Carola Dunn (7 page)

 They both succeeded in maintaining a front of friendly cordiality. Cecily wondered if he found it as much of a strain as she did.

 And constantly she wondered when Lord Avon was going to make his formal request for her hand.

 The arrival of a stream of new guests reminded her that the New Year’s ball was tomorrow. Quite likely Lord Avon would consider that a suitable time for a proposal of marriage.

 That evening she was unable to evade taking her turn at the spinet. Rebelling against complex sonatas and arias, she chose to play and sing a simple ballad to which she could do more justice—a Scots ballad.

 “‘The king sits in Dunfermline town,’“ she warbled,

 “‘Drinking the blood-red wine,

 “‘Oh where will I get a skilful skipper

 “‘To sail this ship of mine?’“

 By the time she had drowned Sir Patrick Spens “with the Scots lords at his feet,” she was in a thoroughly mournful mood. When the hearty applause died away, she launched into
Come you not from Newcastle?

 “‘Come you not there away?

 “‘Oh, saw you not my true love,

 “‘Riding on a bonny bay?’“

 As she sang, she avoided Mama’s eyes, for Mama did not approve of common ballads in company. She avoided Lord Avon’s eyes, for he was not her true love. She avoided....She could not stop herself. Her gaze was drawn to Iain like a weary bird to its nest.

 “‘Why should I not love my love?

 “‘Why should not my love love me?

 “‘Why should I not ride after him

 “‘Since love to all is free?’“

 Iain watched her, his face stony all but his eyes, where his heart lay vulnerable, exposed for any to see whose attention was not fixed on the fair performer.

 At his side, Elspeth whispered, “Lud, to think I thought her singing wooden!” She looked at him and frowned. “Iain?”

 He essayed a smile. “She sings well, does she not?”

 Elspeth glanced at Cecily, then back at her brother. “Oh, my poor dear! I had not guessed. No hope?”

 “She is titled and wealthy.” Softly as he spoke, his voice cracked. “And if she were not, how could I stoop to stealing Jasper’s bride?”     

Chapter 7

 “Lady Cecily, I had not meant to speak for a few days yet.” Lord Avon’s voice was husky. “But tonight you are so enchanting I cannot delay.”

 Cecily moved away from her suitor to one of the gallery’s tall windows. Outside a near full moon sparkled on frosty gardens and, shining through the panes, gleamed on the silver net overskirt of her white satin ball-gown. She shivered. The moment had come, and she had utterly lost sight of the resigned meekness she needed now.

 “Sir?” she quavered.

 “Cecily, you cannot be unaware of my intention. I own that I formed it in a spirit of dutiful compliance with my parents’ wishes, but in the past week I have come to believe I am lucky beyond my deserts to have chosen you. Will you do me the very great honour of becoming my wife?”

 Wife. If he had simply asked for her hand, she might have brought herself to say yes. If he had spoken the word “marriage,” it would not have made her flinch. But wife was so intimate a term! She could not be his wife.

 She could not bear it, and—in a flash the realization came to her—she would be cheating him. He did not deserve a wife who loved someone else.

 “I cannot!” she wailed. “I meant to say yes, truly I did. I would not for the world have let you imagine I intended to say yes if I had not.”

 “Dutiful compliance with your parents’ wishes?” he wryly echoed himself. Hands on her shoulders, he turned her so that the light from the wall sconces fell on her face. “But when it comes to the point, you find the idea so distasteful.... I had thought we might deal very well together. Do you dislike me so much? No.” He laid a finger on her lips. “I shall not press you for an answer.”

 “Indeed, sir, I don’t dislike you at all,” Cecily assured him. “I would gladly have done my duty, but then....” She faltered, but she owed him an explanation. “You see, quite unexpectedly I fell in love.”

 Lord Avon raised his eyebrows, his expression reflective. “I do see. Now who...? Good Lord! Forgive me if I dare hazard a guess. Is it Iain?”

 She nodded, with difficulty holding back a flood of tears.

 “Then you are quite right, we cannot marry. I find I have no desire whatever to be wed to my cousin’s beloved.” He paused. “Forgive me again, I suppose he does love you?”

 “I...I think so. He has not said.”

 “No, he wouldn’t, knowing of the understanding between us—between our families, perhaps I should say. I’ll tell him that is at an end.”

 “Th-thank you, but it won’t h-help! Mama and Papa will never let me marry a d-doctor.”

 “And Iain is too proud to press his suit so far above his rank and fortune,” Lord Avon said thoughtfully. “Now don’t cry, Cecily, I beg of you.” He pressed a handkerchief into her hand. “We must return to the ball room looking well pleased with each other if we are to baffle the gossipmongers.”

 “There is b-bound to be the horridest gossip anyway. Everyone believes we are practically b-betrothed.”

 He put on his haughtiest air. “You and I, my dear Lady Cecily, are of too exalted a station to care for the bibble-babble of the prattle-boxes.”

 Cecily produced a watery giggle, marred by a sniff. “I daresay it will not be half so bad if neither of us appears mortified, but I shall find it very hard to seem ch-cheerful.”

 “You shan’t, my dear, because you have my promise I shall find a way out of this maze. I shall make it impossible for Iain not to ask for your hand, and impossible for your father to refuse it.”

 “Only...only if he truly loves me.”

 “Oh, I believe you may count on that,” said Lord Avon dryly. “Now I come to think of it, it would explain why he has spent the past week looking as if half a dozen of his wealthiest patients just dropped dead. But, if you have no objection, I shall consult Cousin Elspeth. She’s bound to know what’s going on in her brother’s head.”

 “I do not mind. I like Elspeth very much. Lord Avon—”

 “Cousin Jasper.”

 “Not yet! Lord Avon, I am very sorry to have disappointed your expectations.”

 He took her hand and raised it to his lips. “My dear child, I am only sorry my admittedly somewhat cold-blooded approach to matrimony put you to such... inconvenience. I hope we shall be friends as well as cousins.”

 “Oh, yes!” Cecily had never in all the months of courtship liked him half so well.

 They returned to the ball room just in time for him to sweep her into a waltz. No one—including Iain—seeing Lady Cecily smiling up at Lord Avon could possibly have guessed that they had just come to an agreement to part.

 Later on, standing up with Iain for a country dance, Cecily tried to cheer him up, to let him see how her hopes had risen. Even had the figures of the dance allowed private conversation, she could not actually tell him what had happened lest it ruin Lord Avon’s plans. Though he smiled at her gaiety and inconsequential chatter, his eyes remained sombre.

 Perhaps he thought she had heartlessly resigned herself to her fate and resolved to renounce their love.

 No, he would not so misjudge her. He must imagine she was putting on a show to deceive the world, hiding her breaking heart as he endeavoured to do. If only she dared assure him that their future was secure!

 Not until Cecily retired to bed in the early hours of the New Year did doubts begin to creep in. She could not imagine how Lord Avon intended to carry out his promise.

 If he failed to bring Iain up to scratch, she would be utterly humiliated, and if Iain applied to her father for her hand and was refused, he would be utterly humiliated. Lord Avon could not hope to persuade both his cousin and her parents. He had set himself an impossible task, and her life was ruined forever.

* * * *

 Cecily woke late the next morning. She was dressing in her riding habit when Lady Flint came into her chamber and dismissed her maid.

 “Well, my love, you and Lord Avon were missing from the ball room for an age last night. Have you something to tell your mama?”

 “No, Mama. We were not gone so very long. We were just talking.” She kept her eyes on her reflection in the pier glass, and so saw as well as felt her cheeks grow pink.

 The blush reassured her mother. “No matter, child. I expect he will wait until just before the Twelfth Night masquerade. Most guests will leave the next day so he will not have to put up with a great to-do for days and days. Gentlemen abhor a fuss. Does he ride with you today?”

 “I believe not, Mama. He spoke of the New Year’s Day hunt.”

 “Oh yes, it is something special, I collect. Your papa went off hours ago. Do not ride too far, Cecy, after dancing all night. You must not overtire yourself.”

 “I shall not, Mama, and the sun is shining so there is no fear of a wetting.” She kissed her mother’s cheek, feeling horridly guilty for her deception.

 But if she revealed that Lord Avon no longer intended to make her his bride, she would be whisked away from Felversham before his plot reached fruition. After all, there was always a chance he might succeed.

 As Cecily’s doubts and fears came and went, her spirits rose and fell like a shuttlecock. Far from feeling tired, she was filled with a restless energy. She had company on her ride, for the bright sunshine and crisp air called forth several ladies and two or three non-hunting gentlemen. They turned towards the village, where some of the ladies wished to purchase ribbons to trim their Twelfth Night costumes or dominos.

 “What is your costume to be, Lady Cecilia?” someone asked.

 “I shall just wear a domino,” she said with regret. “Mama does not wish me to dress up.” Tactfully she did not add that Lady Flint considered masquerade costumes to be beneath the dignity of an earl’s daughter, smacking of the stage.

 The tiny haberdasher’s shop had scarce room enough for everyone. Cecily, not wishing to make any purchase, decided to go outside and wait with the gentlemen, but when she stepped out they were trotting off up the street. Unwilling to stand alone in the street, she was about to go back inside when she saw Iain come out of old Johno’s cottage a few doors down on the other side.

 “Dr Macfarlane!” she called impulsively.

 His face lit and he came towards her smiling. “Happy New Year, Lady Cecily.”

 “Happy New Year.” She was suddenly breathless. “How...how does Johno go on?”

 “Quite nicely, though whether it is due to exercise or the ginger and willow-bark tea I cannot tell. He puts down the improvement to a daily mug of cider.”

 Cecily laughed. “Mulled, in this weather, I trust.”

 “The weather may be responsible, come to that. Cold and dry is better than dampness for some rheumatic complaints. But you must be chilled, standing here.”

 “I just came out of the shop.” And his very presence warmed her. “In spite of the frosty air, the sunshine is delightful.”

 “Yes, on a day like this one notices the snowdrops and winter aconites and Christmas roses, not the leafless branches. On a day like this it’s almost possible to believe in the future.”

 How she wanted to tell him his cousin was working for their future! “You must never lose hope,” she said seriously.

  “That’s what I tell my patients. Come, I don’t want you to join their number. Go back inside—or ride home with me.”

 “A race? I know the lie of the land now, and Shadow’s ways.”

 “A race! Yes, why not?”

 They retrieved Shadow from the groom who was walking the ladies’ mounts, and Hippocrates from the church railings. As they rode down the lane towards the fir plantation, Cecily felt as if she had known Iain forever and could talk to him about anything in the world—except for a direct reference to their love and Lord Avon’s plans.

 She wanted him to know why she had been prepared to settle for a loveless marriage, to make sure he understood she was not influenced by his cousin’s rank and wealth, only by her parents’ wishes.

 She told him about the stillborn babies, about the little brothers and sisters who had died in infancy. “Only I survived,” she said, “so I have tried to make it up to Mama and Papa, to be just what they wanted me to be.”

 “A very paragon of all the virtues, and the graces too. Don’t tell me they are dissatisfied?”

 “Oh no! They are all that is loving, and I love them dearly as well. Mama has not even chided me for playing chess and billiards, and romping with the children on Christmas Day, and only a little for helping Ben Diver the day we arrived.”

 “Shocking sins indeed!”

 “She did not say a word when I sang those ballads instead of an aria, though she considers them ungenteel.”

 “They were deservedly popular with your audience. Your singing was admirable.” Softly he sang, “‘Why should I not love my love?’“

 Cecily glanced at him, but his gaze was fixed straight ahead.  “One cannot always live one’s life to please others,” she said, the broadest hint she dared give.

 “No, else I had not become a physician, but it must ever be an object to strive not to grieve one’s nearest and dearest.”

 Did he mean her, or himself? Was he saying she must marry Lord Avon so as not to grieve her parents? Or that he must renounce her so as not to grieve his cousin, his uncle, and his aunt? Either way or both, Cecily honoured him for the sentiment though she vehemently disagreed.

 Vehemently but silently. She was unaccustomed to argument, and no rebuttal came readily to her tongue.

 They turned in among the firs. In the shade the air struck cold and by wordless mutual consent they urged their mounts to a canter. A few minutes brought them back into the sun, where they drew rein on the edge of the wood.

 “A race to the stables?” Iain asked with a somewhat forced smile, his eyes shadowed by the brim of his hat. “Or rather, since it will not do to gallop into the yard, to where this track meets the carriage drive?”

 “Yes. Come on, Shadow!”

 Again they galloped neck and neck. Cecily urged Shadow on but failed to gain an inch. As they approached the crest of the hill, she asked herself why she was trying to outpace Hippocrates. Suppose Lord Avon’s plan failed and this was the last time she would ever be alone with Iain? To shorten it thus was sheer folly!