Chapter 19

CHAPTER19

Bridget’s hands shook as she tried to read her book. It was one of Galileo’s works, and she was trying her best to concentrate on the words.

Two days ago, she had returned to her father’s house and, ever since, had spoken to only a few people, much to her father’s chagrin. Now, she was walking through the garden in her thick fur pelisse, repeatedly raising the book so she could read sections, then lowering it down in front of her again and walking on.

“Bridget?” her father called to her.

Bridget closed the book, placing it on a wall nearby, and turned to face her father. He was crossing the garden as quickly as he could, brushing aside the low-hanging branches of the willow tree as he advanced toward her. The Earl of Pratt, a kind man, smiled softly at her as he approached.

“There you are.” Edward stopped beside her and took her hand. “Love, your fingers are like ice. Come inside. You have been wandering around in this weather for at least an hour.” He nodded toward the frost-tipped leaves and the icy ground.

“I am fine, Pa,” Bridget insisted. “I am enjoying the walk.”

“Enjoying it? At present, I wonder if you know what a smile is,” he said in jest, laughing softly. “Come now, Bridget. Come inside.” He purposefully looped her arm through his and steered her back toward the house.

Bridget didn’t match his pace. Her feet trailed beneath her, and she clung onto his arm rather tightly.

“No one will tell me what happened at this party,” Edward said after a minute or so of silence. “I do not need to be some great, wise thinker to see you have been hurt by it, my child.”

“I am well enough, Father.” She forced a smile and fixed her gaze upon him. “I agree that it is best you do not know the details. I would not want to trouble you without reason.”

Edward plainly didn’t like this. He bit his bottom lip and scratched his sideburns, which were greying significantly these days.

“What’s important is this.” Bridget squeezed his arm a little tighter. “Though I may not be perfectly well now, I will be. Trust me on that. Many women experience heartbreak, but we recover, and we stand tall again.”

“Strong as always.” Edward laid a hand over hers. “Let us take a longer turn about the garden for a minute. I can feel you do not want to go inside just yet.”

He steered her toward the knot garden that at this time of year was rather sparse, the shrubs woody and appearing dusted in sugar. The grass was tipped white, and the holly bushes were the only thing to be thriving, with the red berries glowing like droplets of blood in the daylight.

“You are much stronger than many people think at first glance, you know that?” Edward said after a minute more of silence.

“What do you mean?” Bridget frowned as she looked at him.

“I know my daughters well, love.” His expression softened into the sweetest of smiles. “I know you all very well, indeed. Rachel and her maternal ways, Emily and her rebelliousness, and of course, you and your peacemaking tendencies. It takes more strength than many realize to keep their calm when all seems to be falling apart around them.”

Bridget looked down at the grass as she walked. She supposed her father was right in some ways. Many things had happened in their lives, and at all times, she had tried to remain calm. When Rachel’s scandal had first threatened to bring ruin to their family, Bridget had believed all would be well in the end, and she had been right.

When Rachel and Emily argued, she stood between them. Back when they had been children and they had scrapped with each other, Bridget had dared to even stand between them and hold back their blows. Yet, that was some time ago.

“That strength is a greater thing than you know.” Edward patted her hand on his arm. “If, as I suspect, you are carrying a wounded heart, quite broken because of a man—” He halted, clearly trying to read her reaction to see if he was right, but Bridget maintained a neutral expression. “—then a strong constitution, indeed, will serve you well now. I know heartbreak myself.”

He smiled sadly, and Bridget matched that look, thinking of her mother and the great love her father had lost in his life.

“It is possible to be happy without love, Bridget. I want you to know that.”

“Thank you, Father. I do know that.” She smiled at him as he steered them through the far end of the knot garden and toward the house. “You had us, did you not? You had me, Rachel, and Emily. Another love that gave you strength.”

“True, very true, indeed.” Edward nodded. “I would not be without you three for the world. You are everything to me.” He halted their walk at the top of the steps that led up to the back door and placed his hands on her shoulders. “I love my life, and I hope, whatever decision you make today, you will love your life today.”

“Decision? What decision, Pa?” Bridget asked, her voice trembling.

“You shall see.” Edward bent down and kissed her on the cheek. “Now, there is another who wishes to speak to you. Come, follow me.”

He took her hand and led her into the house. Strangely, they avoided the front rooms and the main corridor but entered the back rooms, where he led her into the music room. Inside stood Rachel, fidgeting and pacing back and forth, her body as restless as it had been the day before.

Edward winked at Bridget, then left her in the room, closing the door behind her.

“Rachel?” Bridget looked at her sister in surprise. “Is all well? Is it Joseph?”

“All is well.” Rachel crossed toward her and took her hands, though her behavior suggested in every way that all was not all right. “And Joseph is perfectly well. He has not stopped playing with that beautiful peg doll you gifted him. He quite adores it.”

“Good, I am glad.” Bridget smiled softly, thinking of her father’s words.

He was happy in his life because he had his children. Was it not what Bridget had longed for, for so long now? A family of her own, children of her own. That kind of love could surely make up for any deficiency of love elsewhere in her life.

“What I have come to say is this…” Rachel paused and glanced at another door in the music room.

Bridget followed her look, curious. Was there something on the other side? Was there someone?

“Rachel, what is going on?” Bridget asked in a calm tone.

“I must speak quickly. He has been here for some time, I understand, talking with our father, and he is quite determined to speak to you soon.”

“Is it…” Bridget held her breath, longing for the possibility.

Could it be Seth? Had he come for her at last and decided it was worth giving this courtship a true go?

“The Earl of Burnington.”

Rachel’s quick answer crushed Bridget more than she had thought possible. It was as if she was sneaking out of that chamber again, leaving Seth sleeping on the bed. It was the same pain, the same cut in her chest, the same thudding of her heart.

“Oh…” Bridget looked at the door her sister indicated.

Perhaps there would have been a time when she was excited by the idea of the Earl of Burnington calling on her. Strangely, she had no wish to see him at all.

“There’s something I must say to you before you see him.” Rachel loosened her grip on Bridget’s hands. “You must know. At the party at Catarina’s, there were whispers.”

“Whispers? What about?” Bridget asked, frowning at her sister.

“The courtship between you and Seth caught many of the guests’ attention. They liked to whisper about you, believing you would be married soon. Now, the news of your courtship being ended has spread across London so fast that other whispers are following it.”

“What whispers?” Bridget stood tall, feeling her spine go rigid.

“Oh, Bridget.” Rachel grimaced, her expression one of pain. “They are suggesting that you and Seth might have… well, as you did do.”

“People know!?” Bridget hissed in a panic. “How?”

“That’s just it. They do not know. Someone has made a wild guess as to why the courtship has ended so soon, and knowing Seth’s ways, they are presuming it has ended because he was after one thing only. And that is getting what he always wants.”

“Oh, God.” Bridget released her sister and walked away, dropping her face in her hands. Rachel followed her, pulling at her wrists so she could look her in the eye again.

“Bridget, I speak to you with earnest warning now. The reason I tell you this is not to scare you, nor to make you regret the choices you have made, but to urge you to make wise choices from now on.” Rachel glanced at the door once more, behind which clearly Lord Burnington waited. “I would hate to see you married to a man you did not love, but I would hate it more to see you thrown in scandal, to see your name ruined, for then…”

“No one would marry me,” Bridget finished for her.

Slowly, Rachel nodded, appearing quite on the verge of tears.

They both knew what Bridget wanted. The longing for children trumped anything else.

“I wish you to be happy,” Rachel said pleadingly. “And if scandal is spreading, then—” She broke off, clearly reluctant to say the words.

“I must take care.”

“Please, do.” Rachel nodded. “You do not have to marry him if you do not wish to.”

Bridget’s mind was already working fast. If people were whispering about her and Seth, it wouldn’t be long before the story appeared in the scandal sheets. If Lord Burnington saw such a story, he might take back his suit. He had asked to court her once, but who was to say that his attention would last? If it would, then Bridget had to take advantage of it now.

Bridget walked toward the door and inhaled deeply, trying to calm her breathing, which had suddenly become ragged without her noticing.

Rachel stepped up beside her, still reaching for her hand. “He is in there,” she explained softly. “He had a meeting with Father this morning.”

“A meeting?” Bridget whispered. “Why?”

“I expect he was seeking permission, Bridget. Seeking a blessing. It will not surprise me if he asks to court you again now. With one aim in mind—marriage.”

Bridget should have been elated by this supposition. She should be dancing with joy. Instead, her response was quite calm and muted. Her heartbeat even slowed down to an even tempo.

“Rachel, thank you.” Bridget reached for her sister and squeezed her hand. “I know you have tried to give Emily and me the most sensible advice you could our whole lives, to keep us safe. I think I needed to hear this today. It has brought things more into perspective.”

“Then you know what you are going to say to him?”

“Oh, yes, I certainly do.” Bridget nodded, feeling as if her soul was quite detached from her body.

She watched herself smile at her sister and bid her to stay here in the music room, then she opened the door and strode into the parlor.

Lord Burnington stood from his chair by the window. “Ah, Lady Bridget.”

In his grasp was the most elaborate bouquet of flowers Bridget had ever seen in her life.

“My Lord. They are very beautiful, indeed.” She stepped toward him and took the bouquet, being careful to brush her fingers against his, initiating a touch.

At least I learned something from Seth. I learned how to flirt.

Lord Burnington blushed at that touch, his smile growing a little more, just as she firmly pushed the thought of Seth out of her mind.

“Where did you get such blooms at this time of year?” Bridget asked as she raised the flowers to her face, inhaling their sweet scent.

“They are from my own hothouse,” Lord Burnington explained softly. “The best flowers that my gardener could find.”

“That is kind, indeed.” Bridget moved to the settee nearby and sat down, cradling the bouquet in her arms. Numb, she forced a smile and waited for him to sit down too. “It is good to see you again. I have been thinking much about what you said to me the other day.”

“You have? Thank God.” He chuckled and sat back. “Is it mad that I have been thinking of that moment ever since? Wondering if I should have said it quite another way, or if I should have held back? After all, you were courting another. Though, in my opinion—if you will forgive me for saying it—he was not good enough for you.”

Bridget felt a tightening in her gut. She was becoming tired of this phrase.

In all the happy relationships she had observed in her life, Rachel’s and Daniel’s, Emily’s and Jacob’s, even her mother’s and father’s, such a question of whether one was good enough for another had never been present. They were simply happy together. That was what mattered.

“You are kind,” Bridget said again, working twice as hard now to keep the smile on her face. The effort made her cheeks ache. “I have thought much of what you said.”

“And? What have you concluded? May I be so bold as to hope that because your courtship with Lord Ramsbury has ended, I may have hope?” Lord Burnington leaned toward her a little.

He was handsome, Bridget tried to remind herself of that. He could father beautiful children, even if his manner was a little ignorant at times.

“You may have hope, My Lord,” she said as sweetly as she could.

Lord Burnington smiled broadly, snatched up one of her hands and turned it over, kissing the back of it with great firmness. She stared at him, rather glad he was looking down so she could allow the smile to slip from her face and give her cheeks a rest.

“You do not know how happy you have made me with these words, My Lady.” As he looked up, she forced that smile back into place. “May I have your agreement to a courtship? I have been to see your father this morning. I have his blessing for a courtship, and anything more I may wish to ask,” he added.

Marriage? He’s speaking of marriage already!

“Yet, naturally, he said the ultimate decision should rest with you, so that is why I am sitting with you now.”

Bridget frowned a little, though she tried to hide it. Had Lord Burnington considered obtaining her father’s blessing and then leaving as if that sealed the deal without talking to her at all? Surely not. It must have been ill-chosen words.

“Well, My Lady? What do you say?” he asked with hope again.

Bridget bought herself a minute by inhaling the lovely scent of the flowers again. If he proved himself a good suitor, bringing kind gifts such as this and making other romantic gestures, she could be happy. Even if her heart ultimately rested elsewhere, it could never be happy there.

I shall make do. Some of us have to make do in this world. We make the best of the hand we’re dealt.

“I would be delighted, My Lord,” she replied and offered him her hand again.

Lord Burnington took it with a degree of passion and raised it to his lips once more, kissing the back of it. As he started saying sweet things, promising to take her to the theatre, to concerts, and more, Bridget looked past his shoulder to see that there was someone watching them.

In fact, there were two people watching them.

Rachel was peering around the door to the parlor. Her expression was impassive, so completely unreadable, that Bridget had no idea whether her sister was relieved or even more worried than before. Behind Rachel stood their father, and he was sighing deeply.

“Shall we celebrate?” Lord Burnington asked, reclaiming Bridget’s gaze again.

“Yes. Let’s,” Bridget said, hoping she covered up the woodenness she felt.

“My Lord? Ah, there you are.” Lord Burnington stood and looked around. Evidently seeing Edward nearby, he walked toward the music room. “Shall we have some champagne to celebrate?”

“What a good idea.”

Edward led the way for the two of them to go and find some glasses. Meanwhile, Rachel walked into the room. She took the flowers from Bridget’s hands and sat down beside her. Nothing was said between them for a minute, though she laid a hand on Bridget’s knee—an act of comfort.

“You will be happy,” she eventually whispered when the two men returned with the glasses. She kept her voice low, plainly ensuring only Bridget heard her. “I’ll make sure of that.”

Bridget smiled rather sadly, touched that her sister still thought that, after all these years, it was her responsibility to see Bridget happy.

That is up to me now.