18. Chapter 18

Chapter 18

A licia had been impressed by Ernest’s bravery, even as he would not hear any praise directed towards him. He had thought nothing of himself – only of the child and the dog – and the sight of him rescuing Ernie from the river would stay with her for a long time, of that, she was certain. They were both soaking wet, she having waded up to her waist in the water, and Ernest having become fully submerged. But the sun was warm, and the two of them now sat amongst a large patch of fragrant wildflowers in a meadow looking out across the river, attempting to dry their clothes.

“Little Thomas was certainly a character, wasn’t he? And he loved his dog. He’d have gone right into the water if we hadn’t been there,” Alicia said, as they sat next to one another on the grass.

“But the current was a lot stronger than it looked. I dread to think what would have happened if he’d gone in much further. Dogs usually get out of water themselves, but when someone goes after them, that’s when trouble happens. It’s easy to get into difficulties,” Ernest replied.

Alicia remembered a farmhand telling her as much once, and though it was clear Ernest was a good swimmer, Alicia knew how easily things could have been different.

“Well, thank goodness we came along when we did. All’s well that ends well,” Alicia said, and Ernest nodded.

“That’s right, and I’m sure Thomas will think twice before allowing Ernie into the river again. His father’s a good man – a good tenant,” Ernest replied, lying back, as the warmth of the sun enveloped them both.

He was wearing tails and a waistcoat, along with breeches and a shirt with a cravat at the neck, and Alicia was wearing a dress, the petticoats and skirts of which had become heavy with water. Despite the warmth of the sun, she was feeling uncomfortable in her damp, soggy dress, and it seemed Ernest felt the same.

“Would you mind…well…I’m so very uncomfortable in this dress. If I took the outer part off, perhaps it would dry better,” Alicia said, even as she knew it was an imposition to ask such a thing.

A woman did not remove her petticoats in public – even removing her bonnet might be frowned on – but the thought of returning home in such a state was not a favorable one. Alicia knew just what her mother would say, and if she could only dry the outer skirts, she could return home to allow her maid to deal with the rest. Ernest blushed.

“I…well… I suppose so,” he said.

“We could hang them over that branch,” Alicia said, pointing toward an oak tree, the trunk of which had grown at an odd angle, over which they could hang her skirts to create a screen between the two of them.

Alicia herself was not embarrassed at the thought of sitting in her undergarments next to Ernest, but she knew he – and certainly Caroline – might feel different, and now he nodded, still looking embarrassed, as they rose to their feet and made their way over to the tree.

“I’ll turn my back,” Ernest said, and Alicia smiled as he turned to look out across the meadow, whilst she divested herself of her skirts, hanging them over the tree to dry, and settling herself on the grass behind.

The shade of the oak tree was pleasant, and a gentle breeze rustled the leaves above, as Alicia now called out to Ernest to turn around. The folds on the silk skirt created a translucent view, and Alicia could see Ernest’s outline as now he, too, stripped off his shirt and breeches, sitting in his underclothes on the other side.

“Isn’t that better? We’ll dry properly now,” Alicia said, and Ernest laughed.

“I just hope no one else comes along to picnic in this field,” he said, lying back on the grass, as Alicia did the same.

They were barely inches away from one another, the folds of the dress created a veil between them, and to lift it would have been to invite scandal and embarrassment. Alicia smiled to herself, imagining Ernest as he now was, and knowing just what Caroline would say if she could see them now.

“There’s a perfectly innocent explanation for our lying here together,” Alicia said, and Ernest laughed again.

“Yes, but I don’t think the ton cares much for explanations, do you? Their gossip arises from sight, not questioning. If we were seen here together…well, it would be the topic of conversation in every drawing room from here to Manchester – then further afield, too. People like us…we can hardly breathe without someone passing comment,” Ernest replied.

There was a sense of regret in his voice, and Alicia knew how difficult it must have been for him over the years. The aristocracy was a talking point, and if a duke or an earl put so much as a foot out of line, their reputation could be forever destroyed. She thought back to what Isobel had told her about Ernest’s lost love, and she could only feel sorry for him at having now been caught up in a courtship not of his own choosing but forced on him by a woman who cared only for her own position. As for her own feelings for Ernest, they were growing stronger, even as Alicia was trying hard to push them aside.

“I’m sure it doesn’t matter that much. Gossip comes and goes. But no one’s seen us. You don’t have to worry,” Alicia said.

The veil prevented her from seeing the expression on Ernest’s face. She wondered what he was thinking – what he was feeling. Did he really intend to marry Caroline Pickering for the sake of the schools? The sacrifice – like his bravery in the water – would be admirable, but surely foolhardy, too.

“But I do worry. I worry about a great deal,” Ernest said.

“Like what? The schools, you mean?” Alicia asked.

She wanted him to realize her desire to help him. The schools meant a great deal to her, too, as did the soup kitchen, the clothing, the philanthropic work… There was so much to do, but it would be easy to be overwhelmed by the scale of the need. They could only do so much, and, as Alicia had realized, there were limitations on who could be helped and how.

“Not just the schools, everything,” he said.

“About Caroline, you mean?” Alicia asked.

There was a pause, and she wondered if she had crossed a line.

“I worry about her, yes. But it’s more than that. I think of my father – of his legacy. He’s a remarkable man, and I fear I don’t live up to his expectations. How can I?” Ernest replied.

Alicia had never heard him talk like this, but then they had never had an opportunity to talk like this. Caroline was always there, ready to interfere or make herself out to be the important one, even as it was clear Ernest was struggling.

“But I’m sure your father doesn’t see it like that. Don’t you think he’s proud of you for what you’ve done? He was your inspiration, wasn’t he?” Alicia said.

“He was, yes. But I think of the struggles he’s endured, then about my own situation. Haven’t I had an easy time of it? And yet, I’ve squandered so many opportunities. I have my sight, but I take it for granted. My father struggled at every turn. They didn’t want to make him duke, they thought he’d be a failure. But he wasn’t a failure. Not at all. He’s proved everyone wrong, and I want to go on proving the same,” Ernest replied.

Alicia could hear the frustration in his voice, even as it was clear he had nothing to feel guilty about. It was not Ernest’s fault he was born seeing, no more than it was his father’s fault he was born blind. There was nothing to atone for, and Alicia could only feel sorry for Ernest in thinking he had to do so.

“And you’re not a failure, Ernest – not at all. It’s not your fault you have your sight. You don’t need to feel guilty about it,” Alicia said, but it seemed Ernest did feel guilty about it, and was determined to go on feeling guilty about it, even as it seemed he had gone too far in assuaging his guilt through a courtship with Caroline.

“You don’t want to marry Caroline, do you?” Alicia asked.

Dressed only in her underclothes, her inhibitions were gone, and she had no qualms in asking Ernest the question now on her mind. Again, there was a pause.

“I…I don’t have much of a choice, Alicia,” he replied.

“Why not? We’ll manage it somehow. If her father reneges on his promises, so be it. It doesn’t matter, does it?” Alicia said, but it seemed Ernest’s mind was already made up.

“No, Alicia…it won’t work. There’re other things…” he stammered.

“I know about what happened to you. Your sister told me – Eleanor, the failed romance. I’m so sorry for what she did to you, Ernest,” Alicia said, and to her surprise, the veil between them was now pulled back, and Ernest, dressed only in his underclothes, stared at her in astonishment.

“What did she tell you?” he gasped, a look of horror coming over his face, as though he was realizing the implication of something dreadful.

Alicia shook her head. There had been nothing in Isobel’s explanation to make her think less of Ernest. He was the injured party – scorned by a woman who had made her nest elsewhere and left Ernest out in the cold. There was no shame in it, and yet Ernest seemed to be forever feeling guilty as to his relations with others, and forced into situations only he would suffer in.

“Forgive me, it was nothing…she just mentioned a sadness in your past. A woman who spurned you and left you terribly unhappy. She didn’t mean anything malicious by it, I assure you,” Alicia said, thinking back to Isobel’s story of the woman Ernest had loved and lost.

It was a tragic tale, and it was no surprise to find Ernest reticent and uncertain when it came to matters of the fairer sex. Caroline had taken advantage of his weakness, and now she was to win the prize of title and position a marriage to the heir of the Duke of Crawshaw meant.

“No…she never does, and yet she insists on interfering, even when I beg her not to. The story of Eleanor…well, it isn’t entirely as my sister makes out. But it’s in the past now. Long forgotten. I’m sure she’s much happier now than she would’ve been with me,” Ernest said, still holding back the curtain.

The look of horror was gone, replaced by a sad resignation, and he rose to his feet, no longer embarrassed, it seemed, but lost in thought. Alicia feared she had said too much, wishing she had kept Isobel’s story to herself. There was obviously more to the matter than Alicia knew, and she wondered what else lay hidden behind Ernest’s sad and far-off gaze.

“I think it’s nearly dry,” Alicia said, touching her hand to the silk folds of her skirts.

Ernest looked up, nodding, as he glanced at his own clothes hung over the tree.

“Ah, yes – a little better, perhaps. They can dry properly back at the house. We should make our way. We’ve been lucky not to have been seen,” he said, pulling down his shirt from the branch and turning to allow Alicia to tie in her skirts as best she could without a maid there to help.

She feared she had gone too far in her questioning, and as they walked across the meadow, rejoining the path by the river, she ventured to set the matter behind them.

“It really doesn’t matter, you know – the past. I know it’s not easy, but we all have to live with our regrets,” Alicia said, thinking back to some of the foolish mistakes she had made over men in the past, and the regrets she still had at having placed her trust in others.

“That’s easier said than done, though, isn’t it? Regrets remain with us. They’re hard to dismiss, as much as we might want to dismiss them. I’m sorry, Alicia… I’ve been terrible company this afternoon. It’s just…there’s a lot weighing on my mind at the moment. It’s not fair to burden you with it. But don’t think ill of Eleanor, whatever Isobel might tell you. She wasn’t to blame. Now…I believe I go this way, and you go that way,” Ernest said.

They had arrived at a fork in the path, one way leading towards Leamington Grange, the other in the direction of Alicia’s parents’ house.

“I’ll see you very soon – at the soup kitchen, if not before. You’ll let me know what I can do to help in the meantime, won’t you?” Alicia said, and Ernest nodded.

“I will, and Alicia…thank you,” he said, smiling at her, as Alicia nodded.

“I’m glad we had this time together…you don’t need to…” she said, her words trailing off, even as she wanted to tell him how she felt.

The touch of his fingers on her cheek, even in his embarrassment, had meant something to her. She wanted him to understand her feelings, even as she knew they could not be acted on. She admired him, but more than that, she was growing ever fonder of him, and the thought of him marrying Caroline Pickering, of sacrificing himself for the good of any cause – however noble – was simply terrible.

“I know, but…it doesn’t matter, Alicia. I’m glad, too,” he said, smiling at her, before turning to walk off in the direction of Leamington Grange.

Alicia watched him go, surprised to find tears welling up in her eyes. It was all so unfair – the things she had seen, the poverty all around them, and this, the poverty of a man who deserved so much more yet denied it himself for the good of others. He had money, power, privilege, and position, but he was surely poor in spirit – poorer than so many of those he was trying so hard to help.

“I just wish he could be convinced he had a choice other than her,” Alicia thought to herself, turning to walk home, her mind preoccupied with thoughts of Ernest and what could be, if only he would allow it for himself…