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She needed to make one more trip to Thornfield, to fetch the rest of the linens for the beds and the kitchen. Within a few days, her vision would be fully realised as the students began using the building as both home and school.
She’d not seen Dominic Ransleigh when she ventured back to Bildenstone’s library, a bored Constancia at her side. She hadn’t really expected to, but she’d been shaken anew by the strength of her disappointment and regret at missing him.
The hard truth was she’d already grown too attached to him, and not just by the physical magnetism that drew her to him whenever he was near. She had come to crave his company and look forward to discussing all manner of topics with a mind as active and even more far-ranging than Papa’s. She loved listening to him talk about horses, discuss farm management and reminisce about his army days. She would love to scour the shelves in the Bildenstone library while they compared their favourite books.
She recalled their wildflower ride, the disarming humility with which Ransleigh confessed he was still floundering to find his place, the deepening intimacy of friendship that had surrounded them as they talked so frankly, a bond as close and powerful as the more physical connection they’d shared after.
Even now, she felt the urge to throw herself and all her energies into helping him identify the life’s work that would replace the calling he’d lost, sure whatever endeavour he settled upon, he would pursue it with vigour and competence.
It would take but very little more involvement to find herself falling in love with him. Which would be a disaster on so many counts.
First and foremost, she had only to remember the catastrophe of losing Marshall. She’d fallen for her fiancé quickly and completely, investing every particle of her mind and heart. Imbued with the confidence of youth, she’d expected him to go through all the campaigns unscathed, as Papa always had. The loss of Lord Everly and his bereaved wife’s pain had scarcely shaken her confidence in the future she and Marshall would share.
When, on the road to Lisbon, she’d received the terrible news of Marshall’s death in battle, she’d been at first incredulous and denying. Once the messenger her father dispatched was able to convince her of its truth, she’d fallen to her knees, struck down by a physical pain as great as if her chest had been cleft in two.
She’d told everyone their long sojourn at the convent was because of Alicia’s ill heath, but in truth, her companion could probably have made it to Lisbon. It was Theo who, after reaching the nunnery where they’d arranged to spend the night, had collapsed, inconsolable. Paralysed by grief and despair, she lay for days unmoving, pushing away the meals the nuns brought her, scarcely able to dress or groom herself.
If it hadn’t been for the need to care for the infant Charles, she wasn’t sure she would ever have emerged from that spiral of misery.
Now, when she looked up at Ransleigh’s face, caught in that mesmerising blue gaze, wrapping herself up in his brilliant smile, her mind captivated by his wit and beguiled by his charm, she thought how easy it would be to fall again just as completely for Dominic Ransleigh.
Her illusions of safety destroyed by the deaths of Marshall and her father, she wasn’t sure she could survive losing anyone else.
And if she couldn’t risk falling in love with him, no more could she risk making love to him. She no longer had any doubt about the strength of the physical pull between them; if she kept seeing him, sooner or later the siren song of passion would drown out the voice of prudence and caution—she’d been reckless enough already, kissing him with total abandon in that farmer’s field. The results of discovery, for herself and her orphans, would have been too dire to contemplate.
But even if she did become so lost to reason and prudence as to take those risks, an involvement between them wouldn’t be fair to Ransleigh. He’d shown disarming candour in confessing that he was still at his life’s crossroads. It would be wrong to try to attach him now. Sooner or later, he would find the occupation he sought, and land on his feet again. Once launched upon the new endeavour—and some interaction with society would inevitably be part of it—he deserved far better than an old maid past her last prayers with a troop of children in tow, a woman whose position in society would do him not a particle of good in advancing along whatever path he chose to pursue.
The keenness with which she missed him, and strength of temptation to seek him out, only reinforced her conviction that parting from him was necessary.
It was also miserable. Well, she’d endured ‘miserable’ before; she must simply grit her teeth, keep moving forward, and wait until the need for him faded.
As it must, eventually. Mustn’t it?
A touch at her arm shocked her out of her melancholy reverie. Beside her stood one of the footmen who’d accompanied her from Thornfield to transport the heavy items. ‘Miss Branwell, there’s a soldier outside asking to see you.’
Curiosity replaced introspection. She didn’t recall that any of Papa’s troopers hailed from Suffolk. ‘Did he give you his name?’
‘Lieutenant Audley Tremaine. He said he’d worked with your father.’
Distaste soured her stomach and she frowned. What could Audley Tremaine want with her? She wished she’d been able to repeat to her father some of the crude insinuations he’d made after her return from the convent; Papa would have used him for target practice, and she’d not have to deal with him now.
Though she had no wish to see him, neither would she give him the satisfaction of thinking he intimidated her. Still, not wanting to have the children witness the unpleasantness that would probably arise at their exchange, she decided to meet him outside.
‘I don’t want the students disturbed. Tell the lieutenant I’ll join him by the pasture fence.’
After giving the footman time to deliver her message, she took a deep breath and girded herself for what was probably to come. You will be cool, distant—and will not let him make you lose your temper, she instructed as she exited the building.
She saw him immediately, lounging by the fence, his black gelding tied to a nearby tree. Before she’d met Marshall, she’d found the attentions of the tall, handsome, arrogantly charming Lieutenant Tremaine flattering and exciting. Until acquaintance with a man far his superior made his attractions look as insignificant as a copper farthing beside a gold sovereign.
He straightened when she reached him and made a mocking bow. ‘Well, well, Theo Branwell, imagine finding you in the wilds of Suffolk!’
‘Indeed,’ she said, not offering her hand. ‘Whatever brings you to the wilds of Suffolk?’
‘The desire to renew your charming acquaintance?’
‘Since we didn’t part on friendly terms, I doubt that.’
‘We could have been friendly. We could still be very...friendly.’
Trying not to grit her teeth, she said, ‘Weren’t you selling out? So you could resume attending house parties where there are bored matrons to seduce?’
The smile on his handsome face faded. ‘Not kind to remind me that my ancient name came unaccompanied by the funds to maintain it. Yes, I’ve sold out, but ladies find a man in uniform so appealing! I’m sure you noticed the effect.’
‘I’d say it depended on the man.’
Ignoring that jibe, he continued. ‘My business elsewhere didn’t preclude my stopping by to see you. Quite a fuss you’ve created in the neighbourhood, I understand! Over a pint at the King’s Arms in Hadwell, I heard all about your pious zeal for the poor orphans. How are the little tykes?’
‘Please don’t pretend now you have any interest in them. I remember too well your disdain for father’s sergeant-major’s son.’
‘Hanging on to them after the old man’s death to remember him by? How pious and proper. Ha!’ He laughed. ‘If the townspeople here only knew.’
‘Now that you’ve offered the usual insults, isn’t it time to leave?’
‘I might have offered you marriage instead, once upon a time. Though after Marshall arrived with his handsome face, large fortune, and future title, I knew I didn’t have a chance. Now that he’s met his sad end, however, there might be...other opportunities. Not marriage any longer, of course.’
‘Not now that I’m “damaged goods”, you mean?’
Tremaine laughed. ‘I always admired your spirit. I knew a lass with your energy and enthusiasm would have to be passionate—and we both know how right I was, eh? I figure by now, you’ve had time to finish grieving and become...lonely.’
‘I will never be that lonely. But don’t despair; at this house party or the next, you may find an heiress with less-than-vigilant relations you may cozen into marrying you before she realises what you are. Not everyone can be as fortunate as I was.’
He merely smiled. ‘You always had a sharp tongue on you. I’ve always hungered to taste it...and more.’
