“But - when she and Captain Sudbury marry -”
“Marry?” Amelia’s laugh died on her lisp. “You cannot mean to say that my brother intends to propose to your sister.”
“He attempted it before, did not he? And what else could explain his calling so often at our house? I felt certain it was only a matter of time.”
Amelia was quiet for a time, the rapid blinking the only indication of the equal rapidity of her thoughts as she considered Grace’s words.
“But there is Mr Crampton to consider!” she blurted out, at last. “And Emily is so - that is, they are so ill-suited to one another.” She paused. “They are so different.”
“Is that not the true nature of affection, most often?” Grace asked, turning an innocent, questioning glance on her friend. “We desire one who completes us and thus must, by nature, offer complimentary, if different, elements to our own character.”
“Yes...” Amelia did not seem entirely convinced that this logic should be applied to two such individuals as Captain Sudbury and Emily Hardcastle, and was evidently seeking to find the proper words to say as much without offending Grace’s absent sister.
“I think you are mistaken, Grace,” she said at last. “My brother cares no more for your sister than he does for any other accomplished young lady. I know there was some rumour of something between them long ago, but I wager that that is entirely in the past. It may have taken him some time to realise it, but realise it he does. If he has been seen often at your house I wager it is because he has sought to check on the welfare of another young lady who resides under that roof.”
Grace coloured, disbelieving but wanting, oh so desperately wanting for that to be true. She shook her head.
“You are teasing me, Amelia.”
“I am not!” Amelia frowned. “And I do not see why you should be so insistent that my brother should care for Emily when he might have you!” She paused, biting her lip. “He might have you, mightn’t he, Grace? That is - you do like him, don’t you? I know he can be an idiot at times but truly his heart is in a good place, even if he conceals it too well for his own good at times, and I think -”
“Yes,” Grace murmured, at last unable to keep the truth to herself or to conceal it from her friend a moment longer. She nodded her head, miserably. “Yes, I care for him, but don’t you see that that makes everything worse? For it is Emily he ought to marry. Emily who he wanted to marry, once upon a time -”
“That was a long time ago if it ever even happened!” Amelia exclaimed.
“What was a long time ago?” Arthur’s voice floated across the grass to them as the young women turned to see him making his way across the grounds towards them. Grace let go of her hold on Amelia’s hand and took a step back, unconsciously putting distance between herself and Arthur even as he sought to close it.
“Whoever decided to fill your garden with follies,” Amelia said, with a careful glance at Grace that she could not hide from.
“A long time ago it may have been, but I assure you it did certainly happen,” Arthur said, chuckling at what he evidently perceived to be his sister’s nonsense. He looked at Grace. “I imagine they would make particularly interesting studies to one of an artistic persuasion. Miss Grace, what say you? You are our resident artist!”
Grace coloured at his turn of phrase. Resident artist suggested a good deal more claim to the grounds than she knew she truly had. Oh, she might be permitted to come here and sketch, if Emily did marry the captain, but oh, how unbearable that would be!
ARTHUR INSISTED UPON their escorting Grace back to Grafton Hall, despite her offer to walk.
“It is on our way, Miss Grace,” he said, which was not strictly true but neither was it a lie. The short journey was conducted almost entirely in silence, and Arthur felt sure he saw an expression of relief settle over Grace’s features once she was permitted to leave the carriage and enter the sanctuary of her home.
Climbing back into the carriage, Arthur and Amelia were soon on their way again, and he gathered the courage he needed to enquire after their friend’s wellbeing.
“Miss Grace seemed so unlike herself today, Milly. I hope she is not still suffering from her ankle injury.” He frowned. “She ought not to insist on walking on it so much if it is such a cause of pain to her.”
“I do not think that is all it was,” Amelia mused, her eyes on the horizon.
Arthur waited patiently for her to expand on her words. When she didn’t, he was forced to speak again.
“Then what was the matter? You cannot tell me you did not notice how distracted she seemed. I felt as if I was being put to the test and whatever answer I offered was wrong! Milly, if I have caused some offence, be kind and tell me so I may go about mending it.”
Amelia’s eyes drifted to his and she looked at him warily.
“What offence do you imagine you have caused?”
“I do not know!” Arthur said, laughing with a hint of desperation. “That is why I find the whole situation so unbearable. Miss Grace seems to have changed almost overnight - and do not say I have been away so many years and any young lady might have changed in such a long time, for this is an entirely recent change. In the last few days, only.” He harrumphed. “I wish it were the same as it is with men. If there is some frustration it is well worked out in an argument or a -” He glanced at his sister, moderating his words. “A duel,” he amended.
“Do not tell me you wish to challenge poor Grace to a duel!” Amelia laughed. “Honestly, brother, you do speak some nonsense at times!”
“Only when I am forced to - when no sensible alternative is open to me!” He sighed, sinking his chin into one palm and allowing the noise of the carriage to fill the silence between brother and sister.
“Let’s go for tea,” Amelia declared, eyeing her brother determinedly. “Now that we are away from home I an not so very eager to return to it. Let’s go into Westham and I can tell you my true and honest opinion of the house.”
“Dear me, is there more?” Arthur muttered, smiling lopsidedly to show his sister he was teasing.
Yes, let us speak of the house instead of Grace Hardcastle, he thought. At least that way we may make some progress and not be forced to talk in circles.
They soon reached Westham and Amelia led the way towards the tea house that was her favourite. They had barely stepped inside, scarcely located a table when a bright voice beckoned to them from the window.
“Captain Sudbury! Miss Sudbury! I thought I recognised you two!” Emily Hardcastle was sitting with Mr Crampton, who looked rather less thrilled than his companion at the arrival of their friends. His expression sank still further when she invited them to join them and take tea all together. “Won’t that be jolly?”
Amelia muttered something under her breath, but when Arthur glanced at her, her expression was one of manufactured delight at Emily’s suggestion, and he wondered if he had imagined her words of criticism. Locating two extra chairs, he helped his sister into one and took the other for himself.
“We ought not to disturb you, Miss Hardcastle.” Amelia’s voice was polite, but Arthur knew his sister well enough to discern a definite frosty undercurrent to her words. He leapt in to diffuse whatever situation was rapidly brewing.
“We can spare a few moments, Milly, in order to be civil.”
“Civil!” Emily giggled. “Dear me, Captain Sudbury, have we fallen so far in your estimation that we are only to be treated to civility and not friendship these days?”
She fixed a hypnotic gaze on him that Arthur squirmed to escape. Crampton, too, noticed the gaze and evidently did not greatly approve of it.
“We ought to return home soon, Miss Hardcastle, for I did wish to speak to your father...”
“Oh, no!” Emily was evidently greatly enjoying securing the attention of not one but two gentlemen and angled her chair a little more towards Arthur’s, which did not go unnoticed by Amelia.
“We have just been looking at a property,
Mr Crampton.” She turned archly towards Emily. “Miss Hardcastle, are you acquainted with Meadhaven?”
Emily frowned as if struggling to place the name.
“It is about a mile from Roland Park,” Arthur volunteered. “Quite a pretty little -”
“Oh, Meadhaven!” Emily giggled. “Yes, of course, I know it. It is rather a small estate, I believe.”
“Small, yes, but perfectly adequate to my needs.” Arthur felt the sudden desire to defend his choice of property, feeling strangely that Emily Hardcastle’s slight against it was a slight against himself.
“I suppose it does well enough for a bachelor,” Crampton weighed in, shifting his own chair a little closer to Miss Hardcastle. “Although if one has a mind towards the future, to family, and society -”
“Society?” Arthur sniffed. “In Westham?”
“What my brother means,” Amelia began, with a warning look that Arthur neither noticed nor obeyed. “Is that if society is what one craves, one is perhaps better served by spending time in town. London, for instance.”
“Then you will be purchasing property in London as well?” Emily breathed, her eyes wide. “Of course, it would make sense for such a gentleman as you to diversify -”
“No.” Arthur’s response was blunt, and doubtless caused the flash of annoyance in Miss Hardcastle’s eyes. “I have lost my taste for London, Miss Hardcastle, and it seems to me the height of extravagance to possess two homes. There is but one of me, after all.”
“Yes, but when you marry -”
“If I marry, I shall ensure to select a wife who is content to call her home her home, and not see fit to squirrel money into a thousand other places.”
Arthur had spoken a little more irritably than he had intended and regretted the outburst, seeking to undo it almost as quickly.
“But I not yet married, Miss Hardcastle, and I dare say my thoughts on the matter might be changed, if my wife was to think differently.”
This, it seemed, was even worse than offending her, for Emily’s eyes widened, her lips parting a little as she fixed a shining glace on him.
Amelia, next to him, let out a loud sigh and turned to request some service.
“Good idea, Miss Sudbury!” Emily asked. “Let us all have some more tea. Mr Crampton, you will stay a little longer, will not you? Although, if you really must leave, I am sure Captain Sudbury and his sister will not object to seeing me home.”
“Actually -” Amelia began, but before she could manufacture a reason to avoid doing this very thing, Crampton had spoken again.
“I am in no hurry to depart, Miss Hardcastle. And as I said, I very much wish to speak to your father. It would be foolish indeed to go on ahead of you if our destination is the very same place. And in any case, we do not wish to take Captain and Miss Sudbury out of their way.”
His voice was low and dangerous and he fixed a steely look on Arthur which might have withered a lesser man. Arthur merely added him to the list of enemies he seemed to be accruing these days and wondered if purchasing a house and settling in Westham was as good an idea as he had once supposed.
Perhaps I would be better sidestepping the lot and rejoicing in the anonymity of London after all!
Chapter Twelve
Arthur nursed his tea, wondering if his sister found their conversation as wearying as he did. He risked a glance at her and was surprised to see her eyes fixed carefully on Emily Hardcastle as if he was seeking to memorise every line of her face as she spoke, her eyes dancing with animation and delight at being the centre of the small table’s attention. She was discussing a dress in some great detail, and even Crampton appeared enthralled, although Arthur wagered he was more enthralled with the teller than the tale.
He could not help his mind returning to the young woman he had recently left behind. Grace had been quiet and unlike her usual self, but even so, she had been far more engaging than her sister. He ought to feel guilty for making such a comparison, but he could not help but acknowledge he was not. It was as if scales had been removed from his eyes and he was seeing clearly, at last, where before he had not. Emily Hardcastle was beautiful and charming and everything an elegant, accomplished young lady should be. She was also the very opposite of the young lady Arthur’s heart yearned to be with.
He shifted in his seat, suddenly too constrained by this table, this tea room, this company.
“Captain Sudbury!” Emily noticed the movement, stopping her speech in an instant. “Is something the matter?”
Her eyes sparkled with interest and he realised, too late, that she misunderstood his reaction as pertaining to her. Which it did, he acknowledged, but not in the way she imagines.
“I am quite well, Miss Hardcastle,” he replied, more stiff and formal than he had ever been in her hearing. Both she and his sister turned to regard him, noticing the change in his manner and curious as to its cause. Eager to avoid their questions, Arthur’s eyes strayed to the door and he hurried to formulate a reason to leave.
“I have been dominating the conversation!” Emily remarked, with a trifling laugh. “It is so rude of me. Tell us more, Captain Sudbury, of your visit to Meadhaven. How funny to think that when we knew each other before you were adamant you would return to Westham in style and surprise us with your successes. I do not suppose any of us could have dreamt how accurate your prediction would prove!”
Arthur frowned, certain that this was a trick, an attempt to flatter him and forbid him from escaping their conversation.
“I did not realise you were so well-acquainted with one another in years past,” Crampton said, coldly. He turned to Captain Sudbury. “And now you have returned to renew the acquaintance. How charming.”
“Yes!” Emily laughed, tossing her head in a manner so ferocious that it must have jiggled her eyes in their sockets. “I have it on good authority, Mr Crampton, that Captain Sudbury, who once claimed me to be the very picture of perfection, would never find my equal.” She fluttered her eyelashes across the table at Arthur. “You have travelled a great deal since then, Captain. Was your assertion on that matter also proved correct?”
Arthur could hear a faint sigh of frustration from Amelia’s mouth and felt certain she was gathering a smart retort that would put Miss Hardcastle back in her place just as quickly as she could utter it. In no mood to bear witness to such a spectacle, he offered his own response.
“That was a long time ago, Miss Hardcastle.”
Emily’s features fell, and he felt the ordinary regret of a gentleman who had been taught to be chivalrous to young ladies, always. Before he could moderate his response, however, Amelia stood.
“I think, perhaps, we ought to return home, Arthur. Father will wonder what has become of us and he is, I don’t doubt, eager to hear what you had to make of Meadhaven.” She dropped in a lazy half-curtsey. “Good afternoon Mr Crampton, Miss Hardcastle.” She paused, her gaze steely. “You must ask Grace her opinion of Meadhaven, Emily, for we saw her on the way there and pressed her to join us. She, at least, seemed suitably delighted with the place and said as much. Perhaps she is more easily pleased than you.”
Emily’s mouth dropped open at this not even thinly veiled slight and Arthur physically moved his sister to the door before either young woman could speak again. They burst from the small tea room and out into the street, and Arthur did not let go of his hold on his sister until he had put several yards between them and the tea room.
“Get off me!” Amelia hissed, shrugging out from under him. “I said nothing that was not true - and far less than she deserved to be told! Arthur, please tell me you do not still nurse an affection for that - that -”
“Captain Sudbury.”
With supreme effort and a weary sigh, Arthur turned back towards the tea room in time to see Crampton striding after him, a tense expression on his face. When he spoke it was with such vehement control that although his form was rigidly still, his voice shook with the effort to contain himself.
“Mr Crampto
n.” Arthur dropped in a bow. “You must forgive my sister -”
“Your sister is not who I desire to speak to.” He cut his glance to Amelia, nodding dismissively. “It is to you I must make my appeal.” He drew himself up to his full height, still several inches shorter than Arthur, and lifted his chin. “I wish to tell you, sir, that if you plan to make a claim on Miss Hardcastle’s hand, I have the prior claim. I do not know what little association you had in the past, but I assure you it is just that: in the past.”
“Oh?” Arthur’s voice grew dangerous. He had no patience for this fool Crampton and certainly no desire to prevent him from winning his prize. He opened his mouth to say as much but before he could speak, Crampton had blustered on, throwing the case open with the words he was so agitated to utter that they practically fell out of his mouth in a jumble.
“I had hoped it would not come to this, sir, for I am not a fan of spectacle or of foolish shows of bravado. Yet I suppose with certain men violence is the only method of understanding they possess. That being so, I wish to formally - to formally - I wish to challenge you to a duel.”
ABSTRACTEDLY, GRACE traced line after line on a scrap of paper from her drawing case. She barely saw what she was drawing, her hand moving as if independent of itself while her mind chased thought after thought like so many rabbits down a hole. Captain Sudbury would take Meadhaven, she felt sure of it. And he would be happy there, with Emily by his side...
Flinching, Grace straightened and looked down at her paper, seeing it crisscrossed with so many lines she could barely trace the pale white of the paper underneath it all. With a sigh, she tore the scrap in two and found a clean sheet of paper, setting her mind at drawing one of the follies she had admired that afternoon. Such a study would serve several purposes, in keeping her mind focused on recollection she would wrangle her thoughts free of the distracting trails they had sought to lead her down. She might challenge her remembrance and her drawing, and, if the sketch came together well enough it might make a pretty present for the captain and his new bride. She scowled, channelling her irritation into her pen, which she clenched so tightly it was some miracle it did not break.
A Captain of Consequence (Westham Chronicles, #2) Page 9
