“What—is she?” James frowned, adjusting to the surprise. He was not hurt by the news, but it was so fast! He had scarcelyreceived her letter breaking things off, and MacFirbis must have been waiting in the wings, ready to woo her. James huffed. And Mr. Prexley had not believed him regarding her constancy.I wonder if he does now?Oh, he supposed her father had known all along, but it had not been a convenient truth for him to face at the time. Well, it had all worked out in her favor, but it didn’t affect him anymore.
At last he lifted his shoulder, “I am not surprised. Or at least, I should not be, considering that MacFirbis doted on her. I am just surprised it happened so soon.”
Morry grinned. “Apparently, he offered her a necklace she’s had her eye on.”
James groaned, even as a laugh escaped him. He had told Morry about her predilection for fine jewelry and her attempts to alter even his own appearance.
“Well, I wish them success.” James downed his glass of water and looked around the bare room, idly noting that this was the most impoverished he had ever been. A comfortable lull fell in their conversation.
“If I am not being too bold, do you not have somewhere else you wish to be?” Morry asked with studied indifference. “Or ... am I also to wish you happy?”
James sent him a level glance. “We would do better to stick to literary subjects and chess rather than private matters.”
“Oh, so only my private matters are up for discussion and not yours?” Morry had a provoking habit of not letting things slide, but James could hardly be irritated at him.
He sighed, and though weary at the idea of explaining himself, did so in just a few words. “With little income, I am not in a position to make her an offer.”
“But surely you have enough to scrape by,” Morry protested. “And you are running out of time. Becky told me the Bridwells are to leave in just a few days. Besides, you have your inheritance to look forward to.”
Another groan escaped James. “I did not consider when I showed the blasted will to Mr. Prexley how much that particular piece of news would spread. Thereisno inheritance. My great-aunt has died and left her entire fortune to my brother. So I truly have no living, neither immediate nor expected.”
This sober piece of news silenced Morry, but only for a moment. “Well, if I can get the daughter of a baron to agree to be my wife when I cannot even walk down the street without the assistance of a cane, you can surely find a way to convince Miss Bridwell to be yours.”
James frowned and fiddled with the stem of his glass. “I cannot support a wife. You have too much common sense to believe that I could offer for her when I can scarce support myself.” He looked up. “Isabel has threatened to destroy my reputation, and I have no doubt she and her father will attempt to carry it out.”
“I think more people are aware of the Prexleys’ true nature than either of them would like to let on. I am not sure their attempts to ruin your reputation will be as thorough as they hope.”
“Perhaps.” James tapped his fingers on the table. “Mr. Bridwell has indeed moved up his departure date, and I don’t know if he will change his mind because of the baths. I believe they are having good effect, but it’s difficult to know with him.”
“And you are worried he will leave before you can in good conscience offer for Miss Bridwell.”
“That is precisely it,” James replied. He should not divulge so much about his personal life, but he had reached a point where he no longer knew what was the best course of action. Did he let Amy slip out of his life again without her knowing how he felt? Or did he offer for her and condemn her to a life of poverty should she accept? Both options seemed intolerable. She was worth so much more.
“Well, you might express your intentions, or at least give her a hint of them. I believe letters are carried between Spa and Paris,” Morry added with a wry grin.
James thought about this. “It’s something to consider,” he said slowly. That way she would not leave without knowing of his intentions, but he would not be making any promises before he was sure he could provide for her. The idea was certainly one to mull over. In the meantime, though, James was tired of sitting around and staring at the four walls.
He stood. “Shall we go to La Redoute?”
Chapter 22
In the days that passed following Mr. Lambert’s imposition upon Marianne, a change seemed to have come about in the family. For one thing, their father had become more solicitous, asking if the girls planned to take their maid if they were going out. It did no good to tell him it truly wasn’t necessary for short excursions in the town itself, for he had become suddenly protective, sending both the maid and his vial of witch hazel to ward off persons with evil intention.
He also absented himself from their rooms less often, but Amy wasn’t sure this was a good thing. It was only when he was distracted by philosophical arguments, such as whether birds ought to be classified by their spiritual inclinations or whether Vesuvius had been a wrathful mountain or merely a subjugated one, that he could forget his own affliction. It also meant he was not out walking as much as he should be, which James had recommended him to do.
Their father’s solicitude touched Amy, but she began to appreciate just how much his harmless diversions kept him happy and sane. When he focused on those, he remained jovial. Without them, he tended to fret and grow ill-humored.
At least, Amy thought, there were the baths. He refused to say definitively whether they were helping. She thought they were, butwith how little he moved out of their rooms, she feared his joints were growing stiff, thereby counteracting the good effects. She ought to talk to James but felt reluctant to reach out to a betrothed man, even if he were a family friend and her father’s physician.
Amy knocked on Marianne’s door and entered. Her room was in the back of the hotel as Amy’s was, and she sat at the window, staring through it. Amy went over to sit on the bed, her eyes on Marianne.
“Are you well?” She could not help but worry, for her usually animated sister had become withdrawn, as though transformed into a different person.
Marianne raised her eyes to Amy, then lowered them with a sigh. “I am simply angry at myself for being so naive. I was taken in by a man who had appeared cordial and disinterested in all but my talent, only to have him reveal himself as the worst kind of scoundrel.”
“Anyone could have been fooled by him,” Amy assured her. “Many with more years than you still are.”
Marianne swiped at a tear that had fallen in an angry gesture. “I will never again fall prey to such a man.”
