Alexander took a sip of his brandy; a frown had emerged at Anthony’s words. “I won’t be joining you this Christmas.”
“Oh, come on! I know we can’t compete with the invitations that will be piling on your desk, but we have got some entertainments planned!”
Alexander smiled a bitter smile. “My desk is bereft of invitations today and every day.”
“How so?” Anthony said genuinely puzzled. His brother had always been extremely popular.
“Our society prefers its members to be perfect,” Alexander replied.
“That’s ridiculous!” Anthony exploded.
Alexander shrugged, no longer looking bitter. “I won’t lie and say it hasn’t been a hell of a few months, but do you know something? I’m glad I found out what my so-called friends are really like. If you’ll excuse the pun, I’ve had my eyes opened these last few months about what is important and what isn’t.”
“I never thought I’d hear those words from you,” Anthony acknowledged, watching his brother carefully. It seemed that the changes had gone beyond the physical.
“Was I that arrogant?” Alexander asked, raising an eyebrow.
“Let’s just say you fitted in with your friends perfectly,” Anthony replied truthfully.
Alexander laughed. “All stiff-upper-lipped and glowering? I was told that was the impression I gave when I let Richard take me to a ballroom. It’s a mistake I won’t be making again, but I’m glad I went.”
Anthony had heard about the fiasco and was surprised at Alexander’s response to it. He was so used to the angry brother that had emerged after the accident that this new person sitting before him was taking some time to get used to. “I’m afraid to ask why,” Anthony said good-naturedly.
“I had the good fortune of meeting someone there who has been a true friend to me over these last weeks, as well as Richard of course.”
“A lady?”
“Yes.”
“Who is she?” Anthony was immediately interested.
“Oh, no one any of us knew before. She was definitely beneath our notice because of our self-imposed importance. She is a Miss without dowry; in fact, firmly on the shelf,” Alexander said being honest with his brother.
Anthony was cautious but still interested. “And she is now a good friend. I would like to make her acquaintance before I return home.”
“She’s gone.”
“Gone? Where?”
“To Charmouth, and that’s the reason I won’t be spending Christmas with you,” Alexander said firmly.
“Is that wise?” Anthony asked.
“Probably not, particularly as I’ve no idea what to do when I get there,” Alexander admitted.
“Alex, I’ve seen you hide from your struggles, and now you are facing them with what appears to be great results. I would hate to see you have a further set-back,” Anthony said gently.
“Does it make sense if I say that if I don’t hear her voice at least for one more time I will regret it for the rest of my life?” Alexander said, finally admitting some of the turmoil he had felt since there had been no morning meetings with Amelia.
“In that case I wish you a good journey and hope that some guardian angel is looking down on you kindly. I want you to be happy, Alex.”
“So do I, Anthony. So do I,” Alexander replied, a little overwhelmed at the feelings that were caused by the thought of being in Amelia’s company once more.
Chapter 9
Alexander was not the only one missing the contact they had enjoyed through their brief acquaintance. Amelia was distinctly out of sorts since she had returned home. Oh, it was wonderful to see her mother and father again and to be welcomed back with open arms into a family that loved and appreciated her, but she was not completely happy, and she did not know what to do about it.
A week after her return, Amelia had secreted herself in the small room that was used as a study and library. It was the room she had used the most since arriving home; it effectively provided peace and a place to hide. Their house was not large enough to provide many places one could separate oneself from the other members of the family but, for the first time in her life, Amelia felt as if she needed that escape.
Two window seats provided comfort and a place to read and think without going outside, probably the only other place one could find solace in a home that housed a large family when everyone was in residence. The large desk dominated the small room, allowing only the chair behind the desk and two smaller chairs near the fireplace. A side table completed the furniture for the room with everything that was needed and no unnecessary extravagance. Shelves filled the one wall that had no window, door or fireplace. There were books, but the shelves held more space than actual books; when money was scarce, books were an unnecessary luxury.
Mr Basingstoke walked into the room, noticing his daughter seated in the corner on the window seat. She looked small, curled up in an effort to be comfortable and warm. Mr Basingstoke frowned as he watched his daughter gazing at a book she held, obviously not reading, but deep in thought. It was time that father and daughter spoke candidly; he had observed her on a number of occasions since her return and was concerned about his child.
“My dear, why aren’t you walking to the vicarage with your Mama?” he asked, sitting on the window seat so Amelia had to shuffle her knees further under her chin to allow him access.
Mr Basingstoke’s hair had gone white very early, making him look older than he actually was, although some wondered whether it was the effect of having eight riotous boys to bring up. He had a calming and loving nature without being oppressive; all his children adored him. He was in contrast to a mother who had become, as she aged, more concerned with what could go wrong in life than with being thankful for what she had. Mr Basingstoke still loved her dearly.
Mr Basingstoke clothes might not have been the fine quality of his brother; on close examination his shirts would show signs of wear that would never be accepted in Sir Jeremy’s wardrobe, but Mr Basingstoke had the peace and contentment his brother lacked in his home life. Mr Basingstoke had eight sons of whom he was immensely proud and a daughter who was the apple of his eye. They had been very close before she left for the delights of London, but now he was treading carefully to find out exactly what was amiss.
“I couldn’t face going today. I asked to be excused; Mama was happy to go alone,” Amelia replied.
“You’ve appeared out of sorts since your return Amelia. It is good to have you home, but I had hoped you would make a good match in London. I had resigned myself to losing you to some beau or other,” Mr Basingstoke said fondly.
Amelia smiled at her father. “It appears you shall have me around forever. I hope you don’t mind the extra burden.”
“Mind? You’ll never be considered a burden, but it’s natural for a parent to want to see his child happy.” There was a slight pause. “You aren’t happy at the moment, my dear.”
Amelia blinked quickly; of course her father would notice something was amiss; he, above anyone else in the family, was in tune with how she functioned. “I’m happy to be home. London didn’t suit me. In addition, my aunt and Serena, well, we have completely different characters,” she said honestly, while trying to be diplomatic in her response.
“But? Was there no one that made your heart race a little?” Mr Basingstoke prompted patiently.
“There was a gentleman,” Amelia confessed. She took a breath, glad to be able to speak about Alexander to someone who would understand in some way. “Does it make sense if I say that from the moment I first set eyes on him, I knew he was more perfect to me than anyone else I’d met or would ever meet?”
“Go on,” Mr Basingstoke encouraged, glad that Amelia was finally confiding in him. Her withdrawn demeanour since her arrival had been a worry.
“I saw him at the start of my first season. He was so tall and strong; he seemed to fill every ballroom or party he attended. The moment he walked in the room, I knew where he was.” Ame
lia thought back to those first few times she had seen Captain Worthington. He had filled the room; it was as if every other man shrank when they were near him; none could compare. He had looked magnificent in his blue uniform with the gold braiding reflecting off the many candles. His hair had always been tied in a queue; no foppish curls for him. His laugh had rumbled through Amelia as if it were a physical thing. When he danced, he chatted and laughed, obviously flirting with whichever lucky partner he had chosen; but he had never seemed to take anything seriously, teasing so much he would have his companion constantly blushing. Amelia had watched, drawn to him, longing to be the one who made him laugh but being realistic about her situation.
“And did he return your feelings?”
“No!” Amelia laughed. “He didn’t even know I existed. We were never introduced; we never even danced in the same set.” She chose to leave out that she actually danced very little; there was nothing to be gained by distressing her father when he had expressed such high hopes for her trip. “He was so much better than me, a Captain of his majesty’s navy and a very good one by all accounts.”
“I don’t like to hear you saying that someone is better than you,” Mr Basingstoke chided. “We are all put on this earth as equals.”
“You know that isn’t true Papa, and it’s never as obvious as when one is attending an entertainment where the ton is present. They make sure that anyone who is beneath their notice knows their place.”
“And he was one of those, I’m presuming. I cannot see the attraction at the moment.”
“You were not a girl of twenty, Papa!” Amelia smiled. “He left last year to join Nelson and was hailed a hero, but he was injured badly, and no one saw him for over a year.”
“And then?”
“He returned to Society in November. He’s blind Papa, and they all avoided him! He was their hero but, because he was no longer perfect, he was ignored!” Amelia did not try to hide the disgust she felt against everyone who had used Alexander ill.
“So, he was introduced to you then?” Mr Basingstoke asked, trying to read between the lines of the story. It was clear that Amelia had feelings about the Captain, but he wanted to find out exactly what had happened.
“In a manner of speaking. The first time we met, he had been placed next to me on the benches where the wallflowers sit. He was not impressed,” she replied with a smile. “But then we met by accident when I was exercising Uncle Jeremy’s dog; I wrote to you about him.”
“Ah, yes, the infamous Samson.”
“Samson astounded us all by turning into the perfect animal whenever he was near Captain Worthington. He is the captain’s eyes. We used to train Samson and, I suppose Captain Worthington to some extent, every morning in Green Park.”
The way Amelia’s eyes had lit up had not gone unnoticed; neither had the flush on her cheeks. “I hope he behaved like a gentleman,” Mr Basingstoke said quietly.
“He did Papa; he was more interested in the dog than in me. I could have been anyone; it was Samson who was important,” Amelia responded dejectedly.
“So, he spoke to you when you were useful.”
“Yes. No. Oh, it wasn’t as bad as that! We did talk, but he would never want the likes of me.”
“Would you like to expand on that condemning description of yourself before I shake you for being a buffoon?” Mr Basingstoke rarely lost his temper, but he sounded exasperated at his daughter’s self-depreciation.
Amelia laughed. “I’m being realistic! Our lives are too different; I had been a romantic fool and allowed my thoughts to run away with themselves. He did nothing wrong.”
“I’m not sure I agree with you on that point, but I hope, when you do marry, it will be to someone who values you fully,” Mr Basingstoke said with feeling.
“I’m nearly three and twenty, Papa. I’m firmly on the shelf.” Amelia was not looking for pity; she was being pragmatic.
“And yet you returned early. There are still months of the season left.”
“Christmas is not special when away from one’s family. I’ve missed you all, and there was no one dancing with me, let alone paying their addresses. I would rather be with my family.”
Mr Basingstoke felt saddened that his only daughter— the light of his life—had not enjoyed what he had hoped would be the making of her. He admitted parental bias, but she was a handsome girl who had wit and intelligence to add to her attractiveness. He came to the conclusion the London gentlemen had let a diamond slip through their fingers. What he thought of Captain Worthington was even more censorious. Mr Basingstoke was convinced that he had used Amelia, knowing full well she was smitten with him. That thought would keep his lips in a grim line for the rest of the day.
“You will get your wish for a family Christmas this year,” Mr Basingstoke said, changing the subject to a more pleasant one. He now knew what was ailing his daughter and had hopes that, after a Christmas with her whole family, she would rally once more.
“Are all the boys going to be home?” Amelia asked, excited at the thought of seeing her brothers again. She could visit the two brothers who had their own farms; they lived within a few miles of home, but the others were further away.
“Yes, I’ve received a letter from William; his ship has docked, and he is making his way home as we speak.”
“Oh, wonderful! I can’t wait to see him.”
“Bernard and John will only be with us for Christmas Day, neither will leave their farms for any longer, but the boys are arriving from school tomorrow, and Harold and George will be here the day before Christmas Eve.”
“What about Peter?” Amelia asked. The brother who was taking Orders had not been mentioned.
“Oh, he’s already here; he arrived about an hour ago,” Mr Basingstoke said with a smile as Amelia jumped from her seat, all malady gone and ran from the room in search of her brother.
*
Snow was to be the biggest problem for the family gathering. The night of Peter’s arrival saw a large snow fall. Amelia stood before the morning room window almost blinded by the brightness of the scene before her. The ground was covered in a good six inches of snow. Every bough and branch was coated in its new white blanket. Some of the smaller bushes looked weighed down with their unexpected heavy load. Few carriages would brave the journey today in fear of driving off the road.
“I hope Benjamin and Thomas make it,” Amelia said for the tenth time as she stood looking out of the drawing room window. Her fingers traced the incrustation of ice that had formed on the insides of the glass as she stood look-out for her brothers.
“I’d enjoy the peace while you can,” Peter teased, enjoying the warmth the large fire was producing.
“Absence makes you forget everyone’s faults. All my brothers became almost angelic in my mind while I was away,” Amelia said with a smile.
“Ha! I think some halos will have slipped by the end of the day!” Peter smirked, knowing full well what mischief his two youngest brothers would cause with so much snow at their disposal.
Amelia and Peter were soon joined by their mother and father. No one was prepared to move far from the warmth of the fire on a day that did not tempt one outside; all of them gathering together in only a few rooms reduced the need to have fires in every grate.
“I hope Benjamin and Thomas don’t try to reach home today. They should lodge in an inn until the snow melts a little,” Mrs Basingstoke fussed, wrapping the thickest shawl she owned close around her shoulders. She had not gone grey early as her husband had, but she had worried herself into an older looking face than she should have, frown lines carving deep groves in her forehead.
“They’re young and strong; they’ll be fine. If the roads are blocked, they are more than able to walk a few miles,” their older brother defended them.
“They’re here!” Amelia said excitedly, spotting two figures appearing on the lane, but then she paused and flushed a deep red. “I was mistaken; it isn’t them.”
“Surely n
o one is visiting today?” Mrs Basingstoke asked in disbelief. Never one to stir outside if the ground was wet, she could not imagine anyone being foolish enough to stir out of doors in six inches of snow.
“Amelia?” Mr Basingstoke asked quietly having a sudden suspicion as to why his daughter looked perturbed.
Amelia looked at her father, panic in her eyes. She had no idea what the visit meant, but it could not be passed off as something of a coincidence. Moments passed where the father and daughter communicated without words. One gently questioning while the other conveyed surprise and, to her shame, hope. Peter had moved to the window but, not knowing the reason for Amelia’s sudden flush, watched the two figures approach with an understandable, but not excessive, amount of curiosity. A knock at the door prevented Amelia from being forced to try and explain who was visiting, but it was clear her father had guessed at least one of the party about to be announced.
The housekeeper entered the room. “Mr Critchley and Captain Worthington are here to pay their respects to Miss Amelia, Sir,” she addressed Mr Basingstoke.
“Show them in and please arrange for something warm to drink to be served. I’m sure both would appreciate something hot after walking through the snow,” Mr Basingstoke directed, before standing in front of the fireplace in readiness to welcome his unexpected guests.
Richard led Alexander into the drawing room. Mr Basingstoke crossed the room before anything was said. “Gentlemen, welcome to our home on this dreadful morning. At least the sun is out for a while. I’m Amelia’s father and this is my wife and one of my sons, Peter.”
Richard shook Mr Basingstoke’s hand and bowed to his wife. With a look to Peter he expressed the need for Peter to approach them, which he did.
Alexander held out his hand and shook Peter’s hand when the young man placed his in Alexander’s. “Are you the seafaring brother?” Alexander asked with a smile.
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