She frowned while she thought about it. “No, for Uncle Charles may say no, and then we should need to arrange the visit for another time. It is not as if I can marry Ulric before the spring anyway. Let us go to Myercroft as planned. Besides, it might be disruptive to Ulric to have everything changed at the last minute.”
“Do you know, that is the first sign I have seen of you considering Ulric’s feelings. Well done.”
“I am not quite the unfeeling monster you imagine me to be, Edward. I have no wish to upset Ulric… or anyone. It is only that sometimes what I wish to do is in conflict with other people’s ideas of what is proper.”
“It is not merely about propriety, Tess, for that would affect only you. What you choose to do affects a great many people. This proposed marriage to Ulric affects all of his family, and the Petersons, too. It affects me, and through me, my mother and aunt. It affects your own mother, and her family.”
“Yes, yes, I take your point! I do understand, I promise you, and if there were another way—”
“There are plenty of other ways,” he said, his voice icy. “You just will not see them. We leave for Myercroft tomorrow. If you wish to write to Lord Rennington, I suggest you do so today. He can direct his reply to you at Myercroft.”
He strode ahead of her, his long legs soon leaving her behind.
Now why did she feel so bereft?
***
The journey north was not a pleasant one. Two days on the road with Edward glowering and silent on the opposite seat was enough to put even the calmest person out of frame, and Tess was far from calm. She was unaccountably nervous about meeting Ulric again, for one thing. It was six weeks since she had seen him, and it was entirely possible that he had forgotten that he was betrothed to her. That would make life difficult! Then there were the Petersons to face, and while Lady Peterson’s letter was polite enough, they must resent her coming, for it heralded the loss of their home for many years.
Most of all, however, there would be nowhere to hide herself away at Myercroft. Even if she knew the house intimately, as the guest of honour she would be expected to be visible at all times. She was not sure she could cope with that. Her greatest comfort in difficult times was to keep to the shadows and the safe places where she would be, not precisely invisible, but overlooked.
And beneath all these surface worries was a deeper one — was this truly the best way to proceed? She no longer knew. Marrying Ulric was a risk. There were risks whoever she married, for marriage was itself a chancy business, but Ulric was even more of an unknown quantity than most husbands would be. If he decided not to cede control of her fortune to her, as he certainly could, then she would have tied herself to him for no purpose. Perhaps it would be more sensible to withdraw, and wait for a better choice to come her way. It would be humiliating to be forced to admit that she had made a mistake, especially as Edward would be triumphant, but it would be foolish to marry Ulric just to spite Edward.
Ah, yes. Edward. She knew perfectly well that her feelings for him were utterly confused. When he was lighthearted and teasing, as he could be when he talked about eloping or beinga highwayman, he was the greatest fun to be with, and she had no quarrel with him. When he climbed trees for her, she could admire him. When he pressed her to marry him with flattering urgency, and was wreathed in gloom when she refused, she could even pity him. And when he kissed her… oh, yes, when he kissed her, she could almost surrender to him entirely.
But then he would revert to his unyielding expression, as if he disapproved of everything around him, and she remembered why she disliked him so much.
“Are you angry with me?” she asked him as they waited for a change of horses. Betty had gone to find food, so they were alone in the carriage.
He looked startled. “Angry? No, of course not.”
“Then why do you glare at me so?”
“I was not aware that I was doing any such thing,” he said stiffly. “I shall try to avert my gaze in future if it offends you.”
“You may look where you please, I am sure, but will you not at least talk to me now and then?”
“I am not minded for conversation at present.”
“A game of chess, perhaps?”
“No, thank you.”
Tess gave it up. As soon as they left the posting house, he closed his eyes and leaned his head against the squabs, but he was not asleep, Tess was sure of that. Still, it was an effective way of avoiding her and it left her free to look at him as much as she chose.
He was certainly worth looking at. She had always thought Tom the handsomest man she had ever met, but Edward was even more well-favoured, when he was not looking down his supercilious nose at her. And he always looked so well turned out, as if he had just that moment stepped out from his dressing room. He never had a wayward curl in his hair or wilting shirt points or a waistcoat of an odd, mismatched colour. He waseffortlessly elegant, as most men of his rank were, and she could not help despising him for it. All it proved was that he was rich and had neither the need nor desire to do anything useful with his life. Men of his class frittered away their lives in idleness or pointless pursuits that served only to fill the endless hours between breakfast and dinner, and between dinner and whenever the brandy ran out.
Edward was just another effete aristocrat, drifting effortlessly through life on charmed wings.
And yet he loved her! That was an astonishing thing, and if she had been any other girl, the daughter of a gentleman and niece of an earl, she would have grabbed him with both hands. A baron with twelve thousand a year! Such a triumph to attach such a man — how could she possibly turn him down?
It was a difficult question to answer rationally. She had told him that she could not do it because her mother would approve the match, but that was a foolish reason. If she married Edward, all the uncertainty that plagued her regarding Ulric would vanish. She would have her fifty thousand pounds without conditions — he had promised it. At a pinch, she could pretend she was not Lady Tarvin, but was merely Mrs Edward Harfield.
But then there would be babies and houses to run and servants to manage and tenants to be visited, and all the trappings of the aristocratic life that she so fervently wished to avoid. And there was no knowing which manifestation of Lord Tarvin would step out of bed each morning — the amusing and agreeable one, or the sternly disapproving one. Did she want to live her entire life wondering what sort of husband she was going to meet over the breakfast table each day?
For the whole journey, these thoughts cantered around in Tess’s head in a most disagreeable manner, and at the end of two days, she was no nearer to finding a resolution.
They were to spend one night at Harfield Priory, so that Edward’s mother could dote on her only child for a few hours. Tess had no objection to that, for Edward would be the great attraction and she could hide herself in corners.
