Quiet Meg (16 page)

“I believe I will return soon to Berkshire, Mr. Cabot. The
consulting physician in Burley is close to retirement. It is
an opportunity.” He glanced at Meg, in a manner that indicated his consideration of other opportunities as well.

“Mr. Cabot has expressed an interest in further work in
the county himself,” Meg said sweetly. “He was much
taken with the prospect of Havingsham Hall from that high
point above our lake-you will remember, Walter.”

Walter. The interloper was looking at her too fondly.

“Perhaps Mr. Cabot, you would consider giving us your
opinion of Havingsham Hall,” Mr. Wembly proposed. “After all, if Walter settles ‘twould be a good time to make
some improvements.”

“I didn’t know you were ready to settle, Walter,” Bertie
said.

“Well, I..”-Walter glanced at Meg-“just recently
thought the notion was not to be dismissed.”

Did he, by God! Chas’ irritation conveyed itself to Incendio, who started to prance. Chas felt the first of the
sun’s rays upon his face and coat as though he were
touched by fire. He had no intention of sacrificing what he
might for the Walter Wemblys of the world.

His gaze sought Meg’s face, luminous in the fresh light.
She was teasing him about Havingsham Hall. The hint of a
smile drew his attention to her lips. He realized he had let
Sutcliffe’s claims influence him-that he had begun to
think of her as inviolable, untouched and untouchable. And
at once he knew he must kiss those teasing lips, before he
departed the earth.

“Your mare looks tired this morning,” he suggested
smoothly, his gaze hooded.

“Paloma?” she scoffed. “Paloma is never tired!”

Chas tilted his chin briefly toward the high ground off the
path, around the other side of the lake. He raised one eyebrow in silent challenge. She understood him immediately.
It was her weakness, a dare she could not resist. Had Chas
lived as confined a life he would have been equally susceptible. On her Paloma Meg believed herself invincible.

Chas drew Incendio into an eager, expectant circle, then
kneed him into a run. The mare’s hooves pounded right behind them. Chas was gambling-that the center of the park
would still be empty, or that he would find a suitable spot
that was. He, and not Paloma, would determine the finish
line.

Over the rise from the Wemblys and up and down another, between two giant chestnuts and shy of the lake’s far
end, Chas slowed and pulled up, just as Meg’s mare started
to pass them. The girl was indeed lightning in the saddle.

He called halt. As both horses blew steam and tossed
their heads, Chas brought Incendio to her offside.

“Miss Margaret Lawrence,” he charged. “You need not
peddle my services to the Wemblys.”

“Shouldn’t you like Havingsham Hall?” She smiled as
she patted Paloma’s neck; it delighted Chas to see her
smile. But he was resolved.

“‘Twould depend on what you forfeited for such an
honor.”

“Oh-if I were to attach Walter, as you proposed, you
might devise a park for Havingsham. On a triangular plan,
perhaps. That of an isosceles triangle? In time, Cabot’s
geometry might cover the countryside . . ” She was so
taken with her own cleverness she did not notice when he
moved Incendio closer behind her. In one deft movement
he relieved her of her reins, then plucked her bodily from
the saddle and pulled her with an iron arm across in front
of him. Her lips parted in a startled “0” before he swiftly
claimed them.

That she should yield to him with equal swiftness surprised him. Her mouth was so lushly welcoming that he did
not break the kiss as he’d intended, instead releasing both
horses to pull her up close in his arms, clear of the pommel. Incendio, who had been used to much, stayed blessedly still. But as the kiss deepened, as Chas was tempted to
more, as Meg’s hands inched up his chest, Chas knew he
had to stop.

He drew back, looking into the dazed dark depths of
her eyes, then reluctantly lowered her to the ground. Incendio had not moved. One of Meg’s hands rested against
the gelding’s black shoulder, as though for support.

“So much for your sauce,” Chas breathed. He wanted to
haul her right up to him again.

“You have … practiced that,” she said faintly.

“Never,” he assured her softly, the word unsteady. “‘Twas
entirely impulse. An impulse … I might hope to repeat?”
The entreaty in his own voice confounded him.

“You hope in vain, sir.” She attempted to order her hair.
He willed her to leave it be, the image of its dark length
down her back recurring in his mind.

“I thought so. Then I cannot regret my impulse, Miss
Lawrence. ‘Twill have to serve”

She searched his face for a second, as though to understand his resignation. Then her trembling fingers straightened
her hat and habit. She was shaken by this. She was charming.

He loved her.

Noting the others’ approach he brought Incendio closer,
to shield her.

“Her hoof,” he suggested quickly, “a stone .. ” And
Meg knelt to take up Paloma’s right front hoof.

“What has happened?” Bertie called, coming up, with
the Wemblys close behind.

“Miss Lawrence won the race, but her Paloma may have
drawn a stone.” Chas looked down at Meg. “I hope it is
nothing serious, Miss Lawrence?”

Her glance up at him was accusing and something elsewounded.

“Not serious at all,” she said, managing to wound him in
turn. To mask his confusion, he wheeled Incendio, and
started away.

“I must be off. Until later, Lawrence. Mr. Wembly.” He
nodded to Walter. The good doctor would claim Meg only over his dead body. And with that ironic thought he at last
felt his headache begin.

“Louisa-may I speak with you?”

Her sister looked up from her own dining table, which
was serving-only for that afternoon-as a repository of
every conceivable favor, prize, and decoration. Lucy’s ball,
just two days away, now consumed the Ferrell’s home as
well as Lady Billings’s, and seemed to require ballooning
space and undivided attention from every member of the
family. Meg had just left the company of Lucy and Aunt
Pru in the Ferrells’ drawing room, where they reviewed
some three hundred acceptances in anticipation of the need
for great quantities of soup.

As she closed the dining room door, Meg could still hear
Lucy’s excited voice upstairs. The resulting silence was a
relief.

Louisa pulled a chair out beside her.

“Come,” she said. “Help me decide between the blue
ribbons and the green.” She tapped two seemingly identical
strips of fabric.

“Lucy will prefer the blue,” Meg said wearily, glancing
only briefly at the samples. She paced to the window instead of taking the proffered chair. “Blue for anything”

“I knew you would decide,” Louisa said, putting the ribbons aside, “and so you have just saved us half an hour’s
debate.”

Meg’s fingers caressed the edge of one of the drapes at
the front windows.

“Aunt Pru’s house has been scoured so thoroughly, and
everything so ordered and readied, it scarcely seems liv able.” Meg spoke to the window. “‘Tis like trying to reside
in a museum.”

Louisa laughed.

“Do not despair, Meg. All this will be over some time in
the wee hours of Friday morning-and then we may relax
and think freely again. Until Lucy’s wedding!”

Meg looked toward her.

“I am glad you can believe so, Louisa, given how much
you now have for which to prepare”

Louisa smiled slyly.

“I have promised Ferrell not to turn his library into a
nursery until August at the earliest. By then he hopes to
have been invited up north shooting”

Meg shook her head.

“He is as excited as you are. He will not desert you.”

“We shall see. I expect that he may occasionally seek relief by joining all of you at Selbourne this summer.”

Meg turned again to the window. She planned to tell her
father she wished to return to Selbourne as soon as possible
with Bertie-even as early as next week. The remainder of
the season held no further charms for her.

As her gaze focused on a man lounging against a lamppost on the street opposite, Meg abandoned the window.
She now assumed every stranger owed allegiance to Lord
Sutcliffe. She could not even think in privacy.

She turned to examine, on the dining room wall, a drawing she had rendered the year before, for Louisa’s wedding.
It showed a view of Selbourne from Cabot’s knoll.

“You shall have to make another for us, Meg. Now that
Mr. Cabot has rearranged things.”

Rearranged things! Indeed he had. Meg glanced to Louisa, who was observing her patiently, and wondered if
her astute sister had purposely introduced Cabot’s name.

“Louisa, how did you know-how did you know it was
to be Ferrell and not Walter Wembly?”

Louisa raised her eyebrows, as though the outcome of
that decision still vexed her.

“Because Ferrell told me so!”

“But you and Walter-you had an understanding-at
least, at the time it had been so settled. You must have believed yourself in love with Walter?”

“Well yes, Meg, at nineteen I did. As you say, it had been
settled for so many years that I think both of us believed it
a given. I had known Walter all my life-to continue to
spend the rest of it with him seemed comfortable and proper.
Would I have been happy with him?” Louisa shrugged. “Perhaps. But after meeting Ferrell I knew I could never be as
happy with Walter.”

“Why?”

“Well, because … because I share so much more with
Ferrell. Because I knew from the first that I could not bear
to be parted from him. Walter would be gone months at a
time and I never truly missed him; when Ferrell was away
a week I thought I should die.”

“But if you once believed yourself in love with Walter,
why shouldn’t you think that your love for Ferrell would
also pass with-with time, or yet another man?”

“Meg, you do sound so much like father sometimes, in
your quizzing!” Louisa again patted the chair next to her.
“Do come sit down so I do not feel I am in the dock”

Meg at last moved to the chair and sat down.

“Walter now talks as if-implies that he might fix his interest on me,” Meg said. “Should I believe him fickle?
Does it mean he never loved you? That love will only thrive
where it is returned?”

“This is not about Walter,” Louisa said firmly, her gaze
steady on Meg’s. “It is Cabot, isn’t it?” When Meg nodded,
Louisa smiled. “There is no mistaking it. ‘Tis apparent to
everyone. Even Lord Sutcliffe, unfortunately.”

Again Meg felt that chill-that Sutcliffe, whom she
cared nothing about, should have intruded so thoroughly
upon her life.

“He must not know.”

“Who?” Louisa asked. “Cabot? Of course he must
know! You must tell him ””

“I … Louisa … I must ask you-Did you kiss Walter?”

“Walter?” Louisa looked surprised. “Meg-have you
kissed Walter?”

“No, oh no. I meant, did you kiss Walter before you
kissed Ferrell?”

“Dearest sister, you would make me out a wanton. But
yes, I did. And now no doubt you wish to know whether
that is why I decided for Ferrell …” As Meg anxiously
watched her face she said, “My heart had already chosen
Ferrell, Meg. And when we kissed-I wanted more.”

It was very simply said. But Meg could not imagine anything more devastating than a kiss.

“Have you kissed Cabot, Meg?” Louisa asked softly.

Meg nodded as she looked down at her lap.

“And did you not find it pleasant? Would you not like to
kiss again?”

Pleasant? Meg’s face must have registered how shatteringly pleasant that kiss in the park had been.

“Why, Meg, you look stricken. I’d have thought Cabot …
Well, of course you’ve scarcely had opportunity … Perhaps
you might try again? It is, after all, just a kiss.” She placed a
solicitous hand over Meg’s tightly clasped fingers.

Just a kiss? Again? What had Cabot done to her?

“I think. . ” Meg managed hoarsely, “it is something I
had best not repeat until I am wed.”

Louisa’s brow instantly cleared.

“I think you need not trouble to kiss Walter.” She smiled.
“You must have Cabot”

“He will not offer.”

“Oh, I think he will. You must indicate your feelings.”

“I cannot-I do not want him to offer. He would challenge Sutcliffe.”

Louisa’s expression became thoughtful as she looked
down at the items on the table.

“He will not challenge Sutcliffe,” she said slowly.

“But you must remember Douglas! Louisa, you see what
this would mean. I cannot-I cannot have him. . “

Louisa’s arm came around her shoulders.

“Hush. Do you not see he has been careful not to challenge Sutcliffe? That he declined to do so the other night at
Vauxhall? Sutcliffe wanted a challenge! Cabot did not
oblige him.”

“Lord Sutcliffe will find some other way … some other
way to harm him. Oh, I see-I see from your face. I have
been slow. You think to assure me-when there is no assurance to be had. You mean that Sutcliffe will challenge Cabot.”

“Meg..

“I tell you I know that man. He has plagued me now for
years. He will not stop. I feel … I feel a trap closing. Every day it grows tighter. How he hates Cabot! You said
yourself that Sutcliffe can see how I feel. Yes, Louisa, and
you said `unfortunately’ so. It … it becomes intolerable.”
She rose from her seat and paced to the window.

“It is outside of enough-to have my own words thrown
back at me in such a manner, Meg. I really do believe you
were intended for the Bar. I cannot say it is pleasing to
know one is attended to so closely, if it means I reveal myself to be a fool.”

“You are the opposite of a fool, Louisa. But you still believe there is some goodness in Lord Sutcliffe, whereas I
know there is not “

“And here I have always thought I was so very
practical-and you so romantic,” Louisa said wryly. “You
must tell me, then, what you intend to do”