Hardly A Gentleman (6 page)

“Perhaps we should let you sleep?” Margaret rose from the bed and moved in the direction of the door.

“Will you wake me for supper?” Lydia asked.

“Of course.” Margaret turned to Jacob. “Will you be joining us for supper as well, Mr. Billingsley?”

“No. I should take my leave. You should have time with your grandmother. I fear I have worn out my welcome, thrice over.”

“Very well,” Margaret said, and fled the room without another word. Her departure was so abrupt, he wondered if she was offended by his answer. Jacob felt it was necessary to decline the offer. If he was always present, he feared his company would eventually be a burden.

As Jacob started to retreat, Lydia seized his wrist and pulled him toward her. She suddenly asked, “Why do you not tell her?”

Jacob was dumbfounded. “Tell… what?”

“That you love her, of course!” When Jacob raised a blonde eyebrow and pretended to look perplexed, Lydia threw back her head and laughed. “Do not look so gobsmacked, Jacob! It is hardly a mystery! Your love for my granddaughter is as plain as the nose on your face!”

“I… cannot.”

Lydia did not know what was more surprising: the fact that he was essentially confessing his love, or the fact that he refused to act on it. “Whyever not?”

“I am below her station. I am hardly the sort of gentleman she deserves. She deserves a gentleman of the highest order. She deserves the very best.” Jacob sprinted in the direction of the door before Lydia could protest too adamantly. As he slipped through the doorway, he added, “She deserves a better man than me.”

Two and Twenty

“Cynthia.”

When Margaret saw her cousin alight from the carriage, her throat tightened. Cynthia’s arrival was surprising, but not entirely unexpected. Their grandmother was in such poor health, Cynthia must have felt obligated to make an appearance.

First, she saw Cynthia’s golden curls, glistening in the sunlight. Then their eyes met, and an affectatious smile appeared on Cynthia’s heart-shaped lips.

“Maggie!” Cynthia exclaimed. With exaggerated enthusiasm and outstretched arms, she hurried to her cousin’s side. “How very good it is to see you! It has been too long, has it not? You’re looking very… robust.”

Robust
? Margaret’s nose wrinkled as she tried to interpret Cynthia’s word. “And you look very well, Cynthia, as always.”

“You were at my wedding, were you not?”

“No. Sadly, I could not attend.”

“Oh dear! Then you have yet to meet my husband! How utterly unacceptable!” Cynthia turned toward the carriage and shrilled, “Robert, why do you linger in the carriage? Come! Meet my cousin!”

At her command, a dark-haired man sluggishly emerged from the carriage. He was carrying a pink shawl, presumably Cynthia’s, and he did not look particularly happy. In fact, he had the look of a man who had not gotten a proper rest in eons. Margaret could only imagine how taxing it was to have a wife like Cynthia.

“This is my husband, Robert Caldicott.”

Margaret dipped into a slight curtsy. “It is a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Caldicott.”

Though both ladies were smiling at him, he failed to return the gesture. He looked exhausted—certainly too tired for pleasantries. Nevertheless, he managed to grumble the words, “A pleasure.”

“Robert, would you carry my valise into the house? I will join you in a moment. For now, I must confer with my cousin. In private, if you please.” Cynthia gave him a gentle shove, at which time he dutifully obeyed her command. As he sauntered away with his head between his shoulders, Margaret pitied him. He looked like a broken man. If even a part of his soul was still intact, Cynthia would drain it soon enough.

As soon as her husband was gone, Cynthia grasped Margaret’s arm and asked, “Is it true? Is our grandmother
truly
on the verge of death?”

“It almost sounds as if you’re excited by the prospect,” Margaret quietly observed.

“What? No! How could you say something so cruel! Poor Lydia! She is the dearest, kindest woman that ever lived, and it will be a much gloomier world without her.”

“On that, we agree.”

“But truly… is her health
very
bad?” Cynthia coiled an arm around Margaret’s and led her in the direction of the house.

“I do not know. I only just arrived,” Margaret said. “However, I was told she has been bedridden for days, with very little cognition. According to Mr. Billingsley, she is not responsive, and has not uttered a word in many days.” She turned her eyes to the ground and kicked a pebble in the path. “To be honest… the thought of not being recognized by her… it frightens me.”

“I am hardly surprised. You were always adored by Lydia. You were, without question, her favorite.” Cynthia’s lips dipped into such a deep frown, it almost looked genuine. “Will she not even realize we’ve come?”

“I don’t know.”

“If she won’t know we’re with her, what is the purpose of being here? Why should we stay?”

When Margaret spun in Cynthia’s direction, her eyes were enraged. “We are with her so she does not die alone, and we are staying because we love her!”

“I am only being sensible, Maggie. Why are you so infuriated?” With a roll of her eyes, Cynthia asked again, “Why are you
always
so infuriated?”

Because you think of no one but yourself!
Margaret was dying to say those words to Cynthia, but she held her tongue. She did not want to be unforgivably rude to the cousin she had not seen in several years—not when their grandmother was so ill. If Lydia was coherent, she would have wanted Margaret to follow her example: to be wise and kind. So, rather than insult Cynthia, she deftly changed the subject. “Your husband seems kind… a bit quiet, perhaps, but kind.”

“Do not let his taciturn nature fool you. Robert is terrible, just like every other man on this earth!”

“Surely… not
every
man is terrible?” Margaret suggested hopefully.

“No. They are all slovenly curs, devoid of emotion and driven by lust.”

“Dare I ask… what makes your husband so terrible?” Margaret winced as she asked the question.

“He has a mistress. He thinks I am ignorant of that fact, but I have known the truth for a
very
long time!” Cynthia stamped her foot like a child. “At times, I consider taking a lover myself, if only to exact revenge on him!”

Margaret did not quite know how to respond. “Oh… dear.”

“Maggie… are you blushing? Oh my. Perhaps I should not speak of such things around you.” Cynthia condescendingly patted her cousin’s hand. “Sometimes, I forget you are still an innocent.”

“I am not, perhaps, as innocent as you think.”

“Unless you have laid with a man, I consider you an innocent,” Cynthia bluntly said. “
Have
you
laid with a man? That would be a very shocking admonition, Maggie, and if you have… I promise I shall not tell another soul!”

Margaret had only exchanged light kisses with her former fiance, but she did not think her brazen cousin deserved an answer to such a personal—not to mention,
inappropriate
—question. “This is not something we should speak of, not when Lydia is so ill. It seems terribly disrespectful.”

“Hm. I suppose it is a bit disrespectful to her memory,” Cynthia said. “Nevertheless, you are evading the question!”

“
To her memory
?” Margaret’s throat involuntarily rumbled. “You make it sound as if she is already dead!”

“She
will
die, Maggie. The sooner you accept that fact, the more you will be prepared for the inevitable.” Cynthia’s eyes suddenly narrowed, and she ponderously tapped her chin. “Wait… did you mention Mr. Billingsley’s name?
Jacob
Billingsley?”

“I did.”

“I have not seen him in years! Is he very handsome now?”

“Quite.” Margaret felt her heart twinge as she admitted it. Jacob
was
handsome—she had always thought so.

“I should like to see him! Perhaps I should take
him
as a lover. Is he married?” When Cynthia saw her cousin glaring at her, she chuckled. “Oh, I remember how jealous you were! When you saw me kissing Jacob Billingsley, you nearly heaved at the sight of it!”

“I was not… jealous.” Margaret felt herself clenching a fist. Every word that passed through Cynthia’s lips had a rankling effect on her. How could someone be so consistently annoying? “I was disappointed in you for failing to conduct yourself as a lady should!”

“Dearest Margaret.” When Cynthia attempted to stroke her cousin’s hair, Margaret dodged her hand. “Honestly, you could stand to be less… repressed. Your reserved demeanor and strict opinions are why I am married and you are not.”

“
Again
…” Margaret hissed. She was sorely tempted to box her cousin’s ears. “We are here to see
Lydia
. We are not here to discuss my love life.”

“Or lack thereof!” Cynthia added with a chuckle. “Mr. Billingsley… does he still read to our grandmother? Does he still visit her every day?”

“I believe so.”

“Good gracious! After all these years, he still chooses to spend his time with an old woman? He is either a saint or a fool.” Cynthia rolled her eyes. “Regardless, he must be
very
lonely… and aching for company. If he is as handsome as you say, one of us should take advantage of his unfulfilled needs.”

“
One of us
,” Margaret began. Her eyes were narrowed and her jaw was twitching. “One of us could stand to be significantly less odious!”

And with that, Margaret stomped into the house, praying she could avoid any and all future encounters with her shrewish cousin.

*

When Margaret entered her grandmother’s bedchamber, she expected the worst, but Mr. Billingsley assured her that Lydia was in good spirits. Her grandmother was sitting up in bed with her hands folded in her lap. A narrow shaft of light poured through the drapes, illuminating Lydia’s mostly white hair. Margaret thought she looked like an angel.

As always, Lydia’s face was friendly, her eyes were gentle, and her smile was welcoming. Her lips trembled violently, and they opened slightly. Margaret wondered if she wanted to speak, but was incapable of doing so.

“Talk to her, Miss Berryton. Let your grandmother know what you feel.” Jacob entreated her. He stayed at Margaret’s side, offering invaluable support during a difficult time. “I believe she understands more than we realize.”

“Grandmama…” Tears sprang into Margaret’s eyes as she moved toward her grandmother’s bed. “Gran… do you know who I am?”

Lydia pried apart her shaking lips, but no words came. Instead, she offered her granddaughter a lopsided smile.

“It’s Margaret, Grandmama.” Choking back a sob, Margaret dove into her grandmother’s bed, resting her head in the older woman’s lap. “I’ve missed you, Gran! I’ve missed you so very much!”

With all the strength she could muster, Lydia lifted a quivering hand and laid it atop her granddaughter’s head. When she felt Lydia’s hand lightly brushing her forehead, a pair of tears slipped from Margaret’s eyes.

A moment passed, then Margaret lifted her head and asked, “I thought you said she could hardly move?”

“It’s true,” Jacob said. “But she’s tough. I daresay she is trying very hard to impress you!”

Lydia turned her gaze to Jacob, answering him with the tiniest of nods.

“Gran.” Margaret’s tears flowed freely now: a fact that was of some concern to Lydia, who attempted to frown. “I need you to get better. Will you do that for me? Please?”

Lydia said nothing, nor did she change her concerned expression.

Margaret took her grandmother’s hand and kissed it. “I love you, Grandmama.”

“Oo… too.” Lydia’s lips were raised into another tremulous smile.

As Margaret sat up and attempted to dry her eyes, Jacob said, “Before you arrived, I was reading a bit of Robinson Crusoe.”

“One of Grandmama’s favorites.”

“Indeed.”

“Does she ever speak?”

“Very seldomly.” An old chair beside the window popped and creaked when Jacob sat. He opened his book, bathing its dark pages in the sliver of light.

“Does she ever speak of… me?”

“You are never far from her thoughts, Miss Berryton.”
Nor mine
, Jacob’s mind added a secret addendum. “Of that, I am certain.”

“Will you read to us?” Margaret asked. “I require a diversion, something to distract me from my thoughts.”

“I would be happy to do so.” Before he turned his eyes to the text, he saw another tear scuttling down Margaret’s cheek. He hated to see her cry, but he understood how she felt. To see vibrant Lydia in such a diminished state was gut-wrenching. It must have been even more of a shock to Margaret, who had not been around to witness Lydia’s slow deterioration, as he had. He had months to prepare himself for the inevitable.

“
And now I saw how easy it was for the Providence of God to make the most miserable condition that mankind could be in worse
,” Jacob read aloud. “
Now I looked back upon my desolate solitary island, as the most pleasant place in the world, and all the happiness my heart could wish for, was to be there again
.”

“Grandmama.” As Lydia reached for her grandmother’s hand, Jacob’s voice receded into the background. “I cannot lose you. It would destroy me.”

“
Thus we never see the true state of our condition
,” Jacob continued, “
till it is illustrated to us by its contraries; nor how to value what we enjoy, but by the want of it
.”

To the shock of both Margaret and Jacob, the ailing woman spoke.

Lydia
spoke
.

“Grand… mama…” It was with tremendous willpower that Lydia managed to lift her hand, and rest her finger over Margaret’s heart. “Here.” Then her hand fell to her side, and she smiled at her granddaughter once more. “Grandmama is here.”

As more tears fell from Margaret’s eyes, she lifted the corner of Lydia’s blanket and gently dabbed her cheeks. When it was clear that Lydia had said all that she could manage, Jacob proceeded to read, and Margaret—despite wanting a reprieve from her own mind—was consumed by sorrowful thoughts. An undeniable truth festered in her mind.