Falling for Chloe

by Farr, Diane

  Chapter 17

  Chloe, who was well-acquainted with the redoubtable Lady Gilliland, took Gil’s advice. With this caveat, however: She was determined not to delay her return to Brookhollow for longer than a se’ennight. She therefore moved her travel arrangements out only one week, and spent the afternoon undoing everything she had done that morning, soothing the disgruntled servants who had assisted her, and trying not to think too much.

  She could not stay in London. She simply could not. Even with Lady Gilliland to support her, the atmosphere in the Dalrymples’ home was oppressive—and then there was Gil. Try as she might to banish them from her thoughts, his words kept coming back to her. I have thought of a way we could end our engagement. Every time she recalled it, a fresh wave of depression afflicted her. He had sounded so hopeful. So eager!

  Well, why should he not? From the day it was announced, both of them had done their utmost to wriggle out of their betrothal. She had worked harder at it than Gil, in truth. The more fool she.

  Nonsense, she scolded herself, shaking out her folded muslins and returning them to the clothes-press. I have never wished to marry. My life is full without it. And no matter what my feelings for Gil, I certainly cannot marry a man who does not feel the same for me.

  Now, that admonition had some teeth. She recalled her mother’s unrequited love for her father in all its slow, unfolding misery. She would not go down that path. She would not. Better a solitary life at Brookhollow, tending the land she loved and interesting herself in the comings and goings of her tenants, charity work for the parish, and a life of comfortable friendship with her neighbors.

  Why, she looked forward to going home, she reminded herself. Apart from Father, who was often a thorn in her side, everyone and everything she loved was there. She would go home and resume her old life, and prepare for the day when she would be old enough to truly be regarded as the lady of the manor. Respected. Perhaps beloved. An essential part of the community.

  It had always seemed a pleasant, peaceful prospect. Now it seemed incomplete to her, as if such a life would leave something hollow and aching at her core.

  A terrible loneliness suddenly gripped her, so intense that it halted her movements. She stood for a moment, blinded by emotion, her hands stilled in their task. Gil. She would never get him out of her heart. How could she forget him? He would always be in her life—but not where he belonged, at the center. He would be on the fringes. A friend. Dear, but infrequently seen. It would be torture, struggling forever to hide her feelings from him.

  And one day he would marry. He would marry, and she would have to welcome his wife into her circle of friends or risk losing Gil’s precious presence at the fringes of her life. What if his wife recognized the longing in Chloe’s eyes? Oh, dreadful. Surely she would ban Gil from Chloe’s presence, or find a dozen small, spiteful ways to separate them.

  Chloe leaned forward and pressed her forehead against the cool wood of the cupboard door, her throat aching with unshed tears. She couldn’t think about it now. She would go mad if she thought about it now. Besides, her time would be better spent learning to bear this terrible cross. She took a deep breath. "What can’t be cured must be endured," she whispered aloud to herself. Then she resolutely opened her eyes, straightened, and resumed her tasks. There was nothing else to do.

  She happened to be crossing the hall when Tish and Lady Gilliland returned from their round of morning calls. Tish seemed exhausted, but her mother looked, if anything, refreshed and energized. Battle evidently agreed with her.

  "Did you have a pleasant time?" asked Chloe.

  Lady Gilliland smiled. "Pleasure, my dear, was not what we were seeking. I believe we have enjoyed some success, and that is all that matters. Lady Selcroft was excessively kind, and Sally Jersey was at least cordial, for which I am most grateful. Tish, my love, I think it would be best if you go directly upstairs. You look worn to a thread, and you must, you really must, make some effort to recruit your strength. Recollect, pray, that your brother will be here for dinner. I have every expectation that Robert will refrain from insulting Gil, not to mention me, by disappearing to his club. Do you wish to show your husband that pale face, and those great circles beneath your eyes? I thought not! Run along, sweeting. Chloe and I have much to discuss."

  This was news to Chloe. Her eyes widened apprehensively. "I am persuaded, ma’am, that you would rather lie down for an hour than talk to me. You must have risen at first light, to arrive in London by mid-day. Pray do not exhaust yourself on my account! I have much to do—"

  "Nonsense, child, I am not such a poor creature. I assure you, I do not regard a trifling journey of sixteen or eighteen miles as an excuse to cosset myself for the remainder of the day. Come along."

  Lady Gilliland beckoned imperiously and swept into the library. Thus commanded, Chloe trailed helplessly behind her. Lady Gilliland stood before the fire, vigorously tugging at her gloves. Chloe closed the door behind her, but hovered nervously by it, ready to open it again and escape if need be.

  Lady Gilliland glanced up from her gloves. "You look extremely well, Chloe. London appears to agree with you."

  "Thank you, ma’am. I—I have enjoyed myself very much."

  The gloves off and folded, Lady Gilliland tossed them neatly onto a cherrywood table and, peering into the looking glass above the mantel, began working the hat pin out of her hat. "I am glad to hear it. Tish tells me, however, that you have not yet been presented."

  Chloe swallowed. "No, ma’am. It—it did not seem necessary."

  Lady Gilliland’s eyes met Chloe’s in the mirror. "It is extremely necessary, as Tish knew well," she said crisply. "I have already spoken with her, my dear, and I promise you that this household will not, in future, be run in such a ramshackle fashion. Come! What is that face you are pulling? It will not be much of an ordeal. We will procure suitable clothing for you, teach you a few simple rules of protocol, and the thing is done."

  "Ma’am, I am returning to Brookhollow this Thursday week," said Chloe, trying to speak with a firmness to match Lady Gilliland’s. "I cannot think it necessary to go through the ritual of a court presentation if—"

  "Returning to Brookhollow! Why, the Season is only half over."

  "Nevertheless, ma’am, I—"

  "And do you think never to return to London? My dear Chloe, you cannot have half a Season, short of illness or death! It simply isn’t done. A green girl, a girl whom no one knows, cannot appear and disappear at will, attend only the parties that take her fancy, snub the royal family—yes, I see that you are shocked by the very idea, but I assure you that is how your behavior would appear! And appearances are everything in this world, as I believe you may have learned by now."

  She swept the hat from her head and placed it beside the gloves, then seated herself gracefully on a sofa. "I was a little surprised, you know, that we heard nothing from you after the engagement notice was published." Her eyes met Chloe’s with unnerving keenness.

  Chloe, already knocked off balance by Lady Gilliland’s frontal attack regarding her social obligations, was completely nonplussed by this abrupt change of subject. Speechless, she could only stare at her would-be mother-in-law, terrified that her every fleeting thought must be plainly legible in her face. Lady Gilliland studied her for a moment before she went on.

  "It must have given you quite a turn, to see those notices. I fully expected you to come back, post-haste, to rake us all over the coals. At the very least, I was in daily expectation of receiving a stinging letter from either you or Gil. Especially you, my love! You were so adamantly against the idea of marrying Gil before you left. Or so you said."

  Chloe flushed scarlet. "Why—so I was! I was very much against it!" she stammered.

  "Are you still?"

  Chloe realized that her jaw had dropped. She carefully closed it, then said, as simply and as carefully as she could: "Yes."

  Lady Gilliland patted the sofa beside her invitingly. "Come and tell me about i
t, my poor child. Has it been miserable, then, finding yourself engaged to my son out-of-hand?"

  Chloe approached cautiously and sat, but on the extreme edge of the sofa. "Well, I wouldn’t describe it as miserable. It was certainly embarrassing, and we were both very angry at first."

  "I daresay." Lady Gilliland looked sympathetic. "But that is what struck me as so extraordinary, you know. We haven’t heard a peep out of either one of you. Why is that?"

  Chloe blinked. "Well—well—I don’t suppose it occurred to us—it certainly did not occur to me—that there was anything to be said. After all, the damage had been done." She lifted her chin as some of her anger returned. "And I think it’s as well that we refrained from expressing ourselves to you, ma’am, and especially to my father! You would not have enjoyed hearing what we had to say."

  "I see." Lady Gilliland seemed completely unperturbed. She continued to regard Chloe fixedly. "Do you and Gil plan to marry?"

  "No!" cried Chloe, in a strangled voice.

  "No? Then what, precisely, do you mean to do? From aught I can tell, neither of you has repudiated the engagement. I have been receiving felicitations all afternoon."

  "And I suppose you accepted them without a blink," said Chloe bitterly.

  "Of course, my dear." An amused smile curved Lady Gilliland’s lips. "I would indeed count myself fortunate, and Gil as well, if you married him."

  Pain tugged at Chloe’s heart. She found she had to look away. "Well, I am not going to marry him," she said. Her voice sounded a trifle too loud. "I am not going to marry anyone."

  To her surprise, Lady Gilliland’s cool, strong hand reached out and covered her own. "You have not known many examples of a happy marriage, have you, my dear?" she said quietly. The hand patted hers, then removed itself. Lady Gilliland looked pensively off into space. "Not every couple is as fortunate as Sir Walter and I have been. We had not met above a dozen times, I fancy, before we found ourselves at the altar. That is the way things were done in those days, you know—not so long ago. But our parents chose well. We suited admirably, and soon became fast friends."

  Chloe was both startled and touched that Lady Gilliland would confide in her. She must have looked a little dubious, however, for Lady Gilliland, catching her expression out of the corner of her eye, laughed a little and turned back to her. "You are thinking that we are seldom to be seen in each other’s company? Very true, my love, but we are happy nonetheless. Sir Walter has his books and his garden, and I my dogs and my house to run, and we share a healthy respect and affection for one another. I am utterly persuaded that a strong marriage is, of all possible experiences in life, the one most likely to result in sustained happiness. And my own experience has shown that true friendship is the best foundation for such a marriage. And true friendship, my dear, is what you have with Gil."

  Chloe nodded, but could not speak. It was hard to meet Lady Gilliland’s eyes, gazing at her so kindly. She stared, instead, at her hands twisting tensely in her lap. It was all very well for Lady Gilliland to speak of friendship with Sir Walter. But Chloe knew she would be desperately unhappy, married to a man she adored—as she adored Gil—if what he felt for her was only "respect and affection." Besides, Gil did not wish to marry her, so it was foolish to even entertain the idea, let alone have this conversation with his mother.

  She took a deep breath. "Lady Gilliland, I feel honored by your confidence," she said haltingly. "And of course I—I am glad that you would welcome me as an addition to your family. Thank you. But—I cannot marry Gil. You must put the notion out of your head. It is—it is unthinkable."

  "Unthinkable. Why? Forgive me, but you must make some allowance for the partiality of a mother. Gil seems to me a most unexceptionable young man."

  Chloe looked up swiftly. "Oh, yes! That is not what I meant. That has nothing to do with it. It’s just—"

  "I would even call him handsome."

  "Oh, yes, exceedingly handsome! But—"

  "And I have always had the impression he was well-liked among his peers. That must count for something, must it not?"

  "Of course! Everyone likes Gil. He is so very—"

  "I know for a fact that he has a kind heart, and a sweet temper. Why, even as a boy, he was never one to tease the smaller children, or torment insects, or anything of that sort."

  "Oh, no, never! Why, he allowed Tish and me to follow him about, and was so patient with us, even when the other boys would taunt him for it. He has always been—"

  "He is not foul-mouthed, is he? That is the kind of thing a mother might not know."

  "Gracious, no! At least—"

  "And he has always been quite fastidious in his personal habits, so I cannot imagine you finding him repellent in that way."

  "Oh, of course not! There is never anything offensive about Gil. In fact —"

  "He is not addicted to gaming, or drink."

  "Far from it. He—"

  "I cannot think of any annoying habits, such as cracking his knuckles, or smoking tobacco, or anything of that nature."

  "Oh, no! He does not even take snuff. Gil is—"

  "Frankly, Chloe, I believe you could do much worse than to marry my son."

  "Frankly, Lady Gilliland, I believe I could not do better!"

  The words were scarcely out before Chloe clapped her hands over her mouth, as if she could call them back and stop them.

  Lady Gilliland regarded her thoughtfully. "Ah," was all she said.

  Chloe found that she was trembling. "Lady Gilliland, pray do not misunderstand me," she said desperately. "I have the highest opinion of Gil—I have always had the highest opinion of Gil—but I tell you truly, I cannot marry him. Indeed, we have both been doing our utmost to discover a way we can respectably end our betrothal, and Gil has told me—only this morning, just as you arrived—that he has found a way. There was not time for him to tell me what it was, but I assure you, whatever it may be, I mean to abide by his decision." Her voice trailed off at the end of her speech. She blinked to clear the tears which had stupidly welled up, and turned her face away, fervently hoping that Lady Gilliland would not notice her emotion.

  But it was not from Sir Walter that Gil had inherited his perspicacity. Lady Gilliland continued to regard her fixedly, and Chloe felt herself growing more transparent by the moment. She folded her arms tightly, as if unconsciously protecting herself, and drew herself carefully upright on the sofa. "You know I have never thought of marriage," she said, with simple dignity.

  "Yes, I know that. I have already given you my views on the felicity of married life, and will therefore say no more on that head. I do not wish to browbeat you, my dear." Lady Gilliland still watched her intently, her head cocked like a bird. "If you and Gil are in agreement—and, I must say, you generally are, which is one of the reasons why I believed—well! Talking pays no toll. If you and Gil are in agreement on this, and do not wish to marry, I suppose a way must be found to break the engagement. I only hope you will find a way to do so with a minimum of scandal. I should not like to have Gil’s future chances of forming an eligible alliance harmed. I understand that you mean to never marry, but I believe Gil feels far otherwise."

  "Yes," said Chloe faintly. If only she could stop trembling! If only Lady Gilliland would not treat her so kindly! Somehow it made everything worse. "We might have ended the matter at once, you know, but Gil—Gil wanted to find a way that—that would not—" She raised a shaking hand to cover her eyes before the tears started falling. "Forgive me, ma’am, but—I think—I think I am not quite well!"

  And, not knowing what else to do, Chloe rose blindly from the sofa and fled, nearly tripping over the tiny dog that trotted in the instant the library door opened. She hastened up the stairs to her bedchamber, as embarrassed as she was unhappy. She had made a complete idiot of herself! Useless to hope Lady Gilliland would believe she had been taken ill! Oh, but what did it matter? What did anything matter? She would think of some excuse to offer Lady Gilliland at dinner. Right now
, she was going to have a good cry.

  Lady Gilliland watched Chloe’s precipitate departure with sympathy—and great interest. She picked up the squirming terrier and stroked it absently, gazing thoughtfully at the doorway Chloe had just vacated.

  "So much weeping and misery in this household!" she remarked to the dog. A slow smile crept across her face. "Really, it makes me feel quite optimistic."

  Chapter 18

  The group that gathered in the Dalrymples’ small drawing room before dinner suffered from a surfeit of nerves. Seldom had a mere family dinner contained such a highly-charged atmosphere. The only calm member of the party was Lady Gilliland, and the only cheerful one was Gil.Everyone had dressed with elaborate care, each for his own reasons; they could not have appeared more correct, or more gorgeous, if the Regent himself was to join them. Lady Gilliland, however, was the only member of the party who was at leisure to appreciate this. The others were too busy struggling to maintain their composure, achieve an air of normalcy, and keep their eyes off the one person present who was irresistibly drawing their attention like a magnet.

  Lady Gilliland was enjoying herself hugely. Her only regret was that Sir Walter was not present to share the exquisite entertainment provided by the children’s unintentional theatrics. She did hope that one day—in the not-too-distant future—she could describe it all to the present company, and enjoy a good laugh with the very persons now unconsciously providing this diverting spectacle. At the moment, of course, it would not strike a single one of them as amusing in the least.

  Poor Robert, standing so stiff and grim-faced by the fire, looked absolutely haunted. He was clutching a glass of untasted madeira and trying to keep his eyes from following Tish everywhere she went. Tish flitted aimlessly about the room, lovely in a spangled gown of clinging spider-gauze that glittered when she moved. She was pale, but two spots of feverish color on her cheeks gave her the burning, intense beauty of a consumptive. Lady Gilliland devoutly hoped that matters would resolve before Tish made herself ill with excessive emotion. Whenever Robert succeeded in tearing his eyes from Tish, hers would compulsively flit to him, and her brittle, brilliant smile would become ragged with anguish.