“I think the botanical would offer a pleasing extension of the decorations in the parlor.” Eunice thought about the way the appearance of each room was taking shape and allowed herself a satisfied smile. “I do believe that one day soon I shall be able to think of this place not as Uncle Eric’s house but as my own.”
“That is a pleasing notion.” Aunt May looked around the drawing room, where they were relaxing for the evening. “Have you given any thought to our guest list?”
“But I didn’t think we were ready yet.”
“Oh, we are not ready yet. But we shall be soon.” She paused. “I was thinking that I would like to include that nice gentleman Brigadier General Tarkington.”
“But we hardly know the brigadier general,” Eunice pointed out.
“Well, perhaps we have not known him for years as we have our other friends, but my dear, he is, after all, a brigadier general.”
“And, naturally, you consider him someone we would not want to put off in any way.”
“What is to put him off? Our home will be ready soon, and our friends are pleasant enough.”
“Yes.” But is Cecil ready?
Eunice decided not to mention her plans to her aunt. She hoped to introduce the new Cecil to their friends at the soiree. She had no intention of issuing invitations to any event at the manor house until she was certain he was ready.
She wished she could hurry him through the paces. But Cecil was no longer at the Sutton estate. He had gone to London on business, and she missed him beyond her capacity of expression.
She wondered about his business. As much as the thought pained her, surely his errands included Olivia.
❧
The carriage pulled in front of a familiar residence at the London address Cecil gave to the driver. He looked out and viewed the three-story clapboard house where Lizzie resided. As usual for this time of evening, light shone from every window. The illumination caused the surrounding yard to appear as at daylight, making the cold night seem a little warmer.
He missed Olivia. But since he had arrived in London, Cecil had felt the pull of Lizzie’s charms. The bold redhead would provide pleasant company for the evening. What harm would come of his visiting an old friend?
So here he was. He tried to lift his foot to begin his exit, but it wouldn’t do his bidding. No physical ailment was the cause of his inertia; his heart forbade movement. Where was his desire to join the party? He knew that many willing women awaited. Against a backdrop of lively music, they would bring him a warm bowl of pea soup to ward off the chill of night and a round of stout ale to smooth the tongue. They never minded the smell of smoke. On the contrary, all the women at Lizzie’s savored the smell of a fine cigar, whether the aroma from the smoke wafted through the air or the taste lingered upon his lips.
After his refreshment, Cecil would be welcome to join the other men at the gaming tables. Lizzie would bring him red wine from an endless bottle. Rather than curtail or even count the number of glasses he consumed, she would insist he take a goodly portion. He was no fool. He knew that his lady friend took a portion of the money from his losses. She was eager to enjoy a handsome profit as his grip on common sense and prudence became weaker with each drop. But didn’t amusement always carry a price? If Eunice were there, she would be sure to ask if the price he paid was too high.
Eunice. An unwelcome image of his beautiful taskmistress waxed into his mind. He had been dutiful in his assigned reading, so Proverbs 20:1 entered his mind: “Wine is a mocker, strong drink is raging: and whosoever is deceived thereby is not wise.”
Too true! His consumption of wine had resulted in unwise decisions more than once.
Unwelcome and unbidden, Proverbs 5:3 followed in close succession: “For the lips of a strange woman drop as an honeycomb, and her mouth is smoother than oil.”
How well the image described Lizzie! He liked to think that she missed him in his absence. He stared at the house again. Judging from the sounds of loud voices and music floating out from the building, he knew in his heart that she missed his money more than anything else. Perhaps not even that. Plenty of other men were happy to take his place and to pay her well for the privilege.
He couldn’t help but compare the brash, redheaded woman to Eunice. Over time, he had come to enjoy the talks with Eunice. Her mind was sharp and interested in matters of import. No thought-provoking exchanges would ever occur at Lizzie’s. If he were to ask her opinion about any of the classics, she would look puzzled, then laugh in his face to disguise her ignorance. Not that she could be blamed. Lizzie never had the advantage of being born a lady. But though she was kind of heart, Cecil had a notion that no aristocratic title could change her into a lady of refinement.
Eunice would have been refined even if she had been born to a charwoman. He remembered Giles’s reference to his petite blond, a pocket Venus. Such a vulgar designation made his blood boil now that he had deepened his acquaintance with her. Eunice was modest, pure, and proper. More like an angel than a pagan goddess. And she was as sweet of character as she was of face. Eunice never expected payment of any kind from him. Not love, not marriage, not even his friendship.
At that moment, he realized that Eunice dispensed far more patience and kindness than he deserved. He was not honoring her—or Olivia—to pause his coach in front of Lizzie’s.
“We are here, sir,” the driver reminded him. “Unless this is not the proper address.”
He paused only for a moment. “No, driver. This is not the proper address. I have somewhere else to go.” When he gave the driver Olivia’s house number, a sense of relief flooded him.
He had passed the first test in London.
Six
Cecil knocked on the door. In keeping with his promise, he hadn’t seen Olivia in months. Certainly his visit would catch her unaware. The surprise would be a pleasant one, he hoped.
“Milady will see you shortly, milord,” the maid informed Cecil. “Would you care to wait in the parlor?”
“Certainly.” He handed her his coat and hat. “She shall not keep me waiting long, I trust.”
“Oh, no, milord.”
He followed her a few steps into the parlor.
“May I pour you a glass of port?” she offered.
Cecil knew that Olivia had instructed her to suggest that he partake. Surely Olivia realized he would see through such a transparent test. “No, thank you.”
“Oh!” The maid’s eyebrows shot up. “We have brandy, if it be more to your likin’, milord.”
The brandy sounded good. But he couldn’t accept. “No.”
She persisted. “A mug of ale?”
“No. But if you insist on my partaking of refreshment, I would desire a cup of tea.”
She curtsied. “Yes, milord.”
After the maid exited, he settled into his favorite chair and wondered whether the maid had offered him three types of alcoholic beverages on her own because she considered making such offers her duty or if Olivia had encouraged her to prod enough for him to give in to temptation. He hoped the answer was the former.
He looked around at the familiar place, Olivia’s childhood home that was now rightfully hers. Alone in the silence, he realized that he longed for the approval of such a strong, independent woman. Surely Olivia would be delighted to see him and express great pleasure over his obvious progress.
He waited, his anticipation waning with each passing moment.
The temperature in the room was dropping with the progression of night. Dying embers in the fire offered little warmth. Olivia was certain to dawdle, leaving him in a chilly room indefinitely. When would that maid be in with the tea?
Olivia breezed in a few moments later, sooner than he anticipated but after the maid had brought the tea. He rose to greet her, but she made no move toward him.
“Cecil!” she scolded. “If you had told me you were planning to be in London, I would have had Cook prepare dinner for you. Or have you already eaten?”
&n
bsp; “Yes. I concluded my business with my solicitor, and we had a quick meal at the inn.”
Her face lifted an inch, indicating fresh and keen interest. She took the seat across from him. “I trust your business went well?”
“Yes,” he answered as he sat down. “And it has nothing to do with you, my dear. We were just conducting my quarterly review of investments.”
“Profitable, I hope.”
“Profitable. But you need not concern yourself with such matters.”
“So your business affects me not in the least?” she prodded.
“Did I not just tell you that, or am I walking in a dream state? I wonder, my dear, why you doubt me.”
“I thought perhaps you were making some sort of arrangements regarding our betrothal.”
“Perhaps you were hoping I would arrange for you to have a generous allowance?”
“I beg your pardon! You know perfectly well that I can take care of myself, if I choose. I was merely planning to caution you that you need not go to such lengths unless—I mean, until the banns are read.”
Unless. Hmmm. Why would she say “unless?” Surely she still planned to marry him once he proved he could change.
In no mood for confrontation when he had been seeking a pleasant evening, he decided not to call her on her slip of the tongue. Perhaps that’s all it was—an innocent slip of the tongue from a nervous prospective bride.
“I hope your situation is not too dire.” Cecil tilted his head toward what was left of the fire. “You certainly seem to be economizing on wood.”
“I am not,” she protested. “I had retired for the night and had not planned to be in this room again until tomorrow afternoon. Your unexpected arrival necessitated my having to dress again.”
“So sorry to have bothered you.”
“Why did you come here without notice?”
“You are such a poor correspondent, I was hoping you might like to see my progress for yourself.”
“I can see it.” He’d heard more emotion in her voice when she was placing an order with Gunther’s. Olivia leaned over and sniffed the air around him. “The stench of tobacco about your person—it is gone.” She leaned back in her chair and crossed her arms. “Have you indeed quit, or is it just for this evening to try to make me believe you are making progress?”
“Did I take a glass of port here tonight? Or brandy? Or a mug of ale?”
“Did you?”
He chortled. Hearing himself, he realized he didn’t like the bitter edge his laughter held. “What did the maid report to you? I notice you instructed her to tempt me not only once but three times.”
“I did not,” she protested too quickly.
Cecil rubbed his chin. “I have known you long enough to tell when you are lying, Olivia. Did you really think I would accept the offer here in your very house if I wanted to convince you of my sincerity?”
“If you had accepted her offer, I had planned not to see you.” She lifted her nose in his direction.
“Is that the truth? You can discard me as firmly as all that without so much as a farewell?”
Olivia’s features slackened with obvious guilt. “Of course not. I–I just wanted to see how well you are doing. And I see that you are coming along splendidly.”
“Thank you.” Even though Cecil had already eaten, he harbored hope that she might offer him a bite to eat while they chatted over things inconsequential, even if it meant warmed-over mutton from the night’s dinner. Still she made no move to display any hospitality. Not even an offer for a second cup of tea.
“How the night passes quickly,” she said.
“Too quickly.” He looked at the grandfather clock with a motion broad enough to attract her notice. “I suppose I shall be going.” He did not rise, hoping she would deter him.
“I wish you could stay,” she said with no emotion, “but I have an early day tomorrow.”
“You plan to rise before noon, my dear?”
She bristled. “I have an important meeting.”
He waited for her to elaborate, but she didn’t. He rose from his seat since he could no longer delay the inevitable.
“I am pleased with your progress. I wish you a good evening and anticipate our meeting again when the year is up.”
“But my dear, I do believe that I shall be ready before then.”
“But our agreement was for a year.” Olivia’s voice exuded a strange tone, almost as though she didn’t want him to succeed, and certainly no sooner than in the space of a year.
“In any event,” she continued, “I have no idea whether or not your manners have improved.”
“I assure you, they have. I am taking lessons. If you would spend an evening with me, you would see for yourself.”
“I would find that agreeable, no doubt,” she said, “but I am afraid I have my social calendar quite full for the time being.”
“If you say so, my dear. No doubt you are much sought after. Might you offer me any details?”
She looked at the floor, though she didn’t bow her head in shame. “I hold a box at the opera, as you know, and I have received quite a few invitations for festivities here in town.” Apparently satisfied that she had given him a reasonable explanation, she returned her gaze to his face. “What a shame you are out there all alone in the dreary country with no one to entertain you but the wild beasts and other rustic types.”
“And what a shame you are forced to attend the opera and festivities alone.” He knew better but decided not to embarrass her further by waiting for an excuse, one that would no doubt be a lie. “Good night, Olivia. Do not bother to show me to the door.”
Cecil donned his hat and coat to depart into a brisk night. He wasn’t certain which was colder—Olivia or the evening air. He had felt more warmth over business with his solicitor. Since his proposal of marriage, Olivia had changed. Instead of making him feel like a man in love, she treated him like a mother giving approval to a little boy. During the course of their interview, Cecil discovered he didn’t need the protection, admonition, and judgment of a mother enough to relish the feeling.
He entered the cab and almost told the driver to take the coach to Lizzie’s if for no other reason than to spite Olivia. But he was in no mood for female companionship of any sort. He instructed the coachman to deliver him to his home.
As they passed street after street, he realized that Olivia had not even bothered to inquire about her cousin, Eunice.
Once he was home and prepared to retire for the evening, bittersweet emotions roiled through him. Seeing Olivia hadn’t had the effect on him that he anticipated. And if her frigid attitude toward him was an indication, his visit was evoking no emotion in her. How odd for a woman who was considering becoming engaged to him! He contemplated the past few years. He had thought himself in love and fancied that she returned his feelings. How could he have been so mistaken?
Not that he was lovable. He knew he had his faults. He had thought for a time that Olivia’s tolerance of his adventures was her way of expressing her love. Perhaps it was her way of showing her indifference.
No doubt Olivia had made good on her threat to seek other suitors. She was still an attractive woman and, more importantly to men of modest means, an unwed woman with a reasonable, though not extravagant, income and no troublesome relatives to stake a claim to her fortune. At least, no relatives had made themselves known. To men of means, Olivia had proven herself a popular hostess and was still of childbearing age. Both of these factors enhanced her ability to attract other men. Men who, perhaps, were less adventurous, who seemed more docile and willing to be manipulated to Olivia’s every whim.
But if Cecil himself was not docile, who was? He had already agreed to change his mode of living to suit her. He shuddered in self-disgust.
“Bah! What was I thinking? I could be enjoying a glass of port and a fine cigar and a good meal, as well.” He patted his belly and noticed, not for the first time, that it had decreased in size since he had
modified his diet. He wished he didn’t have to admit it, but he felt better, too. Olivia or no Olivia, those benefits were the real reasons he shouldn’t let himself backslide.
And then there was Eunice. Even though she was assigned only to teach him manners, she was willing to accept him with or without a polished facade. She was only changing him for Olivia’s sake, not because she herself had asked him to change. He supposed he owed Abigail no small amount of thanks. Although she was too courteous to make broad mention of it, he was aware that she had asked Eunice to assist him. If not for Abigail, he was sure that Eunice would never have considered helping him. And why should she have, after the way he had tried to kiss her in the garden?
Though the sting of pain was long past, Cecil rubbed his right cheek in remembrance. As much as he wished Eunice had given in to the kiss, he respected her much more for her rebuff.
Except for Abigail, Eunice was the first woman he had come into regular contact with who took her Bible seriously. No doubt her love of scripture and its admonitions spurred Eunice to remain chaste in every way. No wonder she wanted him to read the Bible as well. He speculated that the words would offer him something he had been missing for a long time. Perhaps she was right.
Instead of going straight to bed as he had planned, Cecil kept the candle on his nightstand burning, sat in a chair, and opened his Bible. Over time, he had grown to love the four Gospels most. Jesus seemed so gentle, yet Cecil could imagine His voice becoming stern when He was admonishing the sinners of His time to improve the way they treated their neighbors—and themselves.
Swallowing, Cecil could also well imagine that Jesus would chastise him first and foremost if He were to return that day. Cecil avoided the book of Revelation with the fervor that those living in Bible times avoided lepers. He knew he was still a babe in Christ, so much so that the prophetic passages left him in fear and trembling. But why?
Just as quickly as the question occurred to him, he could answer it.
God wanted more from him. He knew it. Eunice showed him how the Lord wanted His own to live, and Cecil understood that though he would never be perfect, he could aspire to a better life—a life of more significance—than the one he had been leading all these years. If he had lived as he should have all along, he never would have lost Abigail. And Olivia might love him instead of treating him like yesterday’s rubbish.
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