“There are places you both need to be,” Finn said.
“London would be much more comfortable for you as winter sets in,” Melville suggested.
“Yes,” Finn said absently, knowing the journey would simply be beyond him. It was too far to travel in the state he was in.
Outside, Octavia threw down some piece of greenery she had picked up and turned back to the house. The wind tugged slightly on her skirt and hair as she wasn’t wearing her bonnet.
Melville shifted and crossed his legs. “Forgiving her brash manner at times, she’s quite a sweet girl. I suppose the way she was raised, it’s hardly a wonder she lacks some of the finer sentiments. Her father has always been a bit of a brute, and her brothers have always been... pronounced. The softening influence of their mother dissipated with her death, sadly. So their influence has been predominantly from their father. Stubbornness is a family trait, but they’re not devious.”
“It’s been generous of both of you to see to me through this period. I will not forget, but I understand that you must both return to your lives. I’ll be alright.”
Octavia was coming closer and she would see them through the window as her advance took her to the nearby door. Cool air stole into the room as the door opened. “Winter is soon here,” she said.
“We were just discussing our departure,” Melville said. It had clearly been something they’d discussed, and the frown on her face suggested she was the one who had prevented it.
“Although you have my deepest gratitude, you must both return to your lives. It will be a dull winter out here,” Finn said. She kept looking at him, but didn’t say anything. Her cheeks were rosy from the cool air and her eyes bright. The walk had done her well, and he wished he could have joined her for it—even as their conversation was awkward and stilted most of the time. It was Melville who kept the conversation going.
But it wasn’t Eliza causing the awkwardness. In all honesty, Finn had stopped thinking about her for quite a while now, so the awkwardness with Octavia stemmed from something else entirely.
“And you shall spend winter here all by yourself?” she said.
“While I heal, yes. I am fully capable of spending a few months alone.”
“Yes, but you’ll kill your manservant doing it.”
That was a point. The constant care was tiring for Mr. Fuller. It was true. Still, the man would never hear of bringing in another to help. “In a month, I think I’ll be well enough to make my way to London.”
“It would be days of travel the rate you would have to go at,” she said.
“The man is capable of making decisions for himself,” Melville said. The domestic arrangement discussions he sometimes had with her were not really typical conversations with guests, but her advice had been both useful and necessary. Compared to her, he knew very little about running a house. A feature about himself he hadn’t known until she’d started asking questions.
“You would be much better coming to Denham Hall,” she stated. “You would be a guest and well cared for during your convalescence. The house is well-staffed, and there would be plenty of diversions. Julius is returning very soon, and we can both keep an eye on you.”
“I don’t need you to keep an eye on me.” Included with the awkwardness was a tendency to bristle at the things she said, which didn’t happen with anyone else. “Within time, I’ll make it to London.”
“Denham is on the way, so you can stop there on your journey. Julius would be happy to see you. I know he will be concerned when he hears what’s happened. So you might as well come say hello and then be on your way when you’re stronger.”
It was like arguing with a rock.
“Besides, Mr. Fuller is getting exhausted,” she said in a hushed voice. She had a blasted point. How was it that she was at the same time utterly unreasonable and also right?
“Fine, I’ll rest on my way to London,” he conceded, although it hurt him to do so. Annoyingly, she was right in her argument.
“Excellent,” she said in a way that suggested he’d finally seen reason. “I think lunch must be ready soon. I’ll go check.”
“How do you win an argument with her?” he asked out of frustration when she’d left the room.
“I find it altogether best not to try,” Melville said with a chuckle. “Mostly, I simply run away, but that is not within your remit right now.”
Taking himself off would give Mr. Fuller a much-needed rest. Saying that, he wasn’t gladly a guest in people’s houses. He liked his own space, but yes, the idea of spending the winter here alone might be a bit much.
“I understand Miss Lydia Forthill will be there. From what I hear, she’s has a bit of a tenderness for you.” So they had been discussing that too, it seemed.
“Is there anything else Octavia has mentioned?”
“Your larder’s atrocious, apparently.”
Finn inhaled and sighed. “I’m sure she’s remedied that.”
“Her suggestion that you rest at Denham is a good one. It would break up the journey, and you’ll be well cared for while you’re there. Lord Hennington stays at Denham through winter. He deplores London, so the house is relatively well furnished for colder weather.”
Yes, it made sense, Finn had to agree. He didn’t want to, but he would likely kill Mr. Fuller if he stayed. Luckily, with a broken back, he had the perfect excuse for not attending any social engagements this winter, but he could attend some of the investment meetings he wished to. It was quite encouraging to think of the future. Each day, he would get stronger, and this injury would fade from prominence. His whole life had been surrounded by this injury and what it had taken to survive it, and he looked forward to those days.
“I do wonder if Julius has found wedded bliss,” Melville said. “A honeymoon does seem important in setting the tone for a marriage. The Forthills are high tempered, but Julius can be onerous too. Perhaps it’s the perfect match.”
Chapter 23
THE CARRIAGE WAS TRAVELING very slowly, and although Fortescue sat stiffly in his brace for a good portion of it, eventually he lay down across the bed, which suited him better.
Octavia sat with Melville on the other bench. The weather wasn’t much to rejoice at, but it was good to be heading home. Melville had been a sport staying with her, but he couldn’t rightly abandon her either. It had been his duty to stay, and he’d been as good-natured about it as he could. Still, he’d missed his friends and activities. Melville was a city creature in every regard. With him, his interest was very much with people, rather than with scenery and objects. It made him the most sociable person in the whole family.
Looking down, she saw Fortescue lying with the back of his wrist over his eyes. One of his knees rested on the side of the carriage and his body shook slightly with every bit of unevenness the carriage found. Still, he seemed much more relaxed in such a position of repose.
“I do wonder what Julius has brought back,” Melville said. “I’m sure he’ll stock the house with new treasures.” Julius did like curiosities, and he’d inherited some of their father’s interest in Roman history and antiquities.
“No doubt he will come back with a cart following him.”
“Or a second carriage to store Mrs. Hennington in,” Melville suggested.
Octavia shoved him with her wrist. “Don’t say that.”
“No, I shouldn’t. I might put off Lord Fortescue from marrying her sister.”
“That’s never going to happen,” Fortescue stated.
“Putting you off or marrying her?” Melville teased and Fortescue tsked.
“She will make someone a very happy man someday, I’m sure, but it will not be me.”
It was a curious statement, Octavia thought, and by no means wavering. He was firm in his statement, which meant he was stuck in the requirement of politeness in the face of Lydia’s interest.
“Although I suspect there’s a tenacious streak in the Forthill girls. They’ll only really give up when you marry someone else,” M
elville continued. “They do come from a long line of military men, who don’t give up until the battle is truly lost.”
“Unfortunately, they aren’t the only ones.” A time or two, the interest in him as the right kind of man to marry was something he’d mentioned before, and Octavia had done some things to encourage that view.
“Unless you mingle with them, how are you going to find the right one?” she asked.
“It would be infinitely easier if they didn’t constantly present you with falsities,” Fortescue said.
“That is true. They’re so determined to present themselves as perfect angels, they hide every single thing about themselves. You meet the real person on the honeymoon.”
“Spoken like two men who cannot read a single thing about a person.”
“And how many times have you been disappointed, cousin?”
“That’s because I take the time to discover who people actually are. And granted, at such times, they are often disappointing.”
“We’re all the eternally disappointed people,” Melville said wistfully, but this was still all jest to him. Melville had no intention of marrying that Octavia had ever seen, but then men rarely did until such point as they were ready. And Fortescue was ready to be married. He simply didn’t enjoy the process of courting. Or perhaps it was simply that he was still in love with Eliza.
Heated annoyance spread up her spine at the thought. Not that he’d mentioned Eliza at all, or really asked about her in the time they had been at Wilkeston House.
It was a fine house and Eliza would probably have been very happy there, but he couldn’t have her. She belonged to Caius and they loved each other, so he would have to find his wife elsewhere. It was difficult to see Lydia and him together, however. Frankly, it was easier to see Julius and Cressida being well suited. But whatever Fortescue had sought with Eliza, it hadn’t been superficial or based on well-matched fortunes. He'd sought something else.
What was it about Eliza that had inspired such loyalty? What was it about her that had made her brother run to the end of the world at the loss of her? That was an admirable kind of loyalty, and if Octavia were honest, she craved such devotion. Instead, when she scratched the surface, she got ugliness, selfishness and even cowardice. Her princes turned into frogs.
One day, however, one of them wouldn’t.
Maybe Fortescue wouldn’t. She had now seen him at his very worst, and granted, he was a little selfish, a little rude, a little overbearing. Prideful, conceited, negligent. But she did admire the care he tried to show to Mr. Fuller—even if he’d shown a distinct lack of care for her brother’s marriage vows. They had been put at odds because she was loyal to Caius and he’d gone out of his way to show he wasn’t. It was only Eliza that stayed his advance. Fortescue didn’t give a toss what Caius thought about it, and Octavia couldn’t entirely forgive that. One did not forgive people who threatened family.
But if one believed that justice was divine, then Fortescue had been served severe retribution. Perhaps a little too severe for the crime. Something about his loyalty and determination was admirable. He’d just aimed it in an unfortunate direction.
*
They had to spend the night at an inn due to the slowness of the journey, but they had figured out how to help Lord Fortescue in and out of the carriage, and it involved him placing his hands on both their shoulders while he descended. It was interesting to note how much one needed the flexibility in one’s back for everyday tasks. Without it, many things became awkward, if not impossible.
After eating, he rested until the moment they had to leave again the next day—again preferring the position of lying down across the bench. It was a half days’ journey to get to Denham Hall. Fortescue was tired when they arrived home, and she helped him into the room that had been prepared for him on the ground floor.
He slept the rest of the day and didn’t join them for supper. Apparently, Julius’ ship was landing in Dover in a few days, so it would probably be a week before he appeared.
In all, it was nice to be home again. Melville left the next day to return to his friends. He’d been imposed on long enough, and being as she was safely under her father’s roof, he was relieved of chaperoning duty. The attraction of his life back in London drew him more than Julius’ return.
The weather kept them inside today and they spent the day in the salon. In the colder months, they chose a few rooms to heat properly, while the rest of the house was freezing cold. It was the only way to get through winter. Not that Octavia normally spent winter at Denham anymore, and after Julius returned, she’d probably retreat to London as well.
“You’re not the only injured creature Octavia has dragged back here,” her father said. “When she was younger, she was constantly bringing in broken-winged sparrows, and half-mauled rabbits to nurse. It never ended well.”
“I do hope I won’t suffer a similar fate,” Fortescue said.
Standing by the window, she ignored the conversation. Her father was trying to rile her up, but she had grown too wise for his attempts quite some years ago. Would Julius please hurry up and get here. Saying that, she wasn’t exactly suffering being away from London this season. It was a nice change of pace. Surprisingly, she hadn’t hated being a guest at Fortescue’s house. Melville made it tolerable, even if she was in threat of strangling their host a time or two.
Over time, she’d gotten used to his presence, and seeing him now, getting on well with her father, it seemed almost as if he was a fixture in her life. Strange how someone could become so familiar in a short period of time. While in many ways, he utterly grated on her nerves, he wasn’t stupid, nor was he busily trying to hide the cracks in the façade he was trying to convince the world with. Quite refreshing how Fortescue seemed to hide nothing about himself. He was open about his intentions and actions. Granted, some of those intentions hadn’t been in the best interest of the family, and maybe she should be worried about Eliza’s empathy for him. Luckily, she wasn’t here, but it might become an issue in London.
Her father laughed behind her. Now he had her father laughing. That was quite some feat. There was no doubting his charm, Octavia thought with an eye-roll. Slowly the man was ingratiating himself with every member of the family. Perhaps it had been a mistake bringing him here, but she couldn’t just leave him to freeze to death in his house.
Chapter 24
FINN SHIFTED UNCOMFORTABLY in his seat. The brace wasn’t comfortable and if he sat for too long, it became intolerable. Beside him, Lord Hennington cleared his pipe and returned to his paper.
“I think I must walk for a while,” Finn said. “I may even brave the veranda.”
“Careful of ice. The frost can stay in patches quite late into the day this time of year.”
“I will endeavor to survive.”
“Why don’t you join him, Octavia? See that he comes to no harm.”
Gritting his teeth, Finn smiled. He hated being so coddled, but he couldn’t fault their generosity. Unfortunately, rising out of the chair wasn’t an elegant procedure. It was awkward and required him to lift himself out by his arms. At this rate, he wondered if his back would fuse entirely from lack of movement. Fusing was the point of the brace, and as long as the broken vertebrae fused, the rest of the spine would have to simply deal with the less than ideal conditions.
The air was blustery when he got outside. The skies gray and the clouds moving swiftly. The rains had stopped for a while, but the stone walkways of the veranda were wet.
“You seem to have more strength,” she said as she joined him and closed the door to the salon.
“I am getting stronger every day.” He could feel his strength returning a little more each day. Naps were still required during the day, but they weren’t out of sheer exhaustion as they had been. More reviving. Granted, exertion of energy exhausted him quickly, but plain sitting was tolerable. A kind of equilibrium had been found in that regard. “I wish to thank you for all you have done. You’ve been ver
y kind.”
Octavia’s cheeks colored slightly and she looked out across the lawn. “There are times when one must simply help.”
Not everyone felt that way. He certainly couldn’t see Lydia Forthill drop everything and come running. In fact, it hadn’t been Lydia Forthill who’d come to his aid, but Octavia. To begin with, she’d insisted it had been at Eliza’s prodding, and perhaps it had been, but she’d taken her task seriously, and still probably saw herself as responsible for him. That was what she did, set herself at tasks to help her family. He’d simply been at the receiving end of her protective machinations.
People didn’t always see that strength and concern, more her forceful manner, which some felt was unladylike. Mostly women. The men weren’t quite so judgmental. The men she turned her attention to were very flattered, but they disappointed her in some way, and she wasn’t forgiving of disappointments. Once she lost her faith in them, they couldn’t gain it back. No doubt they tried to—she was a fine catch for any man. Her dowry would have any man saying yes, but Octavia wasn’t looking for just any man.
There was some degree of jealousy on behalf of the women. Pettiness was directed at her. Perhaps for her behavior and that she directed her own courtships. She didn’t wait for a man to notice her, she flirted with the objects of her interest. They claimed it was unseemly.
“What will you do when your new sister-in-law returns?” he asked. The Forthill women seemed particularly upset by her and sought to put her in her place—something he couldn’t see Octavia tolerating. The world conformed itself to how Octavia wanted it to be.
“I will likely return to Caius’ house,” she said. It suggested Cressida Forthill made her existence intolerable. Unfortunately, it was her position to be dependent on others, a situation she was ill-suited for. She looked over at him. “She will need me.”
Yes, the pregnancy. “You like children?”
“Who doesn’t like children?”
There were probably quite a few who felt children were too tedious to deal with. One would think her father, but he did seem to enjoy his children’s antics. Perhaps how they’d been raised suited her brothers well, but for her, some would say an unseemly personality had been allowed to develop. “Horrible people,” he said, answering her question. It made her smile. She was so extraordinarily pretty when she smiled. It changed her so completely from the scowl he normally saw.
Miss Octavia Insists (The Henningtons Book 2) Page 12
