‘Trust me when I say that I cannot imagine how I would live without you, Eliza. You have always been my guide and strength, even through the darkest times, and I know that, like me, you regret it all,’ she repeated to herself, her chest suddenly tight.
She looked up at her betrothal gown, hung with care on the front of her armoire by Sophie. The Knightswood Ball weekend had arrived faster than anyone expected, and most of the guests were arriving today, including the rest of the family, Sir Francis, the Carlisles, the Hamptons and Lord Huntingly. She scowled: she’d heard nothing from him since Ebcott, despite sending two letters requesting he call off the engagement, and now… this.
She cast her mind back to the day she’d first heard about the duel, and snatches of conversation with Fred, Williams and Captain Damerel reached through her whirling thoughts.
‘As far as I know, it was some dispute over old man Huntingly’s will… Pellham’s father was as thick as coves with old man Huntingly… Old man Huntingly died in a hunting accident with only Pellham there, and afterwards, when the will was read, the young lord discovered Pellham was to inherit part of the estate… Huntingly’s weapon backfired, and they were Pellham’s Flintlock pistols…’
Josephine’s chest began to pound– what exactly did George mean when he wrote of Eliza’s ‘regret for it all’?
‘Aren’t you dressed yet?’ Matilda exclaimed, bursting in and running to the window. ‘We’re losing enough of this weekend being paraded like peahens, so I thought we might sneak in a ride before breakfast?’
Josephine smiled as she stuffed the letter beneath her pillow. ‘How about a walk instead?’ she asked hopefully, knowing her younger sister too well to try to dissuade her.
‘Pooh! Who wants to walk the grounds when thewholemoor is so very near? And besides, Misty needs exercise and fresh air!’
Josephine was certain it was Matilda who needed the exercise and fresh air, but refrained from saying so. All week, Knightswood Manor had been slowly transforming from the faded country home they all knew into the polished seat of a respectable family of the ton. Thomas really was as good as his word, and ensuring Knightswood shone at the prospect of getting rid of the last of his sisters.
‘Is that more food supplies?’ Matilda asked, pressing her nose up against the window. ‘It’s not quite six, the pre-Ball supper isn’t until eight, and have you seen the flowers? Seriously, Jo, I think Thomas thinks heisactually marrying us off from this event and he’ll never have to spend a groat on us again!’
‘Groat?’ Josephine gurgled with laughter. ‘Don’t let Thomas hear you saying that.’
Matilda grinned. ‘I like words that say so much more than the ones we’re supposed to use… like isn’t it atop of the treesmorning, and I really am feeling quitecorkyand I’d love tokick up a larkrather than?—’
‘Enough!’ Josephine conceded, groaning. ‘Let me get dressed and we’ll go for a short ride, there’s only so much Bertie Briggs I can take before breakfast.’
Half an hour later, Josephine had to concede that Matilda was right. The fresh air was like a tonic, clearing her head and brightening her mood, though her chest still felt unusually tight.
‘How are you feeling about the weekend, Matty?’ Josephine asked as they slowed to a trot along their favourite trail. It was framed with moorland heather and wild, flowering gorse, and briefly she recalled their last breakfast picnic, when life had seemed so much lighter.
‘Oh… fine.’ Matilda shrugged colourlessly. ‘I mean, it’s not a formal presentation, just Thomas’s notice of my coming out. And Henry and Edward will be there, so I can always rely on them to rescue me should anyone get too boring– like Sir Francis.’
‘Is he really so very boring?’ Josephine raised her eyebrows, mostly to cover her rise of mixed feelings.
‘Sir Francis is boring before he even arrives!’ Matilda retorted with a grin.
‘Hmm,’ Josephine murmured, recalling Miss Amelia’s secret plans for the weekend. ‘He may surprise you.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘Oh, just that we shouldn’t assume we ever really know people,’ Josephine shrugged knowing Matilda was hardly likely to be reliable when it came to confidences involving gentlemen to whom she’d taken a vehement dislike.
‘And what about you, Jo?’ Matilda returned after a beat. ‘I take it you resolved any differences with Lord Huntingly when you went to Ebcott?’
Josephine shot Matilda a sidelong glance, wondering whether to tell her fieriest sister that, far from resolving anything, their differences were a hundred times worse. That, in fact, she was increasingly suspecting him of murder, of a secret attachment to Pellham’s sister, and perhaps even of dishonouring Pellham’s mother too. Yet, what good would it do except encourage Matilda’s fire over a weekend that was already beset with challenges?
‘I have given Lord Huntingly the option to withdraw from the betrothal,’ Josephine replied tersely, ‘and he hasn’t so… here we are.’ Her tangled thoughts suddenly conjured his passionate kiss on the trail around Ebcott, and she looked away so Matilda wouldn’t see her blush.
‘You really are the oddest creature, Jo,’ Matilda mused. ‘You spend an entire lifetime dreaming about wild, impossible heroes who only appear in wild, impossible novels– and then the moment one appears, you refuse to wake. You could be happy, I think, if you just… allowed it.’
Josephine stared out at the summer moorland, wishing she could tell Matilda everything. Instead, she drew a deep breath. ‘Do you ever imagine yourself in my place, Matty?’ she asked gently. ‘Because I’m sure that, if you were, you might wish yourself elsewhere entirely.’
‘Lord, no, whatever makes you think that!’ Matilda snorted decisively. ‘I’m more than content, and intend to turn down every suitor Thomas presents until he washes his hands of me!’ She chuckled before glancing at her sister. ‘It’s your decision, anyway,’ she added with a faint shrug. ‘Only you know if you want to take a chance.’
ChapterEighteen
The Knightswood Pre-Ball Supper; Truth and Regrets
That same evening
