A Most Lamentable Comedy (28 page)

Lady Caroline Elmhurst

The look on his face is altogether comic.

He stutters, ‘But – but – I’ve thoroughly compromised you. Of course we must marry. My brother won’t let us live in sin on his land; he’s afraid it’s a bad example to set the tenants. Besides, I have a house for us. I have a
salary
. I have a
position
. I have
responsibilities
.’

Poor Nick. Poor Nick, with his battered hands and ragged coat and scuffed boots, forcing out the words
salary, position
and
responsibilities
as though they were shameful things.

He continues, ‘It’s a far cry from London and society, of course, but my brother often has congenial company, and there are assembly rooms in the town, and . . .’

He runs out of words, apparently, resorting to a somewhat Italianate flourish of his hands and a thoroughly Gallic shrug. ‘Damn you, Caroline, I love you to distraction!’

Sheep scatter into the heather as he strides ahead.

‘You must be mad!’ I shout back at him. ‘Why should I marry you? You’ve done nothing but deceive me since we first met.’

‘What?’ He stops and turns to face me. ‘On the contrary, Caro, I’ve done nothing but show you myself. It terrified me. The thought of marrying you terrifies me. But you’re stuck with me because I love you and you love me.’

I make my way through the heather towards him. The stuff has a tendency to trip me up. I could trip and fall into his arms.

‘Are you sure?’ I ask.

‘Sure of what?’

‘Love.’

I can say no more. And in truth, there is nowhere I wish to run, nowhere for me to end up but with him. The cabal of concerned friends who plot and plan our happy ending have done their work. It is up to us, for there is no one else now. We have emerged from the woods and the dreams and nightmares and must now tumble headlong into marriage.

I reach my hand out to him.