Putting on Airs (19 page)

     
So, naturally, Imogene was at a loss as to why her mother once again interrupted a croquet match between Jane and herself.  This time, her mother's distress was targeted toward her.

     
"Imogene!"  Mrs. Cartwright was a distance away, running toward them from the house.  "Imogene!  My child!  You will never believe what I have discovered!  If we may be excused, Mrs. Cole.  What I have to say is a hard blow, and should be restricted to those involved."

     
Jane and Imogene exchanged expressions of alarm.  "Of course, if you wish it," Jane replied.  "However, if I can be of any help or comfort, do not hesitate to visit me."  With that, she obeyed, leaving for a carriage.

     
"What is it, mother?" Imogene asked.  "What is wrong?"

     
"I was shopping with Mrs. Ambers, as always accumulating what we could of the most recent gossip.  And what we heard...!"  Her voice choked with tears, and she drew out a handkerchief to dry herself.  "Oh, Imogene, my dear, darling daughter!"

     
Imogene was terrified—she knew something was wrong when her mother addressed her with such excess affection.  "What is it?"

     
"While at the haberdasher's, we met with Mrs. Heston, the wife of a prestigious barrister.  Her husband was directed with some legal matters, pertaining to..."  She sobbed.  "...pertaining to Ms. Clarice Archer.  You see, Mr. Archer has for years been trying to locate her real parents.  And...and the actions were made to put her under the legal care of her real...of her father."  She wiped her nose.  "My dear Imogene, the father of Clarice was found out to be...to be Mr. Campbell!"

     
Imogene's face instantly paled white.  "Are you sure you heard right?"

     
Mrs. Cartwright could hardly talk from sobbing.  "Mrs. Heston got it from her husband herself, who sat with Mr. Archer and Mr. Campbell."  Her tears then suddenly turned to weeping of despair, to weeping of fury.  "I sent Mr. Rupert Campbell an express directly to explain himself.  If he does not prove to me this is all folly..."  She sobbed hard.  "Oh, Imogene, I cannot persevere!  I must lie down before I faint dead away!"

     
Numb with shock, and ready to faint herself, Imogene took her mother's arm and walked her back to the house, where the both of them reclined in the morning room—her mother, aloud with weeping, and Imogene silent with uncertainty.  Mr. Cartwright joined them upon hearing his wife's distress, and went into all manners of ranting and scolding over the as-yet-absent Mr. Campbell.  A mere hour later, the man himself was announced by the servant, and came into the room.  His head barely rose enough to address the room with his eyes.  Mrs. Cartwright began an outpour of insults, but Mr. Cartwright quickly bid her silent, warranting Mr. Campbell the favor of speaking first.

     
Mr. Campbell was speechless at first, once or twice glancing toward Imogene.  "There is not much to be said in my defense," he began quietly.  "I was a perfect rogue at twenty years, undisciplined, indiscreet, an absolute villain.  My uneducated principles led me to...to act on an impulse of emotion I felt for a young lady I met at my uncle's hunting party.  I had never seen her since then, and so had no...hint that...that anything had come of it."  He blinked hard to hold back his tears.  "I am more ashamed than I can express.  My only remedy is to accept my duty.  I cannot in good conscience marry you, Ms. Cartwright, and disgrace you and your family.  I am accepting my paternal responsibility of Clarice, and so her dowry will be from my wealth.  And...I am to marry her mother, Ms. Caroline Guthry."  He exhaled deeply.  "If nothing else, I hope that this news will grant you greater happiness in young Mr. Cartwright's engagement to Clarice, now knowing that he will be marrying a gentleman's daughter."

     
While the great shock and discomfort of the situation brought tears to Imogene's eyes, she rose and embraced Mr. Campbell.  "You are my cousin once more.  And will, I hope, always be my friend."  He grasped her hand tight.  She flickered a smile.  "I am certain this will be for the best."  She removed her signet ring from her finger, but Mr. Campbell refused to take it.

     
"I want you to keep it," he said, "as a token of friendship."

     
Imogene nodded.  "I will, cousin."

     
Mr. Cartwright said, "I am admittedly disappointed in your past behavior, sir, and its effect on my daughter.  But as she has forgiven you, and you are assuming your duties like a gentleman, I will shake your hand."

     
Mrs. Cartwright only was able to sound out one syllable before Mr. Cartwright walked Mr. Campbell from the room, stirring up conversation.  Imogene was left to hear what her mother had to say.

     
"Such offense he has committed, and we are to forgive him?  Outrageous!"

     
"Consider, mother, that nothing can be done, other than what Mr. Campbell has decided.  There is nothing for us to do but accept.  Besides..."  She dried her eyes.  "Whatever he once was years ago, he is a better man now."  She left the room before her mother could say any more about it, ascending the stairs to her room. 

     
For a moment, she just leaned against the door and stared around the room.  She felt disconcerted, disconnected.  Just hours ago, she was engaged to be married, planning to leave her parents' house, and on her way to a life more her own than she had thus far.  She was progressing, changing.  Now, there she stood in her room, its familiarity seeping in, succumbing to the fact that it was be her room for awhile longer—for who knew how long.  As much as she had ever dreaded becoming a wife, she had, in spite of herself, been looking forward to it.  She was no longer going to be a lower member of a family, but the head of her own.  She was going to have her own house, her own family, and have a true sense of purpose for once in her life.  Now, all she had was a room in her father's house.

     
And yet, just the same, she knew that things turned out as they should.  However many good reasons she had for marrying Mr. Campbell, there were enough bad ones to make it all feel wrong.

     
Sitting at her vanity table, Imogene knew she was directly back where she started months ago—unmarried, with no change in sight.  There was nothing she could think to say or do, but to pick up her violin and play
Greensleeves
in the haunting style for which she was renowned.

     
The weather seemed aware of her need, because it continued clear and sunny for days.  In fact, it was so fine, that it gave her the compulsory whim to do nothing all day but journey across the countryside.  She had the cook prepare a small basket luncheon she could bring with, and set out across the wide-open fields of green, dotted with trees and bushes, set against a vast, bold blue sky.  Only an hour into her walk, she was able to smile—she finally felt the weight float off her shoulders.

     
Near midday, she reached a stream.  After eating her luncheon, she took off her shoes and stockings, and let her feet soak in the cool stream water while she read from her book.  All was perfect and blissful tranquility until, as she shifted her position, she knocked her shoe into the stream, and the current began whisking it away.  She immediately packed her other shoe, stockings, and book into the luncheon basket, and began running along the stream bank in pursuit of her runaway shoe.  She ran after it so long, that she began to feel fatigued.  With the only energy she had left, she leapt for her shoe, and in so doing, fell into the shallow stream. 

     
Lifting her head, Imogene saw, through the bleariness of the water in her face, her shoe escaping down the stream.  Feeling the current of the soft water through her bare toes, and wiping away the wet hair that clung to her face, she burst out laughing.  She tried to rise to pursue her shoe, but was laughing so severely, that she could not stand.  She sat in the stream, laughing with aching sides, incapable of any motion other than placing the luncheon basket safely on the shore.  As her sides began to feel truly sore, she cupped her hands over her face to try to calm herself.

     
"Are you alright?"

     
Looking up, her giggles subsiding, Imogene saw Mr. Archer guiding a horse, approaching to help her up out of the stream.

     
"I am fine, thank you," she said.  "I kicked my shoe into the water, and I was trying to catch it."

     
"This shoe?"  He held it out to her.

     
She smiled with a nod.  "Yes, thank you."  She then realized, "How far have I run?  Am I trespassing on your estate, sir?"

     
"No, you are yet a mile or so off.  I was merely out riding."  He gestured to his horse and said, "Allow me to escort you to a drier place, Ms. Cartwright."

     
"I would be grateful, sir.  I cannot enjoy my retreat half so well in such discomfort.  I suppose I must be homeward bound, in spite of my plans."

     
"Your home is over fives miles away.  I was offering my own hospitality, which is much nearer."  He paused.  "You walked out all this way on your own?  However satisfying it may have been, it was unwise."

     
Imogene scoffed, "Because it is brazen?"

     
"Because it is unsafe." 

     
With that, she accepted his help mounting the horse, and he guided it along to his estate.  There, the servants collected her wet clothes to dry near a fire, while Clarice loaned the one dress able to fit her friend to wear while her clothes dried.  The two girls sat in the parlor to a game of cards, with tarts and cakes provided.

     
"I had thought you would be at Mr. Campbell's estate," Imogene remarked.

     
"We did discuss it," Clarice said, "and decided that as I am soon to be married to Anthony, it would be rather ridiculous to move to Mr. Campbell's estate, for only a short time before living with Anthony."

     
"Am I to call you Ms. Campbell?"

     
She shook her head.  "We discussed that as well.  I owe too much to the Archer family to give up their name now."  She shook her head again.  "It is so strange...I am not quite used to it."

     
"I can imagine.  And for your father to be discovered when you will no longer need one."

     
"Exactly.  And I will miss Sebastian so much when he goes away to sea."

     
"He is decided on being a privateer, then?"

     
"Yes.  It will be difficult to see him go, but I know it is what he wants.  Although..."  She placed her cards on the table.  "There is one thing that I am very much looking forward to...though it also makes me very nervous.  Mr. Campbell is to marry my mother, and I am to meet her tomorrow.  I have never had any sort of mother before."

     
Imogene smiled.  "I am sure she feels the same about meeting you."

     
"I wonder..."  Her eyes began to fill with tears.  "She abandoned me all those years ago...I cannot help but wonder if she will dislike me."

     
Imogene held her friend's hand.  "She was young and alone and afraid.  She did not forsake you because she did not love you, she did so because she did not know what else to do.  I have no doubt that she will be thrilled to have her daughter in her life once again, just as you will be thrilled to have a mother."

     
Clarice dried her eyes and smiled.  "I hope you are right, Imogene."

     
A servant came to announce that Imogene's clothes were prepared.  Therefore, Imogene bid her friend farewell and changed into her dried clothes.  She was returned her luncheon basket, containing her stockings and both shoes, which she put back on before walking through the foyer.

     
"I shall summon a carriage for you," Mr. Archer offered.

     
"Thank you, sir, but that will not be necessary," Imogene insisted.  "I walked this way, and would like to walk back, as I intended."

     
"I cannot in good conscience allow you to walk over five miles unattended.  Only the other day, I have heard reports of highwaymen.  Seems the favorable weather is favorable for their work."

     
Imogene replied, "With such reasoning, sir, I suppose I cannot refuse."  While the servants were preparing the carriage, she felt she must say something on the subject of his imminent departure.  "You will be a privateer, then, sir?"

     
After only a moment of hesitation, he said, "No."

     
Imogene's heart leapt.  "Sir?"

     
He gestured to an empty adjoining room—a parlor—and said, "If I may, Ms. Cartwright."

     
She went ahead into the room, and upon entreaty, sat down.

     
He began, "My only reason for consenting to the idea was the thought of being useful.  However, recent circumstances have brought to light other courses for my life—one course in particular.  Ms. Imogene Cartwright, the only course I want to take, is to ask you to be my wife."

     
Taken aback, Imogene cupped her hands over her mouth as her face flushed.