“You don’t mean that,” Melanie argued as she fumbled her way through a difficult passage that hadn’t troubled her for a long time. A blush was threatening to cover her from head to toe, all from the compliments Walter continued to shower over her and she did not deserve even one. “Valentine plays well. He would be better if he played more often though.”
“Not in your league,” Walter insisted. “No doubt about that.”
Melanie fixed her attention on her sheet music, but she could not seem to perform to her own high standards anymore.
Valentine hurried in, waving a sheet of music in the air. “Here it is, stuck between the covers of another tune.”
Melanie drew the piece to a close and stood, keen to allow the married couple free use of the instrument. It was theirs. Her brother and his wife met at the pianoforte and squeezed onto the same stool and Melanie moved to sit and listen.
“They’ve been looking for that duet all week so they might play together,” she explained to Walter.
He rolled his eyes. “This should be torture then.”
“Or amusing,” she replied, hiding a smile. It could be torture, but she’d suffer the pain if it made the couple happy.
When the playing commenced, she listened for a respectful few minutes, but the pair were making a mess of the passages and talking more than playing. She turned to Walter, unable to remain silent about his surprising purchase. “Thank you for buying my grandmother’s house. It looks lovely now.”
At first she had thought her father had spent money on the repairs that had brought the house to life again. She couldn’t ever pass it without being filled with longing for those happier times. But it was not her father’s way to spend more than the minimum sum required on any property he owned. She should have known better than to think so well of him.
He nodded. “The current tenants spend a lot of time in the garden so it’s well tended thanks to the horde of children they have.”
“A family lives there?”
“Yes, the Clarksons came to Brighton three years ago and have been exceptionally good tenants.” He sighed. “If only more were like them.”
Clarkson’s eldest son had been one of her suitors. “You own other property?”
He nodded. “A dozen houses and shops around Brighton.”
Her eyes widened at the number. “But that would make you—”
She glanced away quickly. It would make him a
prize
on the marriage mart. It was a miracle more ladies hadn’t set their cap for him on the strength of his wealth alone.
“What?”
“You must be one of the richest men in Brighton,” she whispered quietly so her brother did not overhear her remark.
If Walter thought it odd she questioned his finances, he gave no sign. He shrugged. “Not quite. Mr. Hartwood is ahead of me, as is Hawke.”
The pianoforte fell silent.
“But you do not act as if you could buy anything you wanted,” Julia stated boldly. “You do not dress a dandy nor flaunt your wealth. No one has ever spoken of you in those terms.”
Melanie winced. It was one thing to privately assess the assets of a gentlemen, but quite another to have the discussion in a drawing room after a dinner party where the man was a guest.
“Well, that can only be to my advantage.” He grinned and seemed entirely unbothered by the discussion. “I must admit I’m not sorry to be spared the fortune hunters seeking me out. I’d much rather be liked for myself than for my money.”
“Miss Langston is assuredly after a wealthy husband,” Julia warned him.
“You could marry anyone you like,” Melanie added in quickly, determined to turn him away from the young lady. Miss Langston wouldn’t do for Walter George. Imogen disliked the girl immensely because she did not care to read. That had to be a consideration in his choice.
“That is true.” He shrugged again, as if finding the topic boring. “With your dowry, Miss Merton, I’m sure you could have done the same long ago too. We have a lot in common in that respect.”
“What about Miss Vickers?” Julia suggested. “She’s very pretty.”
Valentine burst out laughing. “My word, this is interesting. I’ve never had a front-row seat to two people matchmaking one poor man. Terribly unfair. I think
he
should have a chance at it, too. Since there is only one unmarried woman in the room, who would you pick for Melanie to marry, Walter?”
“Well, now. That is a serious question.”
Her stomach flipped as his attention locked on her. Walter deserved to know her mind before another moment passed, before he suggested something he’d later regret.
She swallowed nervously. “Except I don’t wish to marry.”
“I’m sure in time you’d grow accustomed to being held,” he assured her with a soft smile.
“That is not the reason.” She met his gaze. “I don’t wish for children, and a husband would expect me to comply.”
He blinked and then is eyes widened in surprise.
Beyond him, Julia and Valentine gasped.
“That is absurd. You like children. I’ve seen you with children,” Walter said, stating the obvious.
“Yes, I like other people’s children very much, and even more when I hand them back.” She smoothed her hands over her skirts, anxiety filling her. “I simply don’t wish for my own, I never have, so there is no point in marrying.”
He stared into space and Melanie held her breath. His jaw clenched firmly and his brows wrinkled as if he was struggling with a confusing idea.
“Say what is on your mind, sir?”
His face darkened to a deep red and she flinched. Melanie had seen Walter angry only once before. The day Linus Radley had proposed and then insulted her. Walter had been terribly upset with the man. More than he should have been. More than her own brother even.
He was angry now too and she was ashamed to concede she might have led him to think there could be more between them. She’d allowed him to kiss her, and matches had been made on account of far less.
Her heart ached but she couldn’t retract her words or change her opinion. She would never put a child through the same despair she’d suffered. She wasn’t like other women. Her arms didn’t ache to hold a child.
He cleared his throat. “I cannot say what I feel.”
“Well I can.” Valentine sprang to his feet. “This is something you might have told me. Should have told me long ago.”
“I apologize.” She bowed her head, contrite but not changed.
“You do realize that despite the distance, our parents expect you to marry very well.”
She didn’t need the reminder. “They have already been very clear about my duty to the family; they have pressured me to marry for many years with no success. But I am a long way from them so I try not to think about future disagreements.”
Walter turned his face aside. If one of Walter’s greatest wishes was to have a family, and he’d come to think of her fondly, she must have sorely disappointed him. After a moment, he met her gaze again. “For what reason?”
“I beg your pardon.”
“For what reason do you not wish for children.” He stared at her hard, clearly baffled by her decision. “Are you afraid to lose your figure?”
Julia gasped and crossed the room to sit at her side. “Mr. George, that is a very rude question you ask.”
For a moment, it surprised Melanie to have Julia jump to her defense. Many women in society were vain about their appearance and it pained her that Walter thought so little of her. She didn’t care about her figure. Her decision was reasoned, and entirely sensible.
That wasn’t much comfort now though. Melanie rubbed her arms. “So, like Mr. Radley, you think maintaining my appearance is all that is important to me.”
“Is it the reason?”
She met his gaze steadily. “Of course it is not.”
“What will you do? Spend the rest of your life waiting on Julia and her children? Return to Oxford to tend to your parents’ ailments in their final years?” Walter asked, his voice rising. “I imagine that will be hard to do convincingly.”
“Walter George, that is enough,” Julia protested.
“Oh, I don’t think so,” he snapped.
He leaned forward. “What will happen to you when Julia does not need or want you underfoot anymore? Will your father’s estate provide a home for you?”
“Steady on, George,” Valentine warned.
Walter rose, towering above her, but she remained seated and held his gaze. She really had upset him over Imogen and she was sorry for that.
“Without her sight, Imogen was prepared to live alone, away from the ones she loved. She couldn’t bear the idea of being a burden, of having to be watched and waited on at all times because she could not see the dangers ahead of her.”
Melanie shivered. Imogen’s illness had once brought on such extreme panic in herself that she had spoken once without thought, venting her fears in a way that made her cringe now. To lose one’s sight was a tragedy, but more so in Imogen’s case because she wrote such wonderful tales. Melanie had prayed for her recovery every day, but Walter could not know that because she’d done so privately and never breathed a word of it to anyone. All anyone had heard of Melanie was the bad, because her cousin had made everything she said and did seem even worse. “She was very ill.”
“She was not ill. She was afraid, and hurt by the things
you
said about her particularly. As was I.” His jaw clenched tight a moment. “I thought you’d changed, but you are still entirely selfish. You chose the easy way, to love only yourself. I doubt you could ever put another’s needs first.”
His accusations stung. She loved many in Brighton, but she had accepted she was not equipped to show it long ago.
She dropped her gaze, thoroughly ashamed of her behavior with Walter. She was exactly the tease to him that Linus Radley had accused her of being.
“I’m sure you are in the right of it. Excuse me.” Melanie hurried from the room, running upstairs, away from everyone. She was always a lady, and should never allow anyone to ruffle her feathers, but she couldn’t bear Walter’s disappointment. He had stripped her of her composure entirely and made her see how he viewed her too.
Her eyes filled with tears as she heard him take his leave abruptly. She had for a brief moment lost what little good sense she possessed but there was no escaping her mistakes. She was not good. Not even Walter believed that of her anymore.
When Julia came to her door a few minutes later, Melanie refused to let her in. She was better off alone. She deserved to be lonely. Telling herself that didn’t take away the pain of Walter’s anger, though.
Nine
As much as Melanie longed to remain apart from the household, incessant tapping at her door could not be ignored. Julia had left her largely to her own devices for the past several days, but it appeared her peace was at an end. “Come in, Julia.”
The door opened slowly and her sister-in-law smiled at her as if she was wounded. She wasn’t—she was broken. Utterly and completely. She didn’t know where she’d find the strength to face Walter again.
“I thought you might like some company and perhaps tea,” Julia suggested.
She couldn’t say no without appearing rude. “Thank you. That would be lovely.”
The maid they shared set a tray of tea and biscuits on her dresser and smiled shyly. “Your favorites.”
“Thank you, Amy.”
“Shall I pour for you both, miss?”
There were two cups on the tray, hinting that Julia intended to remain. “I’m sure we can manage.”
The maid glanced around. “I’ll just straighten your room a bit.”
The room didn’t need anything done to it. Melanie had spent the better part of three days here, minding her own business, avoiding her brother and accidental meetings with Walter George. She had straightened everything, even polished a table, but it hadn’t made her feel different. She was tired, and she just wanted to be left alone. “There’s nothing to be done here. That will be all, Miss Pond, if you don’t mind.”
The maid appeared crestfallen but then smiled. “Of course. If you need anything, please call for me.”
“I will.”
Julia closed the door behind the maid with a sigh. “She’s worried about you.”
“She shouldn’t.” Melanie crossed the room, poured tea for her sister and passed the cup and a biscuit to her. “Her duty is to you.”
Melanie left her cup untouched. “Did you and Valentine enjoy the ball last night?”
“How do you do that? Pretend to feel one thing when you’re obviously still upset? You’ve been hiding in here all week, and don’t spout that nonsense again about having a headache.”
“I am not upset.” She picked up her cup and sipped, hoping Julia did not notice the faint tremble in her hand. She’d been feeling this way for days, on edge and nervous, ever since Walter had insisted she was selfish. “Where is your husband?”
“I sent him out. He went for a long walk.”
“I see.”
“It’s too cold for swimming and the idleness of inactivity is making him edgy. I never knew he was so much like me before.”
Melanie smiled. “He used to get into so much trouble at home for rushing through the halls and down the staircases in the mornings. It does him good to be here instead, where he can come and go at will. That reminds me, I have a letter to finish writing to our parents.”