Marjorie Farrell (23 page)

“It is such a shame that you are traveling alone, my dear. But I understand that Gareth must see to his new responsibilities.”

“The news of his inheritance did not surprise you, Aunt Ellen?”

Ellen blushed and looked guiltily up at her niece. “I was aware of Gareth’s family connections, since I am almost of an age with his aunt.”

“But no one else seemed to be, least of all me,” said Arden with some tartness.

“Well, the Richmonds, you see, have never socialized. So the family connection with Thorne had been forgotten. The late marquess and his marchioness never talked much of their nephew, and when they came to London, kept to themselves for much of the time, only socializing with intimate friends and keeping busy with politics and social concerns.” Her aunt had hesitated over the last, as though wondering whether Arden knew the exact nature of the marchioness’s “social concerns.”

“I have met Lady Thorne and Gareth has told me of her work with the…ah, Unfashionably impure,” said Arden with a smile.

“Oh, yes. Well, she is a very unique woman, the marchioness.”

“I found her delightful, Aunt Ellen.”

“I always liked her myself,” confessed Mrs. Denbeigh. “Now, after you have freshened up, please join us in the drawing room.”

* * * *

Heronwood was larger than either Stalbridge or Thorne, and Arden was afraid she would never find her way back downstairs. Luckily there seemed to be a footman at every turning in the hall, so she arrived at the drawing room without too much delay. She stood outside for a minute, trying to compose herself, before nodding to the footman to open the door and announce her.

Celia, of course, bounced up from the sofa and greeted her as warmly as Ellen had. Lord Heronwood, who stood behind her cousin, watched as the two women embraced and then offered his hand to Arden and politely welcomed her to his home.

Arden was so tired from her journey and so nervous that she almost collapsed into a fit of hysterical laughter at the sight of Celia’s intended. Not having seen him for a while, she had forgotten how tall and thin he was and how he stooped a bit to disguise his height. It took all her self-control to banish the unbidden picture of a heron which
would
come to mind, and thank him for his hospitality. Unfortunately, her efforts to control her amusement made her appear more standoffish than usual, and Heronwood’s mother and sisters were only confirmed in their dislike. Their greetings were so polite as to be almost insulting, for they had never forgiven her for the pain she had caused their Richard. Dinner was announced almost immediately, however, and the awkward moments were not prolonged.

During the meal, Celia’s happy chatter and Ellen’s questions about Yorkshire distracted Arden, and she knew that she had no further worries about disgracing herself. She could not blame Celia’s future in-laws for their hostility and was grateful that Lord Heronwood himself, while obviously self-conscious when he addressed her, seemed to hold no resentment.

In fact, over the next few days, Arden began to like Richard more and more. He and Celia were obviously deliriously happy in each other’s company. He was attentive, unfailingly kind, and although there was never a vulgar display of affection between them, they always managed to be touching one another, brushing shoulders or holding hands briefly. The attachment between them was palpable but never offensive because it was so unconscious and natural.

Heronwood was one of the richest men in England and held an old and respected title, and yet Arden found him completely unspoiled. She was beginning to understand why he was so popular and why her attack on him had been the final blow to her own reputation.

She noticed that as she got to know him better, his chin looked much stronger to her and his stoop less pronounced. She could also understand that someone exquisitely tuned to the needs of others might also be vulnerable and self-conscious. She became more and more ashamed of herself as he treated her with unfailing kindness. She could now understand how Celia had fallen in love with him, although she herself would never have done so. While his sensitivities were a perfect match for her cousin, she knew that Gareth’s imperviousness to her ability to wound and his sense of humor were what she needed in a husband.

She was determined, however humiliating it would be, to offer an apology to Richard. And so, one morning when they found themselves the only ones at the breakfast table, she cleared her throat nervously, causing him to look up from his bacon and eggs.

“Richard, I have something to say to you.”

“Yes, Arden?”

“I wish…oh, this is so hard!” she exclaimed. “I don’t think I have admitted to being wrong for many years.”

“You need not,” said Lord Heronwood, guessing what must be coming. “It is no consequence now.”

“But it is,” she replied. “I am sorry to have caused you embarrassment and pain this past spring. I am very grateful for your ability to forgive and welcome me here despite it all.”

Heronwood could feel Arden’s embarrassment, and was almost overwhelmed by his own. One did not admit to one’s weakness, one did not apologize for one’s shortcomings, in polite society. The apologies tendered were usually those made to avoid the field of honor.

“It is truly forgotten,” said Heronwood, blushing slightly. “And you were right,” he said, surprising Arden and himself by his touch of humor. “The Heronwoods have always appeared well-named. Although I like to think,” he continued, stroking his chin and grinning at her, “that I have a stronger chin than my father.”

“It is very clear to me now why Celia, and indeed all, are so fond of you,” said Arden. “I hope we can be friends?”

“I already consider us so,” he replied.

“I appreciate your kindness, my lord, for I would not want any dislike or embarrassment between us, now that we are connected by our mutual love for Celia. I know that your family has not forgiven me, but that may take some time.”

“I think they will eventually come to see that the ‘Insufferable’ is not so at all,” said Heronwood with a smile.

“Oh, I think you are a bit too tenderhearted for your own good, Richard. I was fast on my way to being every bit as arrogant as rumor had it. I hope I am a little more aware now of my own and others’ frailties.”

Heronwood was about to reply when Ellen and Celia joined them, so that further private conversation was impossible. But Arden felt satisfied; there was no tension or embarrassment between Richard and her for the remainder of the visit, and even though she had made no public apology, Heronwood’s mother and sisters seemed to unbend a little from their studied politeness.

* * * *

Despite the developing friendship with her cousin’s fiancé, and Celia’s and Ellen’s unquestioning affection, Arden was determined to cut her visit short. The truth was, she found it increasingly painful to be in the presence of Celia and Richard. They were so clearly well-suited and so obviously in love that it only made her failure at her marriage seem worse and worse. When Heronwood returned home one afternoon from an expedition to town with a simple but beautifully designed gold necklace for Celia, and Arden watched him gently push Celia’s curls aside to fasten it, Arden could feel again Gareth’s light touch as he had helped her dress.

Her dreams at night were full of her husband: either nightmares, where she returned to Richmond House only to find him remarried and having forgotten her, or much worse, dreams where her wishes came true and he kissed her and told her he loved her. She would wake from these dreams still able to feel his lips on hers and she would wish for sleep again so that she would be with him in fantasy, if not reality.

She masked her feelings very well, and when she announced that she was leaving a few days earlier than planned, all took it as a new wife’s eagerness to return to her husband. Ellen and Celia protested, but understood that she wished to be back with Gareth. And they would all see each other at the wedding this Little Season.

It was only after Arden settled herself into the coach and gave her coachman his orders that she realized that what they were all thinking was indeed true: she did want to be with her husband. She was almost halfway there, in fact, and when they came to the crossroads, instead of ordering Walter to go south to Stalbridge, she let him turn north. As she watched the scenery change and grow wilder, her sadness lifted and she found some energy and life returning to her. She had no idea what she would say to Gareth; the only hope she had was that he would not turn her away. They
were
husband and wife, after all, and she had a right to live with him. Surely it would create too much of a scandal if the new Marquess of Thorne threw his wife out upon the highway. And she was determined, she thought, with a proud lift of her chin, that the only way he would be able to be rid of her was to carry her out the door.

Arden spent the trip imagining various reconciliation scenes: Gareth would be so surprised and happy to see her, would realize at once that she loved him, would sweep her up in his arms, carry her to his parents’ bed and… Or Gareth would be angry, they would trade barbs the way they had in London, and then he would realize she returned because she loved him and carry her up the stairs. What she had not imagined was that she would reach Richmond House late in the afternoon, tired and nerves all on edge, only to find no one there but Janie. Arden had no way of knowing whether Gareth had returned to Sedbusk and told Janie the truth about the marriage, or whether he had returned at all. Belatedly, she realized that he might have gone back to Thorne. Janie, who did look surprised by Arden’s unannounced return, greeted her warmly and clearly had no inkling of the true state of things between husband and wife. Gareth, although no coward on the battlefield, had been too proud to admit to his failure and had fobbed Janie off with the tale that Arden’s affection for her aunt and cousin had led her to prolonging her visit.

“It is reet good to see tha, lass,” said Janie. “Coom in, coom in. Tha must be stiff and cold.”

Arden felt tears spring to her eyes as she heard Janie’s broad Yorkshire, and knew, whether Gareth wanted her or not, she had come home.

Janie bustled around and settled Arden in front of the fire. “I’ll get tha some tea reet away,” and was off before Arden could even attempt to find out whether Gareth was here or at Thorne.

She felt herself relax in the warmth and light of the fire and when she heard the front door open, assuming it was Gareth, she got up and started toward the front hall, ready to meet him whatever his reaction. When she saw that it was not Gareth who had come in, but an attractive young woman, she froze, absolutely sure that she was in the middle of one of her worst nightmares.

The young woman, who had sat down on the hall bench to pull off her brogues, looked up, saw Arden and said, “I beg your pardon, but do I know you?” She had such an air of belonging that Arden’s heart sank. In just a few weeks Gareth had managed to find someone to warm his bed. The young woman, who was small and attractive, with a head of dark brown curls and clear gray eyes, regarded Arden curiously.

“I am Lady Arden Richmond, Marchioness of Thorne,” replied Arden in her most intimidating tones. “This is my husband’s home, or rather his parents’, and unless you are here to see Janie, I suggest that you collect your things from upstairs, put your shoes back on and get out.”

“The Insufferable!” exclaimed the young woman, her expressive eyes holding both laughter and questions. “Why, Gareth said you had gone home to Stalbridge.”

If Arden had ever been curious to know what utter humiliation felt like, her curiosity was more than satisfied. She felt completely exposed. Gareth might not have told Janie, but had clearly made fun of her with his…his doxy.

The young woman saw immediately that Arden did not share any of her amusement at the situation.

“I am sorry,” she said shamefacedly. “I should not have called you that, I know, but the way you addressed me was just how I would have imagined it. I am Kate Richmond.”

Arden still stood there, saying nothing, convinced that Gareth, despite the obvious impossibility of it, had somehow obtained an annulment and remarried. This was not his doxy, then, but his new wife. Even though she knew it to be impossible, yet she was convinced it was true.

“Gareth’s sister,” the young woman continued. “Although you clearly thought me something else,” she continued, with a twinkle in her eye.

Arden was flooded by a relief so strong that she knew she would have to sit down or faint, and she sank down on the bench next to Kate. She felt extremely foolish as well as relieved. Truly, love must have caused her to lose her wits, if she didn’t recognize Gareth’s sister by her name.

“But aren’t you supposed to be in Wales?” Arden asked.

“Not anymore, as you can see,” replied Kate dryly. “Mother and I returned two days ago. She could not be kept away from her beloved sheep another day longer. Father and Lynette have a few more holy wells to visit, but they will be home next week,” she added with a smile. “But I might easily have said, ‘But you are supposed to be in Sussex.”

“Gareth told you,” said Arden bluntly, still not quite absorbing the fact of his sister’s presence.

“Well, of course he wrote us about his marriage, but we heard very little from him this summer. When Mother and I returned home and you weren’t here, he only told me that he had not been able to reconcile you to what was only a marriage of convenience and had taken you home.”

“I am sure Janie does not know. What of your mother?”

“Gareth tends to confide in me,” said Kate. “We have always been close. We agreed a long time ago that we had to be, being the only fairly conventional members of the family!”

Arden was beginning to see the resemblance between brother and sister. Not only were they physically alike, but both had a humorous nonchalance. Another woman might have been insulted by Arden’s highhanded reception. Kate was only amused. Another woman might have been immobilized by the embarrassment of a “deserted” wife returning for who knew what reason. Kate was merely curious.