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At the assemblies, Caroline could always count on him for a dance and a chat, and she realized how much she had misjudged him.
He sat across from her now in the parlor as she went through her meagre invitations for the coming week. There was an invitation from the Martin family for a private ball, and, written in a differenthand from the rest of the card, was a note—I look forward to your presence. J.
It must mean what she thought it did. James was going to come up to scratch.
“It is nice to know that we are still invited out,” she said, tucking the card behind the others. “Shall we see you at the Martins’ on Tuesday?”
He nodded. “You shall indeed. It must be pleasing to see a bevy of cards in your salver, after so many years without proper socializing.”
She frowned. “I had plenty of socializing before.” She thought of the evening she and Arabella had spent dancing at the grocer’s, staring up at the stars, sweaty and happy.
How she wished to turn back time.
“I suppose that must be true. But, Miss Reeve, you must appreciate your new social circle? It has brought you such opportunities.”
“Yes, it has been an entertaining summer.” It was wretched now, but though she appreciated his kindnesses, she didn’t intend to pour her heart out to him.
“I wonder if you would perhaps be amenable to the idea of widening your circle still further?”
Caroline stared at him.
He cleared his throat. “That is, if you wished to—you could join mine.”
Oh dear.
Caroline stared at Mr. Taylor, dread creeping into her heart.
This couldn’t be happening. Not when she had James where she needed him to be. Mr. Taylor wore fine suits and had elegant manners, but he was also now somewhat of a poor relation. He would never do.
She looked down at the cards again. “Nothing but the urgency of my current situation could compel me to marry, Mr. Taylor. You must understand why I must decline.”
“We would be a good match, Miss Reeve. Consider the benefits. I know your family, and we rub along together well enough. We can remove to London. Please reconsider.”
“We would not suit, sir. As you are aware, we are in need of funds.” It was blunt speaking, but Jacob had confided in him enough for him to know the depths of their situation.
She rose, and in some confusion, he followed suit. “I must bid you a good afternoon, Mr. Taylor. I shall see you on Tuesday.”
He left Caroline alone with her thoughts.
Two proposals within the past week. She told herself to be grateful for the opportunity to help her family, but instead she felt exhausted.
She was caught between memories of the past, and worries for the future, and neither of them brought her happiness. If she stopped and thought about her desires for the present moment, if she was free from any obligation or responsibility, it was clear what she wanted.
Arabella.
It was cruel that they had found romantic love so late. They could have had years together already. Instead, it was over almost before they had a chance to begin.
But it was proof enough that one should always take what was offered, and to enjoy it. No one knew the future. She couldn’t have predicted the loss of her parents and how it would change everything. The inheritance had been the stuff of wildest fantasy.
If she had kissed Arabella at sixteen in the cherry orchard, the entirety of their lives would have been different. But she hadn’t trusted enough that it wouldn’t be a disaster.
If she could do it again and secure her happiness, she would.
But because she couldn’t, she needed to do the next best thing so someone else could have that opportunity.
Caroline found Betsy in her bedchamber, scribbling in a slender tome. She snapped it closed and shoved it aside when Caroline entered.
“We haven’t spoken in some time,” Caroline said, and sat on the corner of the bed.
