An Arrangement of Sorts Page 24
“So he does not love me?” she asked with a laugh, feeling suddenly rather amused by the whole affair.
Madame Guilford met her eyes, and Moira sobered at the serious light in them. “I have never seen a man so in love, Miss Dennison, in all of my years. And I am French.”
Part of Moira, a very small part, wanted to laugh out loud at the woman. It was impossible. And yet… “But how?” she asked quietly.
“I do not know, my dear. Love is funny that way. Now, this dress is almost done here, but we have more to do, and then there are the undergarments, the gloves, the slippers, the boots…”
“Boots?” Moira interrupted, curious.
“Oh, yes. We have specific requirements to give you at least three pairs of boots, and very sturdy ones at that. Now, after the boots, we must do hats and bonnets.”
“I would rather ignore the bonnets,” Moira grumbled, wincing as Marguerite accidentally pricked her.
“We have strict orders to give you bonnets, but ones that have an open front, so you can see better. Very elegant choice, my dear,” Madame said approvingly. She rattled off a few more things, but Moira wasn’t listening anymore.
Three pairs of boots, very sturdy. Bonnets with open fronts to see better. Someone knew her tastes very well, indeed.
Someone who loved her.
The Earl of Beverton? Who the devil was he and how could he possibly love her when she had no idea who he was?
Piled down with more boxes and bags than she thought possible for one person to carry, Moira made her way back to the boarding house, her head still spinning. Fifteen dresses, ten sets of undergarments and stockings, seven nightgowns, three coats, four spencers, four pelisses, three cloaks, two wraps, six pairs of gloves, four pairs of slippers, three pairs of boots, two hats, and three bonnets.
The sheer volume was enough to make the sturdiest of people dizzy. Aside from the one they had stripped from a manikin and made to fit her, the dresses were not done yet, but they would be in two days, Madame promised. So in reality, she was only carrying one dress… and every other accessory she had been given.
Madame had requisitioned a lad from the cobbler’s shop next door to help her, as they were the ones providing the boots, and the boy was struggling every bit as much as Moira, but he was eager and willing enough. That was probably due to the fact that he assumed there would be a tip in this for him, and he was right.
They reached the boarding house eventually, and once everything had been deposited onto the floor, since she had no idea where else they were supposed to go, she paid the boy a half a crown, which delighted him so much he asked if she had any other boxes for him to carry. Amused, she told him that, if he wanted, he could help her with the rest of the dresses in two days’ time. He nodded vigorously and rushed back off to the cobbler’s, grinning the whole way.
Moira looked about her and felt absolutely bewildered. Who in their right mind would pay for a woman to receive so much? Whoever this Earl of Beverton was, he was remarkably generous, and terribly wealthy, to boot. If this was his way of trying to court her, he was not going to succeed. She was not to be swayed in this manner.
Well, perhaps a little, but it was hardly appropriate.
Madame had said it was to be for her wedding trousseau. So the Earl of Beverton had known she was to be married, and still he bought her all of this for love?
She shook her head, unable to make sense of the whole affair. Nobody would buy a woman all of this if he knew she was about to be married. It would be a fruitless gesture, however generous, for she couldn’t give him anything in return.
She wondered about the earl. Who was he? Did he know her family? Perhaps he was an old friend of her parents, and had somehow heard of her being of age and being engaged, and wanted to be sure she had the proper garments befitting her parents’ daughter.
But why then would Madame and the girls say he loved her? If the earl was an older man, it was entirely possible that he could have been a godfather to her. She had no memory of any godparents, so perhaps that was it.
She shook her head and sank onto the bed. No, even if that were true, her engagement was not known anywhere. Even in Gillam, people were not aware of the attachment. That had been their secret, only to be revealed when they would marry.
She could hardly accept the attentions and gifts of a man who might have been in love with her when she didn’t even know him, which obviously meant that he didn’t know her, and therefore, could not love her.
She groaned in frustration and lay back on the bed with a sigh. The dresses were lovely. Indeed, she had never seen anything like them. The fabrics, the colors, the designs… she would be far more richly dressed than she ever imaged anyone being. And everything suited her so well, which was a very pleasant surprise. Such care had been taken for her clothing, such detail. Everything thought of and planned out. Who could possibly know her well enough to care so much?
She wished Nathan were here. He would find great delight in the whole affair. She could imagine his face laughing at her as she was stuck with pins and draped in fabric, a living, breathing manikin who was not permitted to speak anything beyond “thank you” or “oui”. No choice in the matter at all. Nathan would have loved it.
He was also terribly clever. He could have helped her solve the mystery of who this Earl of Beverton was, to be buying her such things. Together, they would have figured it out and she would have been able to return the favor somehow to the earl.
Of course, Nathan would have thought she was deserving of every bit of attention she received.
He was sweet that way.
Tears sprang into her eyes and she curled up into a ball. She missed Nathan fiercely. Now that Charles and Maggie were to be married, she had no one in whom to confide.
She missed Nathan’s smile and his laugh. She missed the way he could cheer her up in an instant. She even missed the way he had the power to make her doubt everything she had ever known and set her heart aflame, as disconcerting as the habit was.
Again, she felt the urge to run after him, to throw convention entirely aside and accept the life of mediocrity she was used to. Life with him would be anything but mediocre, regardless of their fortune or situation. It would be heaven on earth, even if they lived in a hovel with pigs.
Well, maybe not the pigs. Nathan would never live with pigs.
She laughed to herself, tears still rolling down her face. Oh, she missed him. She was so much better with him than she was without him.
But he was not here.
And her words to Gwen had been quite right: A woman did not throw herself at a man, no matter how in love with him she was.
Especially if she had no idea of his returning the sentiment. A rebuttal would have been too much to bear.
So she would wait. And hope. And wait some more.
And someday, it would not hurt so much.
Chapter Twenty One
“Wait, those Dennisons?”
Nathan rolled his eyes, tempted to throw the remnants of his drink in Colin’s face. “Yes, those Dennisons.”
A rather colorful amount of expletives came from the group, and Nathan waited, not so very patiently, for them to finish.
“If I had known that then, I would have gone with her myself,” Duncan said with a laugh.
“She didn’t ask for you,” Nathan growled, clenching his glass tightly.
“And for good reason,” Geoff crowed with a loud laugh, slapping Duncan on the back. “You’d have taken her all the way round to Eastbourne and Brighton before realizing that you should have turned north!”
More good-natured laughter came from the group, Nathan excluded. Why had he decided that he ought to tell his friends everything? He was strongly tempted to shove off from the table and go back to his empty house and attempt to play the role of benevolent earl to his tenants, rather than sit here and relive his time with Moira with the jackals he had for friends.
After resolving everything with Spencer and
swearing to return in two weeks so the brothers could spend more time together before the wedding, Nathan had decided it was long past time to return to Hampshire and Beverton House, assuming it was still standing. Given the state of his friends at the moment, he was astonished that it was not burned to the ground or worse.
They had been delighted to see him, but more delighted at the prospect of the story he had to share with them. He had been shuffled off to The Horse and Rider and had a drink shoved into his hand before he had said more than five words all together. He had been rather plagued with questions, until Derek had shut them all up and asked Nathan to start from the beginning. He had gotten no further than Moira’s revelation of her fortune before Colin had interrupted him with his inane babble, and now he dearly wished he had stayed away longer.
“Gents,” Derek said with a loud banging on the table, effectively shushing them all again. “I think Nathan would rather get on with the story, if you have quite finished with your squabbling.”
“Well, well,” Colin said in a grumbling tone as he scooted his chair back in, “Derek is playing Mother Hen? Rather awkward, isn’t it?”
“He has turned a bit sensitive lately,” Geoff mused aloud, attempting to appear rather concerned about the notion.
“Shut up, the lot of you,” Derek muttered with a roll of his eyes, looking back to Nathan. “Go on, Nate. What happened then?”
Nathan shot him a grateful look, and continued with his story for a time. Of course, he had not gotten very much further before he was again interrupted.
“So, you just kept asking each other questions?” Duncan asked, looking bewildered.
“Yes,” Nathan said with a sigh, realizing that there was no way he would be able to get through the story quickly and resigning himself to having to talk. “It provided some very useful and pleasant conversation. You should try sometime.”
Duncan laughed and toasted Nathan as the others snickered.
“I personally would like you to go back to the breeches part,” Colin said with a wry grin. “I can only imagine what a sight that was.”
“And your imagination is where that is going to stay,” Geoff broke in quickly, seeing the murderous look Nathan was gathering. “I have no desire to break up a brawl in this fine establishment, so that will be the end of that line of query. Nathan, she utterly refused to let you be a gentleman?”
“At first, yes,” Nathan said, allowing his anger to abate and smiling at the memory. “She was determined to be as independent as she had been in the past. Only after several pleadings on my part did she relent even the slightest.”
“Can’t imagine that went over well with you,” Derek said in an amused tone. “Mr. Perfect Gentleman, and all that.”
He chuckled. “No, not at all. Eventually, it became a sort of game, when it was not infuriating.” He continued on, and attempted to convey his emotional state as it had progressed, and he suddenly found that his friends were no longer straining to interrupt. They sat attentive, no questions or teasing in their eyes, but more of a stunned silence. He appreciated the opportunity to share a little of what he had felt with them, and prayed they would somehow understand.
When he finally reached the end of his tale, he sat back, exhausted. Each telling of the story came easier, but it still expended the same amount of energy from him. When he heard nothing from his companions, he looked up at them, and found them all watching him with a mixture of confusion, amusement, shock, and disbelief on their faces.
“Well?” he asked quietly, when no one said anything. “Have you anything to say about what I’ve just told you?”
“I don’t know that there are words,” Duncan said slowly, shaking his head, his eyes wide. “I can’t even make sense of it. I mean, we all knew she was perfect for you when she walked in, but I, for one, never even…” He trailed off, as if losing track of his thoughts.
“So,” Geoff began, looking more troubled than anything else, “you fell in love with a woman who employed you to find another man, fought with you the entire trip, and turned your whole world upside down, knowing the entire time that you were never going to have her?”
“It’s not as though he asked for it,” Derek said in defense before Nathan got any further than opening his mouth. “Nathan is the victim in this. She practically abducted his heart and set his life on fire in the process. He had no defenses against such an attack.” He shook his head and sat back. “Hard to ignore something like that.”
“Why would he want to?” Colin murmured, though he appeared the most dazed of the group.
“I couldn’t,” Nathan said, finally breaking in. “If only you all could meet her, and could come to know her the way that I have, you would love her as well. You would understand.”
“We don’t need to understand.”
Nathan turned to Colin in surprise, wondering what was going on in that head of his. “What do you mean?”
Colin looked a little surprised that he had actually spoken, but he seemed to choose his next words with a great deal of care. “It’s not for us to understand how or why you love her. We don’t need explanation or reasoning or a defense. Love is not about logic or sense or what any of us would have done had we been in your place. It’s your life and your heart. If you have come to love her, in spite of everything that was stacked against you, against all the odds, and all of your attempts not to…” He shrugged and sat back. “That’s enough for me. Good for you.”
Nathan offered a smile, though now he felt more tossed about than any of them had been by his story. He had expected shock and mockery, but hardly understanding. He knew very well how ridiculous the whole thing sounded, and he had lived it, but if Colin, of all people, was siding with him, and could on some deep, previously unheard of level of his soul, comprehend a bit of what he was trying to say, then surely it was not as insane as it seemed in his mind.
But then, it was Colin. One could never be too sure about these things.
“Well said,” Geoff murmured in approval, nodding with the rest of the group. “If any of us deserve to be so happily tossed about by a woman, it’s you, Nathan.”
Nathan found himself getting rather choked up by that, and could only nod his thanks.
“Hang on a minute,” Derek said, leaning forward and peering at the group intently. “Did Colin just say something deep and profound then?”
Grins appeared on every face, including the man in question. “No, no, you must have heard wrong,” Duncan said, waving his hand. “Colin doesn’t have any deep and profound parts to him.”
“Unless he is completely foxed out of his mind,” Geoff brought up with a finger. “I have heard him say some quite intuitive things when under the influence of a good vintage. In fact, I think I have some of them written down back at home…”
“I will pay you any sum you can name to shut up about it,” Colin announced, still smiling.
“Are you sure? I can count very high.”
“Only if his shoes are off,” Duncan snorted to Nathan.
“And if someone helps him,” Derek added with a nod.
“Excuse me, weren’t we talking about Colin?” Geoff protested as more laughter rang out.
“I can’t help that I’m the favorite,” Colin said apologetically. “Everybody loves me. Women, men, babies, animals…”
“Clara Maxfield,” Derek broke in absently, sending the rest off into peals of laughter.
“Not funny!” Colin cried out, his cheeks flaming.
Nathan sighed to himself as he listened to his friends pounce on the new and all-too inviting topic of the Colin-crazed Clara Maxfield. It felt good to be sitting here around a table, drink in hand, laughing and making jokes with his friends. The topic didn’t matter, nor had it ever. What mattered was that they were laughing.
These were men that knew him. They had seen him through everything in his life, and they would see him through this. They would keep him from being too serious, from dwelling on painful memories too much.
They would help him find his new state of normal.
He took a deep breath, wondered briefly when it would not hurt to do so, and joined in the teasing, much to Colin’s dismay.
Moira smiled happily as she walked down the streets of Preston back to the boarding house she was starting to think of as home. She had just witnessed the rather rushed, but quite proper, wedding of one Charles Allenford to Miss Maggie Younge.
She had been surprised when Charles had called on her at the boarding house that morning to inform her of the wedding that was to take place no less than three hours hence. She had been shocked, appropriately apprehensive about the haste, as the engagement had only been a mere five days in length, and then, after being consoled on that score, had exploded into a terrifying sort of feminine high dudgeon about what she was to wear, sending Charles flying out of the room for his sanity’s sake.
After he had gone, she had sat and worried. It had been just as long since she had sent her letter off to Uncle George about the funds for Maggie’s family, and still she had heard nothing, which made her anxious. She wanted to make sure no one would suffer because of the marriage, but it appeared they were going to go ahead without any sort of resolution to that problem.
Thankfully, Maggie had already started her new line of work as a seamstress assistant, so that would bring in a little bit of extra income for her family. Moira had visited the shop to congratulate her and had come away with a beautifully embroidered handkerchief, which Maggie forbade her to pay for, and a lovely, very warm shawl, which Moira had refused to take change for. Maggie was in her element at the shop, and so happy that one would have thought it was her dream to be there.
But she had been delighted by the honor of being asked to attend such a small and intimate ceremony as they were having. She had never been to a real wedding; she had only pretended at them with her dolls when Aunt Miriam was not looking. She had always thought that the first wedding she would see would be her own, with Charles.