Chapter 11

Chapter Eleven

A CHOICE OF ONE'S OWN

S tanding in her bedchamber, Beatrice watched as her mother instructed the maids on what to pack for their imminent departure to the country. In only two days, Beatrice would find herself married to Mr. Carter. Everything had been arranged, a special license procured through the influence of a friend. Still, everything felt not quite real, as though Beatrice somehow drifted upon the edge of waking from a dream.

As hard as she tried, though, she remained stuck in it.

"Pardon me, my lady." Their butler stood in the doorway, addressing her mother. "There is a visitor downstairs, asking to speak to Miss Hartley."

Confused, Beatrice looked at her mother, a matching frown drawing down her brows as well. "A visitor?" her mother questioned, casting a suspicious glance in Beatrice's direction. "Who is it?"

"Lady Whickerton."

Beatrice almost flinched at the mention of her name and barely managed to meet her mother's eyes when she stepped toward her. "Do you know what this is about?" her mother inquired with a frown.

Beatrice shook her head, unable to conjure any words whatsoever.

Her mother sighed. "Well, I suppose we better not keep her waiting. Come along." Together, they moved downstairs and into the drawing room where Lady Whickerton stood by the window, gazing out at the busy street. As they entered, she turned to smile at them.

"Lady Whickerton, how good to see you," Beatrice's mother greeted the other woman. "I admit I'm quite surprised by your visit. Would you care for some tea?"

Lady Whickerton shook her head. "That is too kind of you. However, I admit I must ask you for a moment to speak with your daughter in private." Beatrice's mother's eyes widened. "I assure you, you need not be concerned. It is a most… pleasant matter."

The moment Lady Whickerton smiled at her, as though they were in each other's confidence, Beatrice was certain she was about to faint.

Beatrice's mother hesitated, considering Lady Whickerton's request. Then, however, she nodded. "Very well." With another last look in Beatrice's direction, she left the drawing room, closing the door behind her.

"Come, my dear. Sit with me." Lady Whickerton seated herself in one of the armchairs, and after a moment of hesitation, Beatrice chose the other. "I came here today to speak to you. My son informed me of his proposal and also of your rejection of it."

Beatrice felt the air knocked out of her lungs by Lady Whickerton's direct approach. Indeed, she would never have expected Lord Hawthorne to speak so openly to his parents. Yet had she, Beatrice, not done so also?

"Is there a question in your words somewhere?" Beatrice inquired, uncertain what had brought Lady Whickerton here today.

The lady smiled, clearly not offended. "Indeed, there is." She settled herself more comfortably in her chair, and Beatrice felt her pale blue eyes upon her features. "Why did you refuse my son?"

Beatrice inhaled a deep breath. What could she possibly say without betraying her secret? And why on earth did Lady Whickerton care? Had she not been shocked to learn that her son had proposed to a woman he had met only two days prior?

"You need not be worried, my dear," Lady Whickerton continued when Beatrice remained quiet. "My son shared his reasons for proposing to you." A meaningful expression rested in the lady's eyes, and Beatrice gasped, realizing that she knew.

"He… he told you I…?" Words failed Beatrice.

Lady Whickerton leaned forward in her chair, her eyes kind. "Please, do not be alarmed. I promise I shall not breathe a word of this to anyone."

Beatrice's lips thinned. "Your son promised me the same," she replied, disappointment heavy in her voice. Had she truly misjudged him? It seemed no one these days could be trusted.

"Do not be angry with him," Lady Whickerton said gently. "We as a family never keep secrets from one another, only from those outside our home." A warm smile came to her face. "He did not mean to betray you. He simply knew that your secret would be safe with us."

"Why are you here?" Indeed, Beatrice thought it puzzling that Lady Whickerton spoke to her so kindly.

"As I said before, I am here to find out why you refused my son." Lady Whickerton regarded her curiously. "How deeply do you still feel for Lord Strumpton?"

Caught off guard by the lady's direct words, Beatrice shrugged. "I thought him to be an entirely different man. Honestly, I don't quite know how I feel right now." The words simply poured from her lips, not unlike they had the night before in the presence of the lady's son. What was it about this family?

"And my son?" Lady Whickerton inquired. "Do you care about him?"

Beatrice shrugged. "I barely know him," she said honestly. "Yet… I know that he's one of a kind." She met the lady's gaze. "I've never met anyone like him." She closed her eyes. "Had I encountered anyone else that night…" Beatrice heaved a deep sigh. "Why do you wish to know this?"

"Because my son is determined to marry you," Lady Whickerton replied, and again those pale blue eyes of hers seemed to drill into Beatrice's soul. "Should you wish to accept him, I'm here to assure you that you have my blessing."

Utterly dumbfounded, Beatrice stared at Lady Whickerton, wondering what mother would support her son in something like this. Could she perhaps have misunderstood her? "I already sent my answer."

Lady Whickerton nodded. "Yes, you did. However, I am here to ensure that… your choice was your own. You see, my dear, what is most important in life is that we always remain true to ourselves. Others may advise you, but in the end, this is your life. Your choice." A warm smile came to her face. "As it is my son's. I would never dream of taking that from him."

Tears misted Beatrice's eyes, and she wondered what it might feel like to have such unconditional support from her parents.

"I can see that this is difficult for you, my dear. However, as I understand it, time is of the essence. You are to be married soon, correct?"

Beatrice nodded.

"Tonight, an hour before midnight," Lady Whickerton stated calmly, her pale eyes imploring. "I shall send an unmarked carriage to your back gate. You have until then to decide what you want." She rose to her feet and on her way to the door, paused beside Beatrice's chair. "Forget what other people want, what others want you to do. Only ask after your own heart. It shall not lead you astray."

And then Lady Whickerton was gone, and Beatrice remained behind, completely at a loss. Her sister's innocent words, Marry him , still echoed through her head, and she knew that the thought of marrying her father's old friend broke her heart. Of course, it would. He did not want her, neither did she want him. With Mr. Carter, there was no chance of finding love, eventually. With Charles, though, there was.

With him, there was a chance, and yet Beatrice knew that choosing Charles would be selfish. After all, a chance was not a guarantee.