AllFreeNovel
Share Us
She settled back on the settee with a sigh. "When Evan asked me to marry him, I knew his affections were not engaged. I accepted him because, with Richard gone, I was too cowardly to face life on my own. That was very bad of me, but it had, I think you will agree, a rather wonderful result. Had I not been an engaged lady when I met my Giles, I would not have had the courage to pursue his friendship. Nor would he have let down his guard. As it was, my betrothal offered the safety that allowed us to be ourselves, and to fall in love."
Andrea glanced over. Apparently noting Emily had not yet managed to reconnect mind with speech, she continued, “I also knew, almost immediately upon returning to London, that something was very wrong with Evan. At first I thought it must have to do with his work, or Richard's death—you must know he always blamed himself, as if had they gone into the army together he might have prevented it. But I soon came to realize 'twas not these things that so troubled him—'twas his heart.
"By then I was glad of his preoccupation, for I had come to know Giles. Later, once I realized I'd fallen in love, I was only waiting for the proper moment to break the engagement. But first he left unexpectedly, then he was wounded.
“Not until I saw your face that night you tended him did I suspect you loved him. How I hoped loving you but feeling honor-bound not to break with me was the cause of his unhappiness! Then, after Lady Cheverley told me you'd painted the landscape he takes everywhere with him, I was sure."
Emily was still having difficulty framing words. "I h-hardly know what to say."
"Dear lady, you need tell me nothing! I'm overjoyed that the woman Evan loves so desperately is a beautiful, talented creature worthy of him, one who, now that our silly engagement has been ended, can end his misery as well by pledging him her heart and love. You do love him, do you not?"
"Yes." 'Twas a joy to acknowledge it out loud, however bizarre it might be that the first soul to whom she admitted the truth was the one woman she'd vowed must never discover it. "Yes, I love Evan."
With a little shriek, Miss Marlowe hugged her again. "Wonderful! Then we shall both be happy! Lord willing, you'll make Evan as ecstatic as he has been miserable, for I've known him all my life, and never have I seen him as he's been these last few months, shutting himself alone for hours, avoiding all company. Knowing all will be well, I can at last stop feeling guilty about my own happiness."
She paused a moment, her smile fading. ''But.. .if you did not know of our broken engagement, he must not have contacted you yet. He's sent no word?"
"None. I've had no correspondence from him since... since we broke off our relationship months ago."
Andrea frowned. '"Tis odd, that."
The seesaw movement of her emotions, which in her dealings with Evan had so often rocked her from cautious affection to elation to grief, dipped again. "Perhaps he...no longer holds me in affection."
Andrea made an impatient gesture. "Nonsense. He loves you still, I'm sure of it. Ah...why did I not suspect it from the first?"
She rounded on Emily and seized her hands. "If Evan does not contact you shortly, you must go to him."
Even in midswing of emotion, Emily had to smile at that. “I assure you, if Evan still cares for me, he will seek me out."
Andrea looked thoughtful. “Perhaps. But the Evan sitting in a darkened library at Highgrove is not the same man who left England eight weeks ago. He still has no sight in his right eye, his right arm has little movement and his hand may be permanently crippled. Oh, I know all that would make no difference to you, but I assure you from personal experience, it will to him! When someone who has been whole becomes...damaged, it does something to one's sense of self. It must be even worse for a man who feels he should always be the strong, commanding one, caring for those he loves. If he no longer feels himself capable of that, he may very well not seek you out." She paused, as if to let Emily absorb the truth of that.
"I see how that might be so," Emily admitted.
Andrea laughed. '"Tis that, I'm sure. Gentlemen and their silly scruples! Even my Giles, when I told him I intended to end my engagement to Evan, was horrified that I meant to abandon the protection of a husband in possession of all his limbs and entrust myself to one who was, he said, 'lacking.' Of course," she added with a devilish twinkle, "after I finished kissing him he decided my marrying him might be better, after all. So you see, if Evan does not come to you, you shall have to go to him."
Go to Evan unbidden? The notion both excited and appalled her. "And if he truly no longer wishes me?"
Andrea shrugged. "A few moments in his company should suffice to establish that. Prepare some excuse to have ready, if you must—you were visiting friends in the neighborhood and stopped by to see how he was getting on. or some such."
For a moment Emily stared at her, swayed by the intensity of the girl's conviction. Go to Evan unbidden. Could she summon up that much courage?
"He returns to London in a week for my wedding, which—" Andrea flashed her a smile "—if you can finish the dress, will take place in a fortnight. If he's not contacted you before then, I think you should go to him." As if reading her thoughts, Andrea added softly, "If you love him, you can do it. If you truly want him, you may have to."
Miss Marlowe gathered her gloves and reticule. "Would you do me one more favor? Would you come to the wedding? Had it not been for the love Evan bears you that made him act so strangely, in my anxiety I might have forced us into a hasty marriage we would have regretted the rest of our lives. Instead, I had the time and confidence to find my Giles. For which incredible gift I can never thank you enough."
Despite the conflicting emotions battering her, Emily had to smile at life's absurdity: the girl she felt she'd badly wronged seemed to view her as a sort of guardian angel. "If you wish it, I should be honored."
"Excellent! Since Evan is like a brother to me, you and I must be sisters. Mayhap he will have an 'interesting announcement' to make at my wedding!"
Grinning at that romantic thought, the young lady took her leave.
******************************************************************
Emily smiled too, then. Nearly two weeks later she was no longer smiling. She'd received no letters. For the first few days after she knew he'd arrived back in London, her ear had continually listened for the sound of his footsteps approaching her office, her workroom, her parlor. Footsteps that never came.
Andrea's wedding was but a few days away. Surely, after all that had passed between them, he would not meet her for the first time since the end of his engagement in front of a roomful of strangers. Even if he no longer wanted her for his wife, they might still be friends—mightn't they? Then why, why had he not contacted her?
Sighing, Emily tapped on her sketch pad, not noticing that evening shadowed the room and the noise of the seamstresses had given way to silence, until Francesca came in.
"Why, mistress, sit you here in the darkness, your tea frio? Every day this week I find you thus."
"I've been...sketching and lost track of time."
After a skeptical glance at the mostly blank paper in front of her mistress, Francesca came over and peered down at Emily. "What is it, querida, that sets your mind fluttering like a wild bird without a nest?"
"Nothing, Francesca. I'm a bit tired, I suppose."
The maid sighed. “Do not worry, querida. By the blessed saints, he will come for you."
For two weeks she'd fluctuated between euphoria, hope and doubt. Tears threatened as she replied, "It's been a month since his break with Miss Marlowe. How can you be so certain?"
"His eyes, querida. When he was wounded and we tended him, they followed you—yes, even the sound of your voice. Your spirit is in him. He must find you again if he is to be whole."
Emily wanted so badly to believe that. Trying for a lighter tone, she replied, "'Eyes', Francesca? He can only see out of one."
The little maid shook her head and gave her a pitying look. "So...literal, you English. But the master—when he was cut down, his power as dust, he knew better. He was seeing with his heart, querida. As you could, if you would but listen and do what it demands."
Telling Emily she would summon the carriage, the maid went out.
As they journeyed home, during dinner, as she sat heedless over her book that evening, the maid's words whispered to her: listen to your heart.
One action she had been able to take. With Miss Marlowe's story a powerful reminder that 'twas wrong to marry a man for whom one felt only friendship, she'd turned down Brent's offer. He took the refusal with good grace, saying he hoped she'd change her mind—if someone else didn't declare his.
What did that "someone else" intend? How she wished she knew.
She'd attempted to write to Evan, seizing the excuse of offering condolences on the broken engagement. But every note she began, and she began many, ended shredded and tossed in the fireplace.
Should she go to him as her heart urged? She could hardly imagine the commanding, overbearing man she knew not coming to claim a woman he wanted once he was free to do so. The Evan who'd carried her up to her room that night, who'd begged Lady Auriana to meet him at a country inn, would have come straightaway to London, demanded entry if she tried to turn him away, argued with her to accept his proposal.
