A Timeless Romance Anthology: European Collection (10 page)

Giving up on sleep, he climbed from bed, dressed, and began to make preparations for a journey. He saw neither Lord nor Lady Kent at the early hour. After eating a poor breakfast, his was on his way to Suffolk.

Oaksey Hall was a hard day’s ride from London to North Suffolk. Taking his black stallion, Magic, the lone extravagance he had allowed himself, Thomas urged him to a gallop, looking to ride out at least some of his disappointment in Melissa’s declarations.

The many colors of green in the landscape did not soothe him in the way they normally did. His thoughts were all of dashed hopes. Despite the fact that she had proven to be childish and stubborn, he longed for Melissa’s company. He had long dreamed of bringing a bride home to his estate. Family was the reason he had sacrificed almost everything to preserve his home.

His own mother had died when he was fifteen and away at school. His father had followed her only a year later. Thomas never had siblings. Fortunate to have a devoted mother and father, his warm memories of childhood had informed his adulthood. Though he had been financially strapped and had sown his share of wild oats, he had always intended to settle down. In this desire, he was influenced by visions of his lovely mother.

In the garden bower among the bees and butterflies, she had read stories of her own devising, of pirates and buccaneers, sultans and sheiks, duels and derring-do. Before he had gone away to Harrow when he was ten, she had been his teacher. A former governess, Mama had taught him in the cozy nursery below the eaves. He had learned to read, do sums, and explore the world through her inventive geography lessons. Thomas had even learned something of classical history and Latin, her favorite subjects.

Always calm and unruffled, his mother had possessed an unusual beauty, which reminded him of gardenias. His father, of whom Thomas was the perfect image, had worshipped her. She was a vicar’s daughter and had brought no dowry. They had scarcely any servants, and the hall was literally falling down about them, but at ten, Thomas had not realized these things. His principal recollection was of listening to his father read to him in the evenings by the drawing room fire, or of the two of them listening to his mother play pianoforte. They were not social people. He had grown up in the circle of their contentment until a legacy from an uncle had given them the funds to send him to school.

He had dreamed of home during those hurly-burly school years. Then the death of his parents had left him profoundly melancholy and alone. And so, from that time to this, he had always fantasized about reconstructing his little family and its cozy felicity. Those dreams were behind all he had done to reconstruct the physical foundations of Oaksey Hall with what was left of his uncle’s legacy.

Unlike his father, he had married money. But he had not married just anyone. He had been captivated from the first by Melissa’s cheerful good humor and charm. Before he had even known the amount of her dowry, he thought he had seen the partner of his dreams.

He had been wrong. Now approaching his home, he felt more alone than ever. The first few days, he tried to compose a letter to express his love. Every time he recalled his behavior that first day in town, the more hopeless he became of convincing her. How could he explain how elated he had felt about being out of debt after so long, without underscoring what he had said about the reason he had married her? Looking back, he realized that he had taken her love for granted. He had behaved in a manner most unfeeling.

His acts nor his words spoke of a man in love, and no mere letter could convince her otherwise.

Chapter Seven

Melissa stayed awake after her husband had left. Still angry after the sun was fully up, she hoped to not see him again for a very long time.

Not only did she not see him, but she heard nothing of him. She did not speak to her parents about the reason for her estrangement with his lordship, and Sophie had gone to Vienna with Frank on their honeymoon. Melissa had no one else to confide in, so she kept her own counsel. She stayed busy enough. Before six weeks had passed, she had her home completely in order.

She tried to take comfort in the beautiful dark blue and gold theme carried through the downstairs, and in the handsome cherry-wood furniture that adorned the rooms. The upstairs featured lavenders, apple greens, and blush pinks. But when this project was completed, her lonely state was even more evident. She only shared this beautiful home with a handful of servants. Its emptiness echoed around her.

Melissa knew that gossip about her and her estranged husband was fierce. Because she had never been one to ignore a challenge, she began to go about in Society. Whenever she paid a call, talk ceased the moment she walked into the room. A few seconds later, it resumed— louder than before.

 Her mother was constantly badgering her. “Melissa, where has your husband disappeared to? Now that he has your money, has he left you and gone off somewhere to enjoy it without you? You should hear what the gossips are saying! I can hardly hold up my head.”

“Do not worry, Mama. They will soon have something else to talk of.”

She was planning her first dinner party, with her brother playing host, when she began to feel ill. At first it was just a malaise, a dip in spirits. She could not stop her mind from returning to the scenes of her honeymoon. Melissa’s anger began finally to cool, and she wondered if she had made a terrible mistake in sending her husband away. Truth to tell, she had really never thought he would oblige her by staying away from Oaksey House. The fact that he had found her so easy to leave was another private grief.

One day, she steeled herself to go to his rooms and leave him a note.

Dear Thomas,

I know I was very angry when last we spoke. I still do not feel that you behaved in an upright manner towards me, but I should like to see you, nevertheless. Will you please call upon me?

Your wife,

Melissa

For days, she waited for him with increasing eagerness, but he did not come. It was then that the exceeding exhaustion began. And she felt nauseated at all hours of the day. Thinking she had some sort of rheumatism, she gave up on the idea of a dinner party and spent her days in her dressing room, her low spirits and poor health combining to make her exceptionally cross.  

Her mother paid a call after missing her visits for several days. “My dear, have you gone into seclusion? We cannot have that. People will say you are pining for your husband! What is amiss?”

“Oh, Mama, I am afraid I am indeed pining for Thomas. It is making me quite ill.
I have no desire to do anything.”

“Can you not make up your quarrel?” her mother asked.

Lying on the daybed in her dressing room, Melissa brought up her forearm to cover her eyes and the tears that were starting. “I wrote him a note asking him to call, but he has not seen fit to do so.”

“I shall have your father go see him.”

“No, Mama. I do not want that. I desire him to come of his own accord.”

“Are you never going to tell me what all this is about, Melissa, dear? You were so happy when you came home from Scotland. Even though I was very angry, I could still see that.”

Melissa felt so emotional that she decided it would be a relief to finally confide in someone. “Donald told me the morning after we arrived that he had gone to Thomas. The elopement was Donald’s idea. He knew that Thomas had debts, ones so pressing that everyone in London knew. Except for me. Donald told him about my dowry. He did marry me for money.”

After a silent moment, her mother said, “Well, dear, your father married me for mine.”

Melissa stared at her mother. “He did?”

“Indeed. And I must say, even though it was not a love match, he has treated me very well, and I have no regrets.”

“I am glad you are content, but when you were young like me, did you not wish to have a love match?”

“Of course. Every young girl does, no matter what she says. But I have seen that what starts out as a love match does not often endure past first attraction, though it be strong. I know you think me silly at times, but I do know a few things by virtue of my age. It takes more than desire to make a solid marriage, you know.”

“I know you have helped Papa in his Parliamentary career.”

“Yes, though I knew nothing about politics when we were married. I decided we needed a common interest if we were not to become one of those couples who never speaks to each other.”

Because of her mother’s overly emotional nature, Melissa had never really given her credit for having formed a healthy marriage. Her own intemperate emotions had virtually ended Melissa’s marriage before it had properly begun.

Mama continued. “I have always thought that because of my support in his career, your papa was closer to me than the average husband and wife when I had my children. That is when love began to grow between us. We both loved you and Donald so much.”

Had Melissa not chafed at that love, thinking it was perhaps too weighty, too manipulative? Thinking of Sophie’s parents, she wondered how she ever could have complained. Sophie’s mother was wildly unstable, manipulating her daughters quite shamelessly with physical and emotional mistreatment. Her father, though he claimed to love her, never did anything to restrain his wife. He lived quietly behind his library door.

“I am sorry,” Melissa said. “Perhaps I have taken your love for granted and been a very spoiled, willful child. That is how Thomas sees me, I am convinced.”

“That will change when you have your own children,” her mother said, patting her knee. “We have perhaps overindulged you, dear, but you have a good heart. You will make a wonderful mother.”

“I will never be a mother. I told poor Thomas that we would live separate lives. I was so hurt, Mama. I thought he loved me.”

“Judging by the way he looked at you, I thought so too. Are you certain he does not?”

“If he did once, he does no longer.”

After her mother left, Melissa wept.

Chapter Eight

Thomas had not lived at Oaksey Hall by himself for any length of time since it had been refurbished. Thanks to his uncle’s legacy, its ivy-covered gray stone walls were now secure. The slates on the perpetually leaking roof had been replaced, and the damage the leaks had done inside the hall was repaired. From his library window, he could see the lake, now full and free of weeds and scum since he had cleared the streams that fed and drained it.

He labored in the sun alongside his head gardener to restore the extensive flower gardens. Of course, this was ungentlemanly labor, and he could easily have hired more gardeners, but it gave him peace to his mind to be working thus. This garden had been his mother’s pride and joy, and he felt close to her as he trimmed back overgrown perennials, tamed the tangle of rose branches, and planted flats of new varieties of English country flowers.

Each evening, he sat on his terrace and looked over the results of that day’s work. He drank ale with a simple dinner of fish or fowl. The next project would be the succession houses, which hadn’t been used for nearly a century. He longed to fill them with all varieties of citrus, colorful orchids, and grapes.

In spite of his work, or maybe because of it, he fought a deep melancholy every night as he fell into bed. He lay for long hours, looking at the stars outside his window. Thomas had a wife. She did not want him, so there would be no child. Who was all of this for? The more beautiful and sturdy he made his surroundings, the deeper his melancholy grew.

One day in June, he was surprised to see a lone rider coming up the gravel drive.  

He hastily raced to his dressing room to make himself clean and presentable. In a very short time, a footman entered to tell him that Lord Kent was below.

Does he bring tidings of his daughter?

Thomas entered the drawing room with his hand outstretched. “Lord Kent, how good it is to see you! How does your family?”

The parliamentarian looked stern but nevertheless took the offered hand. “Oaksey.”

“Do you have news?” Thomas asked again. “Please have a seat.”

Melissa’s father seated himself in a massive red velvet chair. “My wife and son are well. Melissa, however, is in low spirits.”

Despite himself, Thomas was glad. Was it possible she missed him? He managed to keep an impassive face as he said, “I am truly sorry to hear that.”

“Now that you have her money and have deserted her, I doubt that very much.”

Thomas swelled with indignation. “I don’t know what she has told you, but she made it abundantly clear that she would not live in the same house with me. Nor did she ever wish to lay eyes on me again.”

“Only because she found out you were after her fortune. You broke my gel’s heart.” Lord Kent’s face set in a forbidding scowl, his thick, wiry eyebrows nearly covering his eyes.

His declaration gave Thomas pause. Had he really broken Melissa’s heart? Or was this merely the interpretation of an overly fond parent?

“She gave me rather the impression of a spoiled shrew. I did not imagine it should come as any surprise that her money was welcome. You knew it, certainly, and so did Lord Donald.”

“Was she never more than a bag of money to you then?”

“Of course she was! And well she knows it. For my sins, I fell in love with her. She knows that. But she chose to disregard my feelings. And, if she was honest with me on our honeymoon, she has since disregarded her own feelings as well.”

Lord Kent raised his eyebrows. “Is that so?” He squirmed a bit in his chair. “Women can be the very devil! Unless you are constantly flattering them, they take offense over the littlest thing.”

“To be honest, she thought I had deceived her, and that is no little thing. She led me to believe she no longer cared for me.”

“That, my dear Oaksey, is a complete and utter whisker. She is very low in spirits. My wife tells me that Melissa lives like a recluse in her dressing room. Doesn’t even venture to any other part of the house. Eats nothing but a little fruit. Sleeps through her days. It is not like my gel, not like her at all!”