Someone to Wed
Page 63
“Colin.” She smiled at him. “Something in me has healed today. There was goodness in those years.”
“I am sure I will be waking up tonight imagining this is all a dream,” he said. “And for once I will enjoy waking all the way up to realize it is not. You are alive.”
“Yes,” she said. “Enjoy Vauxhall.”
“Oh, I will.” He grinned. “Miss Parmiter may be shy, with the result that the ton has taken little notice of her. But I have. Roe, may I kiss it better again?”
“Oh yes, please.” She laughed as he kissed her left cheek and then pulled her into a tight hug. She hugged him back and thought that darkness was never quite dark. Her first ten years had come very close, so close that she had almost forgotten the one thin thread of light that had made all the difference—the bright-faced little boy who had grown into this handsome young man. Her brother.
They saw him on his way, she and Alexander, after he had agreed to return the following day. Then they returned to the library. He had her hand in his, she realized, their fingers laced. He drew her down onto the sofa and wrapped one arm about her. She rested her head on his shoulder and closed her eyes. She felt his free hand wipe her cheeks gently with a handkerchief.
“If he had turned out to be the other brother,” he said, “I would not have told him.”
“Justin?” she said. “I suppose he suffered too. One does not drink oneself to death for the pleasure of it.”
“He was cruel to you,” he said.
“He was just a boy,” she told him. “Blanche and Ruby were just girls. I have to forgive, Alexander, even if only in my own mind. If one of them had looked as I did and I had looked as one of them did and been under the influence of my mother, who is to say I would not have behaved in just the way they did?”
He bent his head and kissed her.
“I am going to go and see her,” she said.
The arm about her shoulders tightened. “Your mother?” he said.
“Yes.”
“Why?” he asked. “Wren, there is no need for that. Your brother advises against it, and he ought to know. He was quite adamant about it, in fact. You do not need to do this. Let me take you home. I am longing to go myself. Let’s go home.”
“Do you know where she lives?” she asked.
“No.” He sighed. “But it should not be hard to find out.”
“Will you do that, please?” she asked him. “I am going.”
He did not ask why again, which was just as well. She did not know why. Except that her past had been opened up at last, beginning with the visit to the theater and the outpouring of her story later. And now this. She had to finish what had been started or it would forever fester inside her. She was not looking for healing. She was not sure that was possible—just as perhaps it was not for Colin and her sisters. She just wanted to face her memories, including those that were too deep to be dragged up into her conscious mind. That was all. That was why.
“Wren.” Both his arms were about her. His cheek was resting against her head. “What am I going to do with you? No, don’t answer. I know what I am going to be doing with you within the next day or two. I am going to be going with you to call upon Lady Hodges.”
“Yes,” she said. “Thank you. And soon, Alexander. Then I want to go home with you.”
Twenty-one
Viola left the following morning after breakfast, with Harry and Abigail. All was noise and bustle for a while and hugs and kisses and even a few tears.
“I say, Wren,” Harry said when he was taking his leave of her. “I do hope you will not hold the first day or so of our acquaintance against me. I seem to remember asking rudely who you were and demanding Mama and bumbling on about walking furniture. And I dread to think what I must have looked like—and smelled like.”
“All is forgotten except the joy of realizing who you were,” she said, laughing as she patted his good arm. “Enjoy your relaxation time in the country.” She somehow doubted he would relax as much as his mother and sister hoped. Already he was looking wiry and restless and altogether more healthy than he had looked a week ago.
“Thank you for all you have done for me,” he said, catching her up in a tight hug, “and for inviting Mama and Abby here. I understand it was your idea to use your wedding as an extra inducement. Thank you, Wren.”
Abigail hugged her too. “Yes, thank you,” she said. “It was important I come for poor Jess’s sake. She has taken the changes in my fortune very much to heart. I have been able to spend our few days here explaining that I am at peace with it all, that I am not a tragic figure for whom she should sacrifice her own hopes and happiness. It has been easier to convince her person-to-person than by letter. And it has been lovely seeing everyone again and meeting you. I think you are quite perfect for Alex. For one thing, you are almost as tall as he is.” She laughed. “Thank you, Wren, for everything.”
Viola took one of her hands between both of her own. “Thank you,” she said, “for the tender care you lavished upon my son. Thank you for giving Abby and Jessica the chance to spend some time together. In many ways they are more like sisters than cousins and the events of the past year or so have been hard on them. And thank you, Wren, for … friendship. I feel that I have found a friend in you, and that is not something I say to many people. You have inspired me with your quiet courage.”
“That,” Wren told her, “is one of the loveliest things anyone could possibly say to me. And please know how happy I am to be able to call you friend as well. Enjoy your month or two with Harry. I will write, and hope to see you again soon.”
“I shall you as well.” And they hugged each other amid the noise and fuss of general farewells.
Harry had drawn Alexander into a hug too, Wren noticed, and was slapping his back. She even overheard what he said. “I don’t resent you, Alex,” he said, “despite what I know you half believe. When I see you going off to the Lords, I think how dreary it would be if that were me. Give me a battleground instead any day of the week.”
Then everyone was moving out onto the pavement and Alexander was handing the ladies into their waiting carriage and Harry was climbing in after them. Two minutes later the carriage disappeared along South Audley Street, and those who remained stood gazing after it.
“Viola has changed,” Wren’s mother-in-law said. “I was always very fond of her. She was so elegant and dignified and gracious, as she still is, but there used to be a certain aloofness about her too. She seems a little warmer now.”
“I believe the aloofness could be attributed to the wretchedness of her marriage, Mama,” Elizabeth said. “You did not miss anything in not knowing Cousin Humphrey, Wren.”
“I like her very well indeed,” Wren said as they entered the house again. “And Abigail is very sweet. She is mature beyond her years.”
“I would wager Harry will be back in the Peninsula before his two months are up if he has any say in the matter,” Alexander said. “He told me the life of an officer suits him better than that of an earl. Perhaps he even believes it.”
“Wren?” Elizabeth linked an arm through hers as they climbed the stairs. “Lord Hodges is your brother?”
Alexander had told his mother and sister about the relationship. “Yes,” Wren said. “Colin was six when I left home. I adored him. He was told I had died.”
“I am sure I will be waking up tonight imagining this is all a dream,” he said. “And for once I will enjoy waking all the way up to realize it is not. You are alive.”
“Yes,” she said. “Enjoy Vauxhall.”
“Oh, I will.” He grinned. “Miss Parmiter may be shy, with the result that the ton has taken little notice of her. But I have. Roe, may I kiss it better again?”
“Oh yes, please.” She laughed as he kissed her left cheek and then pulled her into a tight hug. She hugged him back and thought that darkness was never quite dark. Her first ten years had come very close, so close that she had almost forgotten the one thin thread of light that had made all the difference—the bright-faced little boy who had grown into this handsome young man. Her brother.
They saw him on his way, she and Alexander, after he had agreed to return the following day. Then they returned to the library. He had her hand in his, she realized, their fingers laced. He drew her down onto the sofa and wrapped one arm about her. She rested her head on his shoulder and closed her eyes. She felt his free hand wipe her cheeks gently with a handkerchief.
“If he had turned out to be the other brother,” he said, “I would not have told him.”
“Justin?” she said. “I suppose he suffered too. One does not drink oneself to death for the pleasure of it.”
“He was cruel to you,” he said.
“He was just a boy,” she told him. “Blanche and Ruby were just girls. I have to forgive, Alexander, even if only in my own mind. If one of them had looked as I did and I had looked as one of them did and been under the influence of my mother, who is to say I would not have behaved in just the way they did?”
He bent his head and kissed her.
“I am going to go and see her,” she said.
The arm about her shoulders tightened. “Your mother?” he said.
“Yes.”
“Why?” he asked. “Wren, there is no need for that. Your brother advises against it, and he ought to know. He was quite adamant about it, in fact. You do not need to do this. Let me take you home. I am longing to go myself. Let’s go home.”
“Do you know where she lives?” she asked.
“No.” He sighed. “But it should not be hard to find out.”
“Will you do that, please?” she asked him. “I am going.”
He did not ask why again, which was just as well. She did not know why. Except that her past had been opened up at last, beginning with the visit to the theater and the outpouring of her story later. And now this. She had to finish what had been started or it would forever fester inside her. She was not looking for healing. She was not sure that was possible—just as perhaps it was not for Colin and her sisters. She just wanted to face her memories, including those that were too deep to be dragged up into her conscious mind. That was all. That was why.
“Wren.” Both his arms were about her. His cheek was resting against her head. “What am I going to do with you? No, don’t answer. I know what I am going to be doing with you within the next day or two. I am going to be going with you to call upon Lady Hodges.”
“Yes,” she said. “Thank you. And soon, Alexander. Then I want to go home with you.”
Twenty-one
Viola left the following morning after breakfast, with Harry and Abigail. All was noise and bustle for a while and hugs and kisses and even a few tears.
“I say, Wren,” Harry said when he was taking his leave of her. “I do hope you will not hold the first day or so of our acquaintance against me. I seem to remember asking rudely who you were and demanding Mama and bumbling on about walking furniture. And I dread to think what I must have looked like—and smelled like.”
“All is forgotten except the joy of realizing who you were,” she said, laughing as she patted his good arm. “Enjoy your relaxation time in the country.” She somehow doubted he would relax as much as his mother and sister hoped. Already he was looking wiry and restless and altogether more healthy than he had looked a week ago.
“Thank you for all you have done for me,” he said, catching her up in a tight hug, “and for inviting Mama and Abby here. I understand it was your idea to use your wedding as an extra inducement. Thank you, Wren.”
Abigail hugged her too. “Yes, thank you,” she said. “It was important I come for poor Jess’s sake. She has taken the changes in my fortune very much to heart. I have been able to spend our few days here explaining that I am at peace with it all, that I am not a tragic figure for whom she should sacrifice her own hopes and happiness. It has been easier to convince her person-to-person than by letter. And it has been lovely seeing everyone again and meeting you. I think you are quite perfect for Alex. For one thing, you are almost as tall as he is.” She laughed. “Thank you, Wren, for everything.”
Viola took one of her hands between both of her own. “Thank you,” she said, “for the tender care you lavished upon my son. Thank you for giving Abby and Jessica the chance to spend some time together. In many ways they are more like sisters than cousins and the events of the past year or so have been hard on them. And thank you, Wren, for … friendship. I feel that I have found a friend in you, and that is not something I say to many people. You have inspired me with your quiet courage.”
“That,” Wren told her, “is one of the loveliest things anyone could possibly say to me. And please know how happy I am to be able to call you friend as well. Enjoy your month or two with Harry. I will write, and hope to see you again soon.”
“I shall you as well.” And they hugged each other amid the noise and fuss of general farewells.
Harry had drawn Alexander into a hug too, Wren noticed, and was slapping his back. She even overheard what he said. “I don’t resent you, Alex,” he said, “despite what I know you half believe. When I see you going off to the Lords, I think how dreary it would be if that were me. Give me a battleground instead any day of the week.”
Then everyone was moving out onto the pavement and Alexander was handing the ladies into their waiting carriage and Harry was climbing in after them. Two minutes later the carriage disappeared along South Audley Street, and those who remained stood gazing after it.
“Viola has changed,” Wren’s mother-in-law said. “I was always very fond of her. She was so elegant and dignified and gracious, as she still is, but there used to be a certain aloofness about her too. She seems a little warmer now.”
“I believe the aloofness could be attributed to the wretchedness of her marriage, Mama,” Elizabeth said. “You did not miss anything in not knowing Cousin Humphrey, Wren.”
“I like her very well indeed,” Wren said as they entered the house again. “And Abigail is very sweet. She is mature beyond her years.”
“I would wager Harry will be back in the Peninsula before his two months are up if he has any say in the matter,” Alexander said. “He told me the life of an officer suits him better than that of an earl. Perhaps he even believes it.”
“Wren?” Elizabeth linked an arm through hers as they climbed the stairs. “Lord Hodges is your brother?”
Alexander had told his mother and sister about the relationship. “Yes,” Wren said. “Colin was six when I left home. I adored him. He was told I had died.”
