Marjorie Farrell (12 page)

“Well, maybe a little bored at times.” She smiled. “Certainly not with the marquess and Anne. But no other lady talked at length with a gentleman as I did.”

“My dear, you don’t have to apologize. The marquess is quite jealous, and complimented me on finding one of the loveliest and liveliest young ladies in or around London. He is my closest friend and I was happy to see you so obviously at ease together. And you will find that my other friends, taken in twos and threes instead of in a crowd like that, are quite able to carry on an intelligent conversation,” he teased.

“I am not meaning to be critical, Jeremy. It is just I am so used to a different way of living that I cannot imagine what it would be like to have wealth and position, and I’m not quite sure I want it.”

“Even if I come along with it?” Jeremy asked his question lightly, albeit with some trepidation.

“Oh, I know I want you,” replied Miranda, so warmly and openly that his heart went back to its regular beat. “Only I am beginning to see that love, in itself, does not resolve all problems.”

“It may not level all of the differences between us, but it will surely help us negotiate them. And while there are differences, they will not always loom as large as they did the other night. You know I prefer the country, as you do, and you will discover more friendly faces among the crowds. And I do not want you to change, nor to change your life, more than is necessary. But it will be different, you know that, my dear?” Jeremy concluded.

“Yes, I am beginning to realize how much. But if you truly don’t want me different, or want someone else entirely, I am willing to do the best I can.”

Jeremy leaned down to her pale face and brushed her lips gently with his. Her arms went quite naturally around his neck and they found themselves caught up in one of those kisses that neither wanted to pull away from. Jeremy detached himself first and said, a bit raggedly, “These kisses are getting longer and longer and harder to end. I think this betrothal must become public soon. I want to announce it now and marry you within a week. I’m not sure I can last the summer.”

“Me either,” said Miranda shyly, as they reluctantly turned back to High Street.

* * * *

Nora watched Jeremy and Miranda closely that week, but saw no signs, after his first visit, that any rift had been created. They had started out as good friends, and that friendship seemed not left behind with the development of romance, but only strengthened by the addition of desire. And desire was there, however they were either unaware of it or keeping it private, thought Nora. The charged atmosphere when they were together was unmistakable and reminded her of moments she thought she had forgotten.

She succeeded in hiding her concern for Miranda and Jeremy, but she had to talk to someone. Miranda could not marry the Earl of Alverstone, and the more Nora was convinced their feelings for one another were not merely infatuation, the more anxious she became. She loved Miranda more than anything on earth, and was coming to love Jeremy. She wanted neither of them hurt, and yet they would be hurt. If they did not back out of their betrothal by the end of the house party, then she would have to forbid Jeremy Miranda’s company. Neither would understand, for she could give them no reason. And then it would be terrible to live with what she had done, and perhaps impossible to live with Miranda.

One afternoon, after the viscount’s invitation had arrived and Miranda had blushed with pleasure and anticipation of two full weeks in Jeremy’s company, Nora could stand the strain no longer. She had spent two hours trying to get her Lady Cordelia out of the clutches of one nobleman and into the arms of another, without success. The silly woman persisted in her attraction to the wicked Lord Soames, no matter what Nora did. Of course, a rake could be irresistible at the beginning of a story, but not at the end. Cordelia must be brought to see the error of her ways
before
she ran way with him and ruined herself. Only Cordelia was naive, trusting, and passionate, so how was Nora to save her from her fall?

As no one could have saved me, she thought in despair. And now look where it has brought me.

She grabbed her cloak, for it was a gray day and spitting rain, and walked down the High Street to Holly Bush. She knew Joanna was probably working, but she had to talk to someone who knew her and cared about her or she would go mad with worry and guilt.

“Miss Baillie has just finished work for the day and is having tea in the morning room.” The housekeeper smiled. “She will be pleased to see you.”

“Thank you, Mary. I can find my own way.”

Nora knocked lightly on the open door to announce herself. Her friend was standing at the French windows overlooking the garden and horseshoe drive. She turned and smiled when she recognized Nora.

“What a delightful surprise. Come in and join me for tea, dear.”

“I am glad it is only your tea I am disturbing, Joanna, and not your work. For I confess I would have come, no matter.”

“But what is wrong? You look distraught. Come, sit down here and tell me what is bothering you.”

Nora sat down next to Joanna and was tempted, for a minute, to bury her head in Joanna’s lap and cry all the tears she’d been holding in since Miranda announced her betrothal. Joanna had been something of a mother figure for years, but Nora was afraid if she started to cry, she would never stop. For years she had worked toward independence, her ability to support herself and her daughter. It looked to outsiders like it came naturally. And the mothering certainly had. But the independence had been dearly bought, and had never felt completely achieved. She was afraid the whole carefully built structure of her life would collapse if someone even looked at her with affection. So she got up suddenly and started pacing the carpet. Joanna waited quietly.

“You know my story, Joanna, but no one else does, not even Miranda.”

“Yes.”

“I think I was wrong about Miranda and Jeremy. I pray I am not, but if I am, then I will have to forbid their marriage.”

“Are you quite sure that is necessary?”

“Joanna, she cannot marry the Earl of Alverstone. Or anyone of that rank. She is illegitimate; you know that. I cannot believe this has happened,” Nora continued, so obviously distraught that Joanna had a hard time keeping silent. “I stayed here because it was a good place to raise a child. And a safe place. I knew that she would meet someone someday, but here, it would be someone to whom birth was no consequence. There are so many writers and artists who flock here, I thought it likely she’d fall in love with someone from a similar background.”

“And would you have told this imaginary artist or editor the circumstances of her birth?”

Nora turned and faced her friend. “No. I know that is wrong, but I would not have felt wrong deceiving someone who was her social equal. Can you understand that, Joanna?”

“Oh, I can understand, dear, but I confess I am a bit amused.”

“Amused!” Nora stated, indignantly.

“Yes, for in family background Miranda is more Jeremy’s equal than this imaginary suitor’s. You are, after all, the daughter of a marquess.”

“I know this sounds silly, Joanna, but I never think of that. And quite understandably, since my family disowned me.”

“You are not sure.”

“My father never replied to my letter asking him if I could come home.”

“And, as I have more than once suggested, he may not have received that letter. Or was away when it arrived. And even if his first response was anger, I’ll never believe he would have turned you from his door.”

“I’ll never know the answer,” said Nora, “for too many years have gone by for me to go home, even if I wanted to.”

Oh, you want to, thought her friend, if you will not admit it to yourself. But you are too proud and too scared. And have to leave that young girl who ran away in the moonlight behind, in order to survive, thought Joanna, wanting with her writer’s mind to end the story happily, returning the prodigal daughter to her home, but realizing that life was quite different from fiction.

“If you would be willing to deceive a poor writer, why not Jeremy’s family? You have lived here safely for years. They would never find out the truth.”

“But I would know I let my daughter marry into a situation where, if the truth were ever discovered, she would be despised. And despise me, and perhaps herself. An earl does not marry a bastard, not to put too fine a point on it, Joanna, and I care for Jeremy enough not to trick him into a marriage he would never have contracted had he known the truth.”

“You have more scruples than you can afford, Nora, but I love you for them, for without that sense of integrity, you would not be yourself.”

“Thank you for understanding, Joanna. But what shall I do if they do not break off this engagement?”

“You will have to tell Miranda the truth and let her make her own decision. She is almost a grown woman, and she has matured even in the last few months.”

“But then I will lose her, Joanna,” and the older woman could not bear the agony in Nora’s eyes. “She will hate me for ruining her life. How could I have kept this from happening? How could I have foreseen it, when I chose some moments of love over respectability? She will never understand why I did it, why we did not marry immediately.”

Nora was lost to her present dilemma, and back in the past, wringing her hands and facing her past all over again. She had been in an awful situation, thought Joanna as she watched her begin pacing again. Yet she has raised a lovely young woman. Joanna got up and stood in front of Nora so she could walk no further. “Stop this, my dear friend. You cannot undo the past. You did the best you could. One cannot control everything, you know. It was not in your power to keep Miranda from running after that child, nor to keep Jeremy from meeting her. Life is like that, you know, full of surprises and beyond our control. Myself, I think you should keep silent no matter what happens, but I understand your scruples nevertheless. Go to this viscount’s home and hope it is only calf love. And if it is not…well, you will do the right thing, whatever you do, for you are both honest and generous.”

Nora took a long, shuddering breath and let herself be calmed by Joanna’s common sense.

“You are right, Joanna. I am anticipating disaster. I’ll concentrate on that dratted Cordelia and how to keep her away from Lord Soames, and let real life take care of itself for the next few weeks.”

“When do you leave?”

“The day after tomorrow.”

“If you need me at all before then, I am here, you know.”

“Yes, and I cannot thank you enough.”

Joanna smiled. “Now, let us sit down and not let these biscuits go to waste.”

The viscount’s estate was between Bury and Arundel. He had inherited one of the family’s smaller properties, and despite his frequent travels, he made sure the manor house was kept in good repair and that his tenants were well-treated. Now that he had been fairly settled for the last few years, he was in residence as often as possible.

The viscount had escorted the Dillons, for Lavinia was not able to accomplish her packing by the time Sam wished to leave. The Dillons traveled in his chaise, and he rode next to them. It was a long drive south, so they had been ready before dawn, and slept for the first few hours of the journey. But after a brief stop at an inn midway, to rest the horses and to stretch their legs, both Nora and Miranda were wide-awake and very much interested in the landscape. Nora was able to keep her worries at a distance in the excitement of being on the road. She had not traveled out of Hampstead except to London, and had not been south of Chelsea for years. The rolling downs of Sussex were lovely and very different from the wilder moors of Northumberland and Scotland. She decided that, fall where things may, she might as well enjoy herself, and the tense look about her mouth relaxed.

The viscount joined them in the chaise for a few hours after luncheon, and enjoyed pointing out several landmarks. Since it was close to midsummer night, they had the light till early evening, and even when Sam returned to his horse, they were able to watch the sea-mist-green fields roll by.

“I would like to push on, and have dinner at Fairlawn, late though it will be. Can you ladies stand the wait? We have enough light now, but if we stop for a meal, it will be dark when we come out.”

The two women were happy to push on and end the journey sooner rather than later. They had looked their fill and both closed their eyes and were fast asleep soon after they knew no stops would be made. It was Nora who awoke first when the chaise slowed and the viscount lightly knocked on the window.

“We are passing by Sutton now,” he said, “which means we are not far from Fairlawn… I thought you might want a little time to freshen up.”

Nora smiled sleepily and nudged Miranda awake. Both women shook out their dresses and smoothed their hair.

“Do you see that road off to our right?”

Nora and Miranda saw a long avenue of lime trees.

“That is the entrance to the Duke of Sutton’s estate. His grace and the duchess have been invited to join us for a few days later in the week. I think you will enjoy their company.”

Nora was too tired to absorb this information. It had grown cooler, and she could smell the sea. “How far are we now?”

“Only a few miles.”

“And how far are we from the sea? I smell it in the air!”

“Yes, I always know I am close to home when I smell that.” Sam smiled. “We are only about ten miles from Littlehampton. I am hoping for an outing while you are here.”

“I would love that,” Nora said. “I have not been to the shore since I was fifteen, and the coast here must be very different from the north.”

Fairlawn sat on a hill facing east, and as they drove up, the sun had set behind it, leaving the front in shadow and lighting up the side windows as if they were made of gold. It was a small Georgian mansion with a circular drive, and they pulled right up in front of the door. Miranda and Nora were a bit overcome. If this was a “small estate,” then what would Alverstone look like? they wondered.