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  Chapter Eleven

  In which the birds have flown, my father gets a shock and a solution comes from the unlikeliest of sources.

  The next morning I had some business to undertake for my father and it was not until after luncheon that I was able to make my way to Lady Pelham’s residence. A footman greeted me at the door, but when, in the hall, I offered him my hat and gloves, he looked embarrassed.

  “I take it then, sir that you did not receive the message that was sent to George Street this morning?”

  “I have not been at home since seven of the clock,” I said, fearing that the occupants of the house were worse. “What message was this?”

  “I don’t know what the message said itself, sir,” the man replied, “but I would surmise that it was a farewell, seeing as how the family decamped for London.”

  I stared at him. “Gone?”

  “Gone, sir.”

  “But... the young lady... Miss Pelham, she was quite unwell. The doctor said she should not be moved!”

  His face was professionally blank. “It was the young gentleman’s orders, sir. The coach took them off at about ten o’ clock. The doctor called just afterwards. I believe he expressed his concern, also, sir.”

  “I’ll bet he did,” I growled. The footman was perfect, I would have liked to have him as my valet for his sangfroid if nothing else, but there was nothing to be achieved by staying in an empty house. I tipped him for his professionalism and returned to George Street, expecting—and not being disappointed—to find my father in a high temper. So bad was it, that he began roaring when I had barely entered the hall, and it went on for so long that I had a sudden sense memory of the only time he’d been quite so angry, and I had been very young. I remembered my hands gripping the curved balustrade and feeling that whatever he was angry about, it must be my fault.

  However, as a grown man, I knew exactly where fault lay in this case. I listened to him rant and rave until my temper broke and long years of his bullying tore apart my shields.

  “But WHY did the boy drag them from Bath, especially if the gel was unwell?”

  “Heyward is nothing but a spoiled brat.” My voice rose against my father with every sentence, as my frustration and anger worked its way out. “He’s been coddled by his aunt since the day he was born—he considers the whole world to be his enemy. He’s made it very plain that he did not welcome the suit you forced me to press, and he accused me of only wanting the girl for her title—which,” I said, accusingly, “is the source of your interest, after all, isn’t it?” By the end of my speech I was matching him for volume.

  To my very great amazement, my father’s colour went from a deep puce to something like normal, and he stared at me. He seemed to shrink before my eyes and I realised, perhaps for the first time, that I was taller than he. “It’s not for me, Geoffrey, you understand.”

  I nearly apologised. To see my father back down on anything at all was a shock, but this... With sudden clarity I realised that it was because he wanted it so much. “It’s damned well not for me. What do I get out of your bargain?”

  “What do you get? How about a pretty wife? How about a country estate, that I’ll pour money into to refurbish? How about the chance for your children to live on that estate—as noblemen? Don’t say you ain’t ambitious, Geoffrey. You wouldn’t be my son if you weren’t. It weren’t just my money pushed you up all the way to Major, and don’t forget it.”

  It was the first time—other than the occasions when he showed me off to others—that he’d ever come close to hinting that he was proud of me, to my face. I hesitated and that was enough to put us back on a more familiar footing.

  “That’s right!” he shouted. “Don’t tell me that you wouldn’t want the best for your children.”

  “It’s not that...”

  “Then what? Can’t any anythin’ much. You’ve been paying her a decent amount of attention. Whole town’s buzzin’ with it.”

  I gave up. We’d be going in circles repeating the same old arguments soon and my father didn’t have the imagination to see what might really be wrong.

  “Nothing, father.”

  “So what’you going to do? Chase her! Of course you are! Nothing shows keenness like a good chase across the country!” At that he launched into action, as if breaking bivouac, shouting for servants to pack, the carriage got ready. For all that it took us a while to depart and although we made good time, we never caught up, and my gallant pursuit seemed likely not even to be noticed and a pointless exercise.

  ~

  My father sent his solicitations to the Pelhams the moment we arrived back in London, after which we retired to the study to recover.

  There was no word from Lady Pelham until the next morning, but when it came, addressed to my father. It was not a rebuff and my father was pleased.

  “My dear Colonel,

  “My impulsive boy insisted on rushing us home, and although I was quite concerned for his health the journey seems to have done him no harm. The kind boy immediately insisted that our own doctor attend Emily and they will both be well enough for the ball on Saturday at Lord D—’s, I am certain. It speaks volumes for your son, that he insisted on following us so closely, his concern for Emily touches me greatly and if you will call for us at six, we can attend the ball together. I hope that Adam will be strong enough. He won’t dance, of course, but he seems so out of sorts that I fear that his cold will return.

  Etc.

  With our subtly changed relationship I had the nerve to raise an eyebrow at my father over the mention of my pressing concern, and he had the good grace to look embarrassed.

  After our argument, I had slipped towards the idea of marriage to Emily Pelham somehow. After all, she was a pleasant enough girl; I could not see that we would disagree on a great deal, and many marriages had been started on far less acquaintance. So, pushing the thought of Adam’s beautiful mouth and Adam’s alabaster skin and Adam’s temptation away from me and burying it as deep in my mind as I could, I sent flowers and fruit, a singing bird, and other such gewgaws as a besotted lover might send.

  All too soon, it was the night itself and dressed in my stiffest dress uniform I led Emily up the stairs of Lord D—’s keeping my eyes firmly in front of me. Adam had not accompanied the ladies—although Lady Pelham assured me that he had known that I was collecting them—and that in itself was proof to me that he had, after all, only been dallying with me. A game that had turned too serious, and a lover who didn’t match his expectations.

  My father’s face was granite as we were led in, and I felt nothing. The tomb was closing around me and there was nothing I could do to prevent it. The ballroom glittered with life, and it seemed to mock me. This, it said, is to be your life, Chaloner. Your life will be a ballroom filled with people you can’t understand, and your father’s ambition will rip away the last vestiges of your self-respect.

  We reached our allocated seats and my father led Lady Pelham away while I secured Emily for the first set. My future was now running in two paths. Either I should come out of this evening an engaged man, or a disinherited one.

  The expression in Emily’s eyes surprised me not a little; for whilst she was as gentle and compliant as ever, and I knew the dances to be two of her favourites, her eyes held a hardness that I had not seen in them before. She looked more like her cousin than ever, and my heart hurt at the reminder of the look on Adam’s face at our last meeting. It did not bode well for my chances of further acceptance and the brightness of the evening dimmed a little more in my eyes.

  What a couple we were, and how ridiculous I imagined we looked. I could almost feel the room quivering with the expectation of my proposal, all eyes upon us as if I were going to drop to my knees at any moment. My father was standing behind Lady Pelham and the smile on his face could not have been wider, the look in his eyes as he fixed me from across the floor could not have been more clear. The music began and we were engaged in movem
ent, trapped for at least the half hour.

  “I am glad to see you in such good health, Miss Pelham.”

  “You flatter me, sir.”

  “Not at all,” I said, although I ached with an almost irresistible urge to run, for all the good that would have done. “I was quite concerned, for yourself and for your cousin’s health. I am glad that Dr. King did not hear that I allowed you to flee Bath when he had been so solicitous. It gives me joy to see your colour high and your eyes so lively. I owe your doctor my gratitude.” I was an ass, and I knew I sounded like one.

  “Perhaps,” the dance brought us to rest, side by side, “my high colour is merely brought on by how very displeased I am with you at this moment.”

  I almost missed my cue and almost had to skip to keep my place as she moved off. When we came together again I murmured, “If there is some disservice I have done you, please let me know, for I would do anything to undo it.” I searched my memory for some insult or slight I may have given her, but could think of none. Even tonight I had made sure that flowers were delivered to her house before she set out. I had been happy to see (what I assumed to be) one of my blooms, something pink and frilly, on her shoulder.

  “You have done nothing to me personally, Major Chaloner. But by implication you have hurt me as you have hurt another. You forget, I think, how very close, and how fond of each other my cousin and I have always been.”

  How could I forget? This sorry mess had come about because of Adam’s protectiveness towards her, but I gleaned from the unusual arch of her brow that she meant a little more than she had said. I had no chance, indeed, if I had have had, I would have not been able to speak, as my thoughts were as tangled cobwebs. “You and he have had a falling out, I understand,” she continued. “Is there no way you can become friends again?”

  I knew I was flushing, and everything I feared would happen was just about to fall on me. Did she know? Had Adam really told her everything? Oh, we grew up together, he’d said in Bath, we’ve always confided in each other.

  “I don’t know what your cousin has said,” I said carefully. It was hard to concentrate on the complicated turns and the conversation as it spiralled out of control, let alone attempting to keep a smile on my face.

  As she put her hand in mine for the promenade, she squeezed it and smiled for the first time that evening.

  “He has said nothing to me of his present unhappiness,” she said, and she frowned a little. “He refuses to speak to me at all, and I’ve never been so excluded before. But he has said much to me recently.” She paused as we separated and as we came back to together for the rest she said, “Of his great, great happiness.” Her look and the repeated squeeze of her hand let me know what she meant. “He means a very great deal to me.” We moved diagonally over the set, and when we came back, she said with a full and meaningful glance, “too.”

  My world seemed to tip sideways a little, as I took in what she was saying. Adam still loved me? He was miserable that we were separated? It seemed too much to understand. “Thouless...” It was the one word that had tortured me.

  “Oh—that monster,” she said. “Adam owns a horse with him, Major.” She paused and I could see her phrasing her answer, for we were in public, no matter how little likely we were to be overheard. “My cousin has a little more sense than that. And a great deal better taste.”

  It took an entire chorus for me to form any kind of response. When I had to opportunity to speak, I merely said that we should speak more when the set was over. Somehow we reached the end, and, avoiding my father’s eyes I swept Miss Pelham outside without the least care for propriety or the wagging tongues.

  Once in the moonlit gardens, I slowed and attempted to give the impression of a young man sauntering along with his betrothed.

  “I find you hard to answer,” I said. “It is completely outside my experience.”

  We had reached a fountain and she stood and looked into the water for a moment in silence. “I hope you think no worse of me, sir. And my experience is no more extensive than your own. But Adam has been my closest friend for all of my life and his happiness is bound up in mine as I know that mine has always been safe in his care.” That much was true and I nodded, numbly. “I understand the conflict between Adam’s world and the rest of society, but I’ve always known, and been privy to, his secrets. We were so young; we didn’t knew it was wrong when first he began to speak of it.”

  She was more eloquent in this indelicate matter than ever she had been on any other before and I was startled, impressed; a warm feeling of friendship flooded through me.

  “Still no answer?” She put her hand on my arm and we continued around the fountain. “I wonder what your silence means. Is it that you are stubborn as Adam attests, (which is quite as stubborn as he is himself), or the simple fact that neither of you silly men realise that the answer lies in your hands, Major Chaloner, yours and yours alone.”

  “Mine?”

  “The answer is as simple as it can be.”

  “It is?” I really didn’t understand her.

  “Perhaps you didn’t know, and there’s no reason why you should, that Adam and myself had long decided that when I marry and move to Wenson House—with my husband—that Adam, who has no settled home or income of his own, would always have a home with me.”

  There was a deafening ringing in my ears as if every bell in London were sounding at the same time. It couldn’t be that simple. It couldn’t. The girl couldn’t mean what she was saying. “But... you...” was all I could manage. I needed to speak to Adam, I felt that if I could just speak to him, he could decipher this all for me.

  “I have been raised to marry, Major Chaloner. That is my role in life. I like you a very great deal, and that is more than I expected. When your father first called on us last winter I thought that perhaps my mother intended me for him.” Her voice had not a little vigour in it. “But that was luckily not the case, although should you not...” We walked for a while longer in silence while I took this in and then she said. “I think, unless you object strongly, we should go back in and face the congratulations? That is, unless you refuse me, Major Chaloner?”

  “Yes—yes, I mean no! I don’t know what to say.”

  She laughed then, went up onto tiptoe and kissed my cheek. “I think that’s what we like best about you, Geoffrey. Adam should be here by now. I made him promise to come. He didn’t want to but I insisted. I think you should ask him for my hand in marriage now, don’t you?”

  “Again?” I said, aghast and we laughed together for the first time. We were still laughing when we re-entered the ballroom.

  ~

  I found him in a side-room, gambling and drinking, a look of pure misery on his face. Unseen by him, I watched the play from the doorway, and I imagined how it would be when we would sit in our home together, perhaps us three, perhaps just he and I and be friends, brothers, lovers. As it should be. I was still reeling that it could be.

  One of the players finally called to me, “Chaloner, isn’t it? In or out, man, the noise from that infernal orchestra sets me teeth on edge.”

  “Miss Pelham has sent me to fetch her cousin,” I said, not taking my eyes from the object of my desire.

  Adam had started like a deer at the first syllable of my name and was glaring at me with a look not dissimilar to the one he’d had for me early on in our acquaintance. He stood and excused himself, throwing some coins onto the table with a casual grace. I held the door open as he stalked past and I led him into an empty room that I’d found whilst looking for him, and locked the door behind me. It was dark and I lit the candles on the sconces by the fireplace, then turned to find him scowling. I was so happy to see him, I didn’t care if he scowled at me from now until Doomsday.

  “From the look of your idiotic grin, I’m assuming this is some childish, military prank. And since my cousin is conspicuous by her absence, I’ll return to my game.” He turned to go.

  “Don’t go. Adam. Don’t go.�
� He turned back, slowly, leaning heavily on his cane. Then I said the wrong thing. “You were losing, anyway, weren’t you?”

  He sneered at me. “That’s what I wanted them to think. Don’t you know the expression about being lucky with cards, Chaloner?” He sat down, as if grateful to take the weight off his leg. “All right. It’s not like I can run away from you. What is it?”

  I moved closer to him, so I was standing over him. “I want to marry Emily.”

  He tried to stand, but I was too close. I pushed him back down.

  “Let me go,” he growled. “You don’t need to prove to me how much stronger you are.” His voice was full of bitterness. “You made that very plain.”

  “I’m not going, and I’m not going to let you go either. Or Emily. I want you both. She wants us... both.”

  “What are you saying?” He looked revolted.

  “I’m asking your permission to marry Emily,” I said. “Where were you going to live when Emily married? Or is she not telling me the truth?”

  His face contorted as he processed the information. “She said... she told you... she wants...”

  “Yes. Yes and yes.” I was delighted to see him lost for words for once and that made me laugh out loud. “Will you...?” I couldn’t ask him the question; that would never be possible for us. I wanted him, loved him. I touched his hair and told him just that.

  “But. How? What? She?” I could see the questions lining up in his agile mind, hard and fast one after another, so I leaned forward and kissed him silent, feeling him relax as I pushed him back onto the settle. He didn’t need to answer me—it was a solution, and not one we ever could have anticipated.

  There were a thousand problems in front of us, all of us, but I knew that between Emily’s courage and Adam’s fearlessness, we’d all get what we deserved.

  I certainly had, in fact, a lot more than I deserved.

  The End