Father leaned forward, holding George’s gaze firmly. “That is the point. You didn’t intend it, yet it happened all the same. Open your eyes and do better next time.”
Leaning an elbow on the arm of the chair, George sighed. “I am trying, Father. Unfortunately, the lady isn’t ready to accept my affection.”
With an arched brow, Father studied his son. “Have you told her you love her?”
“I don’t know if she would care to hear it, but I suspect she wouldn’t believe it even if I did.” George propped his elbows on his knees and leaned forward. “How do I stand by and watch as she flirts and fawns over other men? I don’t think I can bear it.”
Leveling another unsympathetic look at his son, Father gave him a wry smile. “You ought to keep in mind that your Miss Wakefield had to do the same with you. Likely for quite some time. Unrequited love is not an easy burden to bear, but there is no reason you cannot as so many others have done.”
Father’s features softened, his gaze drifting from his son. “It isn’t easy for some people to believe they are worthy of love, George. You cannot rush it.” Father paused and canted his head to the side, considering that idea. “I suppose you can help it along with a heaping dose of honesty, as your mother did. But even then, it takes time.”
“That isn’t very comforting,” said George with a sigh.
“The truth isn’t always comforting,” replied Father with a genuine grin. “But if you love that young lady, be her friend, be honest, and be patient.”
George nodded, though he couldn’t help but think that the last bit of advice would be the hardest to take. In the years he’d known Marian, she’d never shown a marked interest in a gentleman before, and Mr. Highmore seemed equally keen. There was no impediment to their marriage, and then where would George be? Watching in silence as she bound herself to another? His stomach rolled, his heart squeezing at the thought.
Taking a breath, George forced his pulse to calm. There was no good in fretting about that hypothetical. Marian had accepted his offer of friendship, so all was not lost. They’d sat together and talked and laughed like old friends once again. There was still work to be done on that front, but they were on the path to becoming what they once were. And then surely she would come to care for him again as she had before.
George nodded to himself and rose to his feet. “I am sorry for my behavior, Father. I will do better.”
“See that you do, George,” came the reply, accompanied by a challenging look that brooked no other response than agreement.
Taking his leave of the study, George wandered the halls of Farleigh Manor. His heart hung heavy in his chest as he considered all that he’d learned, though there was far too much to comprehend all at once. Father’s revelations followed him, haunting his thoughts like the specters that were said to reside in the corners of old country manors. George’s shoulders fell with each step.
Friendship. Love. Sacrifice. George knew of these virtues but realized he hadn’t truly understood them. His footsteps quickened as he considered just how much he was likely to be tested on all fronts in the coming weeks, but his steps were firm and unshakeable. He would do this. He would do better. For his family’s sake, for Marian’s sake, George would be a better friend, brother, and son.
Chapter 19
There was nothing finer than a stroll on a beautiful summer day. Marian preferred weaving through fields of ripening wheat to trudging along the road, but with the sun shining above her and the scents of summer filling the air, she was quite content. Birdsong trilled in the distance, the stalks and leaves rustled beneath the drifting afternoon breeze, and she could almost pretend she was meandering about without purpose, simply drifting about the world as she mulled over all the many things in her life.
A carriage rumbled by, breaking the fantasy she’d painted in her thoughts. This was no rambling path, and she did not have the luxury of taking her time. She longed for a proper walk. It was such a cleansing thing to do. Whether it was simply being amongst nature or the solitude, strolls gave her time to contemplate and sort things out. It wasn’t uncommon for her to carry a small notebook and pencil to jot down the various epiphanies she had while out and about.
Marian needed a bit of clarity.
She took in a deep breath, hoping it would calm the flutter in her stomach as she passed the houses of Bentmoor, winding her way through the town. Patience and tranquility. Marian needed both of those in heaping portions, for the forthcoming meeting was bound to be fraught with issues. Things would be so much easier if she could simply arrange the whole concert herself. She knew there was too much to do on her own, but so many of their conversations devolved into disagreements, and she couldn’t bear another conflict.
“Miss Wakefield.”
She turned to see the vicar hurrying over with as much decorum and dignity as one could have whilst avoiding the messes the horses had left on the road.
“Mr. Clements,” replied Marian with a far warmer smile than she was wont to display. Not that she disliked such displays of affection, but flirting felt unnatural. She couldn’t claim her attempts with Mr. Highmore had been successful, but she suspected that like any other skill, mastering it required only consistent application.
The vicar came to her side, and though he did not match her grin, Marian would have liked to think there was a pleased spark in his eyes.
“You are going to visit Mrs. Norwich?” he asked.
“We are meeting to discuss the concert. ’Tis a fortnight away, and there is still much to plan.”
Tucking his hands behind him, Mr. Clements nodded. “Excellent. As I oversee the charity benefiting from your efforts, Mrs. Henshaw asked that I attend as well. Might I accompany you?”
The petition was by no means romantic, but Marian would not cast aside an opportunity to further her acquaintance with Mr. Clements. “Certainly, sir. I would welcome your company.”
Marian fought back a wince. Were her words as insipid and saccharine as she felt them to be? But there was no unspeaking them now, so she cast aside her discomfort and kept pace with Mr. Clements as they took the lane that led to their destination.
“Your sermon was very fine last Sabbath.” Marian sent out a silent apology for that falsehood, but as it was kindly meant, she hoped the Almighty would not condemn her for it. Otherwise, everyone’s salvation would be in peril, for Marian was certain everyone was guilty of sweetening conversations with exaggerated compliments. It would hardly endear Mr. Clements if she told him his sermon had been vapid with hardly a shred of doctrine to be found in it.
The vicar smiled at her and nodded. “I am pleased to hear that. What was your favorite part?”
