Fourteen

THE HOUSE WAS DARK when Edward arrived home. He was not expected until much later, and Hollings was embarrassed not to have the parlour ready and lit, but Edward waved him off, explaining his unexpectedly early departure from the ball in a curt word or two. He needed to think, and he could think as well in his room as in the parlour or front salon. “Some brandy for my room, if you please, Hollings,” he sighed, and slowly dragged his feet up the stairs to his chambers.

He undressed as if in a trance and donned his night clothes as he waited for his brandy. Before long he was sitting in his chair by the fire, glass of amber liquid in hand, poring over the events of the evening. The flames flickered merrily, unconcerned about Edward’s emotional woes, licking the wood logs and sending bright sparking embers into the surrounding air.

He should be happy. This he knew. He had taken his impossible ideal and thrown her into the fray of a crowded ballroom, surrounded by the sweet laughs and suggestive glances of a hundred real women. And, indeed, one bright bird of paradise in particular had captured his imagination. Lynnie seemed to be everything he had dreamed about in a woman. She was intelligent, witty, lively, with enough impertinence to keep him interested, and, though he could not see her face, most pleasing of figure. She should have extinguished once and for all the flame that had surrounded the mysterious figure of Miss Grant. But rather than withering at Lynnie’s dainty feet, Miss Grant’s ashes had reignited, and like the phoenix, been reborn, to soar to greater heights than ever before. Lynnie, whose sparkling personality had caused this exquisite confusion in Edward’s heart was none other than the phantasm herself, but real.

And he could not have her. She wished to meet him, to know him, to let him know her, but he could not have her. “Damnation,” Edward swore as he poured himself a second brandy. “Of all the people...”

The flames danced around the fireplace as the revellers that evening had danced around the ballroom, but nothing came together to make sense. He needed to know more, to understand what was keeping him from finding and courting the mysterious Lynnie Grant. She had asked to continue their precious correspondence, and Edward had agreed. It was all he could do to hope that her next missive might hold some answers to the questions that plagued him.

He stared longer into the fire, but the flames still refused to give him answers. If he had questions, he realized, he needed to ask them of the one person who could give the responses he needed. He moved to his bureau, found a piece of paper and reached for his pen. However, now the words would not come, nor did those teasing, taunting flames offer any inspiration. He began his missive, but scratched out the words as soon as he had written them. How could he say what plagued him without giving away his heart, or worse, without giving the lady cause to shun him forever? Every sentence he wrote seemed full either of accusation or of lovesickness. Neither would do. Equanimity seemed so foreign a state of mind as to be all but unachievable as he fought his paper and pen for the right words.

Surely, though, Miss Grant—Lynnie—would understand his mind. She was thoughtful and perceptive, wise even. She would read through his tormented sentences and awkward turns of phrase, would she not? Again and again, the pen scratched out words, and then crossed them out, until at long last, Edward found he had written the only letter he could.

Dear Lynnie,

Why?

E. G.

He enclosed the note in a second piece of paper and sealed it with red wax and walked down the stairs to his study, where he placed it on his table for Matthew to find and hopefully deliver. Only then, so late into the night, was he able to fall into a fitful sleep.

EDWARD AWOKE AT HIS normal time, feeling strangely rested after an uneasy night, and he arrived at breakfast ready for the day’s work, his mind settled, if not particularly light of mood. Matthew was already there, sipping his tea and reading the newspaper. Other than his usual “Good morning Mr. Gardiner,” he was quiet, without the usual comments he had about what he was reading. He’s a sensitive lad, Edward mused, and can surely tell that I am not in my usual spirits.

They finished their morning meal and were preparing for the short walk to the warehouse when the doorbell rang, and to Edward’s surprise, Frederick strode in.

“Fred, what in blazes are you doing here? You should be asleep for at least another six hours.”

Frederick stared at his friend. “I should ask what you are doing wide awake, my friend, and why you abandoned my mother’s ball. We have some matters to discuss, but...” he turned now, and saw Matthew standing against a wall, as if wishing for nothing more than to melt into the wallpaper. In his too-large jacket and ill-fitting trousers, the boy looked furtively around for a place to run, or preferably hide. Seeing he had no place to escape, he pulled his cap over his hair and cautiously met Frederick’s eyes.

“Edward, is this your young assistant? Can you believe we have never met? I know I do not visit your place of business as often as I might, but it’s been several months now, that you’ve had this lad in your employ, is it not? He must always have been busy elsewhere when I visited. Somehow, all the while he was helping Mother with the ball, our paths never crossed either.” Frederick turned to Matthew and held out his hand. “Frederick Dyson. You must be Matthew. I am very pleased to make your acquaintance.”

Matthew eyed the offered hand with suspicion, then tentatively accepted it and shook it. “Yes, I am Matthew. The pleasure is mine, Mr. Dyson,” he returned in a small voice, before shoving his hand into a pocket and scurrying off to find his coat.

Frederick peered at him as he dashed out of the room, his brow furrowed. “Odd, that...” he mumbled. “What a curious little fellow. I wonder what that’s all about.” Then he turned back to Edward. “So, man, what did you mean by running out of us last night? And what did you say to Lynnie? Damned fine lady, she seems. You took her off to talk, and came back all blue devilled, the two of you. I’ve never seen you abandon a lady before, Edward. She put on a fine show after you left, but I could see that she was upset. And Gwen... Miss Lancaster was so full of concern over her friend that she hardly spoke another word to me all night.”

Edward sighed. “Alright, Fred. A moment of your patience, if you please, and then I will offer you some weak sort of explanation. But first...” he went off to find Matthew and called to the lad to head over to the warehouse. “I will meet you there a bit later. Send for me if I am needed,” he cried to the boy’s retreating back.

“Come to the breakfast room, Fred,” he sighed again. “I believe the coffee is still hot and I don’t expect to see my parents for some hours. We can speak there in some privacy.”

The two men sat and sipped their hot bitter drinks and Edward began an abbreviated version of his story. “The long and the short of it, Fred, is that the lovely Lynnie and the mysterious Miss Grant are one and the same person. This should be the best of news, except that Lynnie cannot, or will not, see me. I asked to call upon her, and she refused me. I thought she liked me, both of her, but she says she may not accept callers. When we were standing out there on the balcony, all I wanted to do was kiss her, but instead I had to let her go. If she cannot accept callers and will not see me, I will not let myself put her in a compromising situation. I was upset and frustrated, and I let my bad mood get the better of me. I comported myself rather poorly. I am offering you my apology now. Please extend it to Miss Lancaster when you see her next, and beg her indulgence for me to offer it in person, should I be in her lovely company once again.”

Frederick’s face was a fascinating study of concern warring with amusement. At last his expression settled into a half smile as he sat back in his chair. “So, that is the story. Love found and lost in one short night. I am sorry, Edward.”

“Did she tell you she wishes to sever the relationship, such that it is? She hardly seemed to mind your attentions before we sat down to sup.”

“She said she wishes to keep up our correspondence, and I can only hope that we are able to find once again that friendship we had. But if I felt myself moved before I saw her in person, I feel so much more strongly now. If she wishes only friendship, I will accept that from her, but how will it break my heart when that heart wants so much more.” Edward looked away, out the window to the cold winter skies. “But tell me, what does your Miss Lancaster have to say about her friend? I need to learn all I can.”

Frederick smiled now, a true wide and elated smile. “I am off to her house immediately after I leave you, my friend. Despite her concern for Lynnie last night, she did accept my request to call upon her, and quite happily too, I believe. Whilst my goal is to woo her with my handsome figure and scintillating conversation, I might take a moment to ask after her friend for your sake.” He took another drink from his cup. “She is lovely, isn’t she, Edward?”

“Indeed she is, Fred. I should like to see her without her mask, but her manner is very pleasing.”

“Then perhaps I’ll see about an invitation for dinner soon chez Dyson. I will extend it to her friend Lynnie as well, if you like.”

Edward’s eyebrows rose on his forehead. “Yes, thank you. Those both sound like capital suggestions.”

“Well, then Edward, I’m off. But...” Frederick paused as he walked to the door, “I meant to ask about your young assistant. He looks so familiar. Have I seen him before?”

“Matt? No, I can’t imagine where, unless you have been loitering in my warehouses whilst I have been paying attention elsewhere. You must have glanced him whilst he assisted your mother, or perhaps he has been around your parts on his weekly Wednesday wanderings. I give him the day off to explore all that London has to offer. He works hard enough for me the other days of the week; I can offer him this one indulgence.”

“Yes, perhaps that is it. Anyway, I’m off to pay a call on my Gwen. Ta ta, Edward. I shall bring my invitation as soon as I may.” And Frederick swept off down the street, whistling a tune from the ball as he went.

The rest of the day dragged for Edward. There was little business to conduct that day, most of his clientele still recovering from the previous night’s balls, held in places more and less fashionable around the city. The social elite had spent their guineas on fine costumes the previous weeks, and were all fitted out for winter, but were yet to begin planning for the season and the new wardrobes that might entail. And so Edward sat at his desk, going over accounts and planning new inventories, and willing the numbers on the paper before him to coalesce into something that made sense.

Matthew, as usual, sat in his anteroom, adding the figures that Edward requested of him, but he too seemed particularly quiet and out of sorts. He was as polite as ever, and was just as quick to respond to a question or a quip, but offered no comments or spontaneous remarks. Edward could sense that the lad, too, was feeling a letdown after the Twelfth Night ball, even if his was the inactivity after the frenzy of the planning in which he had been so involved.

By mid-afternoon it was apparent that no more work was going to be concluded that day, and Edward sent Matthew home, leaving only his showrooms open under the competent eye of one of his employees. Edward himself needed some activity to exorcise his demons, and soon found himself on his horse, cantering towards Hyde Park. The cold air and clear blue skies were bracing, and the short three-mile jog through city streets helped to clear his mind somewhat. Having reached the park, he let his horse select the pace. Very few people were out in this chilly winter air, and the paths were clear. After an hour’s worth of exercise through the green space, Edward finally felt the physical exhaustion he needed to overcome his unsettled thoughts, and he then led his mount slowly back through the streets of London to the stalls behind his house on Gracechurch Street.

The next several days passed in an equally disquiet manner. Nothing happened to cause upset or anxiety, and yet nothing could settle Edward’s mind. He slept ill, ate too little at meals and too much between, and could find solace in none of his usual pastimes. The pianoforte in the salon rewarded his half-hearted efforts with only sour notes. His books could not hold his interest for more than a sentence or two at a time, and he could not find the concentration to play more than a very mediocre game of chess. His father grunted peevishly at his dour mood, and his mother asked again and again what troubled him, but was given no answer.

Matthew too remained out of sorts, although his chess skills seemed undiminished. He spent as little time as possible with the family, and although his exceptional manners never failed, he too gave Mrs. Gardiner cause to ask after his well-being. “Whatever is the matter, Matthew?” She demanded of him one evening when they had sat down to eat. “You look like a boy who just lost his best friend. Something is amiss, and I would like very much to help.”

“Thank you, ma’am, but there’s nothin’ to be done now, I’m sorry to say.”

“Nay, I don’t think there’s much to be done. Perhaps it is the cold of winter that is making me feel low. It’s not as cold as where I be from, but the city is grey and lonely. Perhaps I am missing my old home and people.” And there was nothing Mary Gardiner could say to counter that.

A note arrived from Frederick that evening as well, wishing to extend an invitation to dine, but only for the following week.

Mother is too exhausted after her grand éclat to entertain again for some days, but please join us on Monday next. Gwen and her mother will be in attendance, but I can tell you no more of your Lynnie Grant. Sorry, my friend.

Even the physical outlet of riding his horse to exhaustion was denied Edward, as snow now fell heavily on the city, making racing through the park dangerous to man and beast. Refusing to take solace in the bottom of a bottle of whisky, Edward resigned himself to a dismal and very long few days, and unfortunately, his expectations were met.