‘But perhaps you were mistaken, Uncle Charles, and they confused him with some other soldier. Such things can happen in battle, can they not? Maybe he is wounded and lying in some field hospital or taken in by a kindly soul.’
‘I have been to those ghastly barracks this very day and seen his commanding officer on your account, and all he would tell me is that William Voss died at Waterloo of his wounds and will not be coming back. How and when I do not know. I passed on your request for information, but why should they tell you? It is not as if you are connected to him. Which means that you are once again without an admirer, adrift in a cruel world.’
‘It is you who brings the cruelty to this world,’thought Grace, but no good would come of saying it aloud, and she was too defeated for a quarrel.
Mrs Talbot obviously agreed with her thoughts, for she stood up and said through a clenched jaw, ‘Excuse me. I must go and pluck some lavender to scent the drawers.’
When she was out of earshot, Uncle Charles continued his whining. ‘Damn that you did not wed before he departed,’ he said, turning sour eyes to her. ‘Could you not have used your womanly wiles to hurry him along? Then I might be looking at a rich widow for a niece instead of a husbandless burden on my finances.’
Grace swallowed her contempt. ‘Uncle Charles, if I am to come to terms with William’s death, may I at least purchase some mourning clothes to show respect for him.’
He looked aghast. ‘No, you may not squander my money on such pointless items. It’s not as if the ton was aware of your engagement, if indeed it were an engagement at all.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘Well, you scarcely knew the fellow before he went off to war, and perhaps his affection was exaggerated, and he was playing with your feelings as some men do, or he never expected to return and make good on his promise. His insistence on secrecy was suspicious, and he always visited here, not in public and not before the ton. And sometimes, men do impetuous things when facing a battle. Emotions are heightened, and a young man can feel he is in love when he is not. Such things happen and with no formal offer….’ He trailed off before adding, ‘You were rather naive about him, after all.’
‘But you encouraged his suit, Uncle.’
‘For your sake, my dear. And look where that got me?’
‘But William promised that he would come back to me. He was a decent man who meant what he said.’
‘Well, now we will never know. I would have you rally and seek another. There is nothing else to be done. Now, I am going to visit my friend Peregrine, so dry your tears and pretty yourself up a bit, for we have a dinner invitation at Lord Harcroft’s manor this evening, and I want you to look your best.’
‘Uncle, I cannot go into company.’
‘Yes, you can. Lord Harcroft is old and recently bereaved, with no issue. He will be eager for an heir and want to re-marry as soon as possible, and you will do very nicely.’
So, Uncle Charles had already pivoted to a new plan.
‘Please, Uncle. Do not give me to some old man. He is utterly repulsive. I am begging you.’
‘You cannot afford to turn your nose up.’
‘But he is barely in possession of teeth and must be approaching seventy.’
He regarded her with a stern look on his face. ‘I will leave you to ponder your invitation and conjure some charm for Lord Harcroft. You know, people are beginning to gossip about your foolish infatuation with William Voss and your disappointed hopes. None of that has made you more appealing, especially with your lack of dowry. Think on that.’ He tutted and shook his head. ‘This whole business was badly played.’
As Uncle Charles rushed off, leaving emotional carnage in his wake, Mrs. Talbot returned and folded a sobbing Grace into her bosomy embrace. ‘There, there, Miss Howden. Do not distress yourself. So the world turns, and there is nothing we can do about it. But trust me, a broken heart will mend in time, and you will find solace in another.’ She hammered home her words with a quick shake of Grace’s shoulders. ‘One day, you will be able to forget your first love.’
Love? Could she lay claim to such a feeling for William? Guilt twisted her heart. ‘I was not worthy of him, Mrs. Talbot,’ said Grace, but it gave her no respite to say it aloud.
The look of pity on Mrs Talbot’s face had Grace tearing from her embrace and rushing upstairs to her bedroom. She pressed her head against the window pane, warmed where the sun hit it, and chided herself as a fool. Did she cry for William Voss or herself? Her feelings for the poor dead soul were a confusion of gratitude, pity and sadness. But nowhere in her heart could she find some corner which had harboured passionate love for the eager young man. It had all happened so quickly, and William had come calling a mere handful of times before pointing his abject love in her direction.
Grace sobbed as she recalled their final meeting in her uncle’s parlour. He had been resplendent in his red and white uniform, yet it had made him seem more formal and less William somehow, as though the army was already gobbling him up. His demeanour was fidgety, and excitement shone in his eyes. He had stumbled over his words, and they had been thick with longing.
‘I know I should not declare myself so quickly, and it is not fair to ask you, seeing as I am to go to war. But I want you, Grace,’ he had said. ‘You have my heart in chains, and only marriage can make us one and free me from my torment. Wait for me. When I return, I will go to my father and get his blessing to make you mine. I would do it now, but I have no time. The troops are mustering, and I must leave for the continent this evening. ’
‘Make her his?’ Grace recalled looking into his smiling face. It was pleasing and honest and handsome enough, in a bland, well-bred way, but nothing out of the ordinary to make a young girl swoon with longing. It was his character that made William rise above other men of her acquaintance, though there were scant few to compare him with beyond his odious brother, the despicable Caville Sharp and a handful of aristocratic young men who barely noticed her, for they were so full of their own importance. But William had noticed her.
Because of his good heart, Grace had accepted his halting proposal. She remembered her face growing hot as she had tried to imagine lying in the same bed as William Voss, kissing him and letting him touch her body as a husband would. It had been a mortifying picture, but she was prepared to do it, understanding that he would be gentle and respectful. Now, she would never know what it was like to be held in a man’s arms.
Was William in the grip of some war fever to have given his heart when she had been little more than a stranger to him? Was it because she had behaved as her uncle bid her – playing a charming, smiling, empty-headed fool with no opinions to call her own. She had kept her true self locked away with iron determination because she wanted to escape her precarious and unloved existence. Would his love have been enough for both of them to be happy? Did her accepting him give him comfort as he had gone to war? Surely, to be loved by another would do that. Or had she done an unforgivable thing and misled a young man, sending him to his death with a lie? Self-loathing rose like bile in her throat.
No. It could not be. If William had returned from war, she would have been content to marry him. There was much to be said for contentment. It was as much as she could hope for in this life. But even that weak feeling seemed beyond reach in her present situation.
‘So the world turns.’ Mrs. Talbot’s words echoed as she stared out at the street where a poor, middle-aged woman in tatty clothes was approaching well-to-do people and holding out posies of colourful flowers for sale. She went from one to another and was rebuffed with a dismissive wave each time. She would undoubtedly spend hours struggling to gather enough coins to make ends meet.
