Today was somewhat different. All was anxiety and busy activity as preparations were made for the evening’s festivities, and Matthew spent most of the morning trying to stay out of everyone’s way, mainly with Albert, Mabel’s husband, as an accomplice.
“There is nothing more to be dreaded than a busy woman,” thatyoung man said. “She will invariably either accuse the men in her orbit of getting in her way or find all sorts of uncongenial tasks to keep them busy. It is far better to stay out of her way.”
It was a vain hope, however. Mabel found her husband and Matthew talking at their ease behind a large potted plant in the conservatory and sent the former off to carry some chairs from one room to another since all the menservants were rushed off their feet. She looked in horror at Matthew when he offered to help.
“You are the guest of honor, Uncle Matthew,” she said. “Mama would die of mortification if she saw you carrying chairs.”
So Matthew did what he had been wanting to do since yesterday. He walked over to the Greenfields’ house to call upon Clarissa and instead drank coffee with her parents and with George and his wife.
“I understand, Mr. Taylor, that the gathering to which we have been invited this evening is in your honor,” George’s wife said.
“It would seem so,” he said, grimacing slightly. “The prodigal has returned. Until very recently I had not seen any member of my family for more than thirty years. It is a long story.”
“I love long stories,” she said, smiling. “But…another time. You will have come to see Clarissa.”
“She went outside for a stroll a while ago,” her mother said.
“She walked past the window of the library, where I was sitting with George,” Mr. Greenfield said. “I daresay you will find her out there somewhere unless you would rather wait here. I suppose the Taylor women have driven you from the house.”
“Only by refusing my help even in the conveying of chairs from one room to another,” Matthew said. “They insist upon treating me as though I were someone special. I will go and search for Clarissa, if you will excuse me.”
“You are excused,” Mrs. Greenfield said.
He looked around after he had stepped outside but could see no sign of her. She might be anywhere. The park was not nearly as large as the one at Ravenswood, but there were more trees to obscure one’s view. He set out in the direction they had taken most often when they were young. Then he thought of the last time they had walked here. It was a heavy memory of abandonment and grief, and for a moment he felt all the desolation of the boy he had been then. Yet there had been years before that when he had found consolation here and acceptance and the lightheartedness he had experienced rarely if ever at home.
He had found friendship here and a measure of love.
Did the same description apply to them now? Friendship, yes. And…a measure of love?
Was it enough?
And then he had an idea and changed direction. His footsteps slowed after a while as he sought out the exact tree and hoped he would recognize it—and that it still existed. He had carved the scene, but he had never come back here. Would she remember? Would it be important enough that she would try to find the exact tree? She had loved the carving, but would she—
And then he stopped walking abruptly and felt his breath catch in his throat.
She was standing with her back against the tree—and there was no doubt it was the tree—her arms slightly behind her on either side, her palms pressed to the bark. Her dark hair was dressed neatly on her head, not flowing as it had been that other time. Her dress was less full, more Grecian in line than the one she had worn on the earlier occasion. She was no longer that svelte, pretty young girl but a shapely, elegant, and beautiful woman of middle years.But she was the same person. And she gazed ahead of her, as she had done then, though her expression was surely more readable. There was dreamy longing in her face, though he could see it only in profile.
He was not standing in exactly the same spot as before. He was close but out of her line of vision. He stood very still and drank in the sight of her. He yearned for her.
She could not see him. And she had given no sign of having heard him come. But she must have felt his presence after a couple of minutes had passed. She turned her head slowly, and they gazed at each other. She smiled very slightly.
He moved toward her and stood in front of her, as he had stood then. They continued to gaze silently at each other until he spoke.
“I wanted very badly to kiss you,” he said.
“I know,” she said. “You told me a while ago, but I knew it at the time. And I wanted you to kiss me, to force my hand, to make me change my mind. That was wrong of me. What I ought to have wanted was for us to kiss each other. A mutual embrace of equals. Alas, it is not how girls are brought up to think—or do. We are not taught to insist upon equality of decision and responsibility. Let us kiss now, Matthew.”
She moved her arms away from the tree and twined them about his neck while her body leaned against his. He wrapped his arms about her and kissed her with all the ardor of his love and the sexual desire that thrummed through his body. She kissed him back the same way, until at last they drew apart, their arms still loosely about each other.
He drew a slow breath and released it while she smiled at him.
“Reggie is hoping I will move back here next year, after Captain and Mrs. Jakes’s lease runs out on my house,” he said.
“And will you?” she asked him.
“I am thinking about it,” he said. “I could live the life of a gentleman. I would have a suitable home to offer.”
“To whom?” she asked him.
