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Fredrick’s eyes lit up. “Jove’s beard, I do remember you! Your name’s Fanny, is it not?”
“We must go, Fredrick,” interjected Marianne before the conversation could continue. “I have a slight headache coming on and need to get home.” She turned to her friend and her aunt. “Could we have tea another day, ladies?”
“Of course, dearest,” said Fanny, frowning slightly. “I did not realise you had a headache …”
But Marianne was already walking away, in the opposite direction. “It was lovely to see you, Fred! I am so very sorry to cut our talk short!”
Fredrick looked askance. “Oh, that is quite alright, Marianne. I am certain we shall bump into one another again before I leave town.”
Marianne nodded, smiling slightly, but didn’t reply. She was almost running now, Fanny and Aunt Petunia trailing after her. Her eyes were stinging with tears. She knew she must get home immediately before they started to fall. It was simply too much.
He is here. He is in town. Why is he here after all this time?
“Marianne!” Fanny’s voice was filled with urgency. “Please, wait!”
She started to slow down. The headache had been an excuse, of course, but she really was starting to feel sick. Faint and a little nauseous. She knew it was entirely because of the altogether unexpected encounter with Fredrick Knightley and his revelation that Joseph was back in town.
Her heart raced erratically. She didn’t know for certain, of course. Fred hadn’t named the friend who he had accompanied to Acton-on-Rye. But who else could it be? They had been as thick as thieves back in the day. Joseph was the only reason Fred had even come to this district of Somerset. Fred had always stayed with the family when the Earl of Bedford was in residence at Bartok House, which lay just on the outskirts of the town.
Bartok House was the grandest house in the town, of course, befitting an earl. And yet, the Earl of Bedford had never acted imperially towards the townsfolk. He had always been friendly and down to earth, impressing the locals. She had liked him very much, and she had thought he liked her, too, despite the fact she had no grand title or status. She was a gentleman’s daughter but not nobility. Very far down in the pecking order, indeed.
The earl had frequented Bartok House for many years, bringing his family and an assortment of house guests from London. Acton-on-Rye had always been abuzz when the earl and his party descended on the sleepy town. The earl hosted balls, garden parties, and soirees, inviting the local gentry. It was always a thrill to get an invitation to Bartok House.
And that was where she had met Joseph for the very first time. The Earl of Bedford’s oldest son and heir. The gentleman who she had loved like no other and who had seemingly spoiled the chance of love for her forever.
“Are you quite alright, Marianne?” Fanny’s voice intruded on her reverie. “You are as pale as a ghost.”
Marianne tried to shake off her worry, but she couldn’t fool her old friend. Fanny knew her inside and out. They had been friends since they were little girls, after all. They had grown up beside each other. The Harding family and her own were close and always at each other’s houses. Fanny was like the sister she had never had. A sibling who felt more like her own flesh and blood than her older brother Edmund ever had.
Marianne took a deep breath, turning to face her friend. “Just a slight headache, dearest, as I said. I might need to lie down. That is all.”
Fanny frowned slightly. “I can tell you were shocked at running into Mr Knightley after all this time. It cannot have been easy for you, given he is so close to Lord Weston.” She hesitated. “Do you think Lord Weston is the friend Mr Knightley was referring to? That he is in town as well?”
Marianne tried to shrug nonchalantly. “I simply do not know, dearest, nor do I care.” Her bottom lip trembled, but her voice was steady, at least. “It is no business of mine if Lord Weston is visiting Acton-on-Rye.”
Fanny’s frown deepened. “Therehasbeen a flurry of activity at Bartok House, now that I think about it. As if they were preparing for a visit. Perhaps the whole family is here for an extended stay, just like they used to. It has been many years since the earl visited …”
Marianne nodded but found it hard to listen to her friend. All she could think about was the possibility that Joseph was back in town. But he wouldn’t be accompanied by his lady wife. He was a widower now.
Her face started to burn. She wanted to turn around and gaze back down the street, see if he was standing there, and see if he had joined Fredrick Knightley.
Do not do it, Marianne, she told herself sternly.Do not look around.
“Do you wish to talk about it, dearest?” asked Fanny quietly. “You must be filled with conflict about the possibility of running into Lord Weston again, after all this time.” Then her voice hardened. “The rogue! I shall never forgive him for what he did to you.”
Marianne took another deep breath. “No, Fanny. I do not want to talk about it at all. I wish to drop the subject entirely.”
Mercifully, before her dear friend could argue with her, Aunt Petunia caught up with them. “Why are the two of you standing there gossiping? Come along. Marianne must rest her head, and I must rest my feet.”
“Yes, Aunt,” said Fanny.
They kept walking without speaking. Marianne took her friend’s arm, taking comfort in her presence. Even if she couldn’t talk about it with Fanny, it was enough that she was here and that she had indicated her willingness to talk. She was a true friend, fiercely loyal, and always faithful.
Her thoughts returned to Richard Russell, the ball on Saturday night, and to the elegant gown Mama had ordered for it, which had cost far too much. Aunt Petunia might believe that a lady’s wardrobe was an investment, but it was only worth it if it reaped the rewards. Otherwise, it was just an extravagant waste of coin.
She knew they couldn’t go on like this. She knew that if Richard Russell didn’t propose, then she must find someone who would. It was no longer a viable option to remain in her lofty ivory tower, spurning suitors, because of an old, faithless love. The time for sentimentality was long gone.
It didn’t matter if Joseph Weston was back in Acton-on-Rye. If he was, and she bumped into him somewhere or other, she would simply ignore him, and she was certain he would do the same. Most likely neither of them wanted to revisit the past. It would just be awkward for everyone, after all.
