Complications (12 page)

“MADAM, I BELIEVE I owe you an apology.”

Her mother was out visiting friends so
Amelia had reluctantly agreed to speak to Mr Brightford when he called at the
house. She could have refused him since it was not proper for her to see him
without a chaperone – she had already waived this rule for Benjamin and Mr
Nathaniel Fenbridge but that was because she wanted to. She considered sending
him away but curiosity got the better of her so she joined him in the drawing
room.

His tone was uncomfortable as he made his
apology and she wondered if he actually meant it or had been persuaded to say
this by his friends. She sat down and he did the same. “You
believe
,
sir? You have doubts then?”

“No. I do owe you an apology and my sincere
regrets for what I said about you to Mr Wrackley.”

“Because it was ungentlemanly or because it
was untrue?”

“Both.”

She frowned, surprised by this capitulation
and wondering what Benjamin had said to him to bring it about. “You have had an
extremely sudden change of heart about my character then?”

“Yes… I mean, not exactly. I think part of
my initial concerns were reasonable but… no, I do not mean that…”

“I am at a loss to understand what you do
mean,” she said, anger rising. “You apparently believed me to be a heartless
mercenary only interested in money.”

“Well, I had heard you talk about money
before…”

Loathsome man! This was his idea of an
apology? “Is it a sin to speak of money?”

“I thought it unladylike but that is not
the point…”

“On the contrary, I am fascinated to learn
how you came to feel you were an expert judge on perfection of character. Are
you without flaw of any kind?”

“No, not at all.”

“Then what right did you have to ruin my
future happiness and make up your mind I was some evil person?”

“None at all. I apologise…”

She slapped him as hard as she could, the
sound loud in the sudden silence. Her hand immediately stung and after a moment
she realised what she had done. She stared at Mr Brightford in horror then
turned and fled.

* * *

Brightford watched Amelia run up the stairs
then heard the sound of a door banging shut.

His face was sore where she had slapped him
but he wanted to tell her he did not blame her for the action. What an utter
mess he had made of that apology. She had deserved his deepest regret over what
he had done, not his censure for matters which she was right in saying he had
no business to judge.

He had come here with every intention of
offering his abject regrets over his words but somehow it had all gone wrong. He
walked into the hallway where the butler handed him his hat and cane with a
look that said
good riddance
.

He felt thoroughly uncomfortable as he
headed out to his curricle. Miss Daventry was an argumentative woman, surely
that could not be denied. She had seemed determined to quarrel… or perhaps she
had just doubted his sincerity, which again he could not fault her on.

He wondered if his cheek was red from the
blow she had landed. She had certainly put her full force behind it.

He drove around the nearby park, not
acknowledging that he wanted some extra time before facing Nathan with the
confession of how utterly he had botched the visit. If he was unlucky
Harrington would be there too, both of them keen to tell him what an idiot he
was.

As he finally headed home, there was one
thing he was certain of: Miss Daventry brought out the worst in him and their
trip together to his cousin’s wedding was going to be a nightmare…

* * *

Amelia sat on the chair in her bedroom and
stared blankly at the wallpaper opposite her. She could not believe she had
slapped Mr Brightford. While he had certainly provoked her with his critical,
half-hearted apology, nothing could justify her reaction. Now she owed him an
apology but that would meant raising the subject and she felt humiliated just
thinking of it. What was even worse was that she had now justified his low
opinion of her character.

She was only half aware of the sound of a
carriage pulling up somewhere outside, not paying it any attention until
several minutes later when there was a loud knock upon their front door.

She walked downstairs as the butler
admitted a middle-aged but beautifully dressed lady to the house. She was tall
and dark-haired with the air of someone who knew her own importance. Mrs
Daventry crossed the hall to greet the stranger as Amelia got to the bottom of
the stairs.

“You wrote to inform me of my brother’s
death,” the woman said in a loud voice, in answer to Mrs Daventry’s enquiry
about her visit. “I am Mrs Gallerton.”

Papa’s estranged sister. The one he had not
spoken to since before Amelia had been born.

“It is kind of you to call on us…” Mrs
Daventry began.

“Nonsense,” Mrs Gallerton cut over her. “I
should have come when Richard was still alive but there is nothing to be done
about that now and at least I can get to know you and your daughter.” Her sharp
eyes took in Amelia in her black dress and she beckoned her forward. “Come
here, young lady, and tell me your name.”

Amelia did as she was told, amused that she
seemed to have a relation even more forthright and opinionated than herself.

AFTER FIVE DAYS of Mrs Gallerton’s company Amelia was no
longer amused; in fact she was close to screaming.

Mrs Gallerton expressed her opinions on
every subject, frequently telling them ways they could improve their home or get
more work out of the servants and clearly expecting them to immediately jump to
obey her. Of course, neither Mama nor herself had done any such thing, leading
to some tense moments.

In other circumstances Amelia might have
shaken it off and found her aunt interesting, but neither Mama nor herself were
at their best right now and Mrs Gallerton seemed intent on making their lives
more difficult instead of easier.

While the three of them were in the dining
room for afternoon tea, Amelia brought up the subject of Lottie’s wedding to
her mother. She had been worried about doing so, uncertain as to whether her
mother would want the long journey or consider the wedding too frivolous an
event to attend while they were in mourning. As it turned out she need not have
been concerned.

“Yes, of course we will attend,” Mrs
Daventry said as she lifted a piece of buttered scone to her lips. “Charlotte
is your best friend and Mr and Mrs Harrington are friends of mine and your
father… are friends of mine.”

“A change of air will lift both your spirits,”
Mrs Gallerton contributed, “and England is far warmer than this. I am used to
proper summers. I will join you.”

Amelia and her mother exchanged glances. The
woman might at least wait to be asked.

Mrs Daventry took another sip of tea. “I
will ask Mr Benjamin Harrington when he wishes to leave.”

The next day, when Benjamin called to check
on them, they agreed a date two weeks’ hence to set out and he also, on
Lottie’s behalf, invited Amelia’s aunt to join them. Depending on how many days
the journey took that would give them about three weeks at Mr Alexander
Fenbridge’s home before the wedding.

Amelia could not wait, the need to see her
friend suddenly overwhelming. Lottie’s letter had also made Amelia miss her all
the more and the knowledge that Lottie would never again live within a short
carriage ride’s distance made it even worse, so she intended to make the most
of every moment of their visit.

There was not much to get ready for the
journey and she and her mother would, of course, still be wearing their black
mourning outfits so there would not be anything to decide over clothes, despite
her aunt’s comments to the contrary.

The days crawled by with little for Amelia
to occupy herself with save worrying about the family finances, fretting over
her future and feeling mortified over slapping Mr Brightford. She had not seen
him since the awful incident but knew from Benjamin that he would be amongst
the party travelling to the wedding.

She believed herself to have a generally
happy disposition but her father’s death and not having Lottie here to help her
cope with it made everything seem almost unbearable. Also, for some reason, the
fact that Mr Brightford had such a poor opinion of her kept preying on her
mind. She realised with a start that she had thought far more about that than
about losing Mr Wrackley’s regard. Did she simply not have any grief left to
spare him or was it possible that she had not loved him after all?

* * *

“You must be looking forward to seeing your
family again for your sister’s wedding,” Mr Nathaniel Fenbridge said to Benjamin
as they sat having luncheon together, “or are you worried about not obeying
your father’s decree to get engaged?”

“I will be very happy to see Lottie but I
fear my parents will cut me out of their lives when I tell them I never intend
to marry.” It was an encounter he was dreading but he told himself they could
only disown him once so, once it was done, he could forget about it and enjoy
seeing Lottie again. It galled him that he would be dependent on Nathan to support
him, that it might put a strain on their relationship, but Nathan had reassured
him a number of times on the subject. Also, Benjamin hoped to throw himself
into assisting with the running of Alexander Fenbridge’s estate and perhaps be
sufficiently useful to make up for the financial assistance.

He would have to find a way to make it work
as he knew he could never give Nathan up. Their weeks together had given him a
joy he hadn’t previously known was possible, the mutual affection and physical
intimacies giving him everything he could ever want.

Nathan took his hand, pulling his thoughts
back to the present. “If you wanted to give them extra time to get used to us
you could always say you are not marrying for the moment.”

“No. They have had a couple of years to get
used to my feelings and their solution is to force me to live as others do even
if it makes me miserable. If they cannot cope with who I am then I am resigned
to being disowned. You make me happy and that is all I need from life.”

They exchanged a kiss and Nathan said, “Then
I will endeavour to always make you happy.”

* * *

Miss Daventry had been on Mr Brightford’s
mind recently.

Harrington - in reaction to hearing about
Brightford’s words to Wrackley - had insisted on telling him countless stories
about Miss Daventry’s kindness, wittiness and affectionate nature. Then, when
he had run out of breath, Fenbridge took over. Had the annoying woman set out
to charm every man she had ever met save him?

No, she had doubtless never intended it but
the stories had done their work and Brightford had begun to be won over as
well. Just this morning he had had to reprimand himself for dwelling on how
beautiful she was and wishing she did not dislike him so thoroughly.

The knowledge that she was not the person
he had believed made the harm he had done her all the more grievous and he
could think of only one way to make amends.

He sat down at his writing desk and began
the difficult task of composing a letter to Mr Wrackley.

ON THE DAY they were due to leave for Mr Alexander
Fenbridge’s estate Amelia was packed and ready by 7am, her Mama was ready by
9am, the carriage with the rest of the party was there by 9.30am and Aunt Agnes
was still procrastinating at midday.

“We should have luncheon then leave,” Mrs
Gallerton announced to the group assembled in the drawing room.

“We have a picnic packed for luncheon,”
Amelia reminded her as patiently as she was able.

“I wish I had been introduced to either the
bride or groom.” She said this in the tone of one who has been ill-treated. “It
does not feel entirely proper to be expected to stay with complete strangers.”

Amelia bit her tongue to prevent herself
from pointing out that this unexpected sensitivity had not stopped her aunt
turning up on their doorstep.

“My brother will be delighted to have you
stay with him,” Mr Nathaniel Fenbridge reassured her with his usual good humour.

“Or if you really feel you would rather
stay here until we return you are welcome to do so,” Amelia suggested in a tone
that must have sounded too hopeful from the glare her mother shot at her and
the cool look from her aunt.

“Thank you, Mr Fenbridge. I will accept
your word for it. I just need to check I have everything I need then I suppose
we should set off.” She vanished back out of the room.

Amelia sighed and Benjamin suggested a game
of cards.

* * *

Half an hour after they finally departed
Amelia would have given anything to be back in her room.

Mrs Gallerton had invited Mr Brightford to
join their carriage. Indeed she looked as if she would have liked to join all
three gentlemen but sadly lacked the level of audacity needed to invite herself
into their carriage. This meant that Amelia now shared a carriage with her
mother, Mrs Gallerton and Mr Brightford while Benjamin and Mr Nathaniel
Fenbridge shared the other. The latter gentlemen looked more than satisfied at
the arrangement while Amelia resolved herself to two days of misery and
humiliation.

While Mrs Gallerton talked at everyone on
any subject that entered her head, Amelia tried to avoid Mr Brightford’s gaze,
which meant she spent most of her time looking out of the window.

“You are in a quiet mood, Amelia,” Mrs
Gallerton said and Amelia started and looked round. “Normally you have far more
to say for yourself and Mrs Daventry and I have heard all this last week how
eager you are to see your friend.” Before Amelia could respond, Mrs Gallerton
turned to Mr Brightford and added, “It is pleasant for a young lady to attend a
wedding, although of course not nearly as pleasant as her own wedding.” She
laughed at her own slight joke while Mr Brightford gave an uncomfortable smile
- more of a grimace really - and Amelia felt her face heat. “I imagine you are
thinking about marriage yourself, Mr Brightford,” Mrs Gallerton went on with
such an utter lack of subtlety that Amelia longed to throw herself from the
carriage to escape.

“Not when I can avoid it,” Mr Brightford
replied and Amelia, for once, welcomed his lack of manners, hoping it would put
her aunt off the subject.

“Of course, men have more leisure over
these matters than women…”

Amelia wondered if she could enlist some
help in pushing Mrs Gallerton from the carriage. From the expressions around
her she suspected no one would object.

“I am glad today is cooler than it has been
recently,” Mrs Daventry said hastily and Amelia threw her mother a grateful
look.

“Indeed,” Mr Brightford agreed eagerly. “There
is nothing worse than a stuffy carriage ride.”

Not to be left out, Mrs Gallerton said,
“England is, of course, warmer than Scotland.”

“The countryside is, I believe, different
to ours,” Amelia said, no longer caring how long Mrs Gallerton spoke just so
long as she stopped match-making.

“That is very true. Where I live…”

Amelia’s wish was granted as her aunt
managed to keep this subject going until they stopped at a large inn. It was
only late afternoon but they agreed that this would be a good place to spend
the night.

While her mother rested in the room they
would be sharing, Amelia went for a short walk to clear her head of the echo of
Mrs Gallerton’s strident voice.

She wandered vaguely towards some trees,
enjoying the weak sunshine and the cool breeze on her face. She was brought to
a half by the sight of a familiar figure. Her instinct was to turn and flee but
she ignored it and steeled herself to approach.

“Mr Brightford,” she said to get his
attention.

Her turned round, looking equally startled
by her presence, and bowed.

She curtsied. “Mr Brightford, I owe you an
apology for my shameful behaviour in slapping you when we last spoke. I do not
know what caused me to act in such a way.”

“I expect it was my own appalling manners,”
he said easily. “Besides, I still owe you an apology over Mr Wrackley.”

“You have already made it.”

“But you did not accept it,” he pointed out
with a sardonic lift to one eyebrow.

She smiled, awkwardness fading. “Then I do
so now and I hope you will likewise forgive me.”

“Done.”

Her relief at his response was beyond what
it should have been and for a moment she remained flustered in his presence. “Mr
Nathaniel Fenbridge must be looking forward to seeing his brother again,” she
ventured.

“One might suppose that but in actual fact
I have never seen him more content than during these last weeks.”

Her smile returned. “I believe he and Mr
Harrington have formed an affectionate friendship.”

He gave her a sharp look and his eyes
flashed with amusement. “That would seem to be a very accurate way of putting
it.”

Did he know? Mr Nathaniel Fenbridge was his
relative so it was not impossible and it would greatly improve her opinion of
him if he did not choose to condemn his cousin.

“Then I am very glad for them both.”

“As am I,” he said.

It was the first time they had been in
agreement about anything.

* * *

Mr Brightford changed into his evening
clothes, a smile on his lips as he thought about his conversation with Miss
Daventry. He had enjoyed it a great deal. Far too much, in fact.

The fact she had forgiven him for so
serious a misdeed was a great relief and that combined with her wit had
entirely won him over. How could he have failed to see all her positive
qualities all this time? He was sure she knew the truth about the relationship
between Fenbridge and Harrington too and wished them well, which showed a rare tolerance.

Perhaps he should have told her about writing
to Wrackley but she would see him at the wedding so they could resume their
courtship soon.

His heart twinged at the thought.

He made a note to give up selfless
behaviour: it was clearly not good for his health.