It was in this state of mind that Lady Smithfield waited with impatience for her daughters to return home. When they finally did arrive, she said nothing of the length of time they had been gone but asked instead after Mr. Sedgewick’s health and that of his guest. She knew that she had been right to worry when both her daughters’ cheeks grew rosy at such an innocent question, and they began to pay far too much attention to the removal of their bonnets and smoothing out any wrinkles in their dresses. She was too wise to comment on their discomposure, or quiz Lydia on her feelings for Lord Wesleigh at present. Although Lydia was the most dutiful of daughters, there was no denying that she was also highly imaginative. If she fancied herself in love with the vicar, as Lady Smithfield was beginning to suspect, opposition from her mother might fix her affection irrevocably on Jonathan Sedgewick. So she avoided the subject of gentlemen altogether, initiating a discussion instead on what they were to wear to the Abernathy’s ball Wednesday the following week, an invitation to which had finally arrived.
Chapter Ten
Lady Smithfield remained in the drawing room with the duke after her daughters had retired for the evening. She wished to discuss with him her suspicion that the match between their children was not proceeding as planned. He listened quite attentively to her fears and commended her for her wisdom in saying nothing to Lydia about Jonathan Sedgewick. But he assured her that his son was quite enamored of her daughter.
“Really?” Lady Smithfield asked in relieved surprise. “He told you so?”
“In explicit language. He admires your daughter tremendously, and nothing would bring him greater joy than to marry her, but he is concerned that she may not return his regard. So he is wooing her, in his own way. But you know these young people today. He insists on doing things completely on his own, with no interference from you or me. I agreed to leave the two to their own devices, and I would suggest you do the same.”
Lady Smithfield agreed quite readily, overcome with joy. It had been weighing on her mind all day that the match she had boasted of to Lady Abernathy and her niece was destined to come to nothing, and she would be humiliated in front of all her neighbors. It was quite a relief to think that she would not be made to eat humble pie.
The duke was pleased to see he had relieved his hostess’s mind, but still could not be entirely easy until the entire truth was made known. But he comforted himself in that he had told the entire truth, though without specifying which daughter his son admired. With that consolation, and his hostess’s expressions of delight following him up the stairs, he made his way to bed.
Emily found herself practicing the pianoforte more and more since her acquaintance with Alexander. She had even reflected on the fact that if she had conceived a hopeless passion for a gentleman at sixteen, she would be a regular virtuoso by now. She was engaged in this occupation when Alexander arrived at the Smithfield’s on Saturday morning, anxious to put his fate to the touch.
When Wiggins would have announced him, Alexander begged him not to, and instead stood for almost a quarter of an hour, watching Emily play. If he hadn’t been so in love, he would have been ashamed to observe her thus; for when playing her face was so expressive, her emotions so obvious, it was as if her soul was nakedly exposed. Totally unself-conscious, not aware she was being observed, her body was almost an extension of the music, and she swayed in a manner her mother would have been sure to denounce as vulgar had she been present.
When the piece she had been playing came to an end, Alexander spoke before she could begin another. “Emily.”
Emily started, jumping up from the bench so quickly she almost knocked it over. “Mr. Williams! You startled me.”
“I apologize. Indeed, I did not know how to make you aware of my presence without startling you. You were so engrossed in the music.”
Emily was embarrassed that he had observed her such, and hurried to invite him to sit down. “I am not sure where my mother and sister are this morning,” she said. “I will have Wiggins call them.” She moved as if to do so, and Alexander stopped her.
“Please do not. It is you I have come to see, and our privacy suits my purpose very well.” Although he had just sat down, he jumped up and proceeded to pace back and forth, before startling her again by abruptly kneeling at her side.
“Emily. I have made no secret of my feelings for you. I admire you exceedingly, indeed, I love you. Would you do me the honor of becoming my wife?”
Emily did not know how to react. In all of her daydreaming, she had never imagined quite this scene. She had been sure that Alexander had been trifling with her, and, because of this, had never envisioned he would propose to her. Now she was at a loss to know how to respond.
Alexander was not entirely daunted by her silence. He laughed a little nervously, and reminded her that it was generally considered good form to make a reply to an offer of marriage.
“I am sorry, it is just that I do not know how to respond,” she answered in all honesty.
“Well, I am not an entirely disinterested party, but I think that an answer in the affirmative would be a good choice.”
Emily looked into the handsome face, whose lines she had memorized, and wished with all her heart she could make such a reply. But her doubts were such that she knew they would have to be overcome before she could ever do so. “Believe me, I desire nothing more than to answer in the affirmative, but there are practical matters to consider.”
Alexander rose, to sit in a nearby chair. “Practical matters?” he asked.
“Indeed. I am not sure if you know the extent of my dowry, but it is only two thousand pounds, and, as a curate, I cannot think you make more than fifty pounds a year. How are we to live on one hundred fifty pounds a year? Where are we to live? As romantic as it would seem to deny the importance of such matters in comparison with one’s feelings, these things must be considered.”
Alexander admitted to himself the truth of this statement, but wondered if this was a polite way of saying she would only marry a man of rank and fortune, no matter what her feelings. “I concede your point, but I would not propose if I did not have the means of taking care of you. Believe me when I say you will not want for anything.”
This statement had the opposite effect for which it was intended. Emily, who was already suspicious of Alexander’s source of income, felt he was as good as announcing that he was the highwayman. Her heart sank to hear him make such an announcement, but she was determined to uncover the truth.
“Might I inquire into the source of these means?”
Alexander looked uncomfortable, almost guilty, which only confirmed Emily’s suspicions. He could not think of a way of reassuring her without revealing the whole truth, and that would defeat the entire purpose of his charade. He wanted to hear she loved him as a curate, not as the heir to a dukedom. He began to grow angry that she was subjecting him to such an examination. When he had envisioned this scene, Emily had fallen gratefully into his arms, proclaiming her love and devotion for him. This inquisition was a far cry from what he had imagined.
“Why all these questions, Emily? Is your love granted only to a person who meets a certain annual income? What, have you decided you cannot admire someone with less than five thousand a year? Or perhaps you rate your charms even more highly than that. Perhaps you have determined that someone with less than ten thousand a year is completely beneath your notice. I should have realized such a thing when you plainly stated your intentions to steal your sister’s intended husband.”
Emily had never been so insulted in her life. “How dare you! For you to imply I am the type of woman to put a price tag on my favors. Why, you may as well call me a prostitute to my face! I will have you know, it is not your income that decided me against you, but your dishonesty and lack of candor. I cannot love a gentleman who would hide what he is.”
Alexander looked shocked at this statement, wondering if she could be referring to his masquerade. No, he decided, it was merely an excuse on her part
, to hide her mercenary motives. “So you cannot love me. One wonders, then, how well your plan to marry a certain marquess is unfolding. I assume, as his income is far in excess of ten thousand a year, you have irrevocably settled your heart on a brainless fop.”
“You, sir, are as untrue to your so-called friends as you are to me. You do Lord Wesleigh an injustice when you describe him in such a manner.”
“So I am correct. No lady could so nobly leap to a fellow’s defense without already having decided to begin practicing for a lifetime of such a role. I wish you happy, my girl. I hope you will not live to regret your choice.”
“If my choice is between you and him, than I cannot but make the wiser choice by choosing him.”
“I think you have made your feelings, or lack thereof, abundantly clear. I will take my leave of you, and I can only regret that I ever entertained feelings for someone who would judge a man by his fortune.”
He strode angrily from the room, leaving Emily alone. She began pacing the drawing room furiously, going over his insults in her head and telling herself she was glad she was to have nothing more to do with such a man. Her anger burned intensely for about a quarter of an hour after his departure, and she did not begin to regret her words until he had been gone for perhaps half an hour. It was only then that she remembered the light in his eyes as he had told her he loved her, and how that light had been extinguished completely by the end of their interview. Such thoughts could not but depress her, and she left the drawing room to go upstairs to her own chamber, where she proceeded to sob violently for what was left of the morning.
Lady Smithfield found at dinner that evening that both her daughters looked as sorrowful and lackluster as she had ever seen them. Both were pale and wan, with red, swollen eyes, and neither had more than a bite of dinner. She exchanged a look with the duke, but he persisted in being optimistic, and assured her when they were out of the girls’ hearing that his daughter had looked just as pitiful scarcely a week before her engagement was announced.
“And she was normally as sensible a girl as you have ever seen. Don’t know what it is exactly that makes them so silly when they fancy themselves in love, but I assure you, it’s nothing out of the ordinary.”
Lady Smithfield could not but reflect that she had not behaved in such a trying manner when Sir John had been courting her, but as her marriage was not what could be properly termed a love match, she felt herself unqualified to judge her daughters’ behavior.
Sir Marcus had been sadly ignored by the entire Smithfield family that day, but as he had spent most of the previous night buying drinks for every riffraff and scamp in the county, he was not sorry to be left in solitude. He was hopeful of catching the highwayman that evening, so it would be his last day on a sickbed in any case.
Alexander sneaked into Marcus’s chamber sometime after the household had gone to bed, determined to fulfill his promise to help Marcus catch the highwayman, but otherwise wanting very little to do with his erstwhile friend, who had stolen his ladylove in the most devious manner possible.
Marcus greeted Alexander with all the excitement of a gentleman who was about to perform an act of derring-do, but was quick to notice his friend did not share his high spirits. “You do not appear to be very excited for a man about to render a noble act for his country,” he commented.
“Perhaps I do not share the same affinity for traitors as you do,” Alexander replied, in his most cutting tone.
Marcus looked at Alexander in shock. “What the deuce is that supposed to mean?”
“I think you understand me.”
“You think wrong. I have no idea what has got you in such high dudgeon. You haven’t been drinking, have you? Because if you have, I’d rather you not join me this evening.”
“I am not drunk. I am merely referring to your traitorous behavior in making up to the girl you knew I wished to marry.”
“Not this again,” Marcus replied, rolling his eyes in exasperation. “I told you, there was nothing to any of that. She was just playing some songs for me on the pianoforte. I will not ever listen to her play again, if you’re going to make such a to-do about it. Why don’t you just do as I suggested and make the girl an offer?”
“I did make her an offer. She said she was engaged to you.”
Sir Marcus’s thunderstruck expression proclaimed his innocence more than any words could have. “’Pon my word, the girl is a liar. I thought she was a decent girl, but it seems these girls today cannot tell the truth for anything. First Lady Cynthia, now Emily. Makes a man want nothing more to do with the gentler sex.”
“Well, maybe she did not come right out and say you were engaged, but she implied it.”
Marcus looked at Alexander skeptically. “Oho, implied it, did she? Same way she was throwing herself at me when she played the pianoforte for me, I suppose. Tell you what, Alexander, you’ve gone a bit daft over this girl. You’re a regular demon of jealousy. A man can’t even talk to the lady before you’re imagining an intrigue.”
“I did not imagine anything. She told me plainly were she to choose between the two of us, she would choose you.”
Marcus tried to hide his pleasure in this comment, but failed miserably. “Did she, indeed? I never had a woman prefer me to you, at least not that I can remember, anyway. Daresay quite a few of them have, I just was not aware of it.”
“As much as I hate to disappoint you, I am fairly sure it’s not your golden curls that have inspired her to passion, but the fact that she thinks you a marquess, with a hefty allowance. In fact, I was almost positive that she returned my love, but apparently she is fonder of lucre than me.”
“Well, I’m sorry you were crossed in love, old man, but perhaps apprehending a traitor to the crown will put you in a better mood.”
Alexander agreed that nothing would bring him greater pleasure, and the gentlemen crept surreptitiously out of the chamber.
Emily had not been able to sleep. Every time her eyes would close, his face would appear. She would hear him telling her again how much he admired and loved her. And then she would see herself spouting some nonsense about practical matters when all she wanted to do was throw herself into his arms.
She reminded herself again that he was doomed to hang on the gibbet sooner or later, so it was probably better that she had ended it now, before matters had progressed even further. Then she would worry that perhaps he was not the highwayman after all, and she had allowed some silly suspicion to wreck all of her dreams.
She gave up any thought of sleep, and was just about to light a candle and attempt to read instead, when she heard a noise. Already out of bed, she hurried to the door and opened it a crack. She was not completely surprised to see Alexander shutting Lord Wesleigh’s door, before the two crept through the hall and down the stairs.
As quickly as she could, she changed into an old gown and pelisse and quietly followed. She was sure they had exited by the kitchen door, at the back of the house, and she headed in that direction. Once outside the house, she heard them harnessing their horses, and waited until she saw them begin riding away, before she harnessed her own horse.
She took careful note of which direction they took, and was not surprised to see them take the Rye Road. That would be the obvious destination for a highwayman. But she had been extremely surprised to see Lord Wesleigh riding with Alexander. What was he doing assisting a highwayman in his criminal activity? Surely the heir to a dukedom would have no need to steal, and she thought Lord Wesleigh too scrupulous to do such a thing for a lark. Then again, young, idle gentlemen were known to engage in many unscrupulous activities purely to pass the time.
After waiting a few minutes to allow for some distance between them, Emily started out after the men. She was thankful that the moon was almost full that night, so she could clearly see the road. For some time she saw nothing but the road curving ahead of her and the trees crouching over her on each side. Finally, when she was starting to wonder had she lost Alexander an
d Marcus completely, she came to a straight stretch of road and saw them plainly ahead of her. They had slowed down, so she slowed down as well, careful to keep a bit of distance between them and her. If Alexander or Marcus saw her, she would miss out on her chance to observe them unnoticed. Her plan, hastily conceived, was to follow them at a safe distance, and, when they reached the Rye Road, wait unnoticed in the trees until something occurred.
There was also the possibility that she was mistaken, and they were on their way to a tavern. However, they were headed in the wrong direction if that was their plan. They could not mean to ride all the way to Rye, at such a late hour, when the tavern at Hawkhurst was so much closer. No, she could only think of one reason they had followed this route. Perhaps, when Alexander discovered she knew what he was doing, she could persuade him to give up such a life before anyone else caught him.
Her cogitation had kept her from dwelling on the fact that she was riding alone, past midnight, in an area frequented by highwaymen. Now, with her plan fixed firmly in mind and nothing more to do than follow the road, she began to think that perhaps she had not acted very wisely.
She began to see things in the shadows and hear noises in the wood, and had to exercise the greatest self-control so as not to urge her horse on to greater speed and catch up with the gentlemen ahead of her, or, alternatively, to turn her horse around and head back home. Somehow, while in the midst of assuring herself she had gone too far to turn back, she stumbled on to the Rye Road before she expected to, with Alexander and Wesleigh nowhere in sight. She reined in, jumped down off her horse, and led her off into the woods by the road. She tried to proceed quietly, but a horse tromping through underbrush is bound to make noise, and she winced each time the mare took a step. She hoped against hope that Alexander and Wesleigh had not seen or heard her, and cursed her stupidity in not paying closer attention to her surroundings.
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