Timeless Regency Collection: Autumn Masquerade

by Josi S. Kilpack

  “I’m sorry,” Lila whispered. “I never meant for this to happen, and now you are here, and... I... I am very confused, Neville.”

  A woman at the fire laughed, loud enough to distract the trio and cause them to look toward the laughter, which was finished by the time it caught their attention. It was the need for relief from the chains of discomfort and strain, more than anything else, that made them eager to look that way, and then a sense of regret that there was not something more dramatic to offer them further respite.

  Lila turned to look back at Neville, praying for the strength to say the words that needed to be said. “Neville,” she said as she caught his eyes again. But then a yellow rose lying on the edge of the darkest shadow behind him caught her eye. She stared at it, then hurried to where it lay on the stone terrace. It had not been there when they arrived for this discussion. She looked into the shadows around them, the dark corners where someone could have been standing, dressed all in black—a silent audience to a confession that would burn and twist.

  With tender hands Lila reached for the rose and picked it up, aware but unaware of Eloise and Neville watching her. Mory had brought that rose for her. It was to lead her to him, yet now it seemed to speak in silent accusation. What she’d said and what she hadn’t said pinched and pressed within her memory. At one point she had felt as though she were betraying Mory with her account, now she knew she had.

  She stood and turned. Neville and Eloise watched her.

  “I am not in love with you, Neville,” she said with a tender tone. “I love you, but not in a way a woman should love a man, and I only know this because I met a man who turned my mind and pricks my heart in ways you do not.” Neville’s nostrils flared slightly. “I don’t say it to hurt you. I hate that I am causing you embarrassment, and I would give anything to have this play out differently than it has, but I would be doing no kindness to lead you on and...” She paused and swallowed the growing regret she felt. “I have already caused great pain to someone who did not deserve it.”

  She met Eloise’s eye for only a moment before her eyes filled with tears that blurred her vision. “I am sorry,” she said to them both, to the shadows, to the ears that she knew were not there to hear it.

  Chapter Twelve

  Lila stood at the paddock fence Monday morning trying to regain her confidence. Gordon looked her way, flicked an ear, and went back to the grass at the far side of the corral. Lila reached into her pocket and extracted the small apple she had stolen from the kitchen. When Gordon looked up a moment later, she paused, chewed, and then lumbered her way across the corral. She plucked the apple from Lila’s hand and proceeded to make a very loud process of enjoying the treat.

  “I am making all kinds of apologies this morning, Gordon, but I thought I would start with you.” The horse turned to look at her and then walked away. Lila let out a heavy breath, hoping the horse’s dismissal was not a portent of things to come. She watched until Gordon resumed her place on the far side of the corral before pushing away from the fence and turning toward the front of Franklyn Farm.

  With each step toward the dowager cottage, Lila’s heart beat faster and her stomach felt tighter, but she was determined to handle this with integrity. She owed both Mory, and herself, that much.

  She could hear movement within the cottage as soon as she came to a stop on the porch and knew he was leaving. He had not yet decided upon an estate, as far as she knew, but he would not stay at Franklyn Farm now. Not after he heard her confession and not with Neville here. That was why she had to do this now, just two days after the ball. She could not risk waiting until she felt ready. If she had been less concerned about herself and more concerned about doing the right thing, she wouldn’t be in this situation in the first place. She raised a hand and knocked. Fast, heavy footsteps moved toward the door. When it swung open, Mory was looking over his shoulder at something inside.

  “I’m grateful you came early, Clemens. If you’d just... Oh.” His entire body stopped moving when he saw her, and she attempted a smile in hopes it might soften the tension. “Miss Grange,” he said, reverting to the formal address. “Good morning.”

  “Good morning, Mory,” she said, maintaining the familiar. “I would like to talk to you.”

  He looked past her, perhaps hoping this Clemens man would save him from what could not be anything less than an awkward discussion.

  “Well, my hired man should be here at any time, but I have until then. I would invite you in, but I think that would not be appropriate under the circumstances.”

  That was her fault, his standing on ceremony and keeping her at a distance. She cleared her throat. “I wanted to explain my actions Saturday night.”

  “That is not necessary, Miss Grange. I understand the situation and bear you no ill will.”

  His dismissal hurt at least as much as his rage would. “I thank you for that,” Lila said. “But I fear you did not hear the full account.”

  “I heard enough,” he said evenly. “I will not bother you again.” He began to close the door.

  “That is not what I want,” she blurted out, then swallowed and took a breath. “What I want is for you to know the truth—all of it.”

  “Answer me this, Miss Grange,” he said when she paused for another breath. “Is the truth for my benefit or your own? If it is simply your conscience you wish to clear, I would prefer that you keep whatever explanation you feel so possessed to share to yourself. I do not need it, nor do I want the burden of such a thing. As I said, I bear you no ill will but would like to continue without discomfort between us, which, at this time, I feel capable of doing but cannot guarantee should you add to the weight of what has already taken place.”

  “Oh,” Lila said, considering her motivation.

  “I have no thirst for chaos and no interest in proving myself. Pursue the path you were on; I shall not interfere.”

  She swallowed the shame she felt, but pushed through. “I have behaved very badly toward you, Mory. I wish I could say it was accidental or that I acted without thought, but in fact I had quite a solid plan in place before you and I even met—a plan I felt sure would secure my destiny.” His brow furrowed enough to prove his interest in hearing what it was she had to say. And so she told him of her pining for Neville, of the plan she made with Eloise to discourage the attention of an old military veteran, and the article she used as a guide. She told him how hard she tried to be everything he could never want, and how he surprised her at every turn by not being put off by her behavior. She then explained how she gave up on the game when she felt something for him that she had never felt before. “I believed my heart had changed, but when Neville surprised me at the ball, the fantasy I had petted and nurtured for him left me paralyzed, unsure of my own feelings. When I tried to explain what I myself did not fully understand, I said it badly. After I found your rose, I realized what I’d done and I told him what I hadn’t said the first time.”

  “And he rejected you so you’ve come to me?” Mory said, lifting one eyebrow. “Forgive me if I’m not flattered.”

  “He did not reject me,” Lila said. “But we have spoken and determined we are ill-suited.”

  “And so he rejected you and you’ve come to me,” Mory repeated.

  She felt her neck heat up and knew that equally hot tears would soon betray her. She took a step back and looked at Mory’s boots instead of his face. “I am not here to present myself a viable option to you, Mr. Luthford. I have accepted that door to be closed. I am here because I have behaved badly, and my immature and impulsive nature has hurt people I care for, including you. I have many failings, of which you have seen far more than I would wish, but I understand my accountability.” Once again words were failing her. “I will not take more of your time, but I hope that your relationship with my uncle will not be damaged because of my outrageous behavior. I hope that your interactions within this community and your attempts to set up your own living are not affected by my ill treatment of
you these last weeks. I hope, more than anything, that you will not look poorly upon High Ercall because of my mistakes. I regret so very much what I have done and wish for you to know that I am very, very sorry for it.” She barely got the last word out without her voice shaking, then turned and fled down the porch and to the front door of Franklyn Farm. She did not know if Mr. Luthford stayed on the porch until she disappeared or if he pushed aside her apology as soon as she uttered it and went back to whatever task he’d been involved in when she arrived. She didn’t know, because she didn’t look back. Wouldn’t look back. Couldn’t look back. She feared very much that Mr. Luthford was an opportunity she would never have again and that she had ruined her one chance to be truly happy.

  Chapter Thirteen

  A week passed, and the easy recovery between Neville and Lila seemed proof that whatever their feelings had seemed to be during his absence was not the true state of things. Lila hoped for the same change to take place regarding her feelings for Mory, but those were proving harder to forget. She thought about him all the time, wondering if she would see him again and, if she did, how they would act toward one another. She imagined he would be polite, and it would nearly kill her. Over and over again she replayed their final conversation, trying to accuse him of being unbending or cruel, but none of those accusations fit. Not really. It was her vanity that had driven her actions, and she could not fault any man for not wanting to pursue such recklessness. It seemed her nature was not so easily changed after all. In dark moments she wondered if it were the same matters of personality that had led her mother to such extremes. And yet even such fear of blighted character did not keep her from the corner of Uncle’s study. It was the second Tuesday, after all, and she was curious as to whether the sheep had fetched the price Uncle Peter was hoping for at the auction. That she felt unfit for company and in need of time apart while she licked her wounds gave her another reason to hide with her crochet and listen in on matters far more interesting than the state of her thoughts and conscience. Neville had gone hunting, and so she had no one to miss her presence this morning.

  The sheep did fetch a good price at the auction, and Uncle was considering investing in a coal mine now that the industry was flourishing in this part of the country. The men were concluding their business about the same time Lila finished a shawl she would give to Eloise on her birthday next month. She couldn’t snip the yarn without risking being heard, so she bundled up her craft and silently replaced it in the basket, then settled against her corner to wait for the business to end. She leaned her head against the wall and closed her eyes, drawing her knees up to her chest. If it were not so cold, she might be able to fall asleep. Rest had not come easily these last nights.

  There was a knock at the study door. She did not open her eyes.

  “Mr. Luthford to see you, sir.”

  Her eyes popped open, and she sat up, turning toward that portion of the room even though it was blocked from her. Mory had moved to a boarding house a few villages over and she had missed him terribly. Why was he returned? And why did she know nothing of it?

  “Yes, thank you, Wilhite,” Uncle Peter said casually, as though Mory’s arrival was not unexpected. “Please excuse me for cutting our meeting short, Mr. Jeppson.”

  Lila didn’t realize she’d stopped breathing until she had heard the men stand, move toward the door, and then Uncle wish Mr. Jeppson a good day. She carefully filled her lungs so that her head might be right upon her shoulders again.

  “Good morning, Luthford,” Uncle said. “Please do come in and take a chair.”

  “Thank you,” Mory said. “I appreciate you seeing me.”

  His words washed over her, and finally she could exhale, though she did it slowly, so as not to make a sound. She should not be here, she knew it, and yet even if there were a way to leave now, she would not go. Though she was ashamed of herself for it, she would not give up this chance to hear his voice and know what he’d come to discuss with her uncle.

  “Not at all,” Uncle said. His chair creaked, indicating that he had sat down again. “What can I help you with? Have you found a place?”

  “There is one that looks appealing,” Mory said. “But it is not what I’ve come to speak with you about.”

  “Oh?”

  “No, at least, not the only thing. I spent much of the last week pondering my situation and evaluating my future. As you know I gave up my military career to be the Englishman my parents always wanted me to be, though they were unable to prepare me for that future as well as they would have liked.”

  “I do understand that, Mory. For what it’s worth, I know it was the regret of your father’s life that things were not managed better for your sake.”

  “I bear them no ill will,” Mory said. Lila smiled sadly, her heart softened by the fact that he didn’t seem to bear anyone ill will. He was such a good man, and yet she had destroyed her chances of being in his life. “I am grateful for the opportunity I have been given, only, I am having a harder time picturing myself in this place than I thought I would.”

  “Understandable, considering the extent of changes that have taken place for you. You are not second guessing your decision to settle here, are you?”

  “Perhaps a little,” Mory said. He shifted in his chair, and Lila wished she could see him as well as hear his voice. He was so close. Then again, he would not speak so openly if she were in his company. “I do not regret leaving the military. Without a war there is little to do but run drills, but I have wondered if the reason I have not felt particularly drawn to any of the properties I have explored is because my future does not lie in Shropshire after all, perhaps not even in England.”

  Lila closed her eyes and dropped her chin to her chest. He was leaving because of her. She had given such a poor impression of English society that he could not find a desire to be a part of it. The shame and guilt was excruciating.

  “I am very sorry to hear that,” Uncle said. He let out a heavy breath. “I had hoped that you would feel welcome here.”

  “It is certainly not upon your shoulders that I have not felt at home. You have been everything kind and inviting. But you know that I came with the intent to find a living and a wife.”

  “I hope it not too bold to mention I had hoped you would find both here. I can only suppose you have instead found neither.”

  “Not... necessarily.”

  Lila’s breath caught in her throat, and she now wished, more than she had ever wished for anything in her life, that she had not hidden in this corner. Hearing that Mory had found another woman, one who pleased him more than such an addle-headed child like Lila would cut her in two. She would then die behind this desk—here and now. She clenched her eyes together and was tempted to cover her ears, except some twisted part of her wanted to hear. Who had she lost Mory to? Who would take the place she had only begun to imagine could be hers before she had ruined everything?

  “But that is why I am here today. When first you wrote me about Lila...”

  Lila’s eyes popped open.

  Mory continued, “You expressed your deep affection for her and hoped that, along with settling in High Ercall, I might consider her. As I have explored my thoughts and hopes and ideals, I have considered that I might find greater happiness abroad, if, that is, I had the right sort of wife who might find that happiness with me.”

  Lila could not breathe once again. He couldn’t mean...

  “I am persuaded to think Lila might be the very type of woman able to endure the lifestyle required when one lives outside of England,” Mory said. “She is smart, curious, enthusiastic, and energetic.”

  “She is also impulsive and young.” Uncle’s voice was no longer so casual.

  “Such things would not work against her in India. For instance, impulsiveness, when properly directed, can lead to willingness to try new things and experience new society. Such abilities are essential to living differently than one has done.”

  “Lila has made no ment
ion of this to me,” Uncle said. “She has been moping about the place in your absence, but I was unaware of a connection between you. It is not like her to keep such secrets.”

  “I have not spoken to her,” Mory said. “And I will not without your consent. I am not ignorant of the cost such an arrangement would be for you, sir, and after the good will you have extended toward me, I will not pursue this course without your blessing.”

  Uncle let out a heavy breath. “I never imagined Lila going far,” he said with such sorrow that tears came to Lila’s eyes. “I have always known her prospects would be different than if she were my daughter, but I have taken comfort in the fact that she would likely marry someone from this county and therefore remain near me.”

  “I understand,” Mory said. Was that surrender in his voice? “And that is why I wanted to speak to you. I would not wish to cause myself unnecessary expectation. I thank you for—”

  “I am not finished,” Uncle said. “I would miss her terribly, but I would never deny my Lila the desires of her heart. I cannot guess what her answer might be, but if you would allow me to speak with her—”

  Lila could be silent no longer. “Wait!” she shouted, then scrambled out from behind the desk on her hands and knees.

  Mory saw her first and sprung from his chair, either because of surprise or good manners or both. “Lila?”

  She jumped to her feet, but stayed rooted on that piece of floor, facing off with Mory across the room. Uncle Peter stood and rounded the desk.

  “What on earth are you doing, Lila?” he said, grey eyebrows drawn together as he looked her over. He looked past her at the desk, and his eyes went wide. “Have you been eavesdropping?

  “Yes, Uncle,” she said with a pained expression. “A few times a week I crawl into that childish hiding place and listen to every conversation that takes place.”

  “Goodness gracious, child.” He closed his eyes and lifted a hand to his forehead in a weary gesture.