her.

  “I hope you are right. Perhaps he will be less harsh with me if my appearance is pleasant.”

  “Harsh? With the woman he wants to marry?”

  “No matter what my stepmother says, I have no idea he plans to propose,” Abigail said. “He may be here to say he is moving away, that he will never see me again. But not before he lashes out at me about being so foolish.” Abigail felt a mist of tears threaten.

  “There, there. It shan’t be so bad. Now don’t ye start with yer cryin’. Ye go down there and face him like the lady ye are.”

  Abigail nodded. Missy was right. After summoning her courage, Abigail descended the stairs, made her way through the foyer, and stopped in front of the parlor entrance. As soon as she was announced, she crossed the threshold to face Tedric.

  Tedric had risen from his seat and was standing to his full height. He cut an unusually striking figure in his form-fitting morning suit. Hat removed, Tedric’s hair shone in the morning sunbeams that streamed in a thin line through a crack in the draperies. She looked beside the chair for his riding whip. If she saw it, she knew it to be a signal that the visit would be short. When she didn’t spot the whip, Abigail wasn’t sure whether his failure to bring it in was a good sign or bad. If he planned to linger, he must be prepared to give her quite a lecture. Then again, the half-eaten plate of biscuits and pot of tea indicated his acceptance of their hospitality.

  “Abigail.” His voice was soft, softer than she expected, with a quality that both excited and reassured her.

  “Tedric.”

  His eyes held an eager light. Could he hear her beating heart? He strode toward her and reached for her hand, but not before looking into her eyes to seek her silent permission. After she gave him one nod, he took her hand in his. Tedric lifted it to his lips and barely brushed her hand against them.

  Abigail wasn’t sure how to respond. She had expected him to shout, to make accusations, but never this. Perhaps he displayed gallantry to throw her off balance. After revealing all of her feelings for him on the previous night, she braced herself for a lecture on how much she embarrassed him and how a proper lady should behave.

  “Abigail, I have so much to say to you. Where do I begin?”

  “Perhaps with the letter. The letter that I understand arrived here in the dead of night.”

  “You do not know its contents?” he asked.

  “No. Father is in the village, and I did not know until this morning that your messenger had delivered a letter here. I have not seen Father today. You do know the hour is early for callers.”

  “I beg your indulgence.” His voice was soft, but she didn’t want to fall into a trap.

  “Very well. Please tell me why you have come here,” she answered, though her voice remained soft. “I am certain I deserve anything you have to say to me.”

  His eyes widened. “You seem not to believe I bear good tidings.”

  “Should I?” She bowed her head. “Last evening, I know my actions did not prove the good breeding that I claim is mine.”

  “You acted like a perfect lady,” Tedric said. “A lady who was shocked by unexpected developments and a victim of a misunderstanding.”

  His words gave her hope. She looked up into his face. “Nevertheless, I beg your forgiveness for my display.”

  “I am the one who should be begging your forgiveness. I am afraid I did not defend your honor with the vehemence that I should have. Rather, I permitted you to defend me. But I had good reason. As much as it hurt my heart, I did not want to risk saying anything that would jeopardize your betrothal to my brother. No matter how he praises the ladies in London, no one could match you.” Tedric took both of her hands in his. “I am sorry about what happened here last night. I am at fault for my brother’s decision to break off the betrothal.”

  “So you have come here to beg my forgiveness rather than to lecture and to blame me?”

  “I blame you for nothing.”

  “And I do not hold you to any blame.” She looked down at the floor. “Except that, why did you not tell me?”

  “Tell you what? That Cecil was your betrothed? I thought you knew. That is why I never—”

  “Never what?” She gazed into his blue eyes.

  “Never—oh, Abigail, how I wanted to tell you for so long, but I could not until now. I love you. I always have, from the first moment we met. And I love you even more today.”

  She gave his hands a gentle squeeze. “And I love you, Tedric. Desperately. You have no notion of how long I have waited for you to say those words.”

  “The day you gave me the gifts. . .”

  “Yes,” she whispered.

  “I thought I saw love in your eyes. How I hated to disappoint you by not expressing the depth of my emotion. Even wor
se, I hated myself for loving you! But now—”

  “Now you do not have to hate yourself anymore. Oh, Tedric. I had no idea I had caused you such pain!”

  “But not of your own accord, my dearest. All along, I was causing you hurt, though doing so broke my own heart. Knowing you were my brother’s betrothed prevented me from showing my true feelings toward you,” Tedric answered. “I understand everything now. The fact that you respect my brother so much that you would honor your engagement to him even when you in fact loved me makes me love you all the more.”

  Abigail had a terrible thought. “I have to know. Does he mind terribly? I am afraid I was quite rude to him.”

  “He knows you were surprised. How else could you have reacted?”

  “More like a lady, I suppose. I all but threw him out of the house in favor of you,” Abigail reminded him.

  “I must admit, I have never seen my peppery little Abigail so beautiful.”

  “Peppery!” She gasped, remembering the first day they had met, the day when he had ridden up on his horse and teased her with his bold description of her. “Peppery!”

  He let out a hearty chuckle. “That is my Abigail. The one I first met. I am afraid I must take back my earlier comment that you were never more beautiful than last night. I do believe you are even more ravishing today.”

  “I am? Even though I did not heed your warning?”

  “What warning?” he asked.

  “That first day we met,” she recalled. “You warned me not to stay too close to the road lest I be swept away.”

  Remembrance made his handsome face shine. “Oh, yes. That warning.”

  “I am afraid I did stray too close to the road, and I was swept away, just as you predicted.” She gave his hands a squeeze. “I was swept away by the man who proved to be a light among shadows. The man I grew to love. If there was any doubt before, let there be no doubt now.”

  “And I, you.” He gazed into her face. “Yes, even Cecil knows it. He practically commanded me to ask you to marry me.”