83 
Acceptance

Amanda walked away from the house in a somber mood.

The taxi ride through the dark streets of Mayfair was quiet . . . melancholy . . . depressing. The evening’s events slowly replayed themselves over in her mind, every word of every conversation now in retrospect tinged with new subtleties of meaning in light of what had transpired.

That ring must have cost two or three hundred pounds—more money than she had left to her name. No young woman who wanted to marry for money could do better than to marry into the family of Gifford Rutherford!

How could she have sunk so low, that it would come to this—a marriage proposal from Geoffrey Rutherford, her second cousin? It was not the way she imagined her life progressing.

Thoughts of the future unconsciously stimulated thoughts of the past. A brief fit of nostalgia swept through her. Her mother’s face, with a great smile upon it, rose in her mind’s eye.

At the thought of her mother a lump rose in Amanda’s throat. She wanted to cry.

What in the world had she done with her life!

She had just been proposed to. Shouldn’t she be happy? And by a wealthy young man who could give her everything any young woman could possibly want.

She was almost out of money, and now here was—

Her own words came back into her mind. I will think about it, Geoffrey.

Suddenly she realized what she had said. What could have come over her?

Think about it!

Think about marrying Geoffrey!

The very idea was positively disgusting!

By the time she arrived back at the Halifax house, Amanda had made up her mind what to do. And it was definitely not to marry Geoffrey.

The following morning she told Mrs. Thorndike that she would accept her kind offer to accompany her as lady’s companion.

“That is wonderful, dear!” exclaimed Mrs. Thorndike. Mrs. Halifax smiled at the development. She had been certain Amanda would come around.

The next day or two around the house were ones of great enthusiastic planning and preparation. Mrs. Thorndike was almost beside herself. Amanda, however, seemed noticeably subdued. A voyage to the Mediterranean did not excite her. Nothing excited her.

Almost the moment the decision was made, Amanda found herself thinking of Devonshire. And now as she recalled them, a certain quiet melancholic nostalgia drew itself around her thoughts.

As on the ride back from her birthday dinner, it made her want to cry, though she did not know why. Did she actually . . . miss the country?

The fits of nostalgia increased over the coming days. Perhaps she ought to go back for a visit to Heathersleigh before leaving. She really ought to see her mother one last time.

That same evening she told Mrs. Halifax that she would be leaving for a few days.

“Where are you going, dear?”

“I want to see my mother before I leave.”

Mrs. Halifax took in the information with inward frown.

“Do you think that is such a good idea, Amanda?” she said. “As things presently stand between you and your parents, it seems that such contact might be too painful for you.”

“I just think it is something I should do,” replied Amanda.

“I see,” nodded Mrs. Halifax. She did not like the idea. Parental involvement at this stage could prove dangerous to their plans. There must be no reconciliation, no creeping in of past fondnesses. The distance and alienation must be preserved.

But there appeared nothing she could do at present. She would just have to make sure nothing came of it, and that Amanda returned to them unscathed.