Brynnde, page 15
“It was the lightning kind of love,” Brynnde said. Molly nodded. “And does he feel, um, struck by lightning too?”
Molly nodded again and Brynnde sighed. No wonder Molly wanted her to believe Garrick had stronger feelings for her than simple friendship; if Garrick and Brynnde were to make a match, Molly could be with Geoffrey.
Still, Brynnde couldn’t fault her maid for seeing things through love-blurred vision. Molly meant no harm by it. She would never purposely seek to hurt Brynnde’s feelings by giving her false hope.
A tap at the door rushed Molly to her feet, their coze at an end. Molly opened the door and Julia stepped inside, positively aglow and oblivious to the misery hiding behind Brynnde’s thin smile.
“Oh!” Julia said, throwing herself down beside Brynnde, “we’ve just been out for a walk. The weather is still remarkably fine for this time of year. But,” she added as she turned toward the window, “you must have seen us! Did you? If I’d known, I would have waved.” She looked at Brynnde. “Are you all right? Still fatigued? Why aren’t you saying anything?”
Brynnde could not help laughing; at least if Julia were to become her sister-in-law she would never want for cheer. “Because you haven’t given me a chance!” She grew sober again. If Garrick was right, there could be no match between Nicolas and Julia. The rift was unbridgeable. She should never have planned such a scheme as getting them together at Lowlea, for now the pain of parting would be all the greater.
“What’s wrong?” Julia asked.
Brynnde struggled to smile. “I only wish I could have joined you on your walk.” It was not entirely untrue. Brynnde’s natural disposition railed against being still and remaining indoors. She pictured Mr. Dallweather’s overstuffed, too warm sitting room and suppressed a shudder; no, she could not live cooped up like that.
Julia, however, brightened. “I am sorry you had to miss it. It was lovely…” Her green eyes clouded with the memory, but then she snapped to. “I do think your brother may appreciate my sense of humor,” she said. “You can’t imagine how refreshing that is! Now what’s wrong? Is it that I’m talking about it and you’re still sorry you couldn’t go?”
Brynnde bit her lip, unsure whether to voice her fears. But Julia’s frank and steady gaze gave her courage. After all, Julia was not one to tiptoe or bandy. With a deep breath, Brynnde said, “Your brother said there could be no match between our families now. Not after… You know…”
Julia’s brows came down and bright spots appeared on her cheeks, not the heat of embarrassment but anger. Brynnde recoiled, but soon discovered the anger was not directed at her. “Does he? I’m sure our family isn’t in a position to be choosey at the moment, and if Nicolas were to ask for me, they could not say no. Nor would I.”
Brynnde could not be surprised by Julia’s use of Nicolas’ Christian name; hadn’t she used Garrick’s in her own mind? She reached over and squeezed Julia’s hands, but Julia quickly extracted them, new concern writ sharp across her dainty features. “Unless you think Nicolas would not dare offer because of what happened with you and Garrick?”
“I don’t know,” Brynnde replied honestly. “Nicolas has said he’s in no hurry to marry. Maybe, with time, everything will blow over and it will no longer matter what happened this past Season.”
Julia twisted her hands in her lap, and Brynnde regretted shattering her sunny mood. “My parents may let me skip next Season to give people time enough to forget, but then they will insist on my going the following year.” She looked hopefully at Brynnde. “Would he be ready by then?”
“Even if he isn’t, I don’t think Papa would give him any longer than that,” said Brynnde. “He’s twenty-four already, and Papa is keen to see us all settled.” A small, dark cloud drifted across Brynnde’s heart. She understood her father’s desire to arrange things, but the knowledge of why—that he was aging and would not be around forever—saddened her. Worse would be to disappoint him.
“Well, at least you’re one less thing for your father to worry about,” said Julia.
Brynnde blinked at her in surprise. “What do you mean? That I should marry Mr. Dallweather?” Brynnde sighed. “I might would, just to ease Papa’s mind, but I could not do that to Violet. She is so taken with him! And they are truly made for one another, I believe.”
Julia stared at Brynnde as if she’d taken leave of her senses. “Mr. Dallweather? Of course you can’t marry him! You must marry Garrick.”
It was Brynnde’s turn to look at Julia as if she’d gone mad. “Our engagement has been broken,” she said, uncertain of how Julia could not know this.
“If I can marry your brother, you can marry mine,” said Julia.
Brynnde wished she felt as confident as Julia on the matter, but it seemed that a betrothal, once broken, could not easily be repaired. Nicolas and Julia faced no such obstacle, but if Brynnde and Garrick were to marry—after all that had happened—it would only bring old ghosts and gossip back from where it should be safely buried. As it stood, the two of them at Lowlea together would surely make a tasty tidbit for Lady Crabbage to chew on. Perhaps a match between Nicolas and Julia would cause some of the same, but not on nearly the scale.
“Unless,” Julia ventured, “you do not wish to marry Garrick?”
Brynnde turned wide eyes on her friend. “It’s not that!” she asserted. In truth, she did not know whether she wanted to marry Garrick Sommerford; it seemed an impossibility and so she had not given any thought to it. “I only think it more likely he does not wish to marry me.”
“Of course he does!” cried Julia. “He would not have asked you otherwise, you goose!”
Brynnde supposed it was as good a time as any to tell the entire story. “He was only being kind, you see,” she said as she finished. “Gallant, really. He has no particular desire to marry me and probably feels he’s had a narrow escape.”
Julia eyed Brynnde with suspicion. “I do not believe it is as simple as that,” she said. “Even if what you say is true, Garrick would not have insisted on staying here if he had not been truly concerned for you. We’d have long since returned to Ridgemow. And do you know, this is the longest he’s been home since gaining his majority that I can remember?”
“Well, he must stay home now, mustn’t he?” Brynnde asked. “He will have to learn to run Ridgemow if Graeme is leaving.”
But Julia shook her head. “Believe me, if Garrick wants to escape a place or person, he’ll find the means.”
Brynnde recalled what Molly had said about Garrick being so worried for her while she’d been sick. Could it be that his feelings for her extended beyond friendship? Yet his note to her suggested otherwise. “He was probably only feeling responsible for my poor condition,” she said aloud, half to herself.
“Guilty by association? Because he is my brother?” Julia laughed and shook her head again. “Garrick never minds leaving us to our own disasters. And before you tell me he only came here to make sure I was well,” she added as Brynnde opened her mouth to find yet another excuse for Garrick’s behavior, “I can promise you he’s never half worried about me, Ellie, or Graeme the way he worried for you this past week. Why, I haven’t seen him so worked up since his prize hunter went lame!”
Brynnde failed to stifle her yelp of mirth at being likened to a horse. Julia grimaced. “Not that you deserve such a comparison,” she said earnestly. “But Garrick cares more for his horses than just about anything. They are the only things he misses when he is away from Ridgemow.”
“Oh, no, I find it quite flattering,” Brynnde teased.
Julia smiled and stood. “Will you be well enough to join us for dinner this evening?”
Brynnde nodded. “I do not intend to be left out of any more of the fun,” she declared.
Julia gave Brynnde’s hand a final squeeze before leaving. “Good. Violet is sweet, but I have missed your company.”
“Even with Nicolas here?” Brynnde asked in astonishment.
Julia’s lips twisted. “Certainly, he has done his best to be entertaining.”
“You make it sound as though he has failed.”
“Quite the opposite,” said Julia. “If he makes himself any more charming I will throw myself at his head and make a cake of myself. Which is why I need you, dear Brynnde.” She turned shining green eyes to her friend, “Oh,” she breathed, her usual playful façade slipping, “I made such fun of Ellie for feeling this way, and I only hope you will feel it too one day!”
Brynnde looked at Julia’s pained expression and said, “You make it look as though it hurts to be in love.”
“It does!” Julia said, “but in the most pleasant way!” And with that she all but skipped out of the room.
20
Brynnde took particular care with her toilette before dinner that evening. She told herself this was because she wanted to look well and not cause any further alarm about her health. The better she looked, and the more energetic she behaved, the sooner Dr. Shepherd would give her leave to go outside and eventually travel home to Aux Arbres.
The thought of going home tore Brynnde in two. Part of her felt the sooner she got away from Garrick, the better. Being around him mixed her up, and Brynnde yearned to go back to her more carefree days of riding and not thinking about, well, much of anyone really.
However, she also knew returning to Aux Arbres would mean facing the decision about Mr. Dallweather. If she brought Violet with her, there was a fair chance her friend would distract the gentleman and divert his fancy. Then Brynnde really would be able to go back to her old life.
Except something told Brynnde life would never be the same as it used to be, no matter what happened.
“Drat it,” she hissed, slamming her silver brush onto the vanity table. Her hair would not behave the way she wished.
Without a word, Molly stepped over, took up the brush, and began to work on Brynnde’s dark tresses. She twisted and pinned with rapid efficiency. “There now, Miss,” she said a few minutes later.
Brynnde could hardly believe what she saw. “Why, Molly! That’s amazing!” She turned one way then the other in her chair, eyeing herself in the glass. “I did not know you were so capable. Why have you never said?”
The maid blushed with pleasure at the praise. “Because you always do for yourself. But you see, Miss, how sometimes letting someone do for you is not so terrible, eh? Now let’s get you into this dress.”
It was mulberry colored and trimmed in much brilliant white lace, and it managed to make Brynnde’s lingering pallor appear merely pale, especially once she applied a bit of rouge. If nothing else, Brynnde thought, having been ill had made her eyes look bigger and brighter than ever.
The dinner bell rang, and Brynnde went down to the drawing room to join the others. Lady Crabbage was in a dither, as usual, and Sir Everret appeared stunned to have so many people in his house. For his sake alone, Brynnde wished again to return to Aux Arbres, if only to relieve Sir Everret’s burden.
She did not have long to consider her host, however, as Violet came to see her. “I am so sorry I did not come sooner,” she said, brown eyes shining. “With so many people in the house, it is all I can do to keep Mama sane.”
“I understand,” said Brynnde. Lady Crabbage loved company, and it fell to Violet to both help host and prevent her mother from suffocating her guests with her expansive personality. “Were you the one to suggest a walk earlier? I could do with fresh air myself.”
Violet glanced apprehensively at her mother. “Mama would be beside herself if you went out before Dr. Shepherd permitted.”
Brynnde sighed. It would not do to upset her hosts; she’d done enough by being foolish and getting sick. “Don’t worry,” she assured Violet, “I promise to stay put until Dr. Shepherd says it is safe.”
The steward came then to tell them dinner was ready. The introduction of Lord Burbridge and Nicolas had necessarily caused a change of seating, Brynnde discovered, with Lady Crabbage subscribing to the fashion of alternating the gentlemen and ladies. This placed Brynnde next to Garrick and across from Nicolas who, she was pleased to note, was beside Julia. Violet sat on Nicolas’ other side, and to prevent the arrangements from being lopsided, Master Collins had been invited to join them as well. Brynnde had not noticed him in the drawing room; indeed, she thought he was the kind to be overlooked just about anywhere he went. The tutor was short and soberly dressed with something of a mournful aspect about him, and Brynnde wondered whether it was Master Collins’ natural disposition or Oliver had worn him down to such. In either case, he did not speak much, eyes always downcast as though somehow reading his soup.
Still, Brynnde endeavored to hold some kind of conversation with Master Collins, the alternative being to favor Garrick on her other side. After their last encounter, she could not be sure he wanted her attention, nor was she quite ready to accept his. Brynnde was aware of her brother’s and Julia’s odd glances from across the table as she attempted again and again to draw Master Collins out. At the same time, she could hear the low rumble of Garrick’s voice on her other side as he occasionally responded to Lady Crabbage. Never once did Garrick address her, which only made Brynnde more determined to win Master Collins over.
“Warwickshire is no little distance from here,” she said upon extracting Master Collins’ origins. “Do you visit your family often?”
“I haven’t any,” he said in his low, mournful way, leaving their conversation at yet another impasse.
Lady Crabbage swooped in with alacrity. “Master Collins comes to us through my aunt’s nephew, by which I mean the unrelated side of our family.”
Brynnde blinked, unable to determine if this meant some branch of Lady Crabbage’s family were somehow all dead. Should she offer condolences? Nor could she entirely decipher whether Master Collins was himself the nephew or only related to the nephew. “Wouldn’t your aunt’s nephew be your cousin?” she asked.
“Oh, no, not in the least!” said Lady Crabbage without elaborating, leaving Brynnde more mystified than ever.
Finally the meal ended and Brynnde escaped only to be thrown into a fresh fire once the ladies had withdrawn to the parlour. Without preamble, Julia took Brynnde aside and asked, “Why would you not speak to Garrick at dinner?”
“He was occupied with Lady Crabbage,” Brynnde protested, though she knew her argument was weak. “And I felt that poor Master Collins could do with some encouragement.”
Julia’s eyes narrowed, and Brynnde knew she was trying to decide whether to believe her. “Well,” she said at last, “you will at least have the opportunity to converse once the gentlemen join us.”
Brynnde smiled in a way she hoped showed pleasure at the prospect, even as her stomach cramped around the mutton she’d just eaten. She was much relieved when Violet joined them. “Your appetite appears to be returning,” she said to Brynnde.
Brynnde detected the hopeful note in her friend’s voice. “Yes,” she said, “and I’m sure Dr. Shepherd will be releasing me in no time. And then you will come back to Aux Arbres.” She did not need to elaborate.
Violet smiled and flushed. “Oh, thank you!”
“Thank you, dear Violet,” said Brynnde. “I’m only sorry to have made you wait so long.”
Julia smiled as well. “Oh, I do hope it all goes to plan! I met Mr. Dallweather only briefly during our stay at Aux Arbres, but it does seem the two of you are well suited.” She seemed about to say more, but the gentlemen entered then, and all Julia’s attention bent toward Nicolas. Brynnde smiled to see it.
“Violet!” Lady Crabbage called, “come partner me!”
Julia and Nicolas also went to play cards, leaving Brynnde to find a seat on a sofa and pick up one of the books on the side table. Sir Everret and Master Collins retired to a corner in which they discussed serious matters in low tones—or at least Brynnde assumed they were serious based on their expressions. Perhaps they were discussing Oliver’s curriculum and general lack of discipline.
She was just beginning to read when she became aware of someone standing behind her. Looking up, she discovered Garrick craning to read over her shoulder. She snapped the book shut.
“I was just coming to the best part,” Garrick said.
“You should read more quickly,” Brynnde told him. “Or better yet find your own book.”
He came around the sofa and took a seat on the couch opposite. “No toga this evening?”
“I’m sure I could not come to dinner wrapped in a blanket.”
“But you will not catch chill?” Garrick asked.
Brynnde opened her mouth to make some snappish reply but came up short when she noticed the seemingly genuine concern on Garrick’s face. “It is only Dr. Shepherd being cautious,” she said. Her gaze traveled to the windows made dusky with twilight. “I’m sure he will allow Nicolas and I to go home soon.”
Garrick’s brows rose. “But I thought you wanted your brother and my sister to make a match. If you leave…”
“And I thought you said there was no chance of it, so why prolong the pain? They are already enthralled,” said Brynnde with a nod at the card table. Julia and Nicolas were both laughing over some trick they’d played. “If they continue like this, it will only hurt more when they are forced to part.”
“My, my, you are morose,” Garrick remarked. “Has sitting next to Master Collins brought your spirits low? Or were you thinking he might be better than Mr. Dallweather?”
All the breath went out of Brynnde and she rose, the book tumbling from her lap to the floor. She trembled all over, and for a moment she thought her legs might give way beneath her, but somehow she managed to get out of the parlour, though it seemed she could not see anything in front of her. She was at the foot of the stairs, clinging to the bannister and wondering whether she could make it to her room, when Garrick came after her and took her arm.
