“Yes. She’s a cold fish, but her dowry will be worth the wait. She’ll come around to my way of thinking. After all, she has little other choice,” Mr Sage responded.
“I hope so, because my funds are becoming worryingly low,” Mr Malone countered.
“Perhaps you should be mooning around the quiet Miss King?”
“No. She’s smitten with Miles. I can see it, but I don’t think Miles can. There’s no point chasing a no-hoper, although I will be ready to act if Miles should realise she’s besotted and rejects the chit.”
“He could marry her.”
“Miles? Not a chance. He’s too clodhopping to notice her. He’ll marry a stunning beauty, not a plain squib like Miss King. She’s no chance of securing him. But at the moment, you look to be in exactly the same position as the doting Miss King is. Are you sure you aren’t chasing a lost cause?”
“No. I tried the quick, more forceful approach and she shied off like a frightened filly. I’m now pursuing the more delicate approach, but I have a plan to bring her around to my way of thinking. She’s one who needs to think she knows you through and through. There are ways of convincing her my passion is real. I’m confidant a grand gesture will win her over, because let’s face it, there aren’t many men flocking around her.”
Mr Malone laughed. “Talk like that and you’ll have me convinced. It’d better go smoothly though. Miles has got a raging temper and I really don’t want to cross him unless I have to.”
“Faith, dear Albert, faith. I shall come about, as will Lady Edith.”
*
Edith had dismissed her maid when a tap on her bedchamber door interrupted her settling down to read. She wished to be quiet for a while before spending what remained of the morning with her mother. The questions about Miles’ friends were getting unbearable. There seemed to be no putting off her parent when she liked someone and felt her daughter should too.
The butler walked into the room, looking kindly, but a little hesitant. “I thought I would bring this directly to you, Lady Edith.”
“What is it?” Edith asked, standing and then stopping herself moving forward when she saw a letter on the silver tray.
“It’s only just arrived and I thought it prudent to let you see it before her ladyship or my lord had,” the butler said gently. The incident with the ripped parcel had been impossible to hide, especially as Lady Longdon had ranted at her daughter for what had felt like hours.
“Oh. I didn’t expect to receive any more,” Edith said flushing a deep red.
“I thought not. I could always dispose of it…”
“No. I’ll deal with it. I probably need to write again, asking for no more to be sent,” Edith said, accepting the single letter.
Waiting until the door had been closed behind the butler, Edith sank into the chair nearest the fireplace. She would need to act quickly if either Miles or her mother entered her chamber.
Inside the folded document was another sealed letter. The first one offered an explanation.
Dear Madam,
This letter arrived after the latest instruction from yourself had been received. We perhaps should have destroyed the letter immediately, but we always hope that our ‘lonely hearts’ find their true match and so have decided to forward it on.
If you wish to respond to the correspondent, we can act as we would have done if we were still running your advertisement.
Wishing you success in your search.
Mr Moorcroft.
Edith let the letter fall onto her lap as she covered her cheeks with her hands. She was mortified. Even the newspaper which ran the advertisements thought they were all desperate women. Miles had been right.
Stinging with shame it was some time before Edith could look at the second letter. Tearing open the wax seal, she spread the paper.
Miss S,
I don’t know what I’m hoping to achieve by writing this letter to you. Marriage? No. Friendship? Perhaps. All I know is that I don’t know what else to do. I need to speak to someone and I’m drawn to you.
If you haven’t already burned this, just know that sometimes we all feel as if there is no hope. That those around us just don’t understand who we are or what we need. I hope that offers some comfort in your search to find love.
My life is complicated. I am bound my family ties and occasionally the responsibility threatens to overwhelm me. Then I found you and thought you would understand. Perhaps not being able to speak to you in person is the best way, for I don’t know how I would put into words what I feel.
It isn’t usual for a man to feel fear is it? But I do. Afraid that I am letting down the person who is the most important in my life. How do I overcome that fear? Doctors are struggling to help the person in my care, so what can I offer? It’s a hopeless situation which needs me to keep hoping. I don’t know how long I can continue without exploding. I am hoping to find relief by putting my thoughts on paper.
I am sorry for the intrusion. Know that I am ashamed of my weakness.
Yours
Mr S
Edith read and reread the letter. It was the strangest piece of correspondence she’d ever received. Even more so when it was supposed to be in response to a romantic advertisement. She was still pondering over it when she was notified that Miss King had come to call.
“Is my mother below stairs?” Edith asked the butler.
“No, m’lady, she remains in her room.”
“Please send Miss King to my chamber. We’ll have refreshments here,” Edith instructed.
“Of course.”
Edith walked backwards and forwards across the Axminister rug until her friend was shown into the room.
“Oh, Susan, I’m so glad to see you!” she uttered as soon as her friend walked through the door.
“What’s happened? You look all of a flutter,” Susan said, quickly taking off her bonnet and going over to Edith.
“I have a confession to make first. I hope you aren’t in a hurry,” Edith said, sitting with Susan on the chaise longue which she used as a window seat.
“You’d better tell me what’s going on,” Susan encouraged.
Only pausing when the tray of tea and biscuits were brought in, Edith told her friend about placing the advertisement and the happenings since. She was frank in admitting she’d entered on the scheme which she now considered a foolhardy venture. When she’d finished, she paused to take a sip of tea.
“Do you condemn me for being so foolish?” Edith asked, eventually breaking the silence between the pair.
“No! Although it makes my accusations that you don’t really want to be married sound ridiculous if that was the lengths to which you were prepared to go,” Susan said.
“Perhaps it was yet another way to keep everyone at arm’s length,” Edith admitted. “I’m not sure anymore. But this is the strangest of letters.” She offered the letter to Susan and waited until it had been read carefully. “Well? What do you think?”
“It’s not a love letter, of that we can be certain,” Susan answered, musing over what she’d heard and read.
“No. He makes that clear at the start. I would wonder at him writing, except…”
“What?”
“Do you think he knows who he’s writing to? It seems as if he’s familiar with me. I just have the strangest feeling that he knows me.” Edith voiced the terrifying thought for the first time.
“No. How can he?” Susan asked.
“That’s what I keep thinking, but the way he writes, it feels as if I should know him,” Edith tried to explain.
Susan stared, frowning at the letter, before looking at Edith once more. “Mr S. Do you think it could be Mr Sage?”
“Surely not?” Edith asked in horror. “No. It can’t be. How would he have found out that I’d placed the advertisement if even you didn’t know? And the tone of it. It’s too serious for Mr Sage, he’s always carefree and full of laughter.”
“He has said he will try and let you see his inn
er self,” Susan pointed out.
“I can’t believe he could be so different. If it is him, it is like seeing two completely different people. That would make me more wary of him, not less,” Edith said.
“Now don’t condemn the poor man for trying,” Susan smiled. “Are you going to answer the letter?”
“Maybe.”
“You have to. You need to find out who it is.”
“I’d rather try and help someone in need. Finding out who he is, is of less importance,” Edith admitted.
“I’m as curious as can be,” Susan responded. “But I know you’re right. He says he doesn’t know if he wants a friend, but he certainly sounds like he needs one.”
*
Dear Mr S,
I received your letter today and wish to assure you that I am convinced you are not interested in marriage with me.
I didn’t burn your letter and felt compelled to write to you in return. I’ve instructed The Times that I will accept letters from you. As many as you wish to send and as often as you need to send them.
I’m not sure if I can be of any help, but I hope by writing you realise you aren’t alone. I don’t have the same pressures as you do and can only imagine what it must feel like. Is there no outlet for you? Whenever I feel constrained, I admit to riding my horse as hard as the poor beast will let me. There is nothing like feeling the wind trying to knock you off your seat and the risk of stumbling over a rabbit hole to make you feel alive and refreshed when you have survived the experience. I apologise if I sound fickle, but it helps me to remain sane.
I hope your doctor finds something which will ease the suffering of the one you care for so much. I think there are so few people who I truly regard, I would hate to see them suffer. I have experienced loss, and I miss those who are gone every day, but thankfully, they did not suffer as your beloved is. He or she will be in my prayers every night.
Always have hope.
Please know that you are being thought of and wished the very best.
Your friend
Miss S
Chapter 10
Richmond Park spread out before the riders. The green rolled forward as far as the eye could see. The group of horses and riders entered sedately through the gate, but once gathered together in the field, Miles had indicated the direction they should travel and the five horses were spurred into action.
Hooves thundered across the grassland, the whoops of the gentlemen, albeit loud, were lost on the wind. Riders hunkered down over the neck of the horse they were on, to gain that little extra speed over their opponent.
Eventually, the race was won and the group came to a laughing stop. Edith tried to fix her hat as much as possible; she could only imagine the state her hair was in.
“You ride well, Lady Edith,” Mr Sage said, turning his horse so he was next to Edith.
“As do you, Mr Sage,” Edith said, giving up on her vain attempts to appear more presentable. “Although I wish I was as good as my brother. We were foolish to enter into a race with him. He always wins.”
“Hence why Albert refused to have a wager with him,” Mr Sage responded, nodding to his friend.
“The next time, I’ll have that bet. I just didn’t want to push Jester too far on his first real outing with me,” Mr Malone said.
“Hah! Excuses, excuses,” Miles laughed. “You never could accept being second in anything.”
“You didn’t mind it when I was willing to take part in any forlorn hope which was necessary,” Mr Malone responded.
“Yes, volunteering for the attacks which had only a slight chance of success led me to the conclusion that you had a death wish,” Miles admitted.
“I did, which was why I was perfect for them.”
“I’m glad you lived to tell the tale,” Miles said.
“As am I. Now,” Mr Malone said. “Enough of these maudlin words. We are here to enjoy the day! Lead on, Miles. Show us this fine park.”
They rode until they were exhausted and then stopped on the way back at the first posting house which looked respectable. Hiring a private parlour, the ladies were offered a room to refresh themselves and then joined the gentlemen for some sustenance.
Slicing a chunk of cheese from the thick wedge on the cutting board, Mr Sage turned to Miles. “What other days out can we enjoy in these parts? What’s our next adventure to be?”
“I’m afraid our wings are clipped for the next few days at least. In three days it is the party at Curzon Street and mother will be a nightmare from now on with the preparations. She’ll need Edith to help out as there’s a lot to do apparently,” Miles said, with a grin at his sister.
“Don’t worry, Miles will be out and about as he always is. He thinks some sort of magic happens when the house is readied for entertainments,” Edith responded. “But I shall look forward to seeing you there.”
“I hope I can have the first two dances with you,” Mr Sage said, before his friend had time to ask.
“Of course,” Edith replied.
“And, Miss King, if you would do me the honour?” Mr Malone asked.
“Certainly,” Susan replied, but Edith could detect a note of disappointment in her friend’s voice.
*
Ralph rested his head on the chair next to his mother’s bed. She was sleeping peacefully and for the first time since he’d returned home, it was a more restful, natural sleep.
He’d been beside himself with worry. She’d never been as ill as she had been this time. Now she seemed to be on the mend, he ached with fatigue. Closing his eyes, he sought sleep and although not on the most commodious of seats, he’d discarded his cravat and waistcoat, trying to make himself more comfortable. He thought he would struggle to drop off, but within minutes, he was in a deep slumber.
Waking a while later, he rubbed his hands over his face before realising his mother was watching him. “Hello, dearest,” he said. “How are you feeling?”
“Relaxed,” Lady Pensby answered. “I don’t know what the new medicine is but it soothes and calms me. I feel so much better already.”
“It has only been a few days,” Ralph cautioned. “You need to take things very slowly.”
“I’m not asking to walk through the gardens, just to sit in a chair,” came the amused reply.
“I don’t want you overtaxing yourself. We can’t risk a setback.”
“I promise I’ll be careful, but I refuse to lie here for the next few years until a spasm finally kills me,” Lady Pensby responded. She would have liked her words to sound tart, but unfortunately the drugs made her so serene that she couldn’t have sounded anything other than tranquil.
“Don’t speak so,” Ralph said roughly.
“Oh, my darling boy. I will die one day. It’s the natural order of things. The frustration for me is that every time they call you back, it disrupts your efforts to find a bride.”
Ralph laughed bitterly. “I don’t wish to disappoint you but I’m not trying to find a wife, Mother.”
“Now I know you are cross when you stop using my pet name, but don’t be. A mother wants to see her children happy. And you aren’t at the moment,” Lady Pensby soothed.
“I’m just tired. Time with you here will sort that out,” Ralph countered. “Don’t worry about me.”
“I’ll always worry about you,” Lady Pensby said. “Now when do you return to London?”
“Not for a long time.”
“That’s not good enough. The season is in full swing. You must return tomorrow.”
“A son could get worried about your opinion of him, the way you constantly send me away from you,” Ralph teased.
Lady Pensby smiled. “You know full well that I adore you, but I’ll dote on you even more when you bring a wife home. Oh, don’t worry, you don’t need to deny it again. Once you meet a young woman who decides that you are the one, there will be no escape,” Lady Pensby said with authority.
“I’m quaking in my boots.”
*
&n
bsp; Ralph held the two missives in his hand. Two letters from the same house, neither realising the other was being sent.
Miles had sent a letter asking him to attend his mother’s soirée if at all possible. He claimed it would help his sanity if there was at least one friend there who he didn’t consider a fop or a dandy. Miles’ words had brought a smile to Ralph’s face. His friend was the most accepting of people, everyone would be given the same genuine welcome. It was a nice gesture, but the reality was that Miles didn’t need Ralph to attend at all.
The other, more tempting reason to attend was to see Lady Edith. The feeling of elation he’d felt on receiving her reply had taken him by surprise. Her kind words had touched him deeply. She was the type of person who would help a stranger in need. He had kept the letter in the breast pocket of his waistcoat and it had acted as comfort through the dark days of watching his mother.
He hadn’t replied until now and even as he sat at his table in his study, he wasn’t quite sure what to write. Staring through the window at the side of the house, he eventually picked up his quill.
A knock on the door disturbed his struggles.
Ralph jumped from his seat when his mother entered the room, on the arms of her lady’s maid and a footman. “What the devil—!”
“Language, my dear,” Lady Pensby mildly chided. “I wish to speak with you.”
“I would have happily come to you,” Ralph said, indicating that his mother should be seated in one of the more comfortable chairs near the fireplace. Stoking up the fire, he waited until she was settled. “What is so urgent that you risk a relapse?”
“You do tend to be overly dramatic sometimes,” Lady Pensby said with a smile. “I feel weak, but far better than I have in a long time.”
Ralph smiled at his mother’s insult. “That’s good to know. Hopefully when the new drugs arrive, there will be further improvement.”
“In the meantime, I have a proposition to make to you.”
“Oh?” came the guarded response.
“I’ll stay in bed if you return to London,” Lady Pensby said, moving her shawl slightly which prevented her from looking into her son’s eyes.
Lady Edith's Lonely Heart: A Regency Romance (Lonely Hearts Series Book 1) Page 8
