by Rose Pearson
The Earl shrugged, as the plates were quickly cleared away. “You need not distress yourself over such things, Lady Arabella. They are of little consequence.” His eyes narrowed just a little but he turned his attention away from Arabella and towards her mother, immediately trying to capture her in conversation as though to bring an end to Arabella’s sharp words.
She was not about to give up so easily.
“I think you will find, Lord Winchester, that I am as strong minded as you, that I am neither weak-willed nor take to my bed over the smallest of concerns. It would do you well to consider what you believe in light of this.”
The atmosphere in the room grew tense. Even the servants seemed to realise it, for they quickly served the next course and then melted away into the shadows. Arabella’s breath was coming quickly, her anger mounting with every second that passed. The Earl seemed almost lazy in his reply, evidently unaware of, or perhaps ignoring, the fact that she was quite furious over his words. Of course, what she said and did had no great influence on him, for he obviously thought her a good deal lesser than he simply by way of her sex.
“As you wish, Lady Arabella,” Lord Winchester sighed, his voice pained. “I shall reconsider my thoughts on the matter.”
“I should not wish you to have the wrong impression of the lady you are to marry,” Arabella said, darkly. “I will not be the simple minded, easily guided little wife you hope for, Lord Winchester.”
The Earl looked a little surprised at this, looking over at her for the first time since their conversation began. “You will be exactly what I require, Lady Arabella,” he stated, his voice now heavy with the sternness that had leached into his expression. “I will stand for nothing less.”
Arabella grew furious, rising from the table at once, her chair scraping horribly along the floor. “Then you are to find yourself severely disappointed, Lord Winchester,” she exclaimed, as her mother and sisters looked up at her with wide eyes. “This is the end of our betrothal. I will not marry you, my lord. You are rude, you are unkind and, quite frankly, utterly intolerable. I wish you well, but I will not allow myself to become your wife. I cannot think of anything that would cause me more pain and suffering than to become your Countess.” She lifted her chin, ignoring the shocked face of her mother. This was the right thing to do, she decided, her eyes bright with determination. She would not marry the Earl, she could not bring herself to do so when he was as arrogant and as self-centred as he was. Even if it meant she was to spend the rest of her days alone, she would never regret this moment.
“Arabella!” her mother gasped, finding her voice. “You cannot do such a thing. It is foolishness indeed!”
“I would have you consider this again, my dear,” the Earl added, his voice dropping even lower. “Consider what it is you are suggesting. There will be consequences if you cry off.”
She did not flinch. “Consequences I will gladly accept,” she stated, firmly, her heart bursting with delight at what she had chosen to do. She knew this was right, even if her mother did not. “I shall not marry you, Lord Winchester.”
The Earl rose to his feet, his eyes flickering with fury. “This is because of that man,” he spat. “That cripple.” The word was spat from his mouth, filled with disdain. “I saw how you were looking at him the night of his ball.”
“If you are speaking of Jacob St. Leger, then you have no understanding of the sort of gentleman he is,” Arabella replied, allowing her heart to speak the truth to the Earl. “He may be a cripple, but he has more kindness, compassion and dignity than I have ever seen in you.”
“Arabella!” her mother whispered, one hand clutching at her heart as she slumped back into her chair. “You cannot say such things.”
“I can and I shall,” Arabella replied, not regretting a single word she had spoken thus far. Her sisters and their husbands had remained quite silent, although Arabella felt as though her sisters were silently encouraging her onwards. They had chosen to marry for love, so why should she not do the same also? “Lord Jacob is a dear, dear friend of mine. If you had ever shown any interest in my life and my acquaintances, Lord Winchester, then you might now be apprised of it. No, Lord Jacob has not urged me to cry off and run into his arms, although I might well wish for it. It is simply the realisation, Lord Winchester, that I cannot bring myself to marry a gentleman such as you.” She saw him colour, saw the way his jaw worked, but could feel nothing but relief. “You consider yourself more than any other. You will not allow thoughts for any other person to enter your mind, in case it should take away from your own consideration of yourself. You demean my mother, sisters, and myself by your outrageous views on our supposed weakness and dependence on gentlemen for strength and courage. I could not align myself with someone who believes such things and who will not allow himself to even consider another’s opinion.” She stepped away from the table, bobbed a curtsey and lifted her chin. “If you will excuse me, I think I am unable to sit with you all for the remainder of the evening. Such is my weakness, that I must have some time alone.” The sarcasm bit at Lord Winchester, for he winced despite the fact that his anger had not left him. “Good evening, Lord Winchester. I confess I will not be sorry to see you go.”
Feeling as though she had won some sort of tremendous victory, Arabella walked towards the door with as much dignity and grace as she could manage. There was nothing but silence behind her, but she did not look back. She could only imagine the expression on her mother’s face, quite certain that within the hour, she would have to endure her mother’s upset and embarrassment.
Wandering into the library, Arabella’s lips curled with a warm smile as she recalled how she had found Jacob in his own library the night of the ball. He had been so despondent, and yet to see the life slowly come back into his eyes had been one of the most wonderous moments of her life. She did not know whether or not there could ever be a happiness between them again, but the opportunity for love to grow and blossom again was, at the very least, now present, and ready for them both to take hold of, if they wished it. She was no longer engaged to the Earl, no longer caught by his hand, and held steadfast. She was free. Free to be pursued by another, free to reveal her true affections to the one gentleman who held her heart.
Of course, within the hour, both her mother and sisters had arrived in the library, having refused dessert, and ordered tea in the library. The men were to drink port in the dining room, although the Earl of Winchester had stated that he was leaving thereafter, for he no longer felt welcomed in this particular house.
Arabella was informed of this by her mother, who appeared almost distraught as she paced about the library, her hands shaking as she shook her head at Arabella’s lack of sense.
“He is an Earl, Arabella!” she exclaimed, throwing up her hands as Arabella’s two sisters began to pour the tea for the four of them. “An Earl!”
Martha cleared her throat. “And Lord Jacob will be a Duke,” she said, quietly, throwing a knowing look in Arabella’s direction. “Is that not so?”
Arabella made to answer, only for her mother to let out an expulsion of disgust. “Lord Jacob is a broken man. A man unable to dance for more than a few minutes, without requiring assistance to leave the floor!” She shook her finger in Arabella’s direction. “Yes, I saw you dance with that… cripple!”
Arabella forced the rising swell of anger back down into her chest.
“Mama, whether a gentleman can dance or not is not exactly an important matter when it comes to choosing one’s husband. Besides that, I cannot say whether or not Lord Jacob and I shall ever reach such a place again, although Martha is right to suggest that it may be something I wish for – but regardless of that, I could no longer continue with my engagement to the Earl of Winchester.”
“But why ever not?” her mother screeched, planting her hands on her hips, and glaring at Arabella with such an intense anger that, for a moment, Arabella was quite taken aback. “The ton will consider this an outrage! Our family name
will be sullied!”
“Mama, you know that is not quite so,” Rosalind interjected, gently, “both Martha and I are married and settled, and our brother will be able to find himself a suitable wife without too much difficulty, I am quite sure. After all, he is an Earl in his own right and has a title and fortune of his own. His younger sister’s decision to cry off from her own engagement will not sully any reputation at all, I am quite sure.”
“It will sully Arabella’s!” the Countess cried, unwilling to give up such an idea. “She will never be able to find a suitor again!”
“But that is not of any particular concern, mama,” Arabella stated, loudly. “I do not care for any other suitor aside from Lord Jacob.”
Her words seemed to bring a stillness to the room, her mother’s mouth closing tightly as she stared at Arabella. Arabella herself had not meant to be quite so plain in her speaking but found that she did not regret saying such things aloud, knowing in her own heart that this was quite true. If Jacob did not want to marry her, if he chose to turn away, then she would accept her life of spinsterhood without regret.
“Is it love that you want?” her mother whispered, her cheeks now burning red with colour. “The Earl can be persuaded to love you, I am quite sure.”
Arabella shook her head sadly. “Mama, the Earl loves no-one but himself, I fear.”
“You cannot consider Lord Jacob,” her mother continued, as though she had not heard Arabella. “He is weak. Broken. The reputation of this family –”
“Is not of my concern,” Arabella interrupted, not allowing her mother to finish her insulting of Jacob. “My sisters married for love and I know now what that must feel like. They are married, settled and happy. My brother will marry soon, I am sure, and will not find any particular difficulty in that regard. Why must I be the only one not to follow my heart? Why must I be forced into a betrothal that I do not want and certainly do not wish for?” She saw her mother’s expression fall, although her eyes were still a little narrowed. “I do not want to hurt any of you, especially not you, mama, but I cannot marry the Earl. It is quite right that our engagement should come to an end, no matter what happens thereafter. I know that I would not be happy with him. The Earl will, I am quite sure, be able to find himself another, much more suitable and willing young bride within a few days!”
Her mother swallowed hard, shook her head, and dropped into a chair, one hand over her eyes.
“Here, mama,” Martha murmured, getting up to set a cup of tea by her mother’s elbow. “Drink this. It will help soothe you.”
“Nothing will help soothe my heart over my disobedient daughter,” the Countess said, although she did not raise her head. “I have given you everything you require, Arabella, and still you throw it back in my face.”
Arabella did not allow those words to wound her, pushing them back from her heart before they had the chance to settle there. In a way, she realised, her mother and the Earl of Winchester were very similar. They both considered that their own thoughts and ideas were of greater importance than those of any other. They both thought they knew what was best for Arabella, without once even considering her own opinion. It was as though, to them, she was nothing more than a pawn which was to be placed on the chess board in whatever position they chose for her.
“I must hope, mama, that in time, you will come to see that what I have chosen to do is for the best,” Arabella murmured, sitting down beside Rosalind, and reaching for her tea. She wanted to leave the room, wanted to spend time alone, but to do so would only add to the difficulty and the tension that swirled between herself and her mother. She did not want to add to that and, given that her sisters were here to support her, Arabella considered that she might be able to spend a little time longer with her mother in the hope that some of the upset and disappointment would fade.
“I do not think I shall ever be able to understand any of my daughter’s choices when it comes to matrimony,” the Countess muttered, reaching for her tea, and displaying a white face to Arabella as she did so. “You all reject what I think and know to be for best, on the insistence that you pursue your own desires.” She wagged a finger in Arabella’s direction. “Well, we shall see, Arabella. We shall see whether or not you were right to bring your engagement to an end. Although do not come crying and looking for comfort from me, when you are nothing more than a spinster, well past your prime and unable to have any sort of hope for the future.”
Had it not been for Rosalind’s gentle hand on Arabella’s shoulder, then she might have spat some harsh reply back at her mother. As it was, Arabella drew in a long breath to steady herself, before reaching for her tea again. “Of course, mama,” she said, quietly, not allowing herself to say what she truly thought and felt. “In time, we shall see.”
Chapter Ten
Jacob walked into the drawing room, his leg aching as he did so. However, he did his best not to limp, not to allow his weakness to show.
“My dear boy,” his mother greeted him, rising from her chair with a fondness in her eyes. “How are you?”
He smiled, dropping into a chair with relief. “I am quite well, mama,” he said, with a small, wry smile. “Although my leg has not yet recovered from the waltzing at the Ball.”
“But that was three days ago!” his mother exclaimed, looking concerned. “You have not yet managed to recover yourself?”
He shrugged, not wanting to put too much emphasis on his injury. “It will take some time for me to learn what it is that I can do without bearing the consequences of it the day afterward,” he said, with a rueful laugh. “I think two waltzes were more than enough. One would have sufficed, I think.”
The Duchess tipped her head, her eyes a little confused. “Two waltzes?” she asked, quietly. “I only saw you dancing the one with Lady Arabella.”
A whisper of heat climbed up his spine. “Oh, yes. Of course. There was only one in the ballroom.” His explanation lacked any sort of clarity making his mother frown a little. “What I mean to say is,” he continued, his words coming out a little more quickly than he had intended, “was that Lady Arabella wanted to try to prove to me that I was more than capable of dancing, even though I told her that I was neither inclined towards dancing nor attending the Ball.”
“But you did so anyway?” the Duchess asked, a glint of mirth in her eyes. “She managed to convince you.”
“She twisted my arm behind my back to force me to do so,” he replied, with a chuckle. “If I did not manage the waltz, then she would leave my side and never come to encourage me in such a way again,” his mother laughed and he could not help but join in, “of course, I did manage to waltz with her in the library, and therefore my reasons for refusing to come below were shattered into smithereens.”
The Duchess let out a contented sigh. “I am glad she managed to show you just how much you are still capable of. I think you were happy to be in her company again.”
Jacob flushed but could not help but agree. “I was,” he stated, truthfully. “It has taken some time to work through what she said to me upon our first meeting but now I think we have found our path together again.”
The Duchess’ eyes filled with hope.
“Although she is still betrothed to the Earl of Winchester, of course,” Jacob finished, recalling the way that the gentleman had not paid Jacob even the slightest bit of attention, the way Lord Winchester’s cold blue eyes had turned away from him almost at once. It was as though the Earl knew that Jacob was very dear to Arabella and did not want it to be so, as though he were doing his best to encourage Arabella to stay away from Jacob.
Thankfully, Arabella had appeared to neither notice nor care, and for that, he was grateful.
“Why do you not call upon her?” his mother asked, gently. “Why do you not tell her what you feel?”
“Because I would not have that laid upon her shoulders, mama,” Jacob replied, heavily. “To tell her that I have not forgotten her, that I still feel as much for her as I ever did, simp
ly means that she will have no choice but to consider her future. I will not force her to break off her engagement, nor will I insist that she consider me over the gentleman she has chosen. If she is dissatisfied with the Earl and her engagement, then it must be of her own choice. She must know that a love such as I have for her cannot easily be forgotten or pushed away. Therefore, I will allow the time and consideration she needs to make her choice.”
His mother looked a little exasperated. “I understand your reasoning but it is a little flawed, I must say. If I were you, I should lay my heart before her so that there is not even the smallest piece of confusion or doubt within her over the state of your affections.” She shrugged. “And it does not matter if she cries off her engagement to the Earl, for whilst there may be a buzz amongst society because of it, if she is soon engaged to you, the Duke’s heir, then her reputation and her family’s good name will be quite untouched.”
“Although she will be married to a gentleman who has only one good leg,” Jacob muttered, with a dark smile. “Duke’s heir or not, I know that I am already the talk of London.”
His mother smiled but did not appear to be in any way discontented by this. “To that end, I have a gift for you,” she said, rising from her chair, and walking around behind it to pick something up. “Here.”
He accepted it gratefully, opening up the paper to find a beautiful cane, with a gold handle and a few ornate carvings beneath it. The tip was gold also, shining brightly as it caught the light.
“You may not always need it, but I have seen you struggle on the stairs and thought this might be helpful on the days your leg pains you terribly,” his mother said, sounding a little anxious, as though she expected him to be upset over such a gift.
