Amberley Chronicles Boxset II (Amberley Chronicles Box Sets Book 2)

by May Burnett

  He had offered marriage impulsively, for the first time in his life, and was not truly expecting anything to come of it. Yet until Lady Anthea formally rejected him he was bound, and had to put all his previous plans in abeyance. Or rather, he had to find a way to honourably accommodate two equally valid promises, until – unless - he was released from his obligations to Lady Anthea.

  Charles ought to be torn and regretful, but he had not needed to overcome internal struggles or lost any sleep over this predicament. Granted, it had only been the one night, but if anything he was conscious of relief that he could now put aside his theological studies and ambitions.

  He had to face it: if he was this happy to jettison or postpone his plans for Lady Anthea’s sake, his heart had never truly been in them, and – inescapable conclusion - they might not have been the right path in the first place.

  Was this the guidance from above he had been asking for?

  It went against the grain and would be somewhat humiliating to desist from a course he had publicly announced. Charles would look like a fool. Yet was it fair to the Church if he persisted in a course that he now recognized as mistaken? He had no true vocation. There. It felt good to acknowledge it. The Vicar, Dr Twombley, had seen it at once, but Charles had been too stubborn to understand his wise counsel.

  He stopped for a moment, contemplated the fog dissipating over the treetops, pale clouds still hanging overhead. A cool breeze had begun to play with the leaves drifting down here and there.

  He need not ask to be absolved from his vow on the ship. Charles would find another way to fulfil it, through good works as a layman, without joining the clergy. As an added benefit, he would not need to worry overmuch about some villain slandering him or his wife.

  His wife … inevitably his thoughts returned to Anthea. Could she really be his future?

  There was no point in making definite plans right now. If there was even the smallest chance of Anthea accepting him, then he would have to consider her wishes and interests - and her parents’– before his own.

  If she did not, he would take time to regroup. He was only twenty-six, and their family was long-lived, barring accidents.

  His grandfather would be relieved at his decision. But no need to tell him yet of Charles’s change of heart, at least until Anthea’s problem was resolved.

  Anthea was technically still engaged to Lord Winstanton. Only a bounder proposed to an engaged woman. But in this particular case, she had attempted to break things off, by her own account, tried to return the man’s ring. If she was to be considered an adult in possession of her faculties and free will then surely she was no longer bound by that engagement to Winstanton, at least in the moral sense.

  Again, he should not have proposed to a girl under age without talking to her father first, asking permission to court her. But since her parents were holding her to the match with Lord Winstanton, that was hardly practical at the moment. How would Lord Desborough react if Charles went to his study now, and asked for Anthea’s hand? He would laugh at him, and possibly throw him out of the house.

  He did not feel guilty that he had gone behind his host’s back. Anthea needed a champion. If her parents were unwilling to stand by her, and her erstwhile betrothed maligned and coerced her, Charles was more than ready to stand as her friend and protector.

  He must not allow his hopes to run too much ahead. According to her mother’s descriptions, Lady Anthea had been one of the most popular debutantes of the last Season. She must have other suitors ready and willing to offer for her the moment she was free of Winstanton, suitors with titles and country estates.

  But if so, where were these fellows now? They had left the field to Lord Winstanton, that cad. Lady Anthea had not strongly favoured any of them, or she would not be in her present pickle. Maybe she was still too young to make such a final decision, and should be allowed to look around for another year or two or three, until she found a man she could rely on in all weathers.

  Had it been presumptuous to offer for her at a moment like this? He had merely wanted to show her that she was not nearly as close to rejection and loneliness as Winstanton and her parents had made her feel. A sweet and virtuous girl like Anthea, to be so wronged… it did not bear thinking of. All around Desborough Hall guests and servants were going about their business oblivious, unaware of the injustice perpetrated in their midst. How was it possible?

  If she accepted him merely to escape from temporary despair and disappointment, would that be a proper basis for a happy marriage? Charles would do his utmost that she would never regret it, though he had no castle or high title to offer her. On the other hand, he would inherit the baronetcy, though hopefully not for a long time ….and he might purchase a country estate, if she preferred that … their London house was as big and commodious as that of most aristocratic families.

  She must certainly not marry Lord Winstanton, even if they had to run away to avoid that fate. Running off with a betrothed earl’s daughter and marrying her against her parents’ will would ruin his name, but if that was the only way to save Anthea, he was prepared to do it. He would have to take her to Scotland, as she was under age, and could not legally marry in England without her father’s consent. But it would never come to that …. Anthea would shy away from such a scandalous undertaking.

  It was too early to despair of a happy solution. What was Mrs. Durwent’s mysterious plan? Would it cut through this Gordian knot?

  A drop of moisture fell from a tree onto his neck. A swift glance upwards reassured Charles that it was only the remnant of previous rain, and not the presage of new precipitation.

  Charles looked around. He had gone so far and fast that the Hall was no longer visible. He was surrounded by oak trees; deer were grazing in a clearing nearby. The groundskeepers might be aware of his presence, but he could not see a single living human soul.

  The way back would take at least half an hour. But he was not ready yet, considering that indoors he would meet Lord and Lady Desborough and Lord Winstanton, and must not betray by a word or look what he knew, or how he felt about it.

  He went on in his original direction. There was still much to consider. And the further he walked from the temptation of Anthea’s rosy lips, the more easily he could keep his mind clear.

  He increased his pace, causing the deer to scatter in fright.

  ***

  In the end, spending three days and nights in her rooms, nominally under the weather after her sudden “sickness,” was not so very bad. Anthea had leisure to order her priorities and emotions. Long talks with Cecily during the nights – while her maid slept in the other room, lightly snoring – also helped her regain her peace of mind. She did not quite manage to forgive her parents, but she knew that she would eventually be able to do so.

  “Are you going to accept Charles Denham?” Cecily asked her during the last of the three nights. “If you don’t, I am strongly tempted to grab him myself.”

  “I have been wondering if he would not suit you better than me. From the very first day, he and you spent considerable time together, never at a loss for something to discuss.”

  “Your mother kept seating us next to each other. Charles is easy to converse with, as his interests are broad-ranging and he is a good listener. You would be a great fool to let him escape. He will always stand by you as a loyal friend as well as a lover. It is too bad he fell in love with you and not me.”

  “Why is that, do you suppose?”

  “We are too similar, I suspect. Rather serious and dull in some respects. He is naturally attracted to someone warm and cheerful like you.”

  “Dull? I don’t think so,” Anthea protested indignantly.

  “Very well, not dull then, but inherently honourable. If he were your husband you would never need to worry about mistresses and affairs, he is the kind to be faithful. And he probably would not lose interest when you develop a few wrinkles and white hairs.”

  “That day is far off,” Anthea said,
“but can anybody’s loyalty over such a long time be guaranteed?”

  “It is a gamble, I agree, but with Charles Denham the odds would be far shorter than with most other men. He will also be an excellent father. Can you imagine Silas with young children?”

  Anthea shuddered at the thought. If the next generation of Goffroys were at all sensitive, their spirits would be crushed long before they reached adulthood.

  “Of course Charles will only be a baronet,” Cecily went on, “and had he been among your suitors in town this last Season, you probably would not have given him a second glance.”

  “Yes, I would. The very first time I met him, I immediately liked his green eyes.”

  “Well, then your mother would have steered you away from him, as I have seen her do with several other prospects she did not deem of sufficiently elevated rank and fortune.”

  “If only she had steered Silas away too,” Anthea said ruefully. “That he passed her requirements proves that they are useless. I should have been far more alert myself.”

  “You were brought up to be an obedient daughter and accept your parents’ judgment, Anthea. All through your life, everyone encouraged and rewarded these traits.”

  “Never again, when my vital interests are concerned,” Anthea vowed. “After this experience I shall not entrust such important decisions to anyone else.”

  “Not even Cherry or me?”

  “I shall always listen to your advice, but in the end I must do what I think right.”

  “Good,” Cecily said sleepily, “my advice is to snap up Charles. Good night, Anthea.”

  “Good night,” Anthea replied, but she lay awake for a long time afterwards.

  Chapter 27

  Against superior forces, a certain amount of deviousness is permissible.

  Maxims for Young Gentlewomen, by A Lady, London 1823

  “You still look a little wan. Should you be up yet?” Lady Amberley for once did not know what was really going on. Anthea heaved a small sigh of relief. On her first day of freedom she had come down to breakfast later than usual, but so far everything looked very normal.

  “I am quite stout, thank you, Aunt Amberley.” She set down her cup and snagged a muffin. “You mentioned a cold coming on last Saturday. I am glad to see you in good health yourself.”

  “It never amounted to much, one needs to head them off at the first symptom. I do hope you are not going to become one of those poor-spirited females who take to their beds whenever things do not go their way. All too often they really fall sick after a time, or at least believe so.”

  “I can safely promise that I am not going to do that.” Anthea sipped her chocolate, relishing its familiar warmth. “It must have been this inclement autumn weather, changing so quickly from mild in the sunshine, to icy cold.”

  Fortunately her relative had lost interest in Anthea’s supposed ailment. “Where is Winstanton? Is he not around to celebrate your renewed health?”

  “The butler tells me he is out on one of his rides. He never misses them, no matter what weather.”

  “Hmm. I have seen him ride. One of these days he is going to take a tumble and break his neck.”

  Not nearly soon enough for her purposes, worse luck.

  Cecily, who had finished her breakfast earlier, put her head back into the room. “Are you done yet, Anthea? I want you to come to the stillroom with me.” It was their agreed signal that Silas was back in the house.

  “In a few minutes.” She could not avoid him forever. Anthea had even put the emerald ring back on, temporarily, on her little finger.

  “In that case, I might as well have another cup of tea.” Cecily sat down next to Anthea, alert like a bodyguard.

  “Did Peter go riding with Silas?” Her brother had not visited her during her supposed illness. Was he aware of the real story?

  “No, he went to check on a cottage roof with your father. He is not as constantly in Silas’s pocket as he used to be,” Cecily reported. “Maybe Lord Desborough had a word with him.”

  Anthea doubted it. Peter had shown little inclination to listen to his father’s judgement lately. Maybe Silas had said or done something that had displeased her brother, though he was not particularly sensitive or perceptive. On the other hand, before his current obnoxious phase he used to be casually fond of her.

  “And Mr Denham?”

  “Out for a walk, he said something about returning books to the Vicar.”

  Anthea suppressed a twinge of disappointment.

  “He went all the way to the vicarage on foot?” Lady Amberley shook her head at the folly of youth. “That is a two-hour walk.”

  “Just like Lord Winstanton, Mr Denham needs plenty of exercise.” Cecily sipped delicately. “He told me the other day that walking helps him think.”

  “No man should think for two hours on end. It is not natural and will only lead to a swelling of the brain.”

  “Oh, I think Mr Denham will survive,” Anthea said, smiling a little. “Have you known any such unfortunate cases, whose brains actually swelled, Aunt Amberley?”

  “Too much brooding is harmful to either of the sexes,” the dowager pronounced. “There have been many examples, though rarely immediately fatal.”

  “I cannot agree,” Anthea said. “My recent illness has provided a welcome occasion for some overdue thinking.”

  “When the body is unfit the thoughts will also be off, without the patient being aware of it. I recommend that you immediately forget whatever you have concluded over the last few days.”

  Anthea did not reply, as it would not be polite to further contradict the old lady.

  “I really want you to help me in the stillroom,” Cecily repeated, to her relief.

  “Then of course I am at your disposal, Cousin.” Anthea rose. “I shall consider what you advised, Aunt Amberley,” she mendaciously promised.

  Outside in the hall they ran into Silas. Anthea forced herself not to quicken her steps.

  “Good morning, my dear,” he said with a smirk. “All recovered now? Hello, Miss Trevor.”

  Anthea glared at him.

  “And I see you are wearing my ring.” He grinned.

  She would have liked to kill him then and there. “If you will excuse me, my cousin needs me elsewhere.”

  “But a fiancé’s claim supersedes a mere cousin’s, I should think. However, run along, I will have you all to myself soon enough.” He lowered his voice suggestively. “Again.”

  Her hand twitched – she wanted to box his ears, but it was better to bide her time, let him think she was subdued.

  “Not very gentlemanly,” Cecily said to Silas,” to say such things in front of a witness.”

  He briefly glanced aside at Anthea’s cousin, barely acknowledging her remark. “Let me give you some advice, Miss Trevor – it does not pay to interfere between a betrothed or married couple. This is none of your business.”

  “Come, Anthea,” Cecily said, nose high, as she pulled at Anthea’s hand. “Let us look for more congenial company.”

  Anthea allowed herself to be dragged away, merely shooting an icy look at Silas over her shoulder.

  The unheated stillroom was deserted at this early hour.

  “I don’t know what I ever saw in him,” she said miserably to Cecily. “How could I have been such a fool?”

  “You are not the first or last woman to make a mistake. Do you remember how relentlessly Miss Trevithick cast lures at him, and how it infuriated Lady Emmeline Grey when your engagement was announced? Either of them and a dozen other debutantes would have accepted him in a trice, with no more hesitation than you showed.”

  “But not you. You even warned me against precipitate decisions. I should have listened.”

  “Since he was never interested in me, it was easy to know better. Besides, I was in my second season, a little more up to snuff. Even so, had Silas deliberately set out to ensnare and charm me, as he is perfectly capable of doing, I am not sure I would have seen throu
gh him.”

  “You are not really planning to do any stillroom work, are you, Cecily? You know how hopeless I am at that kind of thing.”

  “No, but I have something prepared for you.” Cecily opened a drawer in the ingredients cabinet with the key hidden on top of the large cupboard, and removed a small glass bottle from its depths. “These drops are a remedy against sadness and poor sleep – don’t worry, there is no poppy or laudanum in them. I mixed them for you while you were confined, from a recipe Great-grandmother Anna wrote down. As I could not give your parents a piece of my mind without betraying what I knew, I had to do something else, even if it was only this little thing.”

  “Thank you.” Anthea carefully pulled the tiny cork out of the bottle, and sniffed at the contents. The perfume was sweetish overall, and just a little pungent. The concoction must not have been working properly; for some stupid reason tears were threatening again. Was she turning into a watering pot?

  “They are not for sniffing, you put ten to twenty drops into water or tepid tea,” Cecily said.

  “I am not particularly sad now,” Anthea said. “More angry than anything else. I don’t suppose you found any remedies for that in the book?”

  “Not that I know of. The best remedy for anger is revenge, I imagine.

  The cousins looked at each other. “I do hope Cherry’s plan works,” Cecily said. “You don’t know any more than she told us?”

  “No. I am trying to imagine different scenarios, and preparing my own reaction. But even if it should fail miserably, even if my reputation is forever tarnished, I cannot marry Silas. My last-ditch plan is to publicly reject him during the wedding.”

  “That would only make the scandal worse,” Cecily said doubtfully. “It would be a scene nobody would ever forget.”

  “No, I in particular would never be allowed to forget it for a moment,” Anthea agreed. “But even that would be better than going through with the wedding.”