A Gentleman's Daughter: Her Choice (21 page)

Spending two days in the house, save going to church, did not do anything to improve Cecilia’s mood. Her father, Wil, and her uncle’s family were cheerful, but not falsely so, and only slightly more solicitous of her than usual, which buoyed her as she struggled to make sense of everything that had occurred with Mr. Thornhill. The questioning glances and whispered comments of her mother and Mrs. Hookham, however, counterbalanced any good effects she may have felt, as did the strained silence of the Hookham men. Mr. Allenby proved useful in keeping Miss Hookham occupied, when he was not staring puppy-eyed at Jane.

It was ‘Ret Cecilia turned to most, however, for he had an ability to hide his feelings so she could forget for a time anything had changed. Perhaps she would have relied more on Jane, had Cecilia not seen that to do so would take Jane away from the attentions of Mr. Allenby and Mr. Holden, both of whom vied for her time. The Partridges were busy with the Taylors, so they were absent, as was Wil on many occasions. Cecilia and ‘Ret, then, enjoyed many conversations together, entertained the party with their playing and singing, or reading aloud in their expressive voices. Cecilia still sometimes felt that fluttering feeling in his presence, for he was a most attractive and animated gentleman, but her moments of joy were always marred with the memory of Mr. Thornhill and how it was he she loved. She then would feel horribly guilty, knowing again she gave ‘Ret hope when she ought not, for what could she offer him when she loved another? Yet she should not love Mr. Thornhill, for the man she loved was a mirage.

‘Ret only made one mention of Mr. Thornhill during those sequestered days. He wanted to be sure Cecilia did not blame him for telling what was perhaps a false tale, though he had heard nothing to convince him Mr. Thornhill was anything but a low villain. Seeing Cecilia’s face drop when he mentioned Mr. Thornhill, however, he made his comments brief and was quickly reassured Cecilia did not hold him at fault for anything that had occurred, but rather was grateful to him for his unfaltering friendship. At this, Mr. Cateret’s heart expanded, as if it would burst out of his chest; he carried himself even more uprightly and wore his imagined responsibility to Cecilia as if Apollo himself had crowned him with a golden wreath of laurels. These illusory honors, however, only satisfied Mr. Cateret for a day or two before he began again to want some more tangible proof of Cecilia’s love and regard.

He battled with himself again over her, for it might pain her if he now pressed his suit, but he felt he must, for he was nothing if not an ardent lover. Besides, young Mr. Hookham might well make an offer and he was more likely to be in favor with Mrs. Wilcox, at least. There was no chance of an elopement now, but marry her he must, or else suffer the continued torment of life without his bella Cecilia.

At least he had Miss Felicity on his side. Though they may have seemed to be flirting, and they often were, they, or rather Mr. Cateret, also spent much of their conversations speaking of Cecilia. The morning before the Hookhams were to leave, they sat together on the sofa in the drawing room by the pianoforte, where Cecilia played a soft tune.

“Cecilia will marry,” Felicity said. “I had rather it were you. You will expand her, take her exciting places, help her not become a stodgy old woman.”

‘Ret chuckled at the image. His Cecilia would be forever youthful. “You will help me?”

“Certainly. But I ask that if you succeed you take me with you, for I find England exceedingly dull. I will be a good companion, I promise you.”

“An excellent idea. Cecilia will not be so lonely then, when I need to attend business and such. Can you contrive for me to speak with her alone?”

“Without a doubt.”

She patted his hand and rose with a wink. Fortunately, they had few others to contend with, for the Hookhams had joined Wil, the Partridges, and the Taylors for an outing on this clear day. Mr. Allenby chose to remain after discovering Miss Jane Wilcox would be absent from the party. He mooned about the room while the two Mrs. Wilcox talked and sewed.

“Mr. Allenby, would not a walk be invigorating?” Felicity said.

Allenby shrugged.

“My sister claims she has never met anyone with more knowledge of plants than you.”

His old friend’s smile circled his face. “She did?”

“Oh, yes. She said I should ask you to tell me of all the specimens in my uncle’s garden.” Felicity was a sly one. ‘Ret smiled.

“Anything for Miss Wilcox,” Allenby said.

“Perhaps Mr. Cateret and my cousin might join us?”

Mrs. Wilcox glanced up.

“Mrs. Wilcox, with your permission, may we tour the garden?”

“Of course, Mr. Allenby. I know we may trust you,” she said, giving ‘Ret a sour frown before smiling at his responsible friend.

Soon the four strolled around the garden, Felicity ably distracting Mr. Allenby. Mr. Cateret, at the first opportunity, pulled Cecilia behind the shrubbery into her favorite hiding spot of old. Cecilia let herself be led. She had not been herself since the day Mr. Thornhill’s true nature had been revealed.

“Bella, will you not let me speak? I have tried in vain to be only what you want, only your friend, but you must know we cannot go back to how it was before, not really.”

“I know,” Cecilia whispered, tears coursing down her paling cheeks. She covered her mouth. ‘Ret pulled her into his chest, wrapping his arms around her gently. They stood for a time, Cecilia crying, ‘Ret closing his eyes, holding her loosely; the moment was both sweet and sharp for him. Being so close to her, her softness and her delicate, heady scent was like ascending into the bright heavens while feeling her quiet sobbing against his chest went to his heart as if, with each tear, she smote him back into his private hell. He knew despair well, they were old friends and adversaries, much as he and ‘Mount were. Though they could find much bitter pleasure together, they could also pull him into the blackest depths. When her breathing calmed, ‘Ret opened his eyes and swallowed the knot in his throat.

“I am sorry for your pain. I feel it as if it were my own,” ‘Ret began when Cecilia glanced up at him, blinking as if awakening from a light sleep. “You are my angel, Cecilia. If you will but give me some word of hope, I will endeavor to be worthy of you.”

“I am not an angel. I am no better or worse than yourself.”

“You are an innocent,” ‘Ret said with a shake of his head and a frown. “You do not know all of me, nor would you wish to. Yet I must ask if you can overlook all this and love me still. For I love you, I am pulled into wretchedness without you. Let me come into your Garden of Eden, my Eve. I shall be your Adam and together we may create our own paradise. Say you will, bella, per favore,” he whispered, caressing her cheek.

“’Ret,” Cecilia sighed, “I am only myself and I do care for you, as you know, but I still love Mr. Thornhill. Surely you do not want a wife whose affections are divided,” Cecilia said, echoing what she knew to be true of Greyton.

“You will always care for me too. You have said it and I know you are not capricious. Half your heart’s affection will be enough if you are mine.”

Cecilia shivered at these words, words she had heard before from Mr. Mainmount. All ‘Ret’s similarities to his friend and all the reasons she had for refusing them both flooded her mind; she closed her eyes when fresh tears welled. Opening her eyes to look at ‘Ret, she was lost again in him, his expression captivated her, it would be so easy to give in, to give herself over to him. At least he would be happy, even if she was not.

“You will have to speak to my papa,” Cecilia replied, exhaling as she spoke.

“Of course.” ‘Ret beamed at her while she glanced at him, abashed. “You make me the happiest of men,” he said, kissing her hand, leading her out from their secret spot.

Again she gave an involuntary shiver at his choice of words, which were so like his friend’s. Still, she let herself be led away, though with each step her limbs ached, her ears ringing with the weight of her invisible burden.

They found Mr. Wilcox in his study alone, where he put aside his papers to speak with Mr. Cateret. Pleading his case, ‘Ret was heartfelt and persuasive, at least for Cecilia, who was moved by his words. Mr. Wilcox, however much he liked Mr. Cateret and believed he was sincere, would not consent to any of ‘Ret’s proposals. Not only did Mr. Wilcox adamantly refuse to let them marry directly so Cecilia might accompany Mr. Cateret abroad, but her father also insisted his daughter would not become engaged to anyone in the near future.

“You must see she has been through too much turmoil of late,” Mr. Wilcox replied to Mr. Cateret’s final entreaty. “I realize we have known you much longer than Mr. Thornhill, but my reasons still stand. She is young, she has been confused of late, and now she has suffered a painful disappointment. Also, I cannot help but recall your part in all this. Though I do not blame you, but myself. I believe it would be best for you to continue with your own plans and when you return, if you still wish to marry, I will consider your proposal again. My daughter needs time, Cateret. I ask you to give her that.”

“I thank you, sir, for hearing me out and for giving me some small hope I might one day have what I desire most in this world. I feel it would be best for me to leave now. I will return to London until I am to travel to the continent,” ‘Ret said, running a trembling hand through his black curls. “How long must I be gone, sir?”

“I should think six months, or longer if you wish, will be sufficient. I would not want you to cut short your travels. I know you have been waiting to make this journey for some time.”

“Yes, though now it does not seem so important. I thank you, as ever, for your hospitality and wish you all well,” ‘Ret finished, bowing to them both.

Cecilia, realizing he truly meant to go, gave a pained intake of her breath; for all she was uncomfortable with him as a suitor, she would miss his presence, which had begun to bring her back to herself. When he noticed her distress, ‘Ret rushed to her side and grasped her hand.

“You do not wish me to go?” he asked, his hopeful eyes searching hers.

“Daughter, do you not think it is for the best? It will be hurtful for you both, I am sure, if Mr. Cateret were to stay under the present circumstances.”

“I suppose you are correct, Papa.” Cecilia said, her arms now hanging at her sides. “I was thinking only of myself, I confess, for his presence during these last few days has been such a help to me. But it would not be right to ask him to stay now. I am sorry,” Cecilia whispered. “May I go upstairs, Papa?” she asked, looking at Mr. Wilcox, who nodded. “Goodbye, Mr. Cateret. I wish you a safe journey.”

Before ‘Ret could reply, Cecilia hurried from the room, leaving the two men in an uncomfortable silence.

“You are always welcome here, Cateret,” Mr. Wilcox asserted after Cecilia shut the door.

“Thank you, sir. If you would not mind, perhaps I will stay for now. At least then she might have some ease.”

“I am sure she will appreciate that, sir. However, are you certain you can refrain from any repetition of your earlier sentiments? For I believe it has been as her friend you have helped her.”

“For her sake, I will.” With that, Mr. Cateret took his leave.

Chapter Twenty-One

“
T
hank you for staying,” Cecilia said as she and ‘Ret sat after singing a duet that evening. It was her first opportunity to speak with him since she left her father’s study earlier in the day.

“I would do anything for you, dearest,” ‘Ret whispered.

Cecilia could not meet his intent gaze. Her eyes roved the room. Her mother watched her from her position on the opposite sofa, Mrs. Hookham beside her, frowning. Wil, the Hookham men, and Miss Hookham played whist. Mr. Allenby dined at the parsonage and had not yet returned. Felicity had not shown herself before leaving, probably afraid, rightly so, Cecilia would scold her for her interference.

“No more, please, you promised,” Cecilia said. Maybe someday she could love him enough to marry him, but her papa was right, it was too soon.

He leaned back, lounging against the armrest in a careless attitude. “Will you to London again for Miss Higham’s wedding?”

“We leave in two weeks’ time.”

“I shall irritate your mother by remaining here and journeying with you. Soon, Landsdown will be cleared for its new owner.”

“Do you know him?” Cecilia studied him, trying to discover what his secrets were.

“It is a secret,” ‘Ret said with a merry twinkle in his eyes.

“You may tell me.”

“No, for I have promised my silence.”

“And you are a man of your word.” Cecilia brushed her hand over her throat. She had said the same to Mr. Thornhill.

“Yes,” he said, “and tomorrow eve I shall scandalize the neighborhood by claiming at least four dances with you. We shall set all the gossiping tongues to wagging.”

“Now, we must be considerate of my uncle’s new position. It would not do,” Cecilia said. She stifled a giggle. “Besides, what of Miss Felicity and all the other young ladies? They will all be cross with me if I keep you to myself.”

“We cannot have that, I suppose. It is my duty to keep the ladies happy,” ‘Ret said with a spark in his eye.

“Indeed,” she said. She had seen proof of this; he may sound joking, but such a statement had its element of truth.

Cecilia’s thought was borne out at the ball next eve. As he had been at Lord Nefton’s dance in London, ‘Ret was a flirt, though there were not so many young ladies here. Miss Taylor, Miss Hookham, the Misses Neville, even young Mrs. Fordham, all claimed a share of his concerted attention, when he was not laughing with Felicity and Jane or dancing with Cecilia. Miss Jenner had returned to Whitchurch. Mr. Thornhill had sent his own carriage for her, she heard from Mrs. Fordham. A stab of pain shot through her when she learned this, but she soon found distraction enough.

She still found it thrilling to go through a set with ‘Ret, or take a turn about the room on his arm, but as the evening wore on, she could not help but compare this feeling to those she had when at a ball with Mr. Thornhill. No, he provided no giddy glow, but instead she had felt a secure, deep radiance when Greyton attended her; the two men both inspired love and admiration, but of a very different kind. As Cecilia sat out a dance with Felicity, partners being scarce, she watched ‘Ret. He was sparkling and ever moving, like the little stream in their wood, going where fancy called, easily diverted and just as simply stopped in a dry spell or overwhelmed in a flood. Not Mr. Thornhill. He was like the river which flowed past Lionel Hall: sure, strong, ever true to course, with hidden depths, diverted or flooded, perhaps, but not without great force, for the river itself has a power all its own.

“Cecilia,” Felicity cajoled, breaking into her reverie. “I have been asking if you would like to take a turn about the room, but you are not attending.”

“I am sorry. I was spinning another of my fancies.” Cecilia laughed as she rose to join her cousin. Putting such thoughts from her, she enjoyed the rest of the evening, though the images trickled through her mind, like a small spring which bubbles up unexpectedly.

Cecilia felt almost like herself next morning. To be sure, she had at first been annoyed with ‘Ret for his behavior, but then she realized he was as he was and he meant no harm by it, nor did she have any call to censure his conduct when she had no claim on him. Yet he claimed to love her and she could not really understand how he could act as he did even then; Greyton never had. Though perhaps he had hidden his indiscretions better.

Then she remembered how she herself had flirted after she had professed her love for Greyton. Perhaps she and ‘Ret were more alike than she cared to acknowledge. Excepting she had been trying to make Greyton jealous, she did not believe that was ‘Ret’s aim, or maybe it was, though he was unsuccessful. “Enough!” she admonished herself, for she felt herself losing control of her feelings and thoughts as she had so many times in London. She must stop comparing the two men, for Cecilia believed Greyton was lost to her, or the Greyton she had loved had never been. She need only think of ‘Ret and whether or not she could marry him based on his own merits, not how he measured up to her imagined Greyton.

‘Ret did have many good qualities, after all, and she did care for him very much; he was her first love. Yet she was curiously relieved when the other young people, accompanied by the elder Hookhams, who had decided to extend their stay, and Mrs. Wilcox, arranged to travel over to Mr. Allenby’s home for the day, also so ‘Ret could make a final farewell to Landsdown and his neighbors there. Of course, they all urged her to come but Cecilia begged off, claiming to be tired from the late hours they kept the night before. Her father, hearing this, urged her to stay home and thus it was settled. Cecilia spent a quiet morning with her father, the rustling of his paper and the crackling of the fire soothing her hectic mind.

As the two sat in the library, their tranquility was broken upon the announcement of Captain Wilcox and his wife, Louisa. There were many gladsome greetings and questions for the new arrivals, who settled into the sofa, ready for a visit. After an inquiry about the other guests, a heavy silence fell over the room, at which Captain Wilcox and his wife exchanged puzzled glances. Captain Wilcox repeated his inquiry, asking specifically as to how his friend Mr. Thornhill fared. Mr. Wilcox cleared his throat and rose from his seat, asking his brother to join him in his study, as he had much to tell him as well as ask him. Captain Wilcox also stood and, with a quick half smile at his wife, followed his brother out.

“Well, my dear, can you tell me what has happened? We had hoped to see our friend, as well as my nieces and nephew. I had not expected to find everyone out,” her aunt Louisa stated. She was also Mr. Allenby’s aunt, for his mother was her sister; the Allenbys and Wilcoxes had struck up a friendship some thirteen years before when George Allenby was sent to Reverend Joseph Wilcox as a pupil.

“Mr. Allenby has taken the party to Reddington for the day and Mr. Thornhill left some six days ago,” Cecilia said. She edged herself between the sofa back and the armrest to steady herself.

“Left? Is he unwell? What has happened?” Aunt Louisa asked, her brow lined with worry.

Cecilia swallowed back her tears and told her the whole tale. Her aunt Louisa appeared shocked by this news and turned to Cecilia, clasping her hands.

“I cannot believe it of him. No, the Mr. Thornhill I know would not behave so. There must be a mistake.”

“How? I read Mrs. Brown’s letter. ‘Ret would not lie about such a matter.”

“Yet all who know Mr. Thornhill best believe it is false.” Aunt Louisa kept her warm brown eyes steady on Cecilia.

She blinked, grasping for some reason in the fog of troubles. “Not young Mr. Hookham.”

“Perhaps he has his own prejudices. James will discover the truth. He has a letter for Mr. Thornhill from his brother.”

“Gregory?” Cecilia asked. Her aunt nodded. “Where is he?”

“Somewhere on the continent, I imagine. He was on your uncle’s vessel in January and disembarked in France. Perhaps Mr. Thornhill will return to explain, maybe he was…I do not understand it.”

“It was Mr. Thornhill’s choice to leave, Aunt. I do not believe he will change his mind. If he were innocent of wrongdoing, he would have said as much. He asked me to trust him with no reason why. He admitted he had offered for Miss Benson.” Cecilia rubbed her hands on her thighs and breathed deeply.

“Niece,” her aunt said, touching her back as Cecilia bent forward.

Her ears rushed and her head lightened, not in any pleasant way.

“Daughter?” Mr. Wilcox said. He laid a hand on her shoulder and she glanced up at him.

She scrunched herself into the sofa back and forced her breathing to calm. “I am well.”

“I have been sorry to hear my brother’s tale,” Uncle James said. “I wish we had not delayed our journey. Perhaps had we been here, this could have been prevented. However, I intend to do my best to right things. I am sure there is some explanation. I will visit Mr. Thornhill on the morrow and see if he will return with me. That is, Cecilia, if you would wish to see him.”

“Yes,” Cecilia said. She hugged her arms to herself.

“Perhaps, James,” Mr. Wilcox said to his younger brother, “we ought keep your visit to Mr. Thornhill among ourselves.”

“Of course.”

Cecilia grasped her father’s implication and her brief glimmer was dimmed, both because she was unsure of Mr. Thornhill’s return, whether she could trust him again, and for her having given hope to Mr. Cateret in his suit. She was glad the others would not return until after dinner; Cecilia spent a pleasant evening with her father, aunt, and uncle listening to their talk, much as she had when they had all been together last. She had almost forgotten her own troubles when she saw the hour and hastily excused herself to bed before Mr. Cateret and the others returned.

The following morning, Mrs. Wilcox went to rouse Cecilia from her bed. It was after ten o’clock, and though this was the fashionable hour for breakfast, Mrs. Wilcox and her family kept much earlier hours at home. Mrs. Wilcox appeared shocked to find her daughter still abed, for Cecilia almost never missed her early morning walk. This morning, however, Cecilia claimed her stomach cramped and she did look pale.

“Very well,” Mrs. Wilcox said. “I will have a tray sent up”

Cecilia had known her mother would agree. Mrs. Wilcox, while she probably wanted Cecilia to spend time with young Mr. Hookham, had surely noticed it was ‘Ret who occupied her days. Her mother would never want him for a son.

Though she had several more visitors, Cecilia spent the day in her room, reading and chatting with Jane, Felicity, or her aunts, all of whom came in their turn to sit with her. Cecilia was gladdened to hear of Jane’s pleasure in the attentions of Mr. Holden and Mr. Allenby, and she laughed over Felicity’s tales of their outing. Her aunt Louisa, the last to visit, told her the surprising news, which her uncle had revealed to everyone at breakfast: Captain Wilcox had purchased Landsdown and they would take up residence there by the end of the month. Cecilia and her aunt were as giddy as two girls, for both were joyous to be near their family. Cecilia felt her concerns melt away, for it was a balm to have her Wilcox aunts, uncles and cousins so near, hopefully for a long time. Louisa urged her niece to join them for dinner, if she felt well enough. Captain Wilcox would surely return within the hour and Cecilia must want to be downstairs, for it was likely he would not be alone. Cecilia quickly readied herself and went downstairs, glowing with her aunt’s optimistic view of the situation.

Cecilia’s smile was not long-lived. It passed away when she came downstairs, only to be greeted by her father and uncle waiting outside Mr. Wilcox’s study. She still had some hope as they led her within and shut the door, but this too died upon seeing the frowns which faced her.

“I am sorry, Cecilia,” Captain Wilcox began. “He was most intractable and insisted he will not return, now or at any time. He wishes you to be happy, which he believes will not be possible with himself. Though I tried to assure him you would like to see him, as we all would, he refused to ask for your forgiveness when he could not forgive himself. He only asked me to again extend his apologies and good wishes to you and your family.”

“He said nothing else?” Cecilia asked in a small voice.

Uncle James glanced at her father, who motioned him to continue. “He said he must marry Miss Benson. Something is amiss, for he tore open the letter from his brother as if it was a pardon, then crumpled it and threw it in the fire after reading it. I have no proof, and he would not tell me, but I suspect it was Gregory who seduced Miss Benson.”

“Then why would Mr. Thornhill not say so? Why would he implicate himself…he could tell those he trusted, if only to give them peace.”

“I believe you know the answer. He is a man of his word.”

“No,” Cecilia said. She paced a moment before freezing where she stopped. “He said all would be as I wished. He said I would be his wife.”

She glanced between her father and uncle, who could offer nothing. Smoothing her dress, she swallowed. She was a Wilcox, a gentleman’s daughter. Mr. Thornhill had his duty and she hers.

She hooked an elbow under each man’s arm. Whatever Mr. Thornhill chose to do, or had done, she knew how she must act.