The Meridian Gamble (26 page)

“I like it very much. We are quite
fortunate to have such beautiful scenery in our home. I try to enjoy this
seclusion as often as I can.”

“And what do you do when you’re
here?”

“Oh. Well, I read. Or practice my
drawing lessons.”

“And is that it? Just drawing and
reading? Or is there something … more?”

“Well, I … I sit and reflect.”

“And what exactly do you reflect
on?”

His question startles me, because I
feel that he has somehow read my mind. I never speak of it, the thoughts that
run through my head are private ones, yet with his probing, I realize I do more
than just reflect. I use this place to ponder my existence, and the way in
which I fit into the strange world around me. Or more specifically, to try to
understand why I feel I don’t fit in at all. And I daydream about Saga, and the
foolish stories that I write. Somehow, in the garden, surrounded by nature, her
story appears to me so vividly I feel that I am there, within her world. And
after experiencing my visions, I quickly race back to my room to scribble them
down.

But I can hardly tell him all of
that. So I try to bat his questions away.

“I … I don’t know. I suppose I
reflect on whatever silly thoughts there are that run through a young girl’s
mind.”

“Well, I doubt very much that your
thoughts are silly. And I would very much like to know what it is you are
pondering that requires such secrecy,” he says, with a smile. “But maybe in
time you’ll tell me, if I am lucky.”

His inquisitive nature antagonizes
me, and I almost feel that he is toying with me. I stop in my tracks and face
him, before I can even consider the repercussions of my actions. Because I just
can’t take it anymore. It is the willful part of me that my parents complain
of, which I normally try to repress. And I know I am doing exactly what they
would not want, which is to offend Roland.

“Why are you here?” I say. “Why
have you chosen me?”

“Ah, so now we’re being direct?” he
says. “Is it such a shock to you that I would ask for your hand in marriage?”

“Of course, it is.”

“Well, why? You are a very
beautiful young woman. Do you not realize that men covet your beauty?”

“It is not me they covet. It is my
sister, Marjorie.”

“Hardly,” he says, with a laugh.
“At least not the ones with taste. Their stomachs turn at the thought of having
such a petulant, selfish wife who will no doubt drive them to an early grave.
They hope some other fool takes her off your parents’ hands, so that one of the
more appealing Caldwell sisters will become available. But that will not be the
case for those sad souls, because there is at least one they most certainly
will not have.”

He smiles again, and I knit my
brow, becoming annoyed. I am surprised to discover that something about Roland
Bennett frustrates me.

“Now come, let us not talk about
Marjorie any further. She does not matter. Instead, let us get to know each
other better.”

We are near the gazebo, which
Roland walks toward. But I stand still, in frustration, and he turns back in
concern.

“You are not doing this right,” I
say, in defeat.

“Excuse me?”

“You are courting me. You are
supposed to be charming and sweet, and speak of pleasant things. You are not
doing this right at all.”

Roland stops and faces me.

“Is that what you would like?
Because I can be very charming. I can talk about the sky and the weather, and
how beautiful the flowers are for hours. I can say such wondrous things that
your head will spin about in circles, until you are in a state of confusion. If
that is what you want, I will be that person, you need only ask. But I do not
believe it. I refuse to believe you are a girl who cares for such silly things.
What I instead choose to think is that you are a young woman who would much
rather know me for exactly the man that I am.”

His words make me dizzy, I have
never heard anyone speak like this before, so bluntly. It takes me a moment to
recover, and I stand there in silence, trying to take it all in. But I am
struck by a realization; he is right. Roland’s strange lack of guile is
something I have hungered for.

And he stands there, looking
impossibly handsome, waiting for my reply.

“I tire of it,” I say, slowly. “Of
the artifice, the dresses and the parties. I tire of the hypocrisy, and
listening to people only say what they think others want to hear, and never
what they truly feel. But you are oddly direct, Mr. Bennett. And though it
takes some getting used to, I find it refreshing.”

He stares at me again with the
intense, blue eyes that seem to cut through me.

“And that, my dear Caroline, is why
I am taken with you. Because you are an exceptional individual who can see past
the lies people tell her, and decide what is truth for herself. You have
spirit. I could tell that from the moment we first met, and it is what
instantly charmed me,” Roland says.

I am not sure how he could know
such things from our brief encounter in the hallway. I was just a girl standing
in a nightgown. But Roland smiles at me, and I cannot help but to smile back.
And any concerns or doubts about him seem to magically drift away.

“So now will you join me for some
tea?”

“Yes, I most certainly will,” I
say.

And I take his hand.

We retire to the gazebo, a wrought
iron structure in the center of the garden that has blooming vines growing over
it. Mother has had our gardeners surround it with potted gardenias, and their
smell fills the air with a scent more beautiful than any of her expensive
perfumes. Roland pulls out a chair for me, and sits across the table.

Tea and cakes have already been set
here, and it makes me feel special, to have others cater to me. I feel like I
am royalty. And I take the liberty of pouring some for Roland and myself.

He does not add sugar to his tea,
and takes the tiniest of sips. And he stares at me expectantly.

“I’ve asked probing questions about
you, but perhaps I should be more of a gentleman, and allow you to ask
something of me.”

“I have quite a few questions,
actually. More than a single afternoon could contain, I’m afraid,” I say. “But
perhaps we can start with your family, the Bennetts. I must confess, I am not
familiar with them. Can you tell me something about them?”

“Of course. We have been abroad, in
Europe, mostly France and Germany, working on our interests there. Father is in
Denmark right now, building our railroad empire. But he asked me to return to
England, to re-establish our presence here. And we have made great progress.”

There is something odd about the
way he speaks. I feel almost that it sounds rehearsed. And it is the first
thing about Roland that rings false somehow, though I am not sure why.

“How fascinating, to have spent so
much time in far away places,” I say.

“To a degree. But I have missed
England. Clearly there are far more interesting things to be seen here.”

He means me with his innuendo, and
I feel my face go flush.

“And my father’s company. What is
your interest in it?”

“Railroads run on coal. It is how I
met your father. The merger of the two companies makes great sense. And if the
truth be told, it has come at a perfect time for him. His affairs have become
muddled, but I am quite certain we can help him get his business in order once
again in a short matter of time.”

Suddenly, my worst fears are
confirmed.

“Father’s business is … muddled?”

“Yes. He has borrowed money, to
secure the mining rights to certain properties, which do have great value. But
unfortunately, he has been taken advantage of by his creditors, who have made
him loans at unfair rates, quite possibly with the intention of taking control
of his endeavor. But upon our marriage, we will help him to pay them off. My
family’s enterprise has generated vast wealth, and we can ensure your father
has the ability to grow his business without fear of corruption. It is the
perfect union.”

By union, I suspect he means both
that of the companies and our own. And I ponder his words. Again, Roland has
shown his direct nature, but this time he has given me the knowledge that
everyone was trying to keep from me. That there is trouble with the family
business. Suddenly, I understand why Mother’s friends, Mrs. Lawlor and Mrs.
Edmington, have turned their backs on us. They feel that our fortunes have
changed, and no longer wish to associate with us. It is the reason that Gregory
Lawlor will not marry poor Marjorie, and has chosen Philippa Price-Pearce,
instead.

But what the Lawlors and Edmingtons
of the world don’t realize is that they have written us off too quickly. That
the power to change our fate now lies in my hands.

“Thank you for speaking to me with
such candor. I am grateful to you, more than you will ever realize. That alone
is a gift that has endeared you to me greatly.”

“It is my pleasure.”

“But I am afraid that there is
something else you are withholding from me, much in the same way you have
accused me of doing.”

“And what would that be?”

“You have asked me about myself,
but so far, I have learned nothing about you.”

“I would disagree. You have learned
that I am rude and arrogant, and perhaps an insufferable bore.”

“Insufferable, perhaps. But hardly
boring,” I say, with a smile. “But tell me, what are your hopes and dreams? Do
you care only for the world of business? Or do you have some other secret wish
you have never told another?”

He furrows his brow, and stares me
down, and I can see that he is truly considering my question. And finally,
after a moment, he speaks.

“I only wish for one thing. Which is
to find someone I can love, who will truly love me in return. Not just for one
lifetime, but forever. Anything else in this world is insignificant, and of
little matter. And I am hoping that person will be you, if you find this
marriage acceptable.”

Forever. That word comes up again,
as it did the other night, when he magically appeared in my room. And though I
am tempted to ask him about that, for some reason, it doesn’t seem necessary.
But I am curious that he would say he wishes to find someone to love for longer
than a lifetime, which doesn’t seem possible. It sounds like something from a
fairytale, and his words are confusing. Yet, they stir me.

“You say ‘if’ I find this marriage
acceptable, as though I have a choice in the matter,” I say, with a smile. “But
I am honor bound to comply with my parents’ wishes, I am afraid.”

“No, Caroline, you are not,” he
says, seriously. “I don’t want you to do this because of duty. I want you to do
it because it is something you want to do. And if you will not have me, I
suppose I will settle for one of your sisters, though preferably not Marjorie.
I will have to wait several years for the younger one. Somehow I suspect she
will be less discerning in her tastes.”

And my heart begins to race. It is
a fear amongst women my age, to be saddled with a marriage that is loveless, or
to a man who is hideous in appearance. And yet, here Roland sits before me, a
man of great handsomeness, professing the kind of love one would read about in
storybooks. Or that I might even write of. An intelligent man, who I can
quarrel with for hours. And I realize that on some level, he is exactly what I
have sought. And I wonder how it is that Fate has brought him to me, in such an
odd way.

I reach out and touch his hand. It
is warm, almost more than seems normal. And if Roland was not the perfect
picture of health, I would worry. But the heat coming from his skin feels
delicious.

“No sister of mine shall have you,
not so long as there are stairs for me to push them down,” I finally say.
“Because there is nothing I would like more in this world than to accept your
marriage proposal.”

A look of
relief spreads across Roland’s face, and we are both overcome with giddy
smiles. And with this choice I have made, I am quite certain I have finally set
my life on the course of adventure I have always dreamt of.

Later in the week, Madame LaForge
sends over a special delivery, along with her seamstress, to make sure that her
precious parcel fits. It has been decided that I am to wear the emerald dress
to the Admiral’s Ball, not Marjorie. And though I do not have my sister’s green
eyes to match the gown, perhaps it is for the best. As I stare at my reflection
in the mirror, I realize that the dress is more suited to my frame than hers.

Again, Mother and Cecily hover
around me, as we adjust my new frock. The woman from the dress shop fusses with
the hems, and she stares at me with a look of confusion. Oddly, the gown seems
to fit me perfectly, at the waist, the shoulders and even the length. It would
seem as though Fate herself has sewn it together, and decided irrevocably that
it should be mine.

“So odd. There is nothing for me to
do, even in the length,” the poor woman says, unsure of where to place her
pins.

“Take it up a half inch, just to be
sure,” Mother commands with authority.

And being of the lower class, the
seamstress does as she is told.

As the alterations are being made,
Marjorie comes into the room, with Madeline in tow. My heart sinks, as she
hovers around the periphery of our efforts. She seems distraught, and there is
a wild look in her eyes. And I can tell that it is like a knife in her side, to
see me wearing her precious dress.

But this time, she cannot hold her
tongue. The pressure inside of her bursts, and Marjorie speaks up.

“Mother, are you serious? Are you
really going to allow Caroline to wear my gown?”

“I am quite serious. You will wear
the creme gown that was meant for her, instead.”

“The cream gown?” she shrieks, in
dismay. “But what will everyone think? That I am the spinster sister who is
meant to be shipped off to a convent?”