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Chapter 28
The day Olivia had been dreading arrived sooner than she expected. Bertie sent her a letter, asking if he might call upon her. The letter was very formal, unlike Bertie, who usually just called unexpectedly or sent a scrawled note. Olivia knew by the twisting of her stomach that the time of reckoning had finally arrived.
She dressed with extra care, putting on her good pearl earrings and matching necklace. An elegant pale green gown. Just the thing for a proposal. Her hands shook as she attached the earrings, gazing at herself in the dressing table mirror. A pale girl with blue eyes that looked too large for her face gazed back at her. A girl she did not even know any longer.
She still did not know what her answer was going to be.
She stared at her reflection. She must accept. These feelings for Captain Fletcher would pass, or she would learn to live with them. She could not afford to let the chance of marriage to Bertie go. The Captain did not love her and never would. Even if they agreed to marry, to please her grandfather, it would be terrible. There might be high passion but how could she live beside him without any deep affection between them as well? It would be a living hell.
And passion faded eventually. It was not a solid base to ground a marriage upon.
There was a knock at the door. Her mother entered, gazing at her intently. “Bertie is here,” she said, in a gentle voice. “I have put him in the drawing room.”
Olivia took a deep breath, standing up. “Yes. I am ready.”
She walked past her mother, heading to the door, when Lady Henrietta reached out a hand, halting her. “Olivia,” she said. “Do what your heart commands. Listen to it.”
Olivia exhaled slowly. How did her mother know? But she had always been intuitive.
She could not speak. Mutely, she nodded her head. Then she kept going, walking down the staircase to the drawing room. Somehow, she felt as if she were walking to the executioner’s block, all the while hoping that a last-minute pardon might arrive.
But it did not. Bertie was leaning against the mantelpiece. He smiled when he saw her.
“How elegant you look today,” he said. “And beautiful. May we walk in the garden?”
Olivia nodded, smoothing down the creases in her gown. Her palms were sweating. When they entered the garden, she noticed her mother step out after her, hovering in the distance. Even with a proposal imminent, the rules of chaperonage had to be observed. But she knew Mama would be discreet and keep a wide berth.
They walked without speaking. Olivia’s heart was pounding uncomfortably. Bertie led her to the gazebo. When they were in the centre of it, he took her hand, dropping to one knee in front of her.
Olivia’s heart lurched with distress. She had been expecting some preamble to settle her nerves. But no, Bertie had decided to get straight to business.
And she had to make a decision.
“Olivia,” he said, gazing up at her earnestly. “You must know how special you have become to me. So very special that I cannot wait another day. Will you do me the honour of becoming my wife?”
She gazed down into his face. He was looking at her with such intensity that she almost could not bear it. How could she hurt this good man? And yet, she suddenly realised, that was exactly what she must do.
“Bertie,” she said, in a hesitant voice. “I am so very fond of you and have treasured our time together.” She took a deep, ragged breath. “But I cannot marry you.”
He looked stunned. He clearly had not been expecting her to refuse him. He blinked rapidly.
“You cannot?” His voice was incredulous. “But… why?”
A small sob escaped her lips. “I am so sorry, Bertie. I do not love you as I should. And I have always wanted a love match.” She hesitated. “I do like you very much indeed, but only as a friend.”
The shocked look was leaving his face. And now, anger was moving across it, like dark clouds over the sky. Slowly he rose, glaring at her.
“You have been leading me along on a string,” he said, in a contemptuous voice. “I have been courting you exclusively. You knew where it was leading. But you have not intimated once that you were not interested in marrying me. I thought that you knew very well what my intentions towards you were.”
Olivia’s heart plummeted. He was disappointed. Even devastated. She felt unbearably guilty because everything he was saying was true. She had led him on, making him believe she was as serious about him as he was about her, that she was receptive to a proposal from him.
“I thought Iwouldaccept you,” she cried, a single tear trickling down her face. “It was my intention to do so! I did not mean to string you along.” She took another deep, ragged breath. “But I have searched my heart and found that I do not love you as you deserve to be loved. There is another woman out there for you, Bertie. The love of your life. I am not her.”
He scoffed. “What utter nonsense. I do not believe such poppycock. You and I get along well, Olivia. We share many common interests. That is all that is needed for a marriage to work. Romantic love is for the fairy folk.”
Olivia gaped at him. She was shocked. All this time she never knew his views upon it. She had just assumed he was falling in love with her. He had certainly acted as if he was, even if there had not been a fiery passion between them. She had just assumed that perhaps Bertie’s kind of love was more sedate. And now, she felt like she did not know him at all. She was very confused all over again.
“You do not love me?” she said, in a faltering voice. “I thought that was why you wished to marry me.”
