19. Chapter 19

Chapter 19

A s Ernest walked home across the parkland, his mind was preoccupied with thoughts of Alicia and the afternoon they had shared together on the riverbank and in the meadow. The incident with Thomas and his dog had come as a surprise, but more surprising had been the intimacy Ernest had shared with Alicia by the oak tree – the scandalous suggestion of their removing their clothes, and then…

I still can’t believe what Isobel told her about Eleanor. It was nothing but a lie, he thought to himself, remembering the moment Eleanor and he had parted ways…

***

“ I don’t know you anymore, Ernest. I thought I did. I thought you loved me. But this isn’t love. Stealing from me – from my father – to fund your love of dice and cards. It’s despicable. You’ve done nothing but lie to me,” Eleanor exclaimed, pointing angrily at Ernest, who now sought to protest, despite knowing his guilt.

“Please, Eleanor, it’s not like that. I was going to put it back. I thought I’d win. It all seemed so easy. I knew I could do it. It wouldn’t have mattered then. You wouldn’t have known,” he said, and now she sobbed.

“And you think that makes it all right, do you? You betrayed me, Ernest. I trusted you. How can I marry a man I can’t trust? A man I hardly know anymore. It’s not right, Ernest. It’s wicked. I don’t know you. You’re a stranger,” she said, sinking into a chair by the window.

Ernest had come to Cedar Heights to plead with her, but now he knew all was lost, and not just the fortune he had gambled away. He wanted to comfort her, to tell her how sorry he was, but there could be no comfort in the knowledge of such loss. He had betrayed her, and as he watched her weeping, it felt to Ernest as though all his happiness was ebbing away. He, and he alone, was responsible for this – for the misery into which he had now sunk.

“Please, Eleanor. I can change. I can make amends. I’ll ask my father for the money. He’ll help us,” Ernest said, but Eleanor looked up at him and shook her head.

Despite the tears running down her cheeks, she was still pretty – the prettiest woman he had ever known. How easy it had been to fall in love with her, and Ernest knew he was still in love with her, even as it seemed she no longer loved him.

“Us, Ernest? There can’t be an us, not anymore. I can’t marry you. I don’t even want to look at you. You’ve ruined me, and you’ve ruined yourself. Just go,” she cried, pointing to the drawing room door.

How often Ernest had stepped through it on her arm, the two of them laughing and joking, sweethearts in their youth, and set to marry in the spring. But Ernest’s terrible affliction had now destroyed all their hopes, and left Eleanor a broken woman.

“Please, Eleanor, won’t you reconsider?” he begged her, staring at her imploringly, realizing just what she was saying…

Eleanor shook her head, still pointing to the door.

“I loved you, Ernest. But I can’t love you now. I can’t love a liar,” she said, and with tears in his eyes, Ernest had no choice but to leave.

***

“ Y ou’ve been gone a long time. Did Caroline keep you in the coffeehouse all afternoon?” Isobel asked, when Ernest arrived back at Leamington Grange.

He blushed, still able to smell the last faint scent of Alicia’s perfume in the hallway, and remembering that same scent on the veil of her skirt hung between them in the meadow.

“I…no, not exactly,” Ernest replied, and his sister looked at him curiously.

“Why are your clothes all damp?” she asked, for despite having stripped down to his underwear, Ernest’s clothes had not completely dried over the tree trunk.

“Oh…there was an incident,” Ernest said, and he went on to describe how he had met Alicia in the meadows, and they had encountered Thomas and Ernie in the river.

Isobel listened, her eyes growing wide as Ernest described the rescue.

“Ernest…you’re a hero,” she exclaimed, and Ernest blushed.

“I’m not a hero, Isobel. I wish you’d stop extolling my virtues. I only did what anyone else would do,” he replied, for Ernest did not think himself heroic in any way.

The dog was in danger – as was the child. Ernest had acted as any reasonable person would have done, and he did not expect or deserve to be praised for doing so.

“Stop being so modest, Ernest,” his sister said, and Ernest sighed.

“Well…it’s over now. They’re safe, and I’m damp. That’s’ all there is to it,” Ernest replied.

“Well, come and get out of your damp clothes and into something dry. I’ll ring for a maid,” Isobel said.

Ernest had no intention of telling his sister anymore than that. He did not want her to know anything about him and Alicia having sat together in the meadows, and he certainly had no intention of telling her about the skirts hung between them. But there was one matter he wanted to discuss, and as they made their way into the drawing room, he caught Isobel’s arm, lowering his voice to a whisper.

“Why did you tell Alicia a lie about Eleanor?” he hissed.

Isobel was somewhat taken aback, but she held his gaze, fixing him with an unequivocal look.

“Because it’s not right for you to carry on feeling guilty about your past, Ernest. Eleanor could’ve forgiven you. You promised her you’d change, but she wouldn’t listen,” Isobel replied.

“So, you make Eleanor out to be the one at fault? What if Alicia knows someone acquainted with her? Then there’s her friend, Lily – she wrote all those scandal sheets. What if Alicia tells her, and the truth comes out? All you’ve done is make things more complicated,” Ernest replied.

He felt exasperated by his sister. He knew she was only trying to help – as much as her attempts were misguided. But there was no reason to complicate things further than they already were. Isobel’s attempts at matchmaking would come to nothing, for Caroline had already made up her mind as to the future. Ernest felt powerless, and it seemed his sister had only made matters worse.

“I was just trying to help you, Ernest. I know you have feelings for Alicia, and she has feelings for you, too. Why can’t you just admit it?” she exclaimed, shaking her head, as Ernest turned away angrily.

But she was right. There was no denying the feelings they had for one another, feelings only too evident in the meadows in that afternoon. Ernest thought back to the moment he had pulled back the veil, revealing Alicia’s barely clad figure. She had looked at him, he had looked at her, holding one another’s gaze…

“Because it’s impossible, isn’t it? How can I admit it? I can’t, and you know why,” Ernest exclaimed.

However much he might want to tell Alicia how he felt, Ernest knew he was trapped. Caroline had seen to that, and the sooner he accepted his circumstances, the better…

“But it doesn’t have to be like that, Ernest. You know it doesn’t. Let go of the past. It wasn’t all your fault, and even if you blame yourself for it, there comes a time when you have to let it go,” Isobel exclaimed.

But Ernest refused to listen. He would not allow anything to jeopardize the future of the schools – even if it meant sacrificing his own happiness.

“I can’t, Isobel. You know I can’t. Anyway…it’s done now. I don’t want to think about it. Oh…damn it, where’s that maid with my dry clothes?” Ernest exclaimed, banging his fist down on the nearest table, as Isobel looked at him with a concerned expression on her face.

“Why don’t you go and rest, Brother. I’m surprised you haven’t caught a chill jumping into the river like that. I’ll have the maid bring up your dry clothes – perhaps you could have a bath. I’ll have them fetch hot water for the copper tub,” she said.

Ernest nodded. He was feeling a little cold, despite having sat in the sunshine for most of the afternoon, and now he was persuaded to go upstairs to his bedroom, where the maid eventually brought his dry clothes, along with the first jug of hot water for his bath.

“I’ve brought soap, too, my Lord,” she said, curtseying, as Ernest sat by the window, lost in thought.

“What? Oh, yes…thank you, Sarah. Bring another jug up. I’ll just stand in the tub and pour it over. There’s no need to fill it. I’ve had enough water for today,” Ernest replied, dismissing the maid with a wave of his hand.

She curtsied once again, before hurrying out of the room to fetch another jug of hot water. But when she returned, it was not only with another jug, but also with a letter.

“This arrived for you just now, my Lord. I was told to bring it up,” she said, presenting Ernest with the letter, before setting down the jug next to the copper tub.

Ernest recognized the script immediately. It was from Caroline – another missive, no doubt, instructing him as to what she had decided was to be their next engagement.

“Yes, thank you, Sarah. That’ll be all,” Ernest said, placing the letter on the table, and taking some minor pleasure in not opening it immediately.

He would not be at Caroline’s beck and call, even as he could not help but feel he so often was. When the maid had left, Ernest took off his damp clothes, discarding them in a pile in the corner of the room. He stood in the copper tub, holding the jug of warm water over his head and pouring it in a steady stream. Next, he used the bar of soap, fragrant with lavender, to lather himself with, before using the second jug to wash off the soap. It was pleasant to feel the warm water flowing over him, and he thought back to the icy chill of the river, as the fragrance of the soap filled the air.

“ We were lucky, ” he told himself, knowing how different the situation might have been.

When he had finished washing off the soap, Ernest stepped out of the copper tub, drying himself on a towel, before pulling on the clean clothes the maid had brought him. His earlier chill was gone, and he opened the window, breathing in the pleasant scent of the gardens in the late afternoon. He was trying to delay opening Caroline’s letter for as long as possible, even as he knew he would have no choice but to do so eventually. It lay on the table, the curling script of her unmistakable writing gazing up at him. She was an ever-present menace, and even in the meadow that afternoon, Ernest had half expected her to appear from behind a tree or out of the hedgerow.

Let me see what she wants, he thought to himself, tearing open the envelope and beginning to read the short note it contained.

Caroline was writing to invite Ernest to dine with her and her father the following evening. He groaned at the thought of doing so, imagining the interminable conversation, not to mention the anticipation of what he felt certain was the underlying motive. The viscount was preparing the way for an engagement. The whole thing was obvious, for Caroline had already made her intentions clear. She and her father would settle for nothing less than a betrothal, and should it not be forthcoming, the money for the school in Manchester, and that for the school in Lancaster, too, would be withdrawn.

How awful, Ernest thought to himself, imagining just what dinner with Caroline and her father would be like.

There would be discussion of Ernest’s refusal to accept money from the plantations, and attempted persuasion to make him do so. The topic of marriage would be raised, and Ernest had no doubt as to Caroline’s intention to manipulate the situation in her favor. On home territory, and in front of her father, she would surely have the confidence to suggest they set a date for marriage, and thus an announcement would soon be made…

And what can I do to prevent it? Should I flatly refuse? Ernest asked himself.

Before the afternoon he had spent with Alicia in the meadows, such a thought would have quickly been dismissed. To refuse would have meant certain disaster – the end of Ernest’s hopes for the schools, and his own future uncertain, matrimonially at least. But now, something had changed, not with regards to the future of the schools, but to the possibility of his own future happiness. To reject Caroline would mean financial ruin, but it could also mean the gain of a priceless treasure, the happiness Ernest had so far denied himself.

Oh, but it’s hopeless. When Alicia finds out about my past – and she’s bound to do so – she won’t want anything to do with me. And Caroline won’t hesitate to tell her, Ernest thought to himself, knowing just what would happen if Caroline discovered the truth about Eleanor.

She would hold it over him. She would use it against him. The situation was hopeless, and with a sadness in his heart, Ernest sat down to write his acceptance of Caroline’s invitation. Later that day, having slept a little, before dressing for dinner, Ernest came downstairs to find his father’s butler, Rothwell, waiting for him in the hallway.

“My Lord, there’s a gentleman and a young boy to see you. Mr. Roundhay. I’ve shown them into the library,” he said.

Ernest smiled.

“Yes, very good, Rothwell, I’ll see them. Thank you,” Ernest replied, before making his way to the library, where he found the farmer – whose name was also Thomas – waiting with his son, and the dog, Ernie.

“My Lord, I wanted to thank you for what you did for the boy – and the dog,” the farmer said, taking Ernest’s hand in his and shaking it vigorously.

“It’s quite all right, Mr. Roundhay. I only did what any other man would do,” Ernest replied, but the farmer shook his head.

“If I’ve told him once, I’ve told him a dozen times – stay out of the river. It’s not safe. The current can take you in an instant. But he doesn’t listen. He’s always causing mischief, my Lord. But by way of thanks, my wife’s sent you a basket up from the farm. It’s not much – just some jars of jam and chutney, a bottle of our sloe gin, and a pound cake. But we’re truly grateful to you. Now, Thomas – what do you say to his Lordship?” the farmer said, turning to Thomas, who stepped forward, pulling Ernie by the rope attached to his collar.

Ernest smiled at him. He hoped the boy had not got into too much trouble on Ernie’s account, and Thomas now cleared his throat, as though he was about to deliver an oratory to the Roman senate.

“Our Ernie says he’s very sorry for going into the river, my Lord. And we both promise not to do it again, and incon… incont…te…evience you,” he said.

His father raised his eyebrows.

“Inconvenience,” he growled, and Thomas repeated the words.

Ernest smiled. He was not cross with Thomas – or Ernie. But it was kind of the farmer to bring the boy to thank him, and he presented Thomas with another shilling, telling him he would have a job at Leamington Grange when he was old enough to be apprenticed in the stables or to the gardener.

Mr. Roundhay thanked Ernest profusely, before the two of them left, and taking the basket, Ernest made his way to the drawing room, where he found his sister sitting with their father and mother.

“You’re quite the hero,” the duchess said, and Ernest rolled his eyes.

“Oh, not you, too, Mother? I’m not a hero. Not at all. But it was kind of Mr. Roundhay to bring the boy to apologize – and this basket of Mrs. Roundhay’s jams and chutney. I’ll give them to a needy family at the soup kitchen,” Ernest said, and his father smiled.

“There you go again, Ernest – always helping others less fortunate than yourself,” he said, and Ernest sighed.

He hated praise, and even as his sister looked at him pointedly, Ernest was not about to accept it…