Bertram shot upright in his bed. “MissFranklyn?”
“Ssh, sir, if you please. The other gentlemen are still fast asleep. Yes, from Miss Franklyn. She said it is an apology, and I am not to wake Mr Fielding specially but—”
“But he will want it at once!” Bertram cried, so loud that some of the others stirred, even as Bayley flapped his hands at him in distress. “Give it to me, Bayley.”
The valet produced the missive, and Bertram slid out of the big bed he shared with Medhurst, and rushed across the room to the low cot where Fielding slept.
“Fielding?Fielding!Wake up, man. She is writing to you — Bea has sent you a letter.”
To his credit, Fielding was almost instantly alert, his excitement palpable. “A letter? From Miss Franklyn? Give it to me — at once!”
“It is an apology, sir,” Bayley said.
Fielding almost visibly deflated. “An apology. Ah.” He turned the letter over and over in his hands before abruptly ripping it open.
Bertram watched his face as he read it, the eagerness giving way to a calmer expression, then a smile and a burst of quiet laughter. At the end, he was still smiling, although a little sadly.
“She is very kind,” he said, with sorrow in his voice.
Bertram dismissed Bayley with a flick of his head, then said, “What happened? Something must have happened for her to apologise to you.”
“I offered for her,” Fielding said, with a heavy sigh. “It was madness, of course… so presumptuous of me, and she quite rightly rang a peal over me. No, that is not true, but she showed me just how impertinent I had been. I have been thoroughly ashamed of myself for having the temerity to raise my eyes to such a person, so far above me in every way. And now she has written to me with such kindness… she hopes we shall always be friends, she says.‘You are all that a man ought to be’… is that not a magnificent compliment? Here, read it and see for yourself. Such a gracious letter!”
“You do not mind? It is not… private?”
“I have no secrets from my good friends,” Fielding said.
Bertram read it in haste, looking for… he knew not what. But it was just as Fielding said, a gracious apology and a very firm rejection. Nothing about his lack of a title, only that she did not love him. As gentle a way to be refused as any man could expect. He wondered then what she had said to Walter, when she jilted him. She could hardly have dressed that up in any language that would have spared him pain. She had accepted him because he would be an earl one day, and rejected him the instant he lost that possibility. No, that could not have been gracious at all. Poor Walter!
And here she was, still in pursuit of a title, and nothing else would do. Despite that glorious kiss and the way the memory of it haunted his dreams, at that moment Bertram was not sure he liked Bea very much.
The others had woken by this time, and huddled round Fielding to discuss the letter and his failed offer and what it all meant. Bertram called Bayley back in to dress him, and then took himself to the schoolroom.
She was there, sitting forlornly at her table, her head down, her Latin book closed. Instantly, all his antagonism crumbled into dust. If only there were some way he could comfort her!
“Bea?Quid agitis?”
She looked up and he clearly saw tears on her cheeks. “Valeo,”she whispered.
But she was not well at all.“Non ita. Non vales, amica mea.”Such inadequate words. Her friend… if only he could be more than her friend.
He passed her his handkerchief, and she murmured,“Gratias.”
“Bea, is this about Fielding? Because—”
“Oh, no… not at all. I am very sorry I have made him unhappy, but I could not marry him just because he wants me to.”
“No, that would be absurd,” Bertram said, smiling. “Your letter was kindly done, and thoughtful of you, especially the part where you said you did not have the proper regard a woman should have for her husband. And nothing about his lack of a title.”
She looked up then, her expression serious. “I am beginning to realise — rather belatedly, I am sure you will agree — that a title is not the only measure of worth in a man. There has to be something more…Ihave to have something more. I have tofeelsomething for a man with whom I plan to spend the rest of my life.”
“Such as? Are you talking about love, Bea?” His stomach was surprisingly lively, swirling in the most alarming way at the intimacy of this conversation. Breath was hard to come by.
“I cannot tell you — only that there ought to besomething.But that is not why I am miserable this morning.”
“Oh.” He could not be sure whether relief or disappointment was uppermost in his mind at that moment. More than anything, he wanted to know what was in her mind… in herheart.He had teased her about not having a heart, and she gave a very good impression of a girl who cared for nothing but a title, but if she had feelings, then he would be in an agony of suspense until he knew the direction where those feelings lay. Could it be him, his own heart whispered? But he dared not hope for that.
She was not going to tell him. But if she were not upset about Fielding, what was it that reduced her to tears?
