“I come several days a week to volunteer. My mother told you when she was busy trying to hawk me on you.”
“I do not recall.” He had changed his mind about her so many times since that conversation, he remembered little of it.
“I play and sing in the drawing room and then I read to the ones that are not mobile.”
“A pity we did not meet before,” Richard said. Surely he would have remembered meeting her.
“I usually only make rounds to the enlisted men. It seems officers have enough comforts.”
Had he not been thinking something similar less than an hour ago? Considering the time, made him pull out his watch. “I must go.”
“Of course,” she said with the usual curtsy.
Heeding the reckless voice in him, he took her hand. “Lady Belinda, might I claim a dance with you at our next meeting?”
She could not deny the attraction between them any more than he could. And yet, instead of nodding eagerly, she turned white. “No. Forgive me.”
This time, he left before she had the chance to turn her shoulder on him once more.
*****
Belinda watched Richard leave with a sinking feeling in her heart. Why should she care so much that she had hurt him? And why should she suppose that she had hurt him when he barely knew her? Deep down, however, she knew he was like her. They had both been wounded and hurt. Neither one was given to trust easily or wore their feelings on their sleeves. The attraction that drew her to him was much deeper than the physical longing to be in his arms.
And she hated herself for it.
Mere days ago, she had taken him for his brother: a rake and indolent. Learning his true name should have done little to change Belinda’s opinion. A Fitzwilliam son would be pampered and spoiled. Their father was one of the richest men in England! The truth was, however, that Richard Fitzwilliam was one of the most honourable men she could ever hope to know. Aside from kissing ladies, that is. Her pride reminded her that she had no reason to believe he kissed just any woman.
She needed to end…whatever it was between them. No more raw emotions. No more shared understandings. And certainly no more kisses.
Since Seth’s death, Belinda had made plans for an empty life. She would never marry. She would become an eccentric spinster living in an assortment of country houses, favouring her one by the sea. As she would not marry and have children of her own, she might select an orphan to be an heir to her fortune. The earldom would pass to a distant cousin, perhaps Belinda would leave it all to him. She would donate at last one-third of her income to charities.
Having a plan consoled her. As Richard had said, one cannot control when they live or die, but they might determine a few of the moments in between. She would no longer be left a prisoner of fate and tossed about like a ship during a tempest. Spinsterhood offered a safe harbour, and the pain of her broken heart provided a heavy anchor.
Then she met Richard Fitzwilliam, and she turned into a despicable wanton woman, kissing a man she had no intention of marrying. Forgetting, for blissful moments, her vow to love only Seth until she died. However, refusing his request to dance at some hypothetical ball in the future, would inevitably run him off. She had been far less provoking to all the other men she had met since her come out, and only one had withstood her distance.
“Lady Belinda, here you are,” the housekeeper said from down the hall. The unexpected voice caused her to jump.
“What has happened, my lady?” The woman eyed Belinda carefully and then the pile of fabric on the floor. “You look like you just ran for your life. Never tell me you have seen a ghost.”
“Maybe I have,” Belinda murmured as she followed the woman.
Upon returning home, her mother requested she sit with her in the drawing room.
“I have just had a visit from Lady Matlock, my dear,” Lady Crenshaw began, and Belinda stifled the urge to groan. “Lord Arlington plans to remain in Hertfordshire with Mr. Darcy for several weeks. However, the Colonel is not a bad match. I believe you are fond of men in uniform—although, of course, he would have to resign.”
“I loved Captain Rogers not because he wore a uniform, although his sense of bravery and duty certainly appealed, but because I loved his character. That is not interchangeable any more than a naval uniform is for an army one.”
“Good. So you’re not fixed on a naval officer. You know your father does not care much for the Navy, how it raises men of no distinction up to gentlemen.”
“Mother—” Belinda said in a warning tone but was interrupted.
“No. Listen to me.” Lady Crenshaw put down her tea cup and drew Belinda’s hands in hers. She met her daughter's eyes with unmistakable seriousness. “I have never loved your father. We are fond of each other, but we barely knew one another when we wed. Do you think we have been unhappy?”
“No,” Belinda answered honestly.
“You think because you are wealthy that you will have no need of a husband. A good spouse provides so much more than income. He can be your support when you are weak and ill. He can be your voice of reason or lend courage in times of hardship. And what of children? You are my source of joy! I would not trade you for one moment with the man I loved.”
Her mother’s words slapped Belinda. “The man you loved? You loved another when you married Father?”
“I did. He worked on my family’s estate. The match would have been impossible for my parents to approve. He suggested we elope, and I was tempted, but how would we have lived? My father would not have released my dowry to the footman. Your Father proposed at the end of my first season, and I accepted.”
“You did what was expected of you,” Belinda said. “We do not have the same sort of temperament, Mother. I cannot crush my hopes and desires so easily to conform to the wishes of others.”
“Nor should you. I only ask that you seriously consider what it is you want for the remainder of your life. Do you sincerely wish for isolation? Before Captain Rogers, you were such a vivacious and happy woman. You would not have wanted to shut yourself away forever. You have so much love to give. Will you choose to become only the rich relative to some distant cousin who visits only hoping to see your demise? We may not have ever agreed on your Captain, but I know you have always loved me.”
“Of course, I do,” Belinda whispered. She would not admit it to her mother, but her words were sinking in.
“Would you deny yourself knowing the love of a child? The comforts marriage can give?”
“I….I do not know!” Belinda cried and stood. Walking to the window, she wrapped her arms around herself and waited for the tears to come. They did not, and instead, she was shocked to feel her mother embrace her from behind.
“I cannot pretend to know how your heart has suffered. But I hate to see how you are wasting away, and the Belinda I have known is disappearing more and more each day. So long as you go on living, your Captain will always live as well. You carry him in your heart, but believe me, your heart is big enough to love again.”
Her mother remained hugging her for several minutes before giving Belinda’s shoulders one final squeeze and departing. As she watched out the window, the sun slowly began to set.
*****
Caroline watched her brother walk toward the stables from the breakfast room window. In a few moments, he reappeared on his mount. She knew his direction: Longbourn. Since returning inviting them to Netherfield last week, he had called every day. A few days ago he asked permission to court Jane Bennet. Caroline took a deep breath. At least it was not an engagement.
She let go of the curtain and let it fall back into place. Then she went about her breakfast, the others typically arose later. Her gaze skipped around the large room. Charles only rented, but this was everything her parents desired for her and her siblings: a large country house, an estate with tenants, far removed from the smoke of busy cities and hundreds of miles away from the factories. They hosted a gentleman worth ten thousand pounds per annum an
d a Viscount. Her father had worked himself to an early grave, and her grandfather and great-grandfather had worked even harder to accomplish this possibility. Meanwhile, Charles courted a lady who could do nothing for their standing and who without any sacrifice whatsoever was privileged to entertain the same men as she. Caroline sat alone in a breakfast room while Jane enjoyed the comforts of a boisterous family and true affection from an honourable man.
How Caroline hated the country! It served only to remind her of the last time she had happy memories in the countryside. She had been sixteen, and although her father had recently died, the family was on holiday in Yorkshire where she had many happy memories of childhood. Caroline and Louisa had just finished school, and Charles was home from Eton. Caroline relished in the easier manners and expectations of the country over Town life. Quiet mornings with her mother, sister and female relatives were a welcome respite from the class-conscious behaviour of the seminary she attended. There, she was among her own.
But like a summer butterfly, such innocence soon flitted away. On the eve of her elopement, she overheard her mother speaking with her aunt about concerns for the Bingley children. The pain and concern in her mother’s voice rang in Caroline’s ears. How could she hurt her only surviving parent? They had done so much for her. If she eloped, would it hinder Louisa and Charles? At sixteen, new love can seldom be stronger than the ties of family. Now, Caroline thought if she had a choice to do it again she may have chosen differently.
The breakfast door opened, and Lord Arlington entered. He greeted her with his usual amiable manner. After piling his plate with food, he asked her, “Bingley has left already?”
Caroline sighed. “Yes. You know what draws him there every morning.”
“We will not see him until supper, I suppose.”
“Indeed. Are you to dine there today again?”
“No, I do not think Darcy intended to stay as long today.”
“Ah. I think, like you, he has learned to take small doses of Mrs. Bennet, no matter how fine Eliza’s eyes are.”
Arlington took a sip of coffee and then assessed her. “I wonder; do you not get lonely by staying here so often.”
Caroline shrugged. “Louisa keeps me company.”
“Mrs. Hurst cannot always remain at Netherfield. When Bingley and Miss Bennet wed, would it not be better for you to have more acquaintances of the area?”
“Meryton has the sort of people that even if I would know everyone in a crowded room, I would still feel alone.”
It was the sort of statement she was used to making. He could take it as he liked, that she thought herself above the company and would, therefore, be an ideal viscountess. She knew the truth. She had straddled two worlds for so long she did not fit in anywhere.
“Indeed.” Arlington returned his attention to his breakfast, and a moment later Darcy and his sister joined them.
Conversation wrapped around Caroline. Discussion was made of a ball hosted by Sir William Lucas later in the month. Far too soon, the others left for Longbourn. After practicing on the pianoforte for some time, Louisa came down, at last.
“Are you well, Louisa? You have been very fatigued since we returned to Netherfield.”
Her sister smiled. “I am happy to say that I am in a delicate state.”
Caroline embraced her sister. “Are you—are you well this time?” Louisa had suffered several miscarriages during her marriage.
Louisa nodded her head. “Everything is progressing normally.”
“I am so happy! When may we hope for the blessed event?”
“We expect the babe in April.”
Caroline’s eyebrows shot up in surprise. “So soon? You have kept it a secret!”
“I tired of the pitying looks and…and I worried it would end as all the others. The doctor assures me we are past the usual concerns.”
“That is why your visit with the doctor took so long before the ball and why you saw Dr. Mitchell while we were in London.”
“Indeed.”
“And this travel? Should you not be in London?”
“The doctor has said it is perfectly safe to travel as long as I rest often.”
“But surely London would be better. The access to doctors…”
Louisa looked at her hands. “You know how helpless doctors were to help mother and father. It is even more so with pregnancies. We will be in London for the delivery. But the truth is, we must soon depart for Cornwall. Hurst says now that he has an heir of his own on the way, he means to be more serious about his father’s estate.”
“Of course,” Caroline said with a smile. She was happy for her sister. truly. She had not chosen the wealthiest man, but he came from a good family and was not too indolent. He was exactly the sort of man her parents would have hoped for their daughters. And now Louisa would finally have a babe to love. …And no more time for her. Nor could she invite herself to the Hurst’s estate.
“You will be well with Charles. And Jane is a dear, even if her family is…less than desirable.”
“Do not worry about me, Louisa. Come, let us begin plans. We shall have to return to London to shop!” That thought, at least, took away the stab of jealousy she felt.
Chapter Six
Richard remained on the periphery of Lord Townshend’s ball. Old chums occasionally greeted him and once in a while he noted a young lady smile upon him approvingly before being swept away by their mother to meet some other more desirous match. On the marriage mart, the second son held little attraction. Battlefield commendations turned the heads of silly debutantes, but their parents understood the cost. On the slim chance that he inherit the earldom, he could never offer the emotional support and affection any caring parent would want for their daughter. He was as he always was; the spare. Unnecessary unless calamity struck.
Ordinarily, he never attended the balls and soirees while on leave. These occasions were for the heirs, or men of rank for the few younger sons of marquess and dukes of marrying age. If they had not been matched in their cradles, that is. James was only a viscount but had been expected to wed their cousin Anne since her birth. Richard came tonight to collect on his dance with Belinda, shocking his parents at his attendance.
Never mind that Belinda refused him. She was too well-bred to refuse him if he insinuated that he was on her card or she had reserved space for him. It was devious and niggled at his conscience, but he had come to a conclusion. In his usual battle-ready mind, he withdrew after their last meeting and reassessed his knowledge. Fighting attraction between them only wasted energy. As a soldier, he had refused to marry, but he now meant to retire. Although uncertain of his future, becoming a husband and father certainly filled in quite a bit of time. Her complicity, and even instigation, to their kisses, proved she desired him as well. The only honourable path included a wedding ceremony. She turned down his request to dance only because he had not played the genteel suitor. That would change starting with their first set.
Richard cast his eyes again to the entrance. The Crenshaws usually arrived nearly the same time as the Matlocks. Why were they late this night? Annoyed, he tore his gaze away but whipped his head back as he heard whispers carry the name Lady Belinda from a group of wallflowers near him.
Richard looked at Belinda and heard the approval of men near him. She looked a sea nymph; Aphrodite rolling in on the foams of the waves. Belinda wore a silk pale green gown with a white gauze overskirt. It looked as though it floated around her and accentuated her curves.
Richard made his way to her as gentlemen encircled around her. With each slight blush and nod from her head, she raised her arm and allowed another man to write his name on her card. Richard wanted to thrash every last one of them. In the past, Lady Belinda’s standoffish demeanour of the last three seasons deterred most gentlemen. Tonight, they buzzed around her like bees. Her gown marked to the world she finally acquiesced to play their game. Richard nearly felt sorry for the men who had come too late. She apparently desired a husband
and had already caught him. Now, to let her reel him in.
“Lady Belinda,” he said as a sweating young baron approached.
“Lord Compton, Colonel Fitzwilliam. How nice to see you.”
“My lady, your spirits seem much improved. The fresh bloom has returned to your cheeks.”
Richard was confident enough to wager her blush came from memories of their last encounter. It stole into his mind as well.
“Thank you, my lord,” she said with a nervous look at Richard.
“I trust you have remembered our set,” Richard said.
“Oh, of course. As you see.”
She lifted her card for him to look. Only the last remained. Perfect. As he reached for her pencil, he recognized the fire in her eyes. What had he done to anger her? The sounds of the first set began, and her partner collected her.
“If you will excuse me,” she said with all the haughtiness one expected from a lady of rank.
His lordship ambled off, honing in on another woman with deep pockets and too attractive for him. Richard shook his head. Some sots never learned. The man on the dance floor with Belinda did not appear to be doing any better with her. Her eyes lacked the animation that enraptured him during their conversations. She did not laugh. Her smile was too tense.
As the night went on, however, Belinda relaxed. Richard would have thought it was only getting used to the event if she did not cast her eyes at him every so often and then snap them back at her partner before bestowing him a radiant smile. What was she playing at? He found himself reaching for more champagne than was his wont. Determining to give her a good show back, he began asking wallflowers to dance. Of course, they were too awed to speak much.
At last, the evening came to a close and his time to collect arrived. Richard waited at the edges of the dance floor, eager to take her hand from her current partner, who was, from the looks of his attire, a colour-blind fop. The dancers took their final turn and then Belinda careened to the side, nearly falling over as her face contorted in pain. Her partner caught her by the shoulders. Then, instead of leading Belinda to him, the cad escorted her to a seat.
Renewed Hope Page 6
