Mrs. Downy showed the tiniest sign of relenting. At that fleeting bit of hope, Tom jumped to his feet and, with a few quickly offered words of farewell, practically flew from the room.
George remained behind. He had, after all, been the one to propose the event. He could not like the idea of abandoning the ladies to carry it out. He approached the table where they sat.
“Are you certain I cannot be of help in some way? Without Tom here to distract me, I might even prove myself an asset.”
Mrs. Downy sighed. “Why is it that you are so much better behaved than. . . well, than any of the male members of this family?”
“Perhaps I am simply a better person than they are.”
She laughed, just as he’d hoped she would. Even Caroline grinned. Her smiles had been too rare in the few days since he’d come from London. He wanted her to be light and happy, to be pleased enough with the future spread out before her that she, too, could laugh at the absurdities and join him in frivolity.
“Please, do not hesitate to let me know if I can do anything at all for you,” he told them both. “I placed this burden on your shoulders and would very much like to be able to relieve it in any way I can.”
Mrs. Downy patted his hand. “Your mother must be so pleased with the gentleman you have become.”
He forced a smile. “I sincerely hope that she is.” But he doubted it.
Mother’s pleasure in any person was limited by their perceived importance. He, despite being well received amongst gentlemen and ladies alike within Society, could not claim a place of true social cachet, a failing which held great sway for her. Upon receiving word of his engagement, her congratulations were focused on the Downys’ connections and not on any hopes for his happiness.
“I had best go see how the gentlemen intend to spend their morning,” he said, “and allow you ladies to return to your work.” He sketched a brief bow and made his escape. Why was it that thoughts of his mother’s eternal disapproval always turned his mood rather sour? After twenty-two years of not meeting her expectations, he ought to have stopped allowing the realization to hurt him.
He’d not gone far when he was stopped short by the sound of quick, slippered footfall behind him. He turned about intime to watch as Caroline threw her arms around his middle. For a fraction of a moment he stood paralyzed by shock. But instinct took over. His arms settled naturally, easily around her, returning her embrace with a sense of belonging he’d never felt with any other person.
“Your mother ought to be so very pleased with you, George.” Caroline’s words shook with what sounded like a mixture of sadness and anger. “You are a good, kind, exemplary gentleman, and despite your evasive answer just now, I know that she does not see that in you, or that she at least does not allow it to be enough for you to earn her approval.”
Her tender heart never ceased to touch his. “Please do not allow my mother’s coldness to upset you.”
“How can I not? Every time she visits here, she treats the lot of us as though we were nothing more than our ancestry. Far worse still, she acts as though you are nothing at all because you haven’t the social standing she wishes you did.” Caroline still held tightly to him, her words muffled a bit by his jacket, but spoken with such fervor that they could not possibly be misunderstood. “Your own mother, George, refuses to see the wonderful person that you are. Of course that upsets me.”
Was it any wonder he loved Caroline so very much? “Are you pleased, then, with the person I have become after such an inauspicious start? I was not so pleasant as a young boy, and I am well aware of it.”
“You were always good,” she said from within the fold of his arms. “Even when you teased me terribly, you were never unkind.”
“At the risk of sounding like the very worst sort of son, I confess your good opinion means far more to me than any halfhearted approval my mother might be willing to bestow.”
She leaned back enough to look up at him, though she made no effort to slip from his arms. “Why should my opinion be so crucial?”
Though nerves sent his pulse into frighteningly rapid territory, George pressed on. This needed saying. “I am going to toss your father’s well-meaning advice to the wind and tell you what I likely ought to have told you long ago.”
He actually heard her swallow. Her coloring dropped off and she took an absentminded step backward. He hadn’t intended to alarm her, but seemed to have done just that.
“My dear Caroline, I have loved you ever since I was old enough to understand what that meant. Your brothers are fine fellows, and your parents have been like parents to me, but it was you who pulled me here again and again. You, with your tender heart and quick mind, your beguiling conversation, your unparalleled company. I did not nearly break Edward’s nose simply because you are a fine dancer. I have loved you so long that I have lost track of the number of years.”
She didn’t speak, and didn’t seem the least likely to do so. How he hoped Mr. Downy’s words of warning did not turn prophetic.
He reached for Caroline’s hand. Thank the heavens, he was not denied. “Did you never wonder why I have not come to visit these past fourteen months?”
“Tom and Edward are often gone. I assumed that, without them here, you could not find a compelling enough reason to visit.” Though she offered the explanation with an offhand tone, the pain in her eyes could not be dismissed. She thought he didn’t care enough to bother seeing her.
“I knew the time was fast approaching when your family would begin looking to arrange a match for you. I have frantically addressed every aspect of my finances and estate and home, hoping that when the time came I would have enough to offer that your family would accept my petition.”
Was she hearing him? Accepting his explanation? Or, as her father had warned, did she fear he was merely telling her what he hoped she wanted to hear?
“Oh, no. No.” She shook her head, stepping back. “I was afraid you would come to resent me because you didn’t love me, but this— this is worse.”
“Worse?”
She paced their small corner of the corridor. “You will be miserable.Wewill be miserable.”
