by Rose Pearson
“Jacob?”
Looking over his shoulder, Jacob saw his mother come into the room, surprised that she had referred to him by his Christian name. That was a little ominous, he thought to himself, making to rise, but finding his leg in too much pain to allow him to do so.
“Please, do not,” his mother said, hastily, hurrying towards him. “You must rest.”
He snorted. “I have been resting for three days and still this blasted leg of mine will not do as it is expected.”
His mother shook her head. “My dear boy, you are much too eager for things to be as they once were.” She gave him a somewhat uneasy look. “To that end, I must inform you that I have had news about Lady Arabella.”
Jacob’s gut twisted but he did not allow his eyes to flare, nor his breath to catch in his throat. Instead, he merely returned his eyes to his mother and waited.
“I know that you have said that you and she are destined only to be friends, but I cannot help but wonder if there was ever any more in your consideration for her.”
Jacob cleared his throat, gruffly. “I cannot imagine what you mean, mama.”
“You need not pretend with me,” she said, gently. “I know that you have struggled in your affections for her, and that is nothing you need be ashamed of. No, you need not ask me how I know such a thing when you have not said a word, but I know what it is like to care deeply for another. It was visible in your every word about her, in your eyes and your smile when you spoke of her. I did wonder how long it would take for you to realise such a thing yourself – and I shall never forget the day you returned home, in as dark a mood as I have ever seen you, to state that you were henceforth leaving for the army.” She shook her head, sadly. “You did not need to say, my dear boy, but I was aware that there was something more to what you and she had discussed. That was why you had your father purchase colours. That was why you were determined to quit the estate almost within the day! And you have returned to us with no hope of her ever returning your affections. Is that correct?”
For a moment, Jacob could not speak. His heart was aching so terribly that it grew more painful than his leg, making him wish he could tear it from his chest and fling it from himself. He had never spoken to another soul about Arabella and his love for her, and yet his mother insisted that she had already known of it.
“She did not think me to be honest in my affections,” he stated, after a few moments. “She laughed at me, mama. She believed me to be jesting, to be toying and teasing her.”
“But you were quite serious.”
“Yes.” He closed his eyes, forcing his composure to remain steady. “Yes, I was, but I realised that she had no such feelings for me, else she would have reacted quite differently.”
The Duchess considered this for a moment, her eyes bright and clear as she studied him. “But you care for her still?”
“I do not know.” Jacob put his head in his hands, running his hands down over his eyes. “I do not know what I feel, mama. I am not the same man I was when I left England’s shores. I have tried to put her behind me but still she remains.”
His mother’s expression grew pained. “Then I am sorry to have to tell you that Lady Arabella has become formally engaged to the Earl of Winchester.”
A rock seemed to fall into Jacob’s stomach, dragging his spirits down to the depths.
“But you must recall, Jacob, that Lady Arabella does not know you still live! You have asked us not to tell another living soul about your return to England. What if she was to discover this? Would that, perhaps, make her change her mind about her engagement?”
A harsh laugh left Jacob’s throat before he could stop it. “No, mama, I do not think so,” he said, settling back in his chair. “She has never had such affection for me. I was quite mistaken and it is foolishness to allow her to still occupy my heart. No, I must allow myself to forget her entirely. Mayhap then I will be able to free myself from this darkness.”
His mother’s gaze was sympathetic. “Do not allow yourself to battle this alone,” she said gently, her words piercing him like arrows, making their way into the very depths of his soul. “You are inclined to carry your burdens alone but you need not do so. I am here to listen to you, to advise you where I can and to ensure you are supported and encouraged.” Her smile was gentle but Jacob felt no delight in his soul. “You are to be the next Duke of Crestwick, Jacob. You will need much support, of course, and I shall be one of those who will come to your aid whenever you may need it.”
She rose and made her way to the door, ready to leave him in silence – but Jacob felt words burn on his mouth and spat them out just before she closed the door.
“You need not hide me away anymore.”
She paused, looking over her shoulder at him.
Jacob closed his eyes, knowing that, by doing this, Lady Arabella would know of his return to England. He could not let himself hope nor believe that she would return to him, but still the desire for her to be aware of his presence in London lingered.
“You may tell whomever you wish that I have returned to England,” he said, dully, as his mother nodded slowly. “I do not need to hide any longer.”
“No, Jacob, you do not,” his mother agreed, quietly. “You have no need to sit here, lingering in the darkness whilst the shadows clasp at your heart. You are as fine a gentleman as you were before, regardless of your injured leg. You are the heir, Jacob. You will be the Duke, in time. Try to find comfort and solace in that, if in nothing else. And know that your family is here by your side, should you need us.”
“I will, mama,” Jacob replied, his head turned away from his mother as she closed the door, leaving him wondering why he felt even more hopeless than before.
Chapter Six
Arabella was not pleased.
Her mother had not only accepted Lord Winchester’s proposal on her behalf but was now apparently planning Arabella’s wedding in its entirety. She had nothing to do with it at all, it seemed, for her mother had all of the plans in place already, evidently expecting Arabella simply to follow everything she had set out for her.
“My dear Arabella!”
Turning from her mother’s ongoing speech about how Arabella would be dressed on her wedding day, Arabella smiled in relief as Rosalind walked into the room, her eyes flickering towards their mother before returning to Arabella’s face.
“Rosalind!” Arabella exclaimed, grasping her sister’s hand. “You have returned from your wedding trip?”
“We have,” Rosalind replied, with a broad smile. “Although I would have wished to stay away for longer, there is business in town that Lord Southend simply cannot stay away from any longer.” She pressed Arabella’s hands tightly. “And is this wonderful news I hear true, then? You are to marry?”
“Of course she is!” their mother exclaimed, sailing towards Rosalind as she gestured towards Arabella. “Arabella accepted the hand of the Earl of Winchester only last week!”
Arabella managed not to roll her eyes with an effort. “It was not quite as mama puts it but yes, it seems that I am to marry the Earl of Winchester.”
Rosalind did not smile, her eyes searching Arabella’s. “And are you quite contented in your decision, Arabella dear?”
“Contented?” her mother exclaimed, waving her arms. “What is there for her to be discontented about? She is to marry the Earl of Winchester, who is more than suitable for her. All of London is agog with the news.”
Rosalind continued to watch Arabella, who could only shrug as a quiet sigh escaped her. Her sister appeared to understand, giving Arabella a sympathetic glance as their mother continued to query what it was Arabella could be less than pleased with.
“Mama accepted on my behalf,” Arabella murmured, as Rosalind made her way towards the fireplace, where she might take any number of seats. “I have not had anything to do with this matter in any way, I confess, for mama has been quite insistent that it should be she who organises almost everything about my upcoming n
uptials.” Her expression twisted fiercely as she scowled. “I believe she is afraid that I shall run away or do something foolish instead of marrying the Earl.”
Her sister did not appear surprised at this, looking at Arabella with a steady gaze that had Arabella’s stomach tying itself in knots.
“You do not fear that you will, in fact, do something foolish, then?” she asked, gently. “You are not concerned that yes, you may in fact end up refusing to wed the Earl?”
Hesitating for a moment, Arabella sighed heavily and spread her hands in her lap. “What else is there for me to do?” she asked, quietly, seeing Rosalind’s understanding smile. “I cannot return home with the expectation of seeing Jacob again, can I? He is gone from this earth and therefore, I must find a way to move ahead with my own life whilst knowing that I will never be able to forget him.”
Rosalind sighed as the door opened to reveal Martha, whom the Countess went to greet warmly before either Arabella or Rosalind had the opportunity to do so. “I quite understand,” she said, softly. “It must be very difficult for you but I confess that I believe you to be quite wise in this decision. The Earl appears to be, from what I have heard, a decent and amiable gentleman, and he is obviously quite taken with you if he has proposed already!”
Arabella did not quite manage to smile, wishing that the Earl could see just how much she was being removed from the planning of their wedding and that he might attempt to do something about it. He had not said a single word thus far but had rather sat back in his chair and smiled every time the Countess had begun another explanation as to what would occur on their wedding day. It was as though he were quite content to let her do whatever she pleased, without being aware that Arabella herself was growing frustrated with her lack of opportunity to make decisions. Nor did she feel able to discuss the matter with him, quite sure that he would not understand her concerns even if he were to listen. That was one thing about the Earl that she was struggling to come to terms with – the lack of intimacy in their conversation, which led to a lack of insight into one another’s lives and character. The Earl was not particularly interested in finding out who she was, whether or not she was finding things particularly difficult or what her own hopes for the future might be. Now that he had proposed and she had accepted, there seemed to be nothing more for him to do. He was not even particularly attentive any longer, as though he had only been so in order to have her agree to their engagement.
It was all rather disheartening.
“Arabella!”
Getting to her feet, Arabella made to greet her sister, Martha, only to see that she was white faced and appeared to be swaying slightly.
“Martha!” she exclaimed, grasping her sister’s hands. “Come, sit. Please. Goodness, what has happened to you?”
Martha caught Arabella’s fingers and held onto them tightly. “Arabella. I saw him.”
Martha’s eyes were wild and frantic, leaving Arabella with a growing concern for her sister’s wellbeing.
“Do come and sit down,” she said softly, trying to encourage Martha not to panic or to linger on whatever it was that had frightened her so. “You must come and rest.”
“The window,” Martha insisted, trying to drag Arabella towards the window instead of doing as Arabella had asked and going to sit down. “You may be able to see him.”
Arabella frowned, throwing a look over her shoulder towards Rosalind, who spread her hands and shrugged.
“Martha,” Arabella said, gently, as she held onto Martha’s arm to keep her steady. “Are you quite well? I cannot understand what the matter is.”
Martha continued determinedly towards the window, half dragging Arabella beside her.
“I was quite sure I saw him,” Martha whispered, as they reached the window. “There, look! Can you see?”
Still entirely confused, Arabella looked out of the window, seeing a man slowly climbing the steps of the Duke of Crestwick’s home. He appeared to be struggling to lift one of his legs, making him progress very slowly.
“I do not understand, Martha,” she said, softly, looking up at her sister only to see Martha’s eyes fixed on that particular gentleman. “What is the matter?”
“There,” Martha breathed, jabbing at the limping man. “That is Jacob St. Leger.”
Arabella stared at her sister in confusion.
“I am telling you the truth,” Martha breathed, not lifting her eyes from Jacob. “I saw him in the street but could not greet him such was my shock.”
“No,” Arabella breathed, unable to turn her head back towards the man Martha believed was Jacob. “You are mistaken, Martha, dear. It cannot be him. He died in battle.”
Martha grasped Arabella’s arm tightly, making her catch her breath. “No, my dear sister. It is quite true. See, there. Look now. His mother and sister are only just arriving.”
Almost unwillingly, for fear that she was about to be disappointed and therefore, heartbroken all over again, Arabella turned back towards the window and let her eyes rest of the Duke of Crestwick’s home. A carriage had pulled up outside it, with two ladies now climbing out. They must have said something to the limping gentleman, for he turned around to face them – and Arabella felt her heart stop in her chest.
“Careful, now!”
Rosalind was beside her in a moment, one arm going around her waist.
“He is returned,” Arabella whispered, her heart slowly beginning to beat again as she took in Jacob’s handsome face as he smiled at his mother and sister. “I cannot quite believe this.”
Lady Blackford came to join them, one hand settling on Arabella’s shoulder. “Is it truly him?”
“Yes,” Rosalind stated, as Arabella struggled to maintain her breathing, sparks flooding her vision as her mind refused to believe what it was that she was seeing. “Yes, it is him, mama.”
The Countess let out a long, heavy breath. “I had heard the rumours, of course,” she said, softly. “But I did not think they were true.”
Arabella slowly turned around, looking up at her mother’s sharp features and feeling a sudden swell of anger that chased away her dizziness. “You knew that he had come back?”
To her surprise, her mother appeared to be a little embarrassed, for she did not look at Arabella but rather kept her gaze fixed on the window, as two spots of colour appeared in her cheeks.
“There was nothing but rumour,” she stated, lifting her chin a notch as she kept her gaze away from Arabella. “I do not hold with rumours, Arabella, as you well know.”
“But you still held those rumours from me?” Arabella queried, not understanding her mother’s reasoning. “Why? Why would you do such a thing?”
The Countess’ eyes flared as she turned to face Arabella, the usual determination back in her expression. “Because I knew your ridiculous fascination with him would prevent you from pursuing the Earl of Winchester. I had you accept the Earl’s proposal, knowing that it would give you the security and the safety you will need for the rest of your life. I would not have you throw your life away in the hope that St. Leger will finally forgive you and offer you his hand again, especially when he is now nothing but a cripple.”
Arabella wanted to slap her mother, such was her fury.
“Mama,” Rosalind interrupted, putting a calming hand on Arabella’s shoulder. “You ought to be grateful to St. Leger for what he has done, not mocking of the injuries he returned with.”
“Besides that,” Martha added, now appearing a little less white-faced. “You forget, mama, that St. Leger is to be the next Duke of Crestwick. Would you not wish Arabella to be a Duchess?”
The Countess sniffed haughtily. “Your sister will not manage to regain St. Leger’s affections - therefore she will not be a Duchess. She will be a Countess, just as I am, and that will do very well for her.”
Arabella flung herself out of her sister’s restraining hands and stormed towards the door, suddenly determined to see Jacob for herself. “I will not be told what to do, mama.
You should have told me the moment you first heard that he had returned!”
“Where do you think you are going, Arabella?” the Countess demanded, now appearing quite angry. “You cannot simply go to the Duke’s home and demand an audience with St. Leger!”
Arabella swung around, her eyes narrowing. “I shall do whatever I please, mama. I cannot believe that you have kept this from me.” A faint hope began to burrow away in her heart, sending fire through her veins. “I must go to him. I must see him again. I must know…” She trailed off, not able to finish her sentence. Whirling around, she practically ran from the room, aware that she was hoping, beyond all possible hope, that Jacob would be able to forgive her, that he would accept her apology and, mayhap, consider the future with her by his side. It was the smallest of hopes, the faintest of beliefs, and yet she could not let it go from within her.
Without so much as stopping to pull a bonnet on, Arabella hurried out of the door and ran across the street towards the Duke of Crestwick’s home. Her heart was thundering violently, her pain and her hope slicing through her in equal parts. Jacob was not dead. He was not gone from this world, as she had believed. He had returned, come back from the grave, almost, and she finally had the second chance she had been praying for.
“Do shut that door, mama, the place is quite draughty.”
Arabella closed her eyes, one hand pressed against her stomach as she heard Jacob’s familiar voice speaking to her. He was sitting in the library, with the drapes half closed as though he wanted to be covered in shadows instead of swathed in sunshine.
Evidently, he believed her to be his mother, although she had not yet found the words to correct him. Opening her eyes, she let out her breath slowly, taking him in. He was sitting in the chair by a small fire, his eyes closed tightly as his head rested back against the chair. His leg was stretched out in front of him on a small stool, but aside from that, he appeared to be the same gentleman she had always known.
