Enchanted Summer: (Regency Romance) (15 page)

“Sir Hugh has managed to keep the place up, at least,” said Celia with appreciation.

“Lady Downing died four years ago. Sir Hugh was a little happier back then. She took his good humor with her for he never again smiled after she was gone. ”

“I am sorry to hear that.”

* * *

“What did you like most of all?”  Henrietta asked Celia when they were again at the lodge.

“I loved it all,” Celia replied with a sigh, “especially the entrance hall with the stained glass. I also loved the gallery above the ballroom. Mama told me they had minstrels there at one time.”

“I thought the ballroom the grandest thing!” said Henrietta, “but I think that blue bedroom in the east wing was matchless. The housekeeper was partial to it too,” Henrietta added, “for she keeps the lovely furniture dusted.”

“It must be one of the few rooms in the house with furniture, Celia said, “and it has a matching one in the opposite wing, with its own balcony. Mrs. Botts told me about it while you were going around feeling the damask. But she said the room is empty. The furniture was sold years ago to pay bills.”

“What a pity!”

“Yes.” Celia sipped her tea thoughtfully. “I liked Sir Hugh, even though he measures his words with extreme economy. Of course, now that I have met him I realize it’s because of his frail health.”

“Oh, I like him, too,” said Henrietta. “What a pity he has never known any good times as far as money goes.”

“I wonder if his grandson will do better.”

“Not from what the housekeeper says,” laughed Henrietta. “When you went to see the view from the terrace she told me that he was “unstable as a young man, always getting into hare-brained schemes to make money. She said that if he had settled down in the estate and taken care of it, it would not be in the state it was in now. And you heard her go on about him before Sir Hugh came into the library.”

Do you think we might return to Farley Hall?” Asked Henrietta.

“Return?”

“You could contact young Hugh,” said Henrietta excitedly. I’m certain he would have made contact with you had their father or his grandfather allowed it. Why do you suppose they didn’t?”

“I have no idea why. You have seen Sir Hugh’s character, Henrietta. It’s obvious he likes seclusion, and seems also to want it for his grandson, for he did not offer to have him contact us. Besides, from what Mrs. Botts said, young Hugh prefers more to carouse in London than to take his responsibilities seriously. I dread to think how the estate will fare under his care.”

“Are you not curious about him? To meet him for the first time?”

“I am,” Celia admitted.

“Sir Hugh might not like me to contact his grandson without his knowledge,” added Celia, bemused that Henrietta had taken such a liking to the estate.

“Sir Hugh is hardly of this world anymore,” insisted Henrietta, “He seems so fragile he might blow away like gossamer with the merest breeze.”

“We might have become very fond of him had he allowed contact all these years,” said Celia, “but even now, he seems to want the thinnest contact, and to have it end as quickly as possible. You saw that our meeting lasted about four minutes.”

“Three and a half,” said Henrietta laughing. “Oh Celia, you cannot agree to such an arrangement. Surely you are curious to meet his heir?”

“I am, I confess it,” said Celia.

“It’s unnatural to keep members of a family apart. Never mind what Sir Hugh thinks. He will relent in the end.”

“What if his grandson is not interested either? From Mrs. Botts’ description he doesn’t seem to be the kind that would be interested in meeting us.”

“You cannot find that out unless you contact him, now can you?”

“Indeed, what could be the harm of it,” said Celia. “A letter will do, and if he doesn’t answer, or answers in the negative, well, then that will be the end of it.”

“Well, now that you must contact young Hugh, I hope you will consider extending your visit.”

“Mama would cease speaking to me. She is longing for me to arrive. I’m not even going to mention I earned money with the professor. She would consider it ‘trade.’”

CHAPTER 17

Later, alone in her room, Celia wrote a very long letter to her mother, telling her in detail about the visit to Farley Hall, her impressions of the Hall and of Sir Hugh.

She changed into a warm dressing gown, settled by the little hearth and untying the key from the diary she fitted it into a lock and turned it. Not for a moment did she think of not reading the book. Sir Hugh might have scruples about reading it but she did not. She had been denied knowing her grandfather and she hoped she might learn a little about him through his own written words.

The journal spanned at least a decade. Her grandfather had not written on it on a daily basis but rather, only when something of importance justified an entry.

It seemed to have been started as a sounding board, a place in which her grandfather, whose name was also Sir Hugh Downing wrote of the growing problems to save his property and his family’s way of life, as though by writing about these things he might find a way to resolve them. So it was indeed a history of the family at the point in time when what they had possessed for at least two centuries was slipping away from his fingers like the sands of an hourglass.

It had not happened all in her grandfather’s Sir Hugh’s time, though; thousands of acres had been lost by his forebears, but it was the last of it that was so hard to relinquish and the lot had befallen on him.

And so the diary served as a justification for whoever read it after his death of the struggle, the incredible fortitude in resisting fate, and the sad outcome.

Through her grandfather’s words, Celia felt what he must have felt himself and came to know him, for he came alive for her through the uniform square handwriting.

She could picture him as he strolled in his thoughtful walks with his cane. Celia could almost see him gazing at the fire in the library where she had seen the present Sir Hugh sit even as her grandfather had done, and worried at the fate of his only grand-daughter, Margaretta, when the entailed property would revert, at his death, together with his baronet title, to his cousin Hugh.

Years of struggle had taken their toll and he felt his health failing. What possessed him most in the last entries was Margaretta’s future. How to secure it? This was the problem come again and again to, since his heir, Hugh Downing, would not have a great interest in securing the future of a cousin he had not ever met. He wondered if the marriage he had arranged for her would be sufficient to secure her future. He had not had the time to acquaint himself with the young man as much as he would have wanted to because time was against him. He felt his life slipping away from him like the sands in the hourglass on the table by the window.

The physician has no hope for Annabel’s recovery, Celia read, the consumption has invaded her lungs to such a degree that she can hardly move her hand so that I must feed her myself. I do this with such love! Could I but be given this to do for the rest of my life, how gladly I would do it, if the Lord would grant me the wish of her life. But I see my dear’s life tapering to so thin a line that she can hardly lift her eyes to me, so weak she is. And she so strong she was before and struck down so suddenly with this evil malady. How strong I felt when I had her strength with me, to struggle year after year with no abatement from this ill luck to which I was born. I suffered everything gladly, for I had her. But now—can I be expected to go on in the loneliness that awaits me when my dear is gone? Yes, yes, I must continue the fight for the grand-daughter left to us, our little Margaretta, whose parents, my son Arnold and Katherine, died of the typhus, leaving their daughter in my care.

Celia closed the diary softly, unable to continue. She could hardly see the lock clearly to secure it, for her eyes were filled with tears.

She realized that her grandfather lived on in her mother and in Fred and Bella and herself and was thus comforted. It was for him they should carry their name in dignity. She had never felt as proud to be a descendant of Sir Hugh Arnold Downing as she was now, with her grandfather’s pride of family and tradition growing strong within her. And she thought back to her own struggles to keep her little family afloat now, and realized that she had carried her grandfather’s struggle unknowingly, since her father’s death.

She was writing the last letter she would write her mother before leaving in two days’ time back to Rook’s End on a bench in one of the two side gardens in front of the lodge. Then a rustle of horses nickering made her look up. She froze on seeing the Shelton Carriage turning on the circular drive and stop at the front door. Then she stood up.

Lord Robert Merrick alit and helped his sister Ellen, down.

Emotions inside her like whirling autumn leaves made Celia freeze and for a few moments even her vision was blurred.

With a bounding leap of her heart and the breath catching at her throat she saw Robert suddenly appear before her. He took her hand in his and placed a warm kiss on it that went clear down to her toes and back. She stood up, holding the chair for support for her legs were wobbly.

“I’m glad to see you again, Miss Meade.”

“Thank you—yes—I am, too,” Celia stammered.

Robert’s nearness had such a dizzying effect on her that after a hurried greeting to Ellen she led them quickly inside lest she fall right before them. She needed to sit and quickly! Her legs could not support her.

As if reading her thoughts Robert led her to a sofa when they entered the drawing-room a little apart from the others. Celia rang the bell and soon Henrietta had joined her and after the introductions she called for tea.

“I have seen members of your family on several occasions,” Robert said, sitting beside Celia. “They have expressed to me they miss you very much, especially your mother.”

“Yes,” Celia said through a tight throat. “I leave the day after tomorrow. Mama is incapable of managing on her own. She has written two and three letters a day, begging me to return from the moment I left.” She smiled indulgently.

She knew that if she looked into his eyes her eyes would fill with tears, so she looked down at her hands as he addressed her again.

“I have learned from your sister, Bella that you are taking painting lessons and are working with Justin Welsh. I know his work. He enjoys a success now, does he not?”

“He enjoys a modest success, my lord,” Celia replied, looking over his shoulder, “and not as much as he deserves. He is extremely talented but belongs to a group that has advanced ideas–ideas that do not sell when translated to the canvas. Yet his conventional paintings and classes furnish him with a very adequate living. He is a very happy man, for he works at what he loves.”

The bell rang again and it was Liddell who called. And he was soon followed by Jeoffrey and Dora.

Celia was glad of the distraction as they were both pulled away from each other. She could not have held her tears for much longer.

Toward the close of the evening Celia, glancing up, happened to look toward where Robert was and saw that he was looking at her. Her body shook, so much that she wondered if it was obvious to the others. That blaze of light that Robert had brought into her life and that she had been forced to push away had come back to invade her heart the moment she saw him again.

* * *

As if reading Celia’s thoughts Lord Merrick crossed the room and asked her if she could take a turn in the garden with him.

But even together as they walked around the garden’s circular path, they seemed to be in opposite ends of a tunnel which was fearful because it was the unknown. Celia’s circumstances had not changed but she sensed that although Robert had been hurt at her refusal, he appeared to have accepted it and did not press her. Instead, he wanted to remain her friend, if they could not be…

“Your family misses you terribly,” he said but his eyes told Celia that it was he who missed her most.

And then he put into words what was in his heart:

“The time we spent together in the wood was the happiest of my life, Celia.”

“It was the happiest in my life too, Robert.”

Robert kissed her hand and then let go of it, slowly, softly.

Even though they parted, Celia knew that they would remain together in their hearts and that he would find the way for them to be together in their lives. She had seen the determination in his eyes.

“I can’t wait until you return to Shelton, Celia,” said Ellen when they rejoined the group, pressing Celia’s hand, as she and Robert moved to leave the drawing-room.

“I miss my family and I miss you and Robert, dear Ellen,” Celia assured her. “I have benefited greatly from Mr. Welsh’s instruction and now feel confident painting in oils. I have been very fortunate in being taught oil technique by him.”

“I’m glad for you, Celia,” Ellen said. “You’re very talented and it would be a pity to have such talent wasted. I’m glad you are pursuing it in a serious way. I know how you must constantly resist pressure from your mother and from society.”

“The pressure is constant and annoying,” Celia agreed. “But I have learned to ignore it as if it did not exist.”

“No pressure from Robert, I’m sure,” said Ellen, as Robert joined them. “He has often told me how talented you are and how much he hopes you continue to pursue it.”

Celia’s heart skipped a beat as she looked at Robert and their eyes locked. She felt a connection to him that held strong across a room or close up and ceased to be fearful of meeting his eyes.

By her side Ellen’s voice cut across her thoughts. “It was a very enjoyable evening, Henrietta,” Ellen was saying. “Thank you for inviting us.”

“I’ll be glad to see you again when I return, Ellen,” said Celia, hugging her friend warmly. Then turning to Robert, she gave him her hand. He kissed it and then looked deep into her eyes. Celia felt his kiss clear down to her toes and felt she wanted to sit down before she toppled over.

Then the bell rang and Celia realized Liddell was not going to miss out on one moment of time left to her, since he appeared intent on pressing his suit. Nor was he going to leave the field free to someone else.

When Robert and Ellen had left Celia went back in her mind to try to examine at leisure some of the nuances and unspoken words.

* * *

Celia wanted to be alone with her thoughts and so closed her eyes, hoping Liddell would leave her in peace.

Robert had glanced at Liddell in a speculating way as Liddell’s eyes often fell on Celia. Had he perhaps wondered if Celia would accept Liddell?

And a pain crossed Celia’s heart at the thought that Caroline would stop at nothing to trap Robert into marriage.

Could she outlive that? When she thought of Robert she could think of him only as belonging to her. She believed they were meant for each other, yet fate stood between, bent on destroying anything between them.

She sighed, weighed down by the fear of an outcome she could see would be inevitable. Yet she still hoped; again she tried to discern in Robert’s words the love he had once professed to have for her. He had been warm toward her, He had sought her out and sat with her at the lodge. Had it been his idea to come or Ellen’s?

Would he find a way for them?

There was still a bond between her and Robert. Yet she could do nothing to strengthen it, for in so doing, she would be doing her family a treachery. They would lose the tenuous hold they had on a decent life, forever. And if this happened what would they do? Where would they go? And how would she be able to live with herself if that happened?

Yet her heart still carried the hope that Robert would find a way for them to be together as he had assured her.

* * *

“You haven’t been yourself since you saw Robert again, Celia,” Henrietta said, a worried frown on her face. “What is troubling, you dear?”

“Nothing. Nothing at all,” Celia responded.

“It doesn’t seem to me like ‘nothing’, Celia.” Henrietta shook her head.

“I’m just listless,” Celia responded, “Seeing Robert again was an anticlimax of sorts. It was not good for me to encounter him again.

“Did he speak to you?”

“Yes, we spoke,” Celia replied without looking at Henrietta.

“He cares deeply for you. It was obvious to me,” Henrietta asserted.

“And I for him. Yet even if he does, nothing has changed. The same barriers are still there.”

“I think you see this in a difficult way, Celia. What could the harm be in a betrothal to Lord Merrick? You said that your Uncle Worth told you he would not ask you and your family to leave, Celia.”

“Yes, Henrietta, but Uncle Worth said that although he would not ask us to leave, Caroline had promised she would make our life so difficult for us we would
want
to leave. He quite clearly told me that Caroline accused me of seeking Lord Merrick. He was emphatic.

“Henrietta, Uncle Worth asked for
my
promise that I would not have any more contact with either Robert or Helen. He assured me that this problem was disrupting his life, also.”

“Good Grief,” said Henrietta, “I never heard of such a thing!”

“I have no doubt that Caroline forced Uncle Worth to extract that promise from me, Henrietta. He looked uncomfortable at our meeting as he waited to hear my oath. He didn’t even look me in the eyes as he did so.”