Chapter Eighteen

"Are you quite well, Abigail?"

Abigail flew around the room, her maid's attempts to pack her things seemingly not quite good – or hasty – enough for her. "I am, Mama."

"Then whatever are you doing? We are not to take our leave of here until tomorrow!"

"No, we must leave now."

Lady Townsend's mouth dropped open but Abigail ignored her, blinking back hot tears that she prayed her mother would not notice.

"But why?" Lady Townsend stepped closer but Abigail continued to evade her gaze. "I do not understand."

"You were not there last evening so you would not understand."

Before Lady Townsend could say any more to this, the door flew open and Charlotte hurried in, not so much as glancing at Lady Townsend.

"Abigail, are you all right? I heard what took place though everyone thinks to blame Lady Clara!"

"Lady Clara?" Lady Townsend put both hands to her hips, her eyes narrowing a little. "What is this about Lady Clara? I know I had to take to my bed a little early last evening but I did not think I had missed anything significant!"

Abigail tried again to keep her tears back but, unfortunately, they only forced their way forward all the more until she was forced to dash them away with the back of her hand. Her mother, noticing this at once, hurried over to Abigail and grasped her hand. "What is it, my dear? What is it that has you so upset?"

Swallowing tightly, Abigail pulled the handkerchief from her pocket with her free hand and dabbed it at her eyes. "Lady Clara danced in my place."

Lady Townsend's eyes flared and she quickly led Abigail over so they might sit on the edge of her bed, though she never once took her gaze away from Abigail's face. "What do you mean?"

"The waltz," Charlotte replied, taking a chair opposite them both, her expression rather worried. "That is what Abigail means. There is a waltz at every ball, I think, and Abigail had promised it to Lord Crestwood."

Their mother nodded. "Of course. That would be expected."

"But when the dance was announced, I was suddenly pulled back from going to find Lord Crestwood by a most insistent Lady Templeton." Closing her eyes in the hope that further tears would be held back, Abigail let out a shuddering sigh. "She continually stepped in my path and would not let me past. I told her that I had to go and find Lord Crestwood and she quickly directed me to where she had last seen him – though when I went to the other side of the ballroom, he was not there. Only then did I see him lead out Lady Clara and they danced together as though this was always meant to have occurred."

"Oh, my dear." Lady Townsend squeezed Abigail's hand gently. "I am sorry."

"What is worse," Abigail continued, her vision blurring as she looked against her mother, "is that Lady Clara attempted to kiss Lord Crestwood as they stood together once the dance was over. I am sure that was what she was doing, though Lord Crestwood declared that she was unsteady on her feet and needed to rest after the waltz."

Charlotte nodded fervently. "He did so in a very loud voice so that everyone could hear him," she said as Abigail winced in embarrassment. "Though I am sure that many a person thought the same as you, Abigail."

"And thus, we must leave," Abigail replied, making to get up from her bed and continue with her packing. "If you will not depart with me, Mama, then I will take the coach and – "

"You will do no such thing!" Keeping a hold of Abigail's hand, Lady Townsend tugged her back so she could not rise and begin to walk about the room as she had done before. "I do not understand. What is the matter? If it was Lady Clara's fault, her foolish action, then what is there to be embarrassed about? The shame lies with her."

Abigail closed her eyes but it was too late. Tears began to pour down her cheeks as sobs rose in her throat, her eyes squeezing tight closed as she fought for composure. Her mother moved closer at once, putting her arms around Abigail and holding her tightly as Abigail continued to cry, unable to force her emotions into any state of composure. They remained like that for some time, with Charlotte speaking sharply to the maid, instructing her to stop staring and to leave at once. She was to bring back a tray for the three of them so they might have breakfast together – even though eating was the last thing Abigail wanted to do.

"My dear child, whatever is the matter?"

Her sobs finally subsiding, Abigail lifted her head and looked straight into her mother's eyes. "I think there is still a connection between Lord Crestwood and Lady Clara," she said, hoarsely. "When she arrived, he appeared frustrated enough but I came upon the two of them speaking alone in the hallway after breakfast."

"And did he explain what he was talking about with her?"

Abigail shook her head in answer to her mother's question. "He did not say a word. I am sure that his intention was to explain it all to me but he did not. We spoke at the ball and I thought all was well, for we danced the quadrille and then arranged for the waltz – only for him to then step out with her. "

Lady Townsend's eyes sharpened, though her anger was clearly directed towards Lord Crestwood. "That ought not to have been done. The man is a fool to stand up with the lady he was previously engaged to! Why would he not be searching for you? Why should he even want to dance with her?"

Given that some of these questions had been flinging themselves around Abigail's mind, Abigail herself could give no answer. Instead, she dropped her head and closed her eyes again, letting out a heavy sigh.

"It was ridiculous what Lady Clara attempted." Charlotte came to sit back down again just as Abigail opened her eyes, having managed to keep another wave of tears back. "Why she should think that Lord Crestwood would be at all interested in such a connection with her when he is already engaged to you is quite beyond me!"

"Unless," Abigail whispered, her heart aching furiously, "she has managed to convince him that she is a better choice than I. Mayhap, in my encouragements to Lord Crestwood to permit himself to feel, to allow his heart open and his emotions free, he has realised that there is still a love in his heart for Lady Clara. Mayhap she could not hold herself back. Mayhap her attempt to kiss him came about from such a wonderful, profound hope that it quite overwhelmed her."

Silence grew like a darkness in the room and Abigail's heart tumbled to the floor. Did both her mother and her sister see the sense on what she was saying? Did they now also agree with her that what she had seen in Lord Crestwood's face, what she had begun to fear, might be of a legitimate concern?

"I think you are seeing too much into the situation, my dear."

Lady Townsend's quiet voice had Abigail looking to her, seeing the small, quiet smile on Lady Townsend's face. "Do you believe so, Mama?"

"I think that there may still be an understanding between them but I do not think that Lord Crestwood would ever be foolish enough to let himself fall back into a connection with the young lady who injured him so severely."

Abigail swallowed at the lump in her throat but it did not fade. "But there is still a chance. After all, what else could they be speaking about with such determination in the hallway? What else might they be saying that would have her putting her hand to his arm?"

"I do not know but I certainly do not think that you should run from this house simply because of what you yourself have come to believe," Lady Townsend said, firmly. "That would be foolish. Come, let us rise and – "

The door to Abigail's bedchamber flew open and she rose quickly to her feet, wondering if it could be Lord Crestwood, desperate to come and make amends but instead, in strode her father, Lord Townsend.

"All is lost!" Throwing up his hands, he began to walk about the room in a most distressed fashion, gesticulating furiously. "I shall have my debts cleared regardless, however! He will not be able to escape that so easily!"

Abigail rose to her feet, her whole body trembling. "What is it, Father?"

"I have just had a visit from Lord Drover this morning who has informed me that there is to be a renewing of the engagement between Lord Crestwood and Lady Clara!" Seemingly entirely unaware of how much this pained Abigail, Lord Townsend continued on as Abigail covered her face with her hands, pain ricocheting through her. Her mother embraced her at once but the agony of her broken heart, the pain which came from realizing too late just how much Lord Crestwood had come to mean to her, did not soften in the least.

"We are going to leave this house at once! I will not stay here and let my daughter's name be so ruined! We will return to London immediately, find Charlotte a suitable match and thereafter, return home. Be ready within the hour!"

"The hour, Townsend?" Lady Townsend hurried forward, catching her husband's arm. "But what of all our things? It will take the staff much longer than an hour."

As Abigail watched, a dark gleam came into her father's eye as he shook his head firmly. "No, my dear. Do not concern yourself. The staff will do as they are required to do and we will be away from Crestwood Hall within the hour. Abigail, Charlotte, prepare yourselves at once. The sooner we are away from this house, the better!"

The carriage rumbled away from Crestwood Hall and Abigail, her eyes sore from crying, took one last look at the manor house. No one else knew of their departure, she was sure, for there were many guests taking their leave, having arrived the previous evening for the ball and then stayed overnight so they might return this morning. Her heart was torn into a thousand pieces and yet seemed to break asunder over and over again until she could hardly bear it. The pain of Lord Crestwood's actions and what her father had told her was so dreadful that she could not even think clearly.

"You said Lord Drover said something to you, father?" Charlotte spoke up as Abigail continued to look out of the window, seeing a tall figure begin to hurry down the stone steps and come after their carriage. "I do not know who that is. "

"Nor did I though he knew me – and I am very grateful indeed for his warning." Lord Townsend scowled darkly as Abigail frowned, realizing that the man hurrying after their carriage – now running as fast as he could, in fact – was none other than Lord Crestwood himself. "He warned me of what he had overheard after the ball had come to its conclusion. A secret conversation between Lady Clara and the Earl, it seems."

Lord Drover?

A memory of Lord Crestwood speaking of Lord Drover had Abigail's heart quickening suddenly, her eyes flaring as she fought to recall what he had said. Her eyes still lingered on the figure of Lord Crestwood, though he had stopped running by now, seeing the futility of his endeavors. Wanting to cry out for the carriage to stop, wanting to give herself time to think, to remember, Abigail closed her eyes tightly and leaned her head back against the squabs.

It was all much too painful and much too confusing for her to think concisely. Yes, she decided, it would be best for her to return back to London where, perhaps, she might then begin to make sense of all that had taken place – and allow her heart time to heal.