Page 67 of The Marriage Wager

WHEN CONSTANCE FINALLY dried her tears, she washed up and put on the brown bombazine carriage dress that she had set aside for the journey. She knew that it was useless to try to sleep before she left. She was too sick at heart to go to sleep, and in any case, an hour or so of rest would do her little good.

She folded her nightshift and dressing gown away in a bag, then sat down to pen a letter of thanks to the Countess, a polite necessity despite the Earl’s behavior toward her. Nor did she feel that she could leave without writing a note to Francesca to thank her for her friendship and her many kindnesses. Constance knew that she was taking a risk, but she simply could not be so rude as to leave without a word. She would leave the missives on the table in the entry where the servants put the mail and calling cards. Francesca would not be likely to arise until late in the morning, and by the time she went past the table or a servant brought the envelope to her, Constance would be almost to London. And Lady Selbrooke, she reasoned, even if she received the letter earlier, would be happy that Constance had left and would not bring up the subject with Dominic.

So, having worked her way around to it, Constance decided that it would be no riskier to leave a letter for Dominic himself. After all, the same logic applied to him as to Francesca—he would arise late—and anyway, if Francesca knew she had left, she would tell Dominic immediately. So she wrote a letter to Dominic, which she could not manage to do without a tear or two, but she blotted them away and persevered.

When she was all done, she sealed the three notes and went quietly downstairs to leave them on the table. Afterward, she returned to her room and sat down beside her trunk to wait for the Rutherfords to awaken.

The servants were up before Lady Rutherford appeared at Constance’s door, and her maid looked with surprise at Constance’s trunk and bag sitting at the foot of her bed. Constance gave Nan a coin and pressed her not to tell anyone about Constance’s departure, assuring her that she had written to the Countess. The maid looked somewhat doubtful but nodded as she slipped the coin into her pocket.

A few minutes after Nan had left the room, Lady Rutherford appeared in the doorway. Constance jumped to her feet, picking up her smaller bag.

“I must send for a footman for the trunk,” Constance said.

“Oh, no, you needn’t bother. Just leave your bags here. My coachman and groom will bring them down for you when they fetch our things,” Lady Rutherford replied so graciously that Constance was taken aback.

Of course, she reasoned, Lady Rutherford had every reason to make it easy for her to leave, thinking that it would advance her plans for her daughter. She went downstairs with Lady Rutherford and climbed into the carriage. She sat on the seat facing Lady Rutherford and Muriel, the less-preferred spot, as it faced the rear.

Constance did not care for that. She had no interest in watching the scenery, anyway. Her intent was to close her eyes and at least pretend to sleep; that way, she would not have to try to carry on a conversation with Muriel or her mother.

Constance looked out the window. She had hoped to have a last look at Redfields, but it was still dark outside, and the building was little more than a blacker outline against the sky. The front door was open and the entryway lit, as was the corridor window above it. She watched as the coachmen and the groom carried out the Rutherfords’ luggage and her own, and fastened it to the back and top of the carriage.

Her stomach was a knot of nerves as she waited, fearing that Dominic would awaken and somehow know that she was leaving—and at the same time wishing just a little, deep inside, that he would. But as it happened, no one appeared at the front door. The luggage was loaded, and the carriage rolled slowly away from the house.

Constance closed her eyes, not trusting herself not to cry and determined not to do so in front of Muriel and Lady Rutherford. She had not believed that she could sleep, but with the motion of the carriage and the rumble of its wheels, she began to slide gradually into slumber.

She was awakened by shouts. She opened her eyes, confused for an instant. The carriage was slowing down. Realization of where she was and what she was doing came back to her in a rush. She straightened up.

“What is it? Why are we stopping?” she asked, looking over at Lady Rutherford.

“I haven’t any idea,” the older woman said coolly, drawing aside the curtain over the window and looking out.

Constance, too, pushed back the curtain beside her and peered out. Dawn was breaking to the east, a line of gold across the horizon, with pinkish clouds above it. The carriage had come to a standstill, and two men on horseback were outside the carriage door. One of them swung down off his horse and walked over to the carriage.

“My lady?”

“Yes?” Muriel’s mother leaned out the window. “What is it? What is all this shouting about?”

“Lord Selbrooke sent me, ma’am. He wishes you to return to Redfields at once,” the man answered, sweeping off his hat and bowing respectfully.

Constance drew in a sharp breath. No! They could not return!

“Return? Whatever for?” Lady Rutherford asked.

“I don’t know, ma’am. But he requested it most urgently. He said it is of the utmost importance.”

“I see. Well…I suppose we must, if it is of such import.”

“Lady Rutherford! No!” Constance could not keep from crying out. Her plan would be in ruins if they returned now.

“Turn around and go back,” Lady Rutherford called up to her driver. As the carriage began its unwieldy turn, she pulled her head back inside the carriage and looked at Constance coolly. “Don’t be silly, girl. How would it look if we did not return?”

“I don’t know,” Constance retorted honestly. “But it will ruin everything. I can’t…”

“Don’t be nonsensical,” Lady Rutherford told her shortly. “Dominic cannot force you to marry him. If you don’t want to, just say so. I shall tell him that I will take you back to London with me, and that will be that.”

“But why is Lord Selbrooke calling us back?”

Lady Rutherford shrugged. “We shall soon find out. Perhaps Lord Leighton has seen the error of his ways.” Her eyes glinted malignantly at Constance; then she turned to look back out the window.