A Rumored Engagement

by Lily George

  Daniel sighed. What would it be this time? A lecture about family responsibilities? A pointed reminder about one more thing on the endless list of repairs for the estate? “What is it? And be quick about it, man.” He had no more time to waste.

  Baxter turned and shut the door. How very odd. Usually Baxter didn’t seem to care whether the staff could hear their discussions or not. Whatever had happened, his butler needed privacy to tell him. “Out with it, then.”

  “Well, sir, there is a rumor running rampant in the village that you and Miss Siddons were engaged to be wed, and that you jilted her, or that she cried off. And our own servants—without my knowledge until this very day—were gossiping about Miss Siddons’s frequent visits to Goodwin.”

  So there it was. The worst had happened. Paul’s story—which was, in fact, the truth—had finally reached the ears of their small town. Daniel tightened his grip on the back of the chair and prepared himself for the worst. “Is that so?”

  “Yes. Of course I had a sit-down with the servants in the kitchen and told them in no uncertain terms that if there was any more gossiping about Goodwin, the offender would be sent packing. I have no use for rumormongering in my household, sir. All that does is stir up trouble and discontent.”

  True words. He glanced over at Baxter, his heart hammering painfully against his rib cage. “Has any word of this reached Miss Siddons?”

  Baxter shook his head. “I don’t know. All I know is that our servants played a role in it, for which I am terribly sorry. We can express our regret to Miss Siddons personally, if you wish.”

  “That won’t be necessary.” Daniel straightened and released his grip on the chair. “I appreciate you handling this so swiftly, Baxter. You’re a good man.” And he meant every word. Baxter might be meddlesome and could nag better than anyone’s mother, but his heart and his loyalty were for Goodwin. For some reason, that had never really mattered much until now.

  Baxter bowed. “Is there anything else I can do?”

  “Not at the moment. I leave on the morrow, so if between now and then you hear more about the rumors regarding Miss Siddons, please let me know without delay.” If Susannah hadn’t heard anything yet—and there was a possibility that she still didn’t know—he would hate for her to be distressed by him poking around and bringing the subject up.

  Baxter quit the room, closing the door quietly behind him. Daniel stole a look around the room, lingering on the shrouded furniture. Once before, he’d left Goodwin and his family and Susannah behind. Was he merely repeating his own past mistakes?

  No. Susannah told him that she didn’t want his friendship—that her business meant more. If he stayed, he would be jeopardizing what she loved most. And if he left, perhaps the rumors in the village would all die down before they had a chance to harm her little shop. Susannah was strong. She would be able to face any difficulty that came her way. And if he stayed, he’d be nothing but an obstacle in her path.

  He tugged the shroud over the chair a little tighter and turned it slightly askew. There it was. Better to let things go. He would join Paul in London and Susannah would have her shop, and their paths need never cross again.

  With that last jarring thought, he turned and drew the curtains, blocking out the last of the autumn sunshine, cloaking the room in darkness.

  Chapter Fifteen

  The warmth of a woolen blanket enveloped Susannah. “Come, now. Let’s get you upstairs.” Becky tugged on Susannah’s shoulders, using the strength of her small body to move her sister out of her position of misery, draped as she was over the wooden table.

  “I can’t.” Susannah sniffled. “I’ve some work left to do.”

  “You can’t stay down here in your condition.” Nan, always the practical one, brought Susannah crashing back to earth. “Assuming we do have a customer—which I doubt, as we haven’t had a soul peep in here the whole morning—then you will drive them away if you’re sitting there crying.”

  “Nan is right,” Becky averred in her gentle tone of voice. “You’ve been working too hard, Susannah. All this fuss over losing a customer. It’s not like you to take on so. You need a rest.”

  Her sisters didn’t know the whole truth. They thought she was waxing hysterical over losing Miss Prestwidge’s trade, when really the loss was just the one last thing to utterly ruin an already ruined day. “It’s not just that.” She raised her face, daring herself to look her sisters in the eye. Why was this so hard to tell them? They already knew what had transpired between her and Daniel. But she’d never had to tell them something this vastly unpleasant. They’d all been together when Papa and Mama died. And when they got the news about Aunt’s and Uncle’s deaths, well, that wasn’t terribly awful to face.

  But this? This matter went beyond embarrassment. It ate at her very soul.

  She wiped her eyes with the corner of the blanket and took a deep, shaky breath. “It’s not just Miss Prestwidge. No—not just about her order.” This was difficult. “The townspeople—all of them—are talking about me. They all know about my secret engagement to Daniel, and as we know, they’ve already been talking about the improper amount of time Daniel spent at the store.”

  “Who cares what a lot of people think?” Nan shrugged. “Everything you’ve done is perfectly innocent.”

  Susannah gave a bitter little laugh. Oh, to be sixteen again and so sure of oneself. “It’s not just what they’re saying. It’s how they are treating me. And how they will treat all of us. I was shunned by people just as I was walking into town. And a cheeky lad accosted me. Bess helped me by telling me what had happened, and she showed me the back alley so I could get home without being seen by anyone else.”

  “You were accosted?” Becky sank onto the chair beside her, grasping Susannah’s arm. “Are you quite all right? Did he hurt you?”

  “No, he just wounded my pride.” Susannah dabbed at her eyes once more and straightened her posture. “But Miss Prestwidge canceling her order is another matter entirely. If we are going to be laughed at and gossiped about, and we won’t be able to earn a living, what shall we do?”

  “We could sell the building and move to another village. One where no one knows us or our family,” Nan volunteered. She sat down on Susannah’s other side and planted her elbows on the table. “We started from nothing here. We could do so again.”

  “But that could take time. And would we be all right to stay here in the meantime? Oh, I wish we had someone we could go to—someone who lived far enough away that we could close the shop and stay with them until the talk died down.” That was the problem with her family. It was small, and when available—thoroughly unhelpful. Well, except for her sisters.

  “Have you spoken to Daniel about this?” Becky’s voice was quiet and subdued.

  “Of course not, silly. She just got back from the village,” Nan snapped.

  Susannah glanced at both her sisters from under dampened lashes. They were snapping at each other—they who had grown so close of late. She must gather her self-control and resume her position as head of the family before the entire day devolved into a welter of crying and confusion. “Nan. Do not be unkind. Becky was only trying to help.” Perhaps if she did have a lie down, she could take control and master this situation before it mastered them.

  She rose stiffly from the table and wrapped the woolen blanket more tightly about her person. “I am going upstairs for a rest. I need to calm myself so I can think clearly. In the meantime—” she eyed both of her sisters and treated them to her sternest “elder sister” expression “—I want no bickering. If you want to close the shop and simply work quietly, then that will be fine.”

  “I notice you did not do any marketing.” Becky eyed the empty willow basket, where it lay abandoned in the hallway. “Shall we do the marketing for you?”

  “I don’t know. I don’t think that’s
a good idea. People might be as rude to you as they were to me.” The staircase squeaked in protest as Susannah began her ascent. “Perhaps we’d better stay home.”

  “No indeed. Let us do the marketing,” Nan pronounced firmly, tossing a long, dark curl over one shoulder. A flicker of something—understanding?—passed through her sisters. Perhaps they would feel more united again if they took on a difficult task together. “We shall take the back route. We’ll go straight to Bess’s. Then we’ll be home.”

  “Very well.” Susannah passed a weary hand over her brow. “But mind you—be careful. If anyone says anything to you that isn’t pleasant or polite, I want you to return home immediately.”

  Her sisters murmured their agreement and ducked out the back door as though hounds were baying at their heels. Probably they were hungry. Hungry for Bess’s scones, and perhaps a little hungry for the excitement of gossip. They had no inkling, as she had, of just how dreadful this entire scandal was.

  Susannah sat on her bed and removed her boots, then tucked the blanket around her just as she was—dress, shawl and stockings. She had no desire and no energy for making herself comfortable. Just wrapping herself up like a broken china doll in a handkerchief so she could rest without causing further damage.

  She burrowed her head in her old feather pillow for warmth. The sweet, musty smell of the feathers was oddly comforting, for it reminded her of home. She would breathe deeply of it every night before bed and think of Mama and Papa and the carefree days when one could walk through the village of Tansley without being an object of fun.

  As her eyes drifted closed, her thoughts turned to Daniel. Where was he? What was he doing now? And did he know of her troubles?

  Probably not. Daniel was sheltered from so many unpleasant things through the power and wealth of his position.

  But...for some reason, she couldn’t stop thinking that it would be nice if she could share this burden with him.

  * * *

  Daniel opened his trunk one last time. Everything was in order—Baxter saw to that. There was really no reason to check, except a strange, nagging feeling that he’d left something behind. But no, that would be ridiculous. His butler was efficient and thoughtful, always prepared for any contingency. Well, then. There was nothing he’d left behind, and there was not one more thing that could be done to prepare for his journey to London. A good night’s sleep, and they’d start at first light.

  A loud knock sounded on his bedchamber door. Daniel straightened and let the trunk lid fall shut. “Enter.”

  Baxter poked his head around the door frame, his expression reflecting confusion and caution. “Sir, the two youngest Siddons sisters are here to see you. Shall I show them into the parlor? I have them in the front hall. I hated to put them anywhere, seeing as how the dustcovers will make the furniture uncomfortable.”

  Nan and Becky? What on earth was going on? “No, don’t show them into the parlor. The dust sheets are depressing. I’ll meet them in the hall, and I shall take them for a walk around the estate.” Besides, if they were outdoors, there was less likelihood that their conversation would be overheard by any prying servants. ’Twas quite likely they came to him about Susannah, and if something was indeed the matter, he should hate for it to be bandied about the village, making the situation worse for her.

  He followed on Baxter’s heels and overcame his butler, going down the staircase two at a time. “Hello, ladies,” he called as he neared the bottom of the stairs. “I daresay you’ve come to say goodbye.”

  Nan opened her mouth, her brows drawn together as though to protest, but he shushed her with a wave of his hand. “Come on, then. Let’s take a tour of the grounds before I leave it all behind for the glories of Town.” He offered each sister an elbow and propelled them out the front door.

  “Let’s get a distance from the house before we talk,” he muttered, pitching his voice just loudly enough that they both could hear him. “My servants have been gossiping.”

  The girls nodded their assent, and he led them off toward the clearing in the woods, where Mother’s chapel stood. The windows had been covered with shutters, lending the small building a strange look of blindness. His heart hitched for a moment in his chest, and he drew them to a stop. Foreboding washed over him as he turned to face the two girls.

  “What has happened?” he demanded. No time for pleasantries or formalities. He must know what had transpired to give both of the sisters such a pallor and such widened eyes.

  “The news of your engagement to Sue is all over the village,” Nan panted. She straightened her bonnet, which had been knocked askew in the rush. “And Miss Prestwidge canceled her bonnet order.”

  “She’s demanding half her money back,” Becky added. She grasped his arm with a pleading gesture. “We had counted on that order, along with the other ones from the gentry, to see us through the winter.”

  So there it was. The worst had happened, after all. And it was his fault.

  All of it.

  He could blame no one else. He’d left Susannah behind when they were engaged. And then, later, drink had loosened his tongue. And then Paul had aired their secret to London. Had he been more circumspect—more of a gentleman—more of a man, in fact—none of this would have happened.

  “There’s more. Today, Sue tried to go into town to do our weekly marketing. And the villagers shunned her. And one boy was cheeky to her. She ran home by a back alley so as not to be seen by anyone else.” Unshed tears sparkled in Becky’s eyes, and her lips trembled. “Susannah is strong enough to muddle through anything. And yet—I fear for her now. I don’t see how we can extricate ourselves from this mess.”

  Daniel clenched his jaw. Someone had been cheeky to his Susannah? “Who was it?” He would thrash the blackguard within an inch of his life.

  “We don’t know. Sue didn’t recognize him.” Nan twisted her hands in her apron, as though the movement would keep her still and calm. “We had to come to you, Daniel. This is more than we can bear. We know you are leaving for London on the morrow, but—”

  “I am not leaving.” All at once, ’twas crystal clear. He must stay here, at Goodwin, and become the man he should have been when he was just a lad. He needed to set things to rights with Susannah, and he needed to protect her from the village. And from any other scoundrel who suggested she had done anything wrong. And as for Miss Prestwidge—well, he would see to it that her order was reinstated.

  “I must get my horse.” He turned and beckoned the girls to follow him. He walked as fast as he could without breaking into a run. He must go to Susannah. He must convince her that he and he alone could help her. That he wanted to help her. That her happiness was paramount in his life. If he repaired this damage, then ’twas as if he had never been a villain or a coward.

  “You girls go into the house. I am headed to the stable. I need to speak with your sister.” He motioned for them to go inside. “Baxter will attend to your needs until I return.”

  “But—” Becky gasped from behind him “—Susannah is resting. And if the villagers see you—”

  He stopped in his tracks and turned to face them both. “I no longer care what the villagers say or do or think about the matter. ’Tis a private affair, between the two of us.”

  “But what shall you do?” Nan put her hand over her heart and breathed in sharply. “Gracious, you walk fast.”

  Well, he didn’t precisely know what to do. But he wasn’t going to let Susannah suffer for all his stupidity and cowardice. “When I planned to leave for London, I thought I would be doing what was best for your sister. But now I see how wrong that is. If people are canceling their orders and being cheeky to her in the street—” he clenched his hand into a fist, allowing his nails to bite into his palm “—then I must set matters straight. I want your sister to be happy. She cannot be happy if her business fails on account of our
broken engagement.”

  Becky gave him a gentle smile. “Daniel, I have always liked you. And I like that you are putting Susannah’s happiness before your escape to London.”

  He faced both sisters. Getting their good opinion meant more to him, more than anything he’d wanted before. More even than his freedom. For freedom, once gained, had a certain hollow feeling to it that never abated. His liberty from Goodwin brought years of rambling, and drinking, and carousing—not things he was proud to admit.

  “I like you both, too. And I admire your sister too much to let her suffer. I shall go and talk to her without delay. No matter what the village says or thinks about it. And both of you stay here. I shall have my carriage bring you home in a few hours.” He gave them both what he hoped was a reassuring smile.

  “You haven’t told us what you plan to do about the matter,” Nan demanded, her hands on her hips. She gave a defiant lift to her chin. “All heroes have a plan, you know. If you want to be Susannah’s rescuer, you must know what to do.”

  “I don’t know.” Dash it all, Nan was right. He couldn’t go storming into their home without knowing at least what he planned to say. “I just want to make amends. Make her happy.”

  “But why do you care?” Nan took a step closer. By Jove, she was strong as iron and as practical as a geometry figure. Unlike Becky, she cared naught that he liked them and that his intentions were pure. She wanted a map, drawn out like a general waging a campaign.

  “It’s as I said. I admire her—” If he were wearing a cravat, he’d loosen it.

  “Admiration isn’t the same as love.” Nan dismissed him with a wave of her hand. “And if you offer Susannah charity, you know as well as I do that she will box your ears.”

  That was true. He raked his hand through his hair. What could he possibly say or do that wouldn’t insult Susannah?

  Becky laid a hand on Nan’s shoulder. “Nan, you shouldn’t take on so. You shouldn’t force Daniel to say anything about what he plans to do. Nor should you criticize the manner in which he does it.”