ON THE EVENING OF THE next day, Sir Richard sat in solitary state in the dining hall, looking into the shadowy room. He did not enjoy his port half so well alone, and wondered where Edward could have gone.
It was pleasant to think of Laura, awaiting him in the solar or drawing room every evening from now on. He was not fond of travel, and, as things stood nowadays, she would cling to home, needing the protection of her husband and his position to shield her from the dangers that threatened her sanity. Safe within the walls of Oakmont, she could draw to her heart’s content and take her daily walk in the pines. Perhaps he would walk with her for it would not do for Laura to be overtaken by melancholy alone upon the hill! She might have a friend such as Miss Woodruff calling on her. He recalled those moments when Laura held Mrs. Johnson’s babe and they doted upon it together, and raised his glass to the banners.
Behind him, Michael rolled his eyes ever so slightly. At least there were no ghostly visitations when his master was at home, but sometimes the baronet seemed as peculiar as Miss Morrison. For a moment Michael pictured the two married, as gossip predicted below stairs in every house in the district. He imagined their children, overgrown scrawny objects, inheriting all their parents’ worst features and taking some of the gloss off Michael’s status among his peers. Despite his fondness for Miss Morrison, he hoped that Sir Richard would choose the lovely Miss Evalina Woodruff.
Yet she seems the type who would be always ringing the bell, he thought.
Michael’s musings were interrupted as Sir Richard rose and thanked him kindly for his attendance, as he always did, so that Michael was filled with remorse for his disrespectful thoughts.
Passing through the gallery, Sir Richard met the captain, just returned.
“Edward, wherever have you been?” he asked.
“I called upon the Woodruffs and they asked me to dine with them.”
“You are in uniform—where is your gold lace?”
“I may not wear full uniform except on the most formal occasions, as you know, Cousin.”
“Miss Evalina would tell no tales. Was she much taken with your medals?”
Edward looked at him oddly. “Why think you of her first, Richard?”
“I think Miss Evalina would fancy a military man, as many ladies do.”
Edward laughed—he could not help himself. “Perhaps she was taken with something in my appearance,” he said.
“You are a handsome fellow! Now, I imagine a man who wanted to win the eldest Miss Woodruff must display his perfections in less worldly ways!”
The baronet moved towards the drawing-room door. “Wait a moment, Richard,” said Edward. “Do you think that I might want to marry Miss Woodruff?”
“Nay, Edward. Why do you make so much of everything that I say?”
“Richard, I am very much afraid you are thinking of Miss Evalina for yourself.”
“Miss Evalina!” said Sir Richard. “I never cared for her, nor she for me. Her parents may have pressed her into an alliance, but it is not in my nature to marry under those circumstances.”
“No—you are an excellent fellow.”
Sir Richard put his hand on his cousin’s shoulder and said, “I think you should know that I’ve made your sister an offer of marriage.”
“Laura?”
“Laura, of course.”
“And?”
“She asks for a little time, Cousin, but I believe this offer is more welcome than the first.”
Edward grasped his hand. “This is the perfect outcome for us all.”
Sir Richard wrinkled his nose in self-deprecation. “She’s not taken me yet, Edward.” He straightened and said, with touching formality, “If Laura does me the honour of becoming my wife, you have my solemn promise to place her health and happiness first, above all else, for the rest of our lives together.”
Edward could not but be grateful and expressed his feelings in the way best suited to him—he was not a sentimental man—yet the discovery that the troubling care of his beloved sister was likely to be placed in such careful hands, moved him almost to tears.
“I scarcely know how to thank you, Cousin, and most fervently hope for a happy outcome.”
Sir Richard clapped him on the shoulder and they moved into the drawing room.
Edward stood on the hearth, facing his relations. Laura was seated on the sofa by Sir Richard, while Elspeth leant back in her armchair.
“You seem very serious, Edward,” said Elspeth.
“You will understand when you hear what occupies my thoughts.”
They all stared at him. Elspeth flapped her dainty hands. “Well?”
“I have made an offer of marriage to Miss Evalina Woodruff and am happy to say that she has accepted me.”
There was a moment’s silence.
“Miss Evalina Woodruff?” asked Laura.
“Indeed yes. Why do you say Evalina in that emphatic fashion?”
Laura rose. “You took me by surprise, that is all. Let me congratulate you.” She kissed his cheek. “I wish you all the happiness in the world, dearest Edward.”
Elspeth, not to be outdone, stretched forward her hands to him and he came to her, took one of her outstretched hands and helped her to rise. She kissed him on both cheeks.
“That is wonderful, Edward. Forgive us our surprise. I believe a courtship was never conducted so secretly nor so swiftly!”
“Indeed, Elspeth, I went to Lewton Hall yesterday, with the intention only of enjoying Evalina’s company. However the chance arose …”
Edward was brought up short by a flash of purest excitement, on recalling the sight of Evalina in the woods, beautiful, beguiling Evalina, all but offering herself to him. He saw that his relations looked at him in silence. “The chance arose.”
“There is nothing like a naval man for speed of action!” exclaimed the baronet. “How I admire you for it!”
“I have learned that opportunities passed up may never come again.”
Sir Richard nodded. “This is splendid news, Edward.”
“I knew I could not presume upon the colonel’s approval.”
Elspeth fired up. “You—Captain Morrison—could not presume?” Edward dropped his cousin’s hand and turned, surprised at her sharp tone. She continued: “What are the Woodruffs to the Morrisons—the oldest family in the district? Colonel Woodruff dare not aspire higher than a Morrison for his daughter, surely?”
“My situation in life lends me eligibility, Elspeth, but it is not easy for a military man, such as the colonel, to give his favourite daughter in marriage to a man who is …”
“Monstrous, Edward!” Elspeth put her hands over her ears.
Laura touched Elspeth’s arm. “Do not be angry at such a moment as this. Let Edward explain himself.”
Elspeth uncovered her ears and sank into her armchair. “Do not imagine I will be demonstrating gratitude to a Woodruff,” she said.
Ignoring her, Edward said, “When one has given over one’s life to the protection of the realm, then duty to the King and to the realm becomes all in all. When I was in active service for his Majesty, I felt for those retired as unfit for naval life, not only pity but a certain contempt … no, that is too strong a word … one feels a certain disregard for them.”
“How cruel, Edward,” said Elspeth.
“We save our tender feelings for private reflection on those we love at home; on board ship our friendships must be more robust.”
Laura said, “Yet the colonel admires you.”
“For what I was in the past, perhaps. When I spoke to him this morning, I feared he would object, but he did not—I believe Evalina was there before me. I hope you are happy with my choice?”
“You have not known her long—what can you know of her character?”
His eyes lit up with a private pleasure. “From the first moment, there passed an understanding between us.”
“How romantic!” said Elspeth.
“Love at first sight!” said Sir Richard. He began to laugh. “What did you tell me on the very night before you met Miss Evalina?”
“I really don’t recall,” said Edward, with a flush on his cheeks.
“You said that there can be no such thing as love at first sight.”
“Did I? What a piece of arrogance on my part.”
Laura wondered if it were in relation to her that Edward had made that dismissive remark. And what a business Elspeth had made of how little she could understand Mr. Templeton’s character.
“Such objections do not apply to my brother,” said Elspeth.
She opened her fan and, over it, looked at them, each in turn. “I so want to see you all happy, my dears!”
“Do not forget yourself, in the promotion of marital bliss, Elspeth,” replied Laura.
“Myself?” cried Elspeth, as though referring to a person of whom she had never had a thought in her life.
“I shall be married in six weeks,” said Edward.
“So soon?”
“Some relations of Evalina’s set off for India in December, and Mrs. Woodruff is eager to bring the wedding forward.”
“India! What an adventure!” She shuddered. “Where will you live, Edward?” she asked.
“Evalina is much taken with the cottage.”
“Wintern Cottage?” asked Laura. It was Edward’s house, of course. Always she had known he may live there some day—had welcomed the thought.
“Yes, I believe you showed her a sketch of it.”
Had she been looking at the drawing as her possible new home even then, Laura wondered. Now she will be mistress there, not I—the dependent spinster.
“The principal rooms are very small,” said Elspeth. “How will you manage?”
“I have lived in quarters very much smaller, but Evalina must be properly accommodated, of course. I will add to the building—throw out a wing on the west side and lay out the grounds anew.”
“It will not be so much a cottage when you have finished with it, Edward,” said Laura, endeavouring to conceal a certain sadness.
“No, indeed.” He looked at Laura keenly. “You do not regret the loss of it, Laura? Since Aunt Morrison passed away, you have no use for it, I think.”
“No, indeed I would not.” Laura needed no reminder that, as an unmarried lady, she couldn’t reside anywhere respectably with only servants for company. Her eighteen-year-old sister-in-law would be considered an adequate chaperone—due to no more than marriage.
“Of course, you will be often with us.”
“Thank you.”
“Evalina has asked me particularly to tell you that there will be no changes to your own room without consultation.”
“Please thank her for her thoughtfulness.” Laura tried to fix a smile to her face. Already Evalina assumed the right to be generous about Laura’s own room, in which every article of decoration had been chosen for Laura’s own pleasure and purchased with her own money. All could be swept away, in a few words from Evalina.
Edward sensed that Laura tried to assume a look of unalloyed pleasure and suffered a pang of guilt. Overcome by passion, he had seized at happiness, with barely a thought for the future, let alone his sister’s predicament. What man would not—seeing that delectable creature saying, without words, I am yours.
Realising that she seemed to care only for herself, Laura gave Edward a look of wry affection. She knew something of the pain he had suffered; had wept over his fevered ravings, understood that he was not yet accepting of his disablement. To lose his affianced bride must be painful for any man, but to lose her in the way Edward did—cast aside as repulsive—was a blow from which he could scarcely be expected to recover. For how else could one see it? No one deserved happiness more than he. It was small wonder he seized at the chance when a lovely young girl fell in love with him.
Sir Richard was giving orders for a bottle of the best champagne to be brought up from the cellar. There must be jollity before Laura could creep away to her room.
The candle cast a small circle of light upon the page, upon Laura’s hand and the pen. Beyond it, her bedroom was all shadows, pressing in around her.
Saturday 27th September, 12 p.m.
How blind I was when Evalina prattled constantly about Edward when she sat for me. I thought her more engaged with the idea of his doings than with the man he is. She has scarce met him above five or six times. Does she even begin to comprehend his nature? Yet why should either of them care? Matrimony is a game of chance and they begin with joy.
Laura laid down the pen and thought for a moment, before beginning again.
I watch Richard now, even when I am hardly aware of it. Less and less do I see his defects as more and more I appreciate his strengths. How kind he is to Elspeth. He overlooks her shallow deceptions, while her cruelties slide off him, leaving only a momentary hurt. In the past I have joked privately that it is his tortoise-shell of foolishness that makes him so immune to her little darts. How superior I have been!
Through the window, Laura saw that there was no moon and the night lay upon the forest with impenetrable sombreness.
Perhaps I can be quietly content as Richard’s wife. He would remain much engrossed in the management of the estate, in fishing and attending to his parish duties.
What a feast awaits me in the library! And I might have any new book that I fancy. How rarely do I know the delight of cutting the pages myself and being the first to enjoy the fragrance of a new book!
I shall have the power to order the carriage and drive off on a whim. The prospect of being left to myself in the daytime has no fears for me—I have passed so much time these past several years in wearisome company.
Tomorrow I will accept Richard’s kind and generous offer and consent to be his wife.
No other path lay open to her; Laura knew herself fortunate in having that degree of choice. Still, she could not prevent a dark dull sorrow from settling in her. She picked up one of the pillows plumped for her comfort and hugged it to her, before throwing it back onto the bed. Outside the window, beyond the light of the candle, she could just make out the pine forest—a vague black murk. She peered up, seeking a star, but saw not a one.
Yet how I have craved the companionship of one who could make me laugh, of one whose own quick parts and delight in the oddity of others would ensure that he understands me and I him—even while we may ourselves be seen by others as oddities. Some wise man said, “What we eagerly wish for, we easily credit.” My craving for understanding and love was sufficient for me to conjure it from the ether. Yes, I conjured Mr. Templeton from the very air and, though I met him but in my imagination, the loss of him has brought me as much grief as if he truly lived.
Laura rose and walked into the shadows around her bed, where the white coverlet gleamed faintly below the looming oak bedhead. Again she drew comfort from the familiar feel of the white embroidered flowers, tracing the stems of its pattern of blooms, invisible in the shadows. Holding the white silk of the bed-curtain against her cheek, she let it slide across her skin. Her head against the twisted oak of the bedpost, she rested her face in the curtain. Pain rose up in her throat, a hard, unyielding tightness, a tearing, so that she opened her mouth in a silent scream. She silently wept, until the curtain was wet in her hands, until she lacked the strength to stand. She curled up on the bed, hugging her arms around her.