Page 55 of A Foolish Endeavor

Gilbert jumped up and said fiercely, “You think so little of me? You think it is only about money? I do care for you, Nancy.” At her raised eyebrow, he lowered his gaze, continuing softly, “Truly, I do.”

“Then where have you been these past weeks since returning to Doddington? Have you come to ask me on chaperoned rides in the country? Or have you come calling in the usual manner of a courting gentleman? I have not seen you since that day I was working in the tea shop. I have heard not a solitary word from you, even as my father has been so ill.” Nancy’s voice cracked, she turned away and covered her face with her hands.

Gilbert jerked his head up to stare at her. “What? Your father is ill? I had not heard this unhappy news. What ails him?”

“I do not know. He fell and struck his head. He was unconscious for more than a day and still seems quite confused and unable to attend to his business matters. Precisely what caused the fall, I cannot say. I do not know if the reason for his accident is why he continues to be so… addled in his brain, or if it all comes from his striking his head and he might yet recover.” She fumbled for a handkerchief and wept into it.

Gilbert rose and sat beside her. “I am most saddened to hear of this, Nancy. Had I known, I certainly would have come earlier to condole with you. Tell me—who has been attending him?”

“The apothecary has come and prescribed a draught, but it does no good.”

“I see.”

The two sat together in silence as Nancy worked to compose herself. Finally, she stood and stiffly extended a hand to Gilbert.

“I have been needlessly harsh towards you. I must claim my deep worry over my dear Papa as my excuse for any rudeness. I thank you for the honor of your declaration, but I must decline your offer. Good day, Mr. Kendall.”

Gilbert felt her formal speech like a knife in his chest. He nodded, took her hand, and said, “I am so grieved to hear of your father’s illness. I hope it will be of short duration and that he will soon recover.” When Nancy remained silent with her eyes downcast, he released her hand and said his farewells. Then he exited the house, mounted his horse, and slowly rode home.

Chapter Forty-Two

Returning to Clayton House after his disappointing talk with Nancy, Gilbert had no wish to speak to any of his family. Seeing the housekeeper, Mrs. Wilson, in the entry when he came home, he told her he felt unwell and asked to have his tea and dinner sent up to his room. When Lavinia, concerned at Mrs. Wilson’s report, went to check on Gilbert, he opened the door a small crack and assured her he did not require a physician but only had a dreadful headache and wished to stay quietly in his room. Thinking nothing too terribly unusual in his request and, since Mrs. Wilson did not report that Gilbert looked dangerously unwell when his meal was delivered that evening, the rest of the Kendalls let him be, assuring themselves of his swift recovery.

Although he claimed a need for rest, Gilbert was, in fact, filled with a curious sort of anxious energy. His mind was racing as he paced his room that first day, replaying every word of Nancy’s rejection, trying to make sense of it.

On the second day, he attempted to lose himself in a book, but his mind would not leave off thinking of his botched proposal. He remained stunned to have been refused so decidedly and so quickly. Even his declaration to Nancy that he now realized he and Miss Wells were not a good match had made no difference. It was obvious Nancy did not believe him, judging from her very pointed comment that Miss Wells’s fifteen thousand would go a long way in overcoming any “mis-match” between them.

He threw himself into a chair and sulked, chewing on a thumbnail, as he considered her words.

She truly thinks me no better than an odious fortune hunter—bah! To say I only wish for her money? Her father does not possess such great wealth. I am certain I could have done better than Nancy in London if I had put any effort into it. It is only that I was so mistaken in Diana’s regard for me that I foolishly focused all my attention on her during the Season, rather than playing the field a bit more. Curse Diana for taking up all of my time only to disappoint me and leave me with no options at the end of the Season.

Gilbert rose and paced the room once more, his anger mingling with disappointment over his situation. If only Nancy had not heard of his botched proposal to Diana. Then, Gilbert felt certain, Nancy would have readily accepted him, for haven’t they always been close friends? No. He recalled her harsh words over the manner in which he had made his offer.

It struck him that, on that one particular point in her refusal, Nancy had been correct. Gilbert had made no effort to woo Nancy. He had not called upon her in a proper, gentlemanlike manner, or sent her flowers, or displayed any of the other possible public indications that he cared for her. Instead, he just assumed she would be so pleased to be asked to marry him and to enter into a family above her station that a lack of such formal courting would not have mattered to her.

Oh, but it had mattered, Gilbert realized. In fact, he wondered if her firm refusal also signaled the end to their long-time friendship. Gilbert felt a pang of deep regret and sorrow.

If she thinks so little of me to all but call me a fortune hunter to my face, I fear there may be no hope of repairing our friendship, much less my ever being able to renew my addresses to her.

Nancy had always been his steadfast friend, even as he knew Lavinia and Dorothea dismissed her as being somewhat beneath him. He had refused to quit the association, despite their many hints. Now, thinking he might have so damaged their relationship that they should soon become only acquaintances who now and then politely nod to each other as they pass on the street filled him with dismay.

Well. She may not wish to marry me, but I must do what I can to heal our friendship. The only question is, how?

Gilbert stood and went to the window, gazing out over the fields behind Clayton House as he considered his next step. He thought of sending Nancy flowers, but he feared they would be rejected. He could not write and post a letter explaining his wish to continue their friendship, as that would be improper without an understanding between them. Indeed, word of flowers or a letter to her home might start rumors in Doddington, which Gilbert knew would be exceedingly unwelcome to her at present.

Turning away from the window with a sigh, he recalled Nancy speaking of her father’s illness. What did she say—that Mr. Slade was in some manner addled in his mind after a fall?

She said the apothecary had prescribed a draught, but it had been ineffective. She did not mention calling for a physician, though. That’s it—I shall send Dr. Baker to her. He is a very skilled diagnostician and can likely alleviate her father’s situation.

Within twenty minutes, Gilbert had left Clayton House and was galloping on his favorite horse towards the village.

That evening, Gilbert dined with the family. Charlotte and Frederick were also in attendance. As he always was when his entire family was present, Evan was in a cheerful mood, ordering excellent wine for the table. “It is time we properly celebrated the safe delivery of your son and my namesake, Charlotte,” he said.

Conversation was filled with laughter and, although Gilbert was more quiet than usual, no one remarked upon it. He listened with only half an ear until he heard Nancy’s name mentioned.

“I made a visit to the Slade’s home today,” Frederick remarked. “Mr. Slade has been unwell for some time, but I only became aware of it recently. Spending half my time at my other parish has made me somewhat less attentive to my congregants here, and Mr. Lewis is not familiar enough with all the parishioners to notice Miss Slade’s absence while she has been caring for her father.” He turned to Gilbert. “She is a particular friend of yours, Gilbert, is she not?”

“Oh, well—” he started to say before Charlotte spoke over him.