by Rose Pearson
There was no talk of love, no talk of affection or kindness. She had very little doubt that the Earl would, of course, treat her well, but there was not the warmth of his affection that she knew she would have had with Jacob.
But Jacob is gone, a small voice said, reminding her of her regret once more. What other choice do you have?
“What say you, Lady Arabella?” the Earl asked, not looking at all concerned, not even for a moment. “Will you be my bride?”
Stammering, Arabella struggled to find the correct answer, knowing that she ought to accept him but finding it difficult to say so. Jacob lingered in her memory, almost begging her not to do so and yet she knew he was nothing more than a shadow, nothing more than a whisper.
“But of course she will!”
Startled, Arabella jumped visibly as her mother burst into the room, having evidently been eavesdropping on them both.
“My many congratulations to you both!” Lady Blackford exclaimed, grasping the Earl’s hand with both of her own. “Truly, Arabella has been most fortunate to gain your notice and consideration, my lord.”
The Earl chuckled delightedly, appearing not to have noticed that Arabella herself had not given her consent. “You are very kind to say so, Lady Blackford,” he stated, grandly, as Arabella took a step away from him. “I look forward to making her my wife. I do hope we will not have to wait too long.”
Her mother exclaimed again, clasping her hands together in evident delight. “A month? What say you to a month, my lord?”
The Earl looked more than delighted. “Capital. A month it is.”
Arabella felt as though the walls were slowly beginning to close in around her. Her mother and the Earl were busy discussing her future whilst she found herself quite unable to say even a single word. She had not accepted the Earl herself, with her own words, but her mother had given Arabella’s consent without even thinking of what her daughter might wish. The Earl too had simply accepted Lady Blackford’s words without even looking towards Arabella, without even wanting to ensure that she herself was quite willing to become engaged.
It was all being taken out of her hands and Arabella was not quite sure what to do with it.
“If you will excuse me,” she whispered, walking towards the door. “This has all been quite overwhelming. I must get some air.”
“But of course, my dear,” her mother said, waving a hand, whilst Lord Winchester did not so much as glance in her direction. “Take as much time as you need.”
Arabella slunk away into the dark recess of the hallway, finding it difficult to catch her breath. She had not known what she would say to the Earl’s proposal, struggling to accept him even though she knew there was no hope. Jacob was dead, her love was too late to call him back to herself, which meant that there was no particular reason for her to refuse the Earl’s hand.
But still, she felt as though she were tearing herself apart from Jacob all over again.
Stumbling towards the door, she flung her bonnet over her head, disregarding the way her black ringlets freed themselves from their pins and fell over her forehead as she did so. She did not care what she looked like, suddenly desperate to remove herself from the house.
“My lady!” her maid called, as Arabella pulled open the door. “You have no companion. Wait, I beg of you.”
Arabella did not wait, refusing to care about her own reputation in any way whatsoever. Part of her hoped the maid would not manage to follow her, so that she might garner a stain on her reputation which would have the Earl losing interest in her almost immediately – but the sound of the maid’s quick feet behind her soon dashed that idea away.
She was breathing hard, sweat trickling down her back as she walked away from the house and towards the park. She could not quite believe what had occurred, struggling to see herself as betrothed. Within the month, her mother had said. Within the month, she would be married. She would be a Countess, married to the Earl and settled back in his estate. There would, most likely, be children. She would have a life of comfort and enjoyment, with the assurance that her children would live in security also.
And yet, it did nothing to soothe her pain.
“It is done,” she whispered, miserably, to herself as she turned around to walk back to the house, knowing that she could not simply leave the Earl and her mother talking for the rest of the afternoon whilst she stayed away. The last thing she required was her mother’s nagging voice in her ear, telling her, yet again, that she had failed in her duties. From this moment onwards, she would have to take great care in everything she said and everything she did. The freedom and the laughter she had once enjoyed with Jacob could no longer be a part of her life. The Earl was quite the opposite of what Jacob had been, which did not bring her even an ounce of happiness.
And yet, he was to be her husband. She could not refuse him now, not when her mother had gladly pressed Arabella’s acceptance onto the Earl in her stead, not when the notice would soon be in the papers and the news spread all around London.
“I must let you go,” she whispered to herself, her eyes damp with tears as she thought of Jacob for what she promised herself would be the final time. “I must let you go from my heart and from my mind.” Closing her eyes, she stopped dead, ignoring the mutterings of those who had to walk past her. She let out her breath slowly, closing her mind to all the memories that wanted to pour in upon her. She was to be married to the Earl. Therefore, she could not allow herself to continue to think of Jacob, to continue to let her heart fill with regret and pain. It could not be so any longer. Jacob was gone from her and would not come to her side again. Her life had to continue, even without him.
“You will always have my heart,” she said aloud, as though he were there beside her, able to hear her. “I cannot pretend it will ever belong to another.”
Drawing in a long breath, Arabella settled her shoulders and opened her eyes, feeling a small sense of peace settle over her soul. She was no more inclined towards the Earl than before, but with the determination to let Jacob go, she had found the calmness she would need to pursue her life with the Earl.
“Careful!”
The maid’s sharp words behind her, accompanied by someone elbowing her aside, caused Arabella to cry out. Frowning, she glared at the young boy who was hurrying towards Grosvenor Square, angry that he had shown such disregard for others.
“You ought to be more careful!” the maid shouted, as Arabella began to stride after him, wanting to make it quite clear to the boy that, no matter his business, he ought to be much more careful as to where he set his elbows.
To her surprise, he made his way towards the grandest townhouse in Grosvenor Square, the one owned by the Duke of Crestwick. Stopping dead, Arabella watched the boy with wide eyes, not realizing that the Duke of Crestwick was in town. The last she had heard, the family had been in mourning for the eldest son and heir, which had then been followed by the tragic news of Jacob’s death. It had broken her heart when she had heard the news, but she could not imagine the pain that had come upon the three left behind.
The messenger boy ran lightly up the stone steps, pounding loudly on the Duke’s door with such ferocity that Arabella was quite sure the butler would give him a clip around the ear the moment he opened the door.
She was quite correct. The butler attempted to do so but the boy dodged quite easily, speaking in rapid tones to the butler, who dropped his hand almost at once. To Arabella’s surprise, she saw the butler sway slightly, as though he had been given a dreadful shock.
Then, without hesitating, he opened the door and hurried the boy inside, closing the door firmly behind him.
“My lady, we must get back,” her maid murmured, evidently unaware of what had captured Arabella’s attention. “The Earl will be waiting.”
“Of course,” Arabella murmured, not quite able to lift her eyes from the Duke’s door. What was it that had astonished the butler so much? And why had the young boy been so quickly encouraged into the hou
se? A faint hope began to play in her heart, but she dashed it away almost at once, dragging her eyes away from the Crestwick house and walking smartly back towards her own townhouse.
Whatever had occurred at the Crestwick house was nothing to do with her. She had no claim on that family any longer and any ridiculous hope was just that – ridiculous.
No, she had to face her future with open eyes and an open mind. The Earl would expect nothing less.
It was time to forget about Jacob St. Leger.
Chapter Five
“Mama?”
Walking tentatively in the house, Jacob barely caught his breath before his mother enveloped him in her arms, his father standing next to her with a look on his face Jacob had never seen before.
His mother was sobbing, his sister coming flying down the stairs towards him, her tears evident on her cheeks. Jacob could barely keep himself from breaking down, such was the flurry of emotion that swept over him over seeing his family again.
“You are alive!” his mother whispered, as she framed his face with her hands, looking a good deal older than he remembered her even though he had not been away for a great deal of time. “I can hardly believe this.”
“I am, mama,” he said, smiling despite the tears in his eyes. “I am sorry you heard otherwise. I cannot imagine what you have been enduring.”
His father cleared his throat and, much to Jacob’s surprise, embraced him. His father had not done such a thing since Jacob had been a small boy, and to have him do so now spoke to Jacob of the amount of distress his father had endured.
“I cannot tell you how happy I am to see you again, my son,” the Duke murmured, his eyes a little glassy. “We had thought we had lost both our sons and the pain of such news was almost unbearable.”
“But why are you in London?” Jacob asked, as his father wrapped one arm about his wife’s waist, as though to steady her. “I thought you would remain at the estate.”
His mother shook her head. “It was too much to bear, being in the place where your brother had breathed his last, only to hear news of your demise,” she said, plainly. “I had to be somewhere else for a time. London seemed to be the only place I could think of. You cannot imagine my relief to be here now!” She let her eyes flick over him, her expression growing concerned. “You are hurt!”
“Come now,” his sister, Sara, said, her eyes glowing with happiness. “Come, we must let Jacob rest. The drawing room, perhaps?”
Jacob smiled, his heart filled with relief and joy over being with his family again. “The drawing room would suit me very well, as would a glass of brandy, father.”
The Duke chuckled. “You shall have as much brandy as you please! Indeed, whilst we are still pained over the loss of one of our sons, we have joy that you have returned to us.” His smile was a little strained as he slapped one hand on Jacob’s shoulder. “The new heir.”
An hour later and Jacob was feeling a good deal more in control of himself. His mother, too, had stopped her tears and was now gazing fondly at him, as though she could not believe he was actually present.
“And was the war truly terrible?” Sara asked, as his father handed Jacob another brandy. “As bad as people say?”
Jacob nodded, his throat tightening. “Worse than I can say,” he replied, truthfully. “Indeed, Sara, I have a good few memories that I would rather forget. Pray, do not ask me to expand upon what it was like during that time, for I have no wish to remember it.”
His sister’s eyes flared for a moment, but she nodded, clearly both concerned and curious in equal measure. “But of course.”
“And you shall have all the time you need to recover yourself,” his mother said, softly, tilting her head. “What is wrong with your leg, might I ask?”
Jacob shook his head. “It took a bullet,” he said, truthfully. “I was not expecting it and had to struggle my way from the battlefield back towards the camp. It has never fully recovered. The surgeon was, at one point, threatening to remove it, but I would not let him.”
“Just as well,” his father growled, angrily. “Those surgeons often have nothing more to offer than the suggestion of removing limbs. I am glad that, in this case, you proved his suggestion to be quite ridiculous.”
“Although I fear I shall never again walk without a limp,” Jacob said, sadly, wondering if anyone would truly consider a gentleman such as he who had such dark memories and a broken body to go with it. “I shall not be able to dance, mama, I’m afraid.”
His mother waved her hand. “That is of no concern to me, Jacob. You will still be able to talk and laugh with as many debutantes or eligible young ladies as you wish. Dancing is of no particular consequence.”
Jacob’s stomach roiled uncomfortably. “But I shall still have to wed, will I not? And soon.”
His father cleared his throat, a calm expression on his face. “That is not something you need concern yourself with now. You have a good deal to consider and to recover from. We shall take things as they come, and as slowly as you require.”
Sara reached across to him and pressed his hand. “You may not need to look too far either. Lady Arabella is also present in London.”
“Lady Arabella?” He could not help but ask of her, wondering what she was doing in London. “What of her sisters?”
“They are both married,” his mother said, with a warm smile. “Although one is not titled at all and the other is a mere baron – although they did seem very happy, I must say.”
Jacob cleared his throat, knowing he had to cover his true emotions over this news. “So, she is here for the Season, then?”
His sister smiled. “I presume so. I am sure she will be glad to see you again, particularly after she too believed you to be gone.” Something flickered in her eyes – a glimpse of the grief and pain she had gone through – although it was hidden again with all swiftness. “Although I think she has been seen out with a particular gentleman more often lately.”
Jacob, who had hidden his feelings and his desired intentions for Lady Arabella from every other member of his family, tried not to groan. Instead, he put a small smile on his face and patted his sister’s hand. “That is kind of you to say, Sara, but I think Lady Arabella and I were only ever destined to be the very best of friends.”
His sister sighed. “That is something of a sorrow, I must say. I always thought you two were a good match since you were friends first. I am very inclined towards Lady Arabella. Perhaps if you had not gone off to war….”
“Do hush,” their mother said, directing her gentle words towards her daughter. “Your brother has more than enough to consider at this present moment. Allow him some time to recover himself before we begin pressing him about his future wife, whomever that may be. It must be something of a shock to you, dear boy, to have such duties thrust upon your shoulders.”
Jacob smiled at his mother, knowing that she understood what it was he was feeling at this present time. She had always been able to tell his innermost thoughts, simply from a look. A mother’s gift, she called it. “Indeed, mama,” he said, softly. “But I cannot pretend that I feel anything but joy over being with you all again. I have never known a happiness like it, I think.”
His mother let out a contented sigh. “I am so very glad you are home, my dear son. Now, you must rest. I insist upon it. You will have time to tell us all of what has occurred very soon.”
It took Jacob near three days to feel more like himself. He was a little surprised at how weary he had found himself after his journey. To be back on solid ground was a little strange, for his legs had only just become accustomed to being on an ever-moving sea.
His parents and his sister had left him well enough alone, although he was aware of their presence all through the house. They were, of course still in mourning, although the Duke was quite insistent that his daughter was to enjoy as much of society as she could, given their happiness over Jacob’s return. It was quite clear that Sara herself, whilst mourning the loss of her eldest br
other, was overjoyed to see Jacob again and was looking forward to being able to attend a few occasions with him when he felt stronger.
The period of mourning for siblings was to be six months, with a year for Jacob’s parents, but the Duke did not seem inclined to insist upon this for either Sara or Jacob. Of course, when Jacob had questioned this, his father had chuckled and had made the comment that it was one of the benefits of being a Duke and therefore above all but the royal family. One could do almost as one pleased, which meant that if he chose to have his daughter enjoy some of the Season despite the fact they were still in mourning, then he would do so.
Jacob had to admit, it was a very strange circumstance, to be grief stricken over the loss of the eldest son and heir, only to then be delighted with the news that the son you thought you had lost had returned to you, alive and as well as could be as expected for having been shot in the leg.
Resting his head back against the chair, Jacob sat quietly for a time, his mind working through all that had occurred. He was not feeling in any way jolly, which was something of a surprise given that he had just returned home after what had been such a long time away – but there was a deep emptiness and darkness within his soul that he could not quite remove from himself. There was no simple explanation as to why this might be, for he did not quite know himself what to make of such a strange depression. It was as though he wanted to find a way to be happy and content, a way to ensure that he did feel as though he could take on the duties and expectations that came being the heir to the Duke of Crestwick, but no matter what he attempted, he could not bring himself out of this twisting, writhing sense of overwhelming sorrow and pain.
