by Lily George
The words blurred into a single black line. Brookes dropped the letter. Confusion gripped him. Did Harriet mean that marriage to him was indecent? If that were so… The pain was overwhelming, more unbearable than anything he had experienced. Sophie was repulsed by his injury. But did Harriet, despite his best efforts, see him in the same light as her sister? He tried to read the words again, but her handwriting remained grotesquely distorted.
His jaw tightened as he tried to think. As mortifying as Sophie’s letter was, his concern focused on Harriet. Had he tipped his hand? Did she guess his true feelings and pity him? Harriet was the type of woman to marry a man out of mercy. And her campaign to reform him, to bring him to God was another part of this sympathy she must feel. He loved her. She pitied him. Nausea threatened to overwhelm his senses. He needed a drink.
Yes. A nice tall scotch would settle his stomach and calm his nerves. He heaved away from the desk toward the silver tray glistening on a nearby cherrywood table. Auntie always kept fine scotch around the house. With shaking hands, he poured a tall one and knocked it back. He swallowed so fast he didn’t even taste the liquor. He downed another, but neglected to savor that one, too. Then he splashed an extra draught into the glass and staggered back to his seat. Snatching up Sophie’s letter, he sat on the corner of the desk and continued reading.
I hope that this letter finds you well and you aren’t too angry at me or my family. I do believe I loved you at one time, John, but I cannot love you any longer. The changes the war wrought are too difficult and final for me to overcome. Please do not think too harshly of me, and accept my best wishes for your future health and happiness.
Brookes’s head spun. To clear his mind, he finished off the scotch and tossed the glass across the room, aiming for the hearth. It splintered into a million pieces with a satisfying smash. That was better. Much better.
Stoames flung open the door. “What the…?”
“Join me, Stoames. Another drinking bout caused by the Handley women.” He grinned at Stoames’s alarmed expression. “No, seriously, my good man. Pour another round. I am free, entirely free, of those two chits. Time to get on with my life.” He did not intend to say those words aloud, but they poured out of him like scotch from a flask.
Stoames quirked an eyebrow, but strode over to the decanter anyway. “You sound like you’ve had enough.”
“No, only three large ones. I’ll need about two more before I begin feeling it.”
Stoames measured out two more glasses, handing one to Brookes. “So, what happened to bring about this dubious celebration?”
“I received a letter from Sophie Handley, releasing me from any understanding.”
Stoames raised his brows. “That’s good news, that is.”
“It is, and it gets better. Why is the lovely Sophie releasing me? Because Harriet says that marriage to me would be indecent.” He spat the last word out and drank deeply.
Stoames sighed. “Are you certain?”
Brookes waved his hand at the letter. “Read it yourself, my good man.”
Stoames picked up the letter and read through it carefully. He took so long about the business that Brookes’s temper began to rise. “Well?”
“I don’t think Miss Sophie means it the way you are taking it.” Stoames looked the letter over closely again. “Or at least I am certain that’s not the way Miss Harriet meant it, if she said it at all. You know Miss Sophie. She’s a flighty lass. I am sure Miss Harriet said one thing, and Miss Sophie took it another way…”
“Enough. As I said, this is good news. I am now free from all obligations. I am liberated. No longer must I strive to be a better man. I am going to forget I ever heard of these two wenches.”
Stoames set his glass down. “You are drunk, and you don’t know what you are saying. Do whatever you want to with your life. But I won’t allow you to call Miss Harriet a wench.”
Dizziness overwhelmed Brookes and he lurched forward off the desk.
Stoames rolled his eyes and extended one hand. “Get up, man. I am going to make some coffee and pour it down your throat until you are sober.”
“No.” Brookes shook his head, which was heavy as lead. It rolled around unsteadily on his shoulders. “I don’t want to sober up. To think, Stoames, I believed in Harriet. To think I began praying again because of her.” He shook his head. “I’m drunk, Stoames, haven’t been this drunk in ages.”
Stoames pulled him up from the floor and grabbed him by the shoulders. “I don’t care what the letter said. I am certain Miss Harriet would never say such a thing. And she would never intentionally hurt anyone. Her motives are sincere. I’ve been around enough women to know. Now, I am going to force you into a cold bath and make you drink enough coffee to float a boat. You are going to be sober, presentable and polite for the rest of Miss Harriet’s stay here.”
Brookes held his head. The library was spinning around. “I love her, Stoames. I want her to love me back.”
Freed of her writing duties, Harriet plundered Aunt Katherine’s library on a regular basis. She was deep into a new book when a knock sounded on her door. Harriet cast the novel aside and sat up.
Ada popped her head around the door. “A letter came for you today. From Tansley. I thought you’d like to see it.”
At last. Sophie had finally written. Harriet breathed a sigh of relief as she grasped the letter. “Thank you, Ada.”
“You are most welcome, Miss.” She closed the door with a gentle click.
Harriet sank down onto the bed and ripped the letter open. Yes, Sophie was as brief a correspondent as ever. After two weeks of waiting, Harriet had hoped for a longer missive.
Well, it’s over—I wrote to Captain Brookes and will send my letter to him in the post with this letter to you. I simply told him what you told me. It’s all over and you can regard him as a friend as you wish, but there is no longer any connection between us.
Hattie, I informed Mama of my decision not to marry Brookes and she has been most distressed. She takes the laudanum too often for my peace of mind. Hattie, I beg of you, please come home. I am worried about Mama and have no idea how to help her, as I am the cause of her distress.
Harriet cast the letter aside and rubbed her temples. Mama’s condition was worse. She must go home. Aunt Katherine was going to return to Tansley in another week or so, but Harriet could not force Sophie to wait that long. She must return faster than that—at once, if possible. She had to find Aunt Katherine and get her help securing the use of a post chaise.
She quit her room in search of Aunt Katherine. It was late afternoon, so perhaps she would still be in her boudoir, dressing after her afternoon nap. Harriet, heedless of servants and decorum, ran to the old woman’s bedroom and rapped on her door.
“Come in,” an elderly voice commanded.
Harriet felt better just hearing her. Auntie brooked no hesitation. She would assume control of the situation and everything would be fine.
Harriet shut the door behind her. “Aunt Katherine?”
“Harriet, my dear. Come in. I am giving my hair a good brushing before I tuck it up again. It becomes so disheveled when I rest.”
Harriet cleared her throat. “Aunt Katherine, I received a most distressing letter from home today. I am afraid I must beg your help, though you’ve been so generous already.”
“Of course, my dear, anything you need. Whatever is the matter?”
Harriet paused a moment. She didn’t want to reveal the whole truth to the kindly old woman. Deal with the emergency first and then wait a little longer to inform Aunt Katherine of Sophie’s rejection. “Mama suffers from nervous exhaustion, you know. She is getting worse, and my sister cannot handle Mama’s tantrums alone. She wrote to beg my early return.”
Aunt Katherine’s brows drew together in concern
. “Is your mother under the care of a doctor?”
“Yes. Dr. Wallace in the village. I know I promised to stay in Bath another week at least, but I must go home and attend to my mother. Would you help me find a post chaise? I’ve a little money, and I can pay the fare.”
“A public post chaise? Nothing of the sort. That is highly improper, especially on such a long journey. I will return with you. In fact, we should all depart early. John has business waiting for him at home, and I begin to find Bath tiresome.”
“No, I couldn’t possibly ask you to cut your trip to Bath short. I need your help in securing passage on a post chaise. I would even be happy for a seat on a mail coach. No one would think anything of it, and I could be home in a matter of days.”
Aunt Katherine set her hairbrush down with a decisive clink. “Indeed, you will not travel by mail coach.” She gave a snort of laughter. “I will have the berlin made ready for you, and if you insist on traveling alone I will send one of the servants to go with you. I will secure your lodging every night under my name at the inns. That is the best I can do for you, although I do wish you would reconsider and allow us to escort you home.”
Harriet sat on a nearby settee with a sigh. “No indeed, but thank you, Aunt Katherine. I want to travel as fast as I can, and I would worry about your comfort.”
“I can see you are determined, so I will let you go. Though the very idea that you could tax my nerves by traveling too fast is so much nonsense. When you get home, you must write to me at once and tell me how your mother fares. When I return to Tansley in a few weeks, I will come to call.”
Harriet smiled, her lips trembling with relief. “Of course. How quickly can I depart? Can I leave tonight?”
“It’s a bit late for travel, my dear. It will be dark soon and you would only be a few miles outside of Bath. Take my word for it, start fresh in the morning. Have a good dinner and a good rest. All will be well, you’ll see.” Aunt Katherine stabbed the final pin in place and turned to face Harriet. “I know you are concerned, Harriet, so put your faith in the Lord. I will say a special prayer for your mother’s recovery tonight.”
Harriet bustled over to Aunt Katherine and embraced her impulsively. “You are so good to me. I can never repay you enough.”
Auntie pulled back, regarding Harriet at arm’s length. “Tut, tut. I rather think you shall. Someday.”
Chapter Twenty-Four
“Well, John, you can come out from hiding. She’s gone.” Aunt Katherine bustled into the private den adjoining Brookes’s bedroom, where he had taken refuge behind a stack of ledgers. She pulled a chair directly across from his desk and sat down, looking at him with the glint of battle in her eyes.
Brookes sighed. “Aunt, I haven’t the slightest idea what you mean. Where has who gone?” He barely gave Aunt Katherine a glance as he concentrated on the balance sheets before him. Perhaps she would get the message and leave him in peace.
“Listen, dear idiot. Harriet has returned to Tansley.” She nodded as he raised his startled glance at her. “Yes, you see? By getting so far into your cups that you couldn’t come to dinner last night, and then sequestering yourself in your private study all morning, you missed out on a great deal.”
“Why has she gone back to Tansley so early?” He floundered under the intensity of Aunt Katherine’s gaze.
“Her sister wrote and begged her to return. Their mother has taken a turn for the worse.” The old woman shifted in her chair and rapped her knuckles on his desk. “Although I think all of those Handley women, saving my dear Harriet, need nothing more than a good kick in the bum.”
“Aunt Katherine, really!” He would never get used to hearing her use coarse language. His surprise did not surpass his shock over Harriet’s departure, but he shrugged his shoulders with a nonchalant air. “Her mother is truly ill, I suppose.”
“Oh, tut. Those women expect someone else to swoop in and rectify their situation. Meanwhile Harriet has been writing her fingers to the bone trying to save their worthless hides. I had a private conversation with Lady Handley, before we left for Bath. Honestly, I am sure that woman has delusions of ruined grandeur. Face the facts and move on, that’s what I always say. The Lord will provide.”
“Not everyone has your strength of character, Aunt.” He winced at her mention of faith. The effects of last night’s drinking bout lingered in both mind and body. He had no desire for a theological debate today.
She waved her hand carelessly, as if shooing away his words. “Now, did Harriet ask you to negotiate on her behalf for a publisher?”
“She did.” He leaned back in his chair, folding his arms over his chest.
“And did you write to the publisher?”
“I did.” He laced the two words with a polite tone of warning.
“Excellent. Now, where does that leave you, my dear nephew?”
“I don’t know what you mean. None of this is my affair, though I am sorry to hear of it.” The words were frosty and precise. Surely Aunt would get the message.
“Hush, Nephew.” She held up a warning hand to stem his words. “It has been under my notice for some time you are quite besotted with Harriet.”
Brookes opened his mouth to protest, and then shut it with a snap. There was no use pretending with Auntie. She saw through every subterfuge, just as she had when he was a boy and fell out of that tree. So he merely shrugged his shoulders.
“In truth, I want you to marry the girl. Not to bring her family any material comforts, though that would follow. No, mine is a purely selfish reason. I like to see you happy. And Harriet brings you joy. She would be an excellent wife for you. And I think she opened your heart to faith, which makes me most exceedingly pleased.”
He cleared his throat. “Auntie—”
“If you are worried about Sophie still, I think you could call off any supposed connection. It’s been long enough, and she’s shown little interest.”
“Enough.” He pushed away from the desk and leveled a gaze at his aunt. He allowed the intense pain he felt to shine through his eyes. His expression was so stormy even she, as talkative as she always was, fell silent.
“There is no need to fear any connection with Sophie. She wrote yesterday, informing me our understanding is off.”
Aunt Katherine clapped her hands. “Oh, famous! Perfect. Now the way is clear for you to wed Harriet.”
“It isn’t.” He paused, measuring his words carefully. “Sophie said Harriet told her a marriage to me would be indecent.”
She raised her head, searching his face for answers. “Whatever does that mean?”
“Is it not plain? Harriet finds me so appalling that she would call marriage to me an indecent thing.” The raw pain of it sounded in his ragged voice. A drink would taste so good right now. But there was no decanter in the den, and he knew Aunt Katherine would not let him quit the room until she had all the answers she wanted.
“I’m sure Harriet never meant such a thing.” She lowered her voice, speaking softly as she used to when he was a boy, and had injured himself in some escapade. “John, upon my word, I feel most certain that Harriet is in love with you. I have seen her look at you with such esteem and affection. I know she must care.”
He shook his head. “Aunt, I know you think you are right in everything. And usually I indulge you in that conceit. But you are wrong in this case.” He pulled the letter from his desk drawer and tossed it into her lap. “Here, read it yourself.”
She lifted her quizzing-glass and read through the letter, a frown of distaste creasing her brow. “Goodness, what a vulgar letter. Whatever did you see in this girl, besides her beauty? Consider yourself lucky, John, that you didn’t marry her before the war. To be saddled with a piece of baggage like that the rest of your life…”
He looked down at
his desk. Was Sophie really a common woman? He remembered her the way he knew her, before the war, when they were both young and lively. A vulgar chit? No, not really. “She’s not so bad, Aunt. She has been indulged throughout her life. Her beauty commands things from other people—extra sweets before dinner, a pretty dress from town. From birth, I am certain her mother groomed her for a great marriage. And once their fortunes reversed, I was their backup plan. Although I must say it shows some strength of character that she refuses to marry me because she doesn’t love me.” He purposely avoided his aunt’s eyes and directed his gaze out of the window, his voice distant even to his own ears.
“I don’t harbor any ill will toward Sophie. But I am—” A telltale tremor sounded in his voice and he cleared his throat again in an attempt to steady it. “I am most hurt by what Harriet said.”
Aunt Katherine placed the letter on the desk and regarded him with a grave air. “It’s not like you to give up so easily, John. I would rather you confront Harriet, even in anger, and demand an explanation than to simply fold like this.” Her tone changed, reverting to its usual bossiness. “Here’s what you do, my boy. Write her a letter, demanding an audience when we return home to Tansley. When she arrives, show her Sophie’s missive. Then tell her to clarify exactly what she meant—”
“No.” He clenched his jaw and watched his aunt through narrowed eyes. “No confrontations. I don’t want anything, except to be left in peace.”
“Then I will ask Harriet myself. After all, she is a friend of mine, too, and you are my nephew. If she says disparaging remarks about you to others then I want to know why.”
