Complications (15 page)

“YOUR BEHAVIOUR last night was abominable!” Mrs Gallerton
scolded Amelia.

They were alone in the drawing room as the
men were, as usual, out shooting while Lottie had had to leave to see to some
household matters and Mrs Harrington and Mama had letters to compose. At least
that was what Mama had said but Amelia suspected that she had just wanted to
escape Mrs Gallerton’s company for an hour or two. Amelia had known Mrs
Gallerton for less than two months and did not appreciate being taken to task
by her.

“I can think of nothing I did that would
warrant your saying that,” she responded, keeping her eyes fixed on her
embroidery.

“You led Mr Wrackley on a merry chase
vanishing off with Mr Brightford like that.”

Amelia gritted her teeth. “I went for a
walk outside with three other people, one of whom was Mr Brightford. There was
nothing in the least unladylike in that.”

“Mr Wrackley was not pleased…”

“Mr Wrackley’s feelings do not concern me,”
she snapped.

“Nor do mine, I suppose.”

Amelia did not answer and the two of them
glared at each other.

“The trouble with you is that you want to
be the centre of attention and you use your beauty to achieve it,” Mrs
Gallerton said. “You would rather flirt with first one man then another and
think you will get away with such games…”

“…I do not!”

“… But you cannot and such behaviour will
lose you both men…”

“Madam, you are not my mother and I will
not be lectured by you. I am not playing games with anyone - I simply wish to
choose a future that will bring me happiness not blindly agree to marry the
first man who looks at me.”

“You will end up an old maid.”

She returned her aunt’s glower. “If that
happens then I will make the best of it. I want to live my life, not hide away,
letting a man make every decision for me and letting the gossip of women cower
me.”

“Do not be so naïve. You live in a world
where men are the masters of their households and where the judgement of
society can ruin a woman’s life. You cannot give in to Mr Brightford’s sudden
flattery. I believe he is just toying with you.”

Amelia hated the possibility that this
might be true. She did not know what to do for the best. “I appreciate your
advice, Aunt, but I must decide what to do for myself.”

“This stubbornness is unladylike.”

“Perhaps so,” Amelia agreed, abruptly
seeing the humour in such a comment from Mrs Gallerton, “but I believe it runs
in our family.”

She was spared any further conversation by
Lottie’s return and the two of them went for a stroll around the gardens. Amelia
told Lottie what her aunt had said and begged her advice.

“I feel sure Mr Wrackley will ask me to
marry him soon,” Amelia said, “although I have been wrong about that before.”

“I am certain he will too,” Lottie said,
“but I thought your feelings for him were tepid.”

“They are but I like him well enough. I do
not think I would be unhappy with him and you would be close by which would be
a great advantage.”

Lottie stopped beside a statue. “Why would
you think of marrying him when you love Mr Brightford?”

Amelia sighed gustily. “I have not seen Mr
Brightford all morning and cannot be certain of his regard. He barely spoke to
me when we first got here. Indeed his attentiveness comes and goes in the most
unreliable manner. If I only had myself to think about I would not think of marrying
without love but I must consider my family’s position. If I do not make a good
match quickly then we could face financial ruin. We have already been urged by
our man of business to sell our estate but Mama would not hear of it and I
cannot bear to see her further distressed.”

“My poor friend.” Lottie put an arm round
Amelia’s shoulders. “I had no idea you had had so much to worry about lately on
top of your grief over your father.”

Amelia felt tears pricking her eyes at this
sympathy and blinked them back. Her father’s death still hurt more than she could
put into words but she needed to put such thoughts to one side and make a
decision. “I have no idea what I should do, Lottie.”

* * *

Mr Brightford returned to the house with
the other men for a late luncheon to discover that Mr Wrackley had called upon
Miss Daventry and they were out walking together, with Miss Harrington acting
as chaperone. Why could Mrs Gallerton not have gone along as chaperone and
prevented them from getting any pleasure from the excursion?

The thought of what Wrackley was saying to
win Miss Daventry’s affection plagued him. His heart told him to ask her to
marry him before Wrackley could do so, but his sense of honour would not allow
it. It was not fair to demand Miss Daventry make such an important decision
when her mind was still soaked with grief over the loss of her father. He saw
every day how much she and her mother suffered and they should be allowed as
much time as they needed to recover.

Brightford’s intentions must be clear to
Miss Daventry by now, so he would wait until they returned to Edinburgh. Then
the decision of who to accept was hers. He was confident about her answer.

Fairly confident.

He had no idea whatsoever what her answer
would be and that, along with Wrackley’s presence, was driving him half insane.

He went in search of the other men and
suggested a ride, hoping that the exercise would distract him. Nathan, of
course, insisted that his fiancée might wish to join them and, when asked,
Wrackley and Miss Daventry thought it sounded a pleasant idea too. So much for
a distraction...

THE SUN WAS shining and the world had never looked more
beautiful to Lottie as she sat beside her father in the carriage on the way to
be married.

“You are not too nervous?” her father
checked.

Lottie knew that brides were supposed to be
scared before they got married but all she felt this morning was happiness. Mr
Alexander Fenbridge was the best man she had ever met and she wanted to be
married to him and begin their shared life. A month ago she might not have been
sure of him but the more time they spent together the luckier she felt. She
smiled at her father. “I am not nervous in the least.”

 He patted her hand. “Good girl. Your
mother and I are proud that you have done so well for yourself. Fenbridge is an
excellent man in every way.”

“He is,” she agreed, not certain that she
deserved any credit for the marriage. She had not set out to secure Alex’s
attentions; she had just enjoyed his company and matters had progressed from
there. Her present joy was entirely due to him.

“You coped well with your past
disappointment,” her father continued and she gave an involuntary shiver, the
reminder of her previous engagement like an ill omen.

“There is the church,” she said quickly as
the building came into view.

“It is not very large.”

She had not told her parents that Alex had
offered to give her a grand wedding in a cathedral but that she had preferred
his local church and the jovial vicar in charge of it. She knew her parents
would have wanted all the grandeur possible but this was her wedding and, for
once, she had focused solely on what would please Alex and herself. She could
not regret it.

Her father helped her down from the
carriage and she felt a moment’s panic - what if Alex had changed his mind and
was not inside? A few village children waited outside to catch a glimpse of her
wedding dress before ducking back into the church for the service and their
smiling faces reassured her. The past was over and she trusted Alex.

Music began to play and her father led her
inside. Lottie saw Alex at once and when he turned round his face lit up at the
sight of her. She felt none of her old fears at being the centre of attention;
Alex gave her courage as he always had. All she saw was him for the rest of the
ceremony and then she was Mrs Fenbridge and everyone was congratulating them
both.

Lottie felt almost overwhelmed by
happiness.

* * *

Amelia turned round on the church bench
when Lottie and her father entered the church. Lottie looked beautiful in her
wedding outfit and the wedding was like something from a fairytale with the
couple gazing lovingly at each other as they said their vows. Afterwards Amelia
joined in cheering for them and throwing rice as they rode off in their
carriage together.

She was still smiling as her party followed
the wedded couple back to the Fenbridge estate. Her mother had agreed that they
should wear normal dresses, instead of their mourning outfits, just for the day
and it was nice to feel pretty again and to not have to worry that her outfit
would bring down everyone else’s mood. As they drove along Mr Brightford caught
her eye and smiled at her and she could not remember a more enjoyable day.

When they were in the hall of Mr Alexander
Fenbridge’s house and Amelia had hugged the bride and told her how perfect she
looked, Mr Brightford approached her through the throng of chattering people. He
bowed to her and she curtsied.

 “I would ask you to dance but I know your
mother would not allow that during the mourning period,” he said.

“No. It is impossible at the moment but I
feel almost a different person not wearing black today.”

“You look enchanting.”

“Thank you good sir,” she said with
mock-demureness.

“I am
good
today: that is progress.”

She laughed. “I do not recall ever saying
you were not good. It must be your own guilty conscience putting the idea into
your head.”

“Touche!”

They were prevented from conversing further
by the arrival of Mr Wrackley, his many siblings with him. There followed
various polite conversations then Mr Wrackley asked if he could speak to her. When
they were alone outside he went down on one knee and Amelia’s heart sank. The
day had been so promising until now.

She knew that the sensible response would
be to accept him but, despite her earlier feelings, she no longer wished to
marry anyone but Mr Brightford. Who had not asked her.

Mr Wrackley’s proposal was eloquent and
seemed heartfelt so it upset her to think of hurting him as she did genuinely
like him, but she could not deceive him. “I am flattered more than I can
express at your proposal…” she began.

Perhaps he heard the refusal in her tone as
he quickly said, “You need not give me an immediate answer. Would you think it
over? I know my behaviour in Edinburgh is against me…”

Now it was her turn to interrupt him. “Not
at all. I am only grateful your friends convinced you that my character was not
so terrible as you have been led to think.”

“Mr Brightford.”

She was confused. Why would he mention his
rival at such a moment? “Excuse me?”

“It was Mr Brightford who wrote to me that
he had been utterly wrong about you.”

Amelia stared at him, the day darkening as
she took in his words. If Mr Brightford had encouraged Mr Wrackley to renew his
courtship then he could have no serious feelings for her himself. His
friendliness towards her these recent weeks had apparently meant nothing.

MR BRIGHTFORD had been less than delighted to discover
that Mr Wrackley intended to travel with the parties back to Edinburgh to stay
with the Harrington family. Mrs Fenbridge’s parents would return in one
carriage while the rest of the group would share another, which would hardly
give him a chance to speak to Miss Daventry privately.

He brightened at the thought that if it was
clear how he and Miss Daventry felt about each other then perhaps Wrackley
would admit defeat and leave again. This pleasant dream, alas, did not last
even until Alex’s estate was out of sight, Wrackley’s behaviour towards her
just as attentive and warm as ever. Miss Daventry, however, looked weighed down
by burdens today, the happy, witty lady at yesterday’s wedding entirely gone. Perhaps
the return to Edinburgh was a painful reminder of her father’s loss or maybe
she was recalling her family’s financial difficulties. He did not know the
extent of the problem but was sure he could find some way to help them.

“I believe Mr Harrington offered some
assistance to you in the matter of the late Mr Daventry’s affairs,” Brightford
ventured, gaining a suspicious look from Wrackley. “I would be happy to humbly
offer my own advice over such matters.”

“That is kind of you…” Mrs Daventry began
then glanced at her daughter.

Miss Daventry took over the sentence,
saying to him with a cool glance, “However, we will not be staying in
Edinburgh. We will go to our country estate almost at once.”

Brightford’s only consolation from this
blow was that Wrackley looked just as horrified as he felt. Even Mrs Gallerton
looked as if she knew nothing of this plan, which was strange.

“You will not be gone long, I hope,”
Wrackley said.

“Perhaps a month,” Mrs Daventry said.

“Or a little longer,” Miss Daventry said. “There
may be a number of matters that need to be resolved while we are there.”

Well, that could not be any more vague. Financial
matters? Farming matters? Yet another suitor?

“I had not expected to be subjected to more
exhausting travelling,” Mrs Gallerton complained.

“We would be sorry indeed if it cut short
your visit to us,” Mrs Daventry said, sounding admirably sincere. “However, we
would understand if you wished to return home before the winter sets in.”

“I suppose it would be pleasant to see the
estate where I grew up again,” Mrs Gallerton mused and Miss Daventry’s face
fell in a manner that would have been amusing in other circumstances. “I recall
it is not too great a distance from Edinburgh.”

Brightford watched Miss Daventry as her
mother reassured Mrs Gallerton, who apparently had no intention of going home
any time soon. All had been friendly between him and Miss Daventry at the
wedding but she had avoided his eye ever since getting into the carriage. Could
she have decided to accept Mr Wrackley? No, he realised with relief, there
would have been no need to vanish to the country if that were the case. Then
what had changed between them in less than a day?

She was looking out of the window now, her
reflection resembling that of a ghost, pale and sad.