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TRUE TO MR. WYCLIFFE’S word, Lyvia and her mother called the following morning. After an opening conversation in which the events of the previous evening were relived and related, the girls went upstairs, leaving their mothers to a tête-à-tête of their own.
News of Lyvia’s engagement, of course, was at the top of their list of matters to discuss, and this took the better part of an hour to sort out and elaborate upon. Marisa scolded her friend once again for causing everyone such worry and accepted with good grace her contrite apology.
“So you are really engaged, then?” Marisa hugged Lyvia. “How soon shall I be able to refer to you as Mrs. Farrington?”
“Ages, I’m afraid. We can’t set a date yet but must wait to see when Richard will be released from his service in the army. At least April, I should say, possibly even May. Of course, you must be my bridesmaid, unless you’re married before then.”
“Of course, I shall attend you. I don’t expect to be anyone’s wife by April.”
“What of that, Mary?” Lyvia asked. “Will told us that he asked Sir Gerald for your hand, but that you’d refused him. I always thought that you and he would suit each other very well, and that you rather liked him.”
“It’s not that I don’t adore him; in fact, far from it. I’m just not at all sure that he cares in that way for me. The way he’s behaved...I can’t tell all, but his actions haven’t been what I would consider those of a man in love. It’s confusing, I know, but I couldn’t live if I thought for a moment he wasn’t truly happy.”
“I can’t tell you how much I hope you’ll change your mind and accept him. For most of our lives, we’ve been like sisters, and this way we would be sisters, truly. I believe you’re mistaken when you say Will doesn’t love you. You belong with him. Indeed, you match his intelligence and his wit. He’s been acting so strangely of late that there is no other explanation than that he is indeed in love with you.”
“Let’s talk of something else, please, dearest,” Marisa said. “Continuing with this is useless and pains me too much. Oh, did I tell you my mother’s great news? She is to have another child, can you imagine? After these ten years, I’m going to have another brother or sister. Isn’t that wonderful?”
“Another child...at her age?”
“I know. That’s exactly what Papa said when the doctor told us last night. I still don’t think he really believes it, even now.”
Gertie arrived a moment later to say that Mrs. Wycliffe was ready to take her leave. The two girls parted, promising to let each other know at once if anything further should develop.
The first note arrived an hour later. It was from Will, asking if he could call upon Marisa that afternoon as he had matters of the most urgent nature to discuss with her, and he was certain that she knew what matters those were. She paced the front hall, staring at the letter while the Wycliffe footman fidgeted, repeating that he had been instructed to wait however long necessary for an answer. Finally, Marisa went to the writing desk in the drawing room and penned a negative reply, handed it to the lad, and made her way upstairs to lie down in the hope of finding relief from the beginnings of a crushing headache.
* * * *
THE WYCLIFFE FOOTMAN returned with Marisa’s note and gave it to Will, who opened it at once and paced in agitation as he read it.
“Elvins!” Will bellowed as he refolded the letter and stuffed it angrily into his coat pocket, then bounded up the stairs. “Elvins! Oh, there you are. Pack my clothes and don’t be particular about it. I’m leaving London.”
“At this moment, sir?” His man looked more than a little surprised.
“Yes, dammit. Immediately!”
“Of course, sir. Am I to come with you, sir?”
“No. I can’t spare the time for you to gather your things, as well. You may return next week with the family or even before then, if you like.”
“Yes, sir. Is there a problem at the estate?”
“A problem in Dorset?” Will repeated, frowning. “No. The only problem, I’m afraid, is that I’ve been a damned fool.”
* * * *
MARISA WAS JUST WAKING up when Lyvia’s letter arrived. She yawned and stretched, grateful that her headache had quite disappeared. Being from her best friend, the missive could be anything from a party invitation to a request for a shopping expedition, so Marisa did not hurry. She rose and pulled the bell for Gertie, who helped her don a fresh gown then brush through her hair and pin it up again. Only then did Marisa finally break the seal with the ornate letter ‘L’ imprinted in the wax.
The words caused a mixture of shock and dismay. Lyvia wrote that Will was leaving. London, he claimed, held no more charms for him and indeed was now quite painful. He couldn’t wait even the week’s time until the rest of family would return to Havenhill.
Do reconsider and come at once. For Will packs as I write this. He is determined to be gone as soon as possible.
Reconsider Marisa did, though hardly quickly. For over an hour she paced her room, reading and re-reading first Will’s note and then Lyvia’s. She stared down at the traffic in Berkeley Square, debating one decision and then another, wiping away tears of frustration as she did so.
Whatever happens, I cannot let it end this way.
Her mind made up, she took a small leather-bound volume wrapped in a linen square out of the top drawer of the dresser, and tucked it into her reticule. She snatched up the first bonnet and travelling cloak she found and hurried downstairs, putting them on as she went and calling to Dudley to have the carriage brought around at once. This took some moments to accomplish, during which she paced in agitation, anxious to be on her way now that her decision was made.
She couldn’t allow Will to leave, and if he’d already done so, she would follow him all the way back to Dorset if she had to, until she apologized for her actions. She’d allowed her pride to come before common sense, something she’d vowed never to do, and now her wounded vanity might have cost her everything she wanted most out of life.
She climbed into the carriage and directed Sir Gerald’s driver, Perkins, to the Wycliffe address. They made their way by fits and starts, for traffic was especially heavy and cumbersome that day, but finally the horses pulled up in front of the wrought-iron gates and a groom hurried forward to steady the animals.
Marisa jumped out as soon as Perkins lowered the steps and went to the front door, where she rang the bell, twisting her reticule strings as she waited. Her bonnet was askew, but she didn’t even pause to straighten it as she hastened into the house as soon as Rivers opened the door.
Lyvia emerged from the drawing room. “So you’ve come, after all. I prayed you would.” She hugged Marisa, then drew back. “Only I fear you’re too late. Will left a half hour ago, and he is indeed headed back to Dorset. Now you’ll just have to wait until we return, as well. I only hope he stays at Havenhill once he arrives there. He seemed more solemn when he left than I’ve ever seen him before.”
“No, I won’t wait,” Marisa said, already re-tying her bonnet ribbons. “I’ll go after him, for I must speak to him. If I hesitate, I’ll be too late.”
“You’ll follow him alone?” Lyvia looked worried for her friend’s safety.
“Yes. That is, I have Mr. Perkins with me, and he’s to be trusted to keep me from harm. Send a note to my parents, will you, dearest, and tell them where I’ve gone so they won’t worry? You do understand, don’t you, Liv?”
“About as well as you understood my elopement. Oh, very well, I’ll pen the note. Now, go and do hurry... Oh, and remember that inn in Woking, our last stop before we arrived in town? Be sure to inquire there. The proprietor’s son is a friend of Will’s from the army. He didn’t eat before he left, so he might stop there for food or drink. Take care!”
Perkins, of course, did not want to take Marisa out of London to a destination unknown to him, especially without Sir Gerald’s knowledge or permission. She finally persuaded him that if he did not, she would walk until she could engage a coach at the nearest inn to take her, and she assured him that she had enough pin money in her reticule to do so.
Finally, reluctantly, he handed her back up into the carriage. “I am sayin’ farewell to a good dinner,” he muttered as he climbed up behind the horses and set them into the London traffic.
Over an hour and a half later, they pulled into the courtyard of the Horse and Farrier Inn, a modest, rambling structure in Woking where, as the name implied, horses could be stabled, shod, and receive medical treatment.
Marisa stepped down from the carriage, her nerves jangling. How could she tell Will what she felt, and how could she ever explain what she’d said and done when most of the time she had acted without thinking? Would he understand? And would he forgive her and still wish to marry her?
“Miss? Be ye goin’ inside?” Perkins asked, closing the carriage door behind her. “Shall I speak t’ the owner ’bout a private room fer ye?”
“No,” she said. “At least, not just yet. Mr. Perkins, I’m looking for William Wycliffe. Do go and check if he is in the stables, seeing to his horse, will you? I will ask inside.”
“Oh, no, ’tis not proper that ye be enterin’ a public inn alone, miss. Let me go wi’ ye, and if he be not there, then we might speak t’ the proprietor.”
“Very well.” Marisa squared her shoulders for what was to follow. “Come along.”
Together, they made their way past other equipages stopped in the yard and to the door of the inn.
* * * *
AS IT TURNED OUT, WILL was indeed inside with his friend, Noah, in the common room, quenching his thirst with a tankard of ale. He looked up when Marisa and Perkins first entered. Surprised, he rose and came toward them, returning the curious glances of other patrons with a stony stare.
“Marisa, what’re you doing here? Have you come alone, then? That was a very dangerous thing to do.”
“Mr. Perkins brought me and I was completely safe. Will, I must speak with you. May we engage a private room? I realize the impropriety, but I can’t say what I must where others may hear.”
“Of course,” he replied, mystified at her behaviour. Why had she followed him? Dare he hope she’d changed her mind?
He beckoned to Noah, who joined them, saying that he remembered the lady from the Wycliffe’s brief visit some months earlier as they travelled to London. After a quick explanation, he led them to a small private room at the back of the inn.
It was sparsely furnished but comfortable, with windows that looked out over nearby fields. Noah stirred the embers of the fire and added another log, then asked if they would want any food brought in. Marisa hadn’t realized until that moment that she had not eaten anything since breakfast, and despite her agitated state, she was famished. She agreed and thanked the young man. He left, closing the door behind him.
She removed her bonnet as she settled on one of the window seats, acutely aware that Will watched her closely. How could she start, and what could she say so that he wouldn’t think her even more foolish than he already must?
She took the book of Shakespearean sonnets, the one he’d given her for safekeeping on her fourteenth birthday, out of her reticule and unwrapped the handkerchief around it. “I came to return this to you. I remember four years ago when you said that you would want it back.”
“You followed me all this way? To give me back a book?”
Unable to meet his gaze, Marisa fingered the edging of the leather cover. “No, it’s not just a book. While you were away on the Continent, it was my only connection to you. Just this and your few letters, which I’ve kept and still hold so dear.”
“You could have left it to Lyvia to give to me if you never wished to be in my company again. Or you could have waited until Season’s end and your return to Dorset.”
Marisa finally raised her eyes and saw the confusion on his face. The idea that he thought that she would never want see him again pierced her heart, and she could bear the pretence no longer.
“No, Will,” she answered, near tears. “I also came to apologize. I’m sorry that I sent back your request to call this morning. I can’t truly say why I did so, except that...well, you...you haven’t been acting at all the way I hoped you would.”
“How should I have behaved?” he asked, coming to stand near the fire, closer to her than before.
“Why, as a proper suitor, of course. Don’t forget your conduct the night of my coming out ball.”
“My actions were very wrong. But didn’t you enjoy our kiss then?” Will asked, with the same bluntness that had always been present in their relationship.
“That’s not to the point.” Marisa blushed. “What I didn’t appreciate was your presumption that I had feelings for another and then your cavalier disregard for those supposed feelings.”
“Hardly cavalier. Believing that you’d fallen in love with someone else cut me to the core.”
“Still, I was quite disappointed, and not at all pleased with you. Then you quit town without a word, only to return and apply to Sir Gerald for my hand without even speaking to me first. If you do, indeed, wish to marry me, how can you possibly have done such things?”
He finally sat beside her and took her hands in his. “On our first day in London, in the ballroom, when I saw you standing near the rose garden, I knew I was in love with you. I might’ve felt it before then, back home, but my mind refused to accept it. You’ve always been like a dear sister to me but, suddenly, all that had changed. From the day that your parents agreed you would come to London with us, I’ve no longer wished for the company of any other woman. Watching you these past few months, talking and dancing with other men has been an agony to me, indeed a torment I could no longer endure. You made it clear enough you didn’t want me, refusing me as you did, and I really couldn’t fault you. Shall I have any hope now that you may accept me after everything that has happened between us?”