Charming Ophelia Page 8
and think to wed it, he is so above me.
My love is as a fever, longing still for Sidney who nurses my disease
Let us not to the marriage of true minds admit impediment
Love is not love with any man but you.
Be my love.”
She called for a footman.
“Please deliver this to Mr. Mason,” she said, holding the book out.
“I’m not to take any messages to Mr. Mason, Miss. Your aunt has been quite clear. He’s not to be allowed in the house, nor is anything to issue from the house to him.”
“It’s a book. Look.” She held it up and ruffled the pages. “See. Nothing falls out. It’s a book, nothing more. I merely need to return it.”
The footman shook his head and walked away.
She felt her tears, a great untapped well, begin to rise, but she pushed the emotions down. She would find a way, even if it meant stealing out of the house at midnight. She had only another week before Sidney’s promised full moon.
Wiping her tears away, she wrapped the book carefully in linen, then oil-cloth, and tied it tightly shut with twine.
Then she went into the garden.
Sidney was standing at his window. He did not move, not even to raise a hand in greeting. But he watched, and that was all she needed.
She walked deliberately to the wall that separated their houses, and with all her might, she hefted the volume upward. The first time it hit too low. The second time it reached almost to the top. The third, fourth, and fifth throws were all unsuccessful.
When she looked up again, Sidney was gone. She melted into the grass, weeping.
“What are you up to, Phee?” Tom appeared silently at her side.
“You were right; it was Sidney all along. I couldn’t see it. And now that I can, he won’t have me.”
“So, you are throwing books at his house.”
“It was my last chance. I thought he might…but it’s too late.” She wept again.
“Would you like me to deliver the book for you?”
“You would?” Ophelia stared at her little brother, seeing for the first time the man he was becoming.
“Of course. What else is a brother to do when his sister is in love?” Tom took the book, then held out his other hand to help her up.
“Would you take it to him today? Now? I know he’s at home.”
“Yes, I’ll do it now.” Tom unbent the corners of the package, then tested its weight in his hand. “It’s good you wrapped it so well.” Then in a single graceful move, he pulled his arm back and threw the volume over the wall.
“No! You said you would take it to him,” Ophelia cried out between sobs. “What if he doesn’t find it?”
“It’s no less likely that he won’t find it now than when you were trying.” Tom’s voice was gentle. “Is there another message you would like me to deliver?”
“If you would, yes.” And she ran to the house.
* * * *
Sidney’s columned chart lay on her writing table. In each column, Sidney’s firm, clear hand described a suitor she no longer wanted, if she ever had. She’d thought of marriage as Judith had, as an arrangement for her, and her children, both financially and socially. But she’d underestimated how much her heart would demand. And after their excursions, she could not see the men as she had when they’d begun.
The fourth column was blank, left open for whatever commentary she might like to make, but she had nothing left to say about any of the men. She could still make use of the sheet, however. She picked up a pencil from her writing table and began to fill in the column, hoping it wasn’t too late to give her heart a voice.
Sidney Mason
Unmarried.
No children.
Occupation: Son of a perfumer. Himself an industrialist, manufacturing soap.
Household. Recently purchased a fine large house in Kensington
Pin money: I trust him.
Disadvantages. I love him.
Advantages. He has delightful ears, lovely feet, and unruly hair. He makes me laugh.
Who I will be with him. Less serious, more peaceful; less weary, more joyful; more useful.
Who he will be with me. The same charming Sidney he has always been. My steadfast friend.
Decision. I love him. I want to spend every day of the rest of my life with him, if he will have me.
Sidney was burying himself in a parliamentary report at his club. Ophelia couldn’t see him, couldn’t speak to him, and then this morning she’d even tried to return one of his gifts by throwing it repeatedly at his wall.
He supposed he would grow accustomed to life without her, but the thought of it crushed his heart. He’d chosen a seat in the far corner near a window for the light, but he’d turned his chair to face the window, and not just for the light. He wanted any of the men of his acquaintance to think he was busily engaged in work. Busily engaged enough that they would drift to another seat.
Sidney, for the first time in his life, wanted no conversation. He didn’t want to hear who won what at cards, or what scandal some young blade was engaged in now. He didn’t want to play cards, or debate, and he didn’t want to gossip. Most of all, he had no wish to hear which of her suitors Ophelia had chosen, though it would be in the newspaper soon enough.
The loss of Ophelia felt like a wound that would never heal. And that loss, combined with the loss of Kate and Ariel, whom he had always loved as little sisters, threatened to bring him to the ground. He hoped they understood, but he feared they wouldn’t.
“I’ve looked all over Whitehall for you.” Sidney looked up in shock. Tom Gardiner stood at the edge of his table. “Ophelia has chosen, and she wished for you to know before any announcement. She asked me to deliver this.” Tom held out a folded packet of paper.
The chart. Of course she would use it to show her decision, but he didn’t need to know the details. He would leave London in the morning on a tour of the Lakes or perhaps travel to India in search of new spices to use in their fragrances. His grandfather wouldn’t mind. The old man understood a broken heart.
“Leave it on the table. I have work to do.”
“She insisted that I remain. She wants to ensure that you read it.”
“That’s an evil trick.”
“Actually, I quite like it. Otherwise you wonder if your message has been read or not. I will have to remember it, if in future I have a momentous decision to announce, as she does.”
“Promise me, Tom. If you have a momentous decision like this one, give the message in person.”
“I’ll keep that in mind. But Ophelia is unable to bring it to you, so you need to read it, or I can’t go home again. She made that quite clear. And the mood she’s in makes me fear for my safety if I go home without fulfilling her wishes.”
Sid took the paper grudgingly. Open it quick, he told himself. Like a plaster on a cut, pull it off fast, and the pain will subside more quickly. He unfolded the sheet. Ophelia’s well-curved hand filled out the far column. He began to read, and suddenly the idea of travel was no longer appealing.
“Is it good news or bad?”
“Good news. Very good news.”
“Well, I’m glad you are taking it so well. Who did she choose?”
“I’m charming, and she loves me.”
“What?” Tom’s voice held a teasing note.
“Here: she writes it twice. I love him.”
Sidney leapt to his feet and grabbed Tom up in his arms. “She loves me. She finally decided that her heart matters as much as her head.” Sidney grabbed up the hat and overcoat he’d laid on the chair next to him to discourage company.
“Where are you going?”
“To get a special license. I’ve waited five years and seventeen suitors for her to be mine, and I don’t want to wa
it another moment.”
Tom laughed. “I’m sure Ophelia and my aunt will have something to say to that.”
Epilogue
Two months later, at the beginning of June, Sidney stood at the front of the Duke of Foster’s chapel waiting for Ophelia to join him before the officiant. Though any delay felt almost unbearable, he’d acquiesced to Aunt Millicent’s insistence that a hasty marriage would send entirely the wrong signal to the ton. In his heart, he secretly believed Millicent was enacting one last punishment for refusing to marry Ophelia when she had insisted upon it, but wisely, he kept that belief to himself.
Anticipation made his heart beat recklessly. The Duke of Forster had offered the chapel at his estate for the wedding, happy with the alliance with one of the most prosperous soap manufacturers in the country, though Sidney had resolutely refused to negotiate the marriage contract with anyone but Ophelia and her aunt. Though Sidney had good relations with all the members of Parliament, he had still been surprised at how many had made the trip to Monmouthshire and now stood packed into every pew and corner of the chapel.
In the pews nearest the front, the Somerville siblings gathered to watch their cousin marry. Judith, unaccompanied by Mr. Alderson, sat next to Aidan and their older brother, Benjamin. Aunt Millicent sat smiling next to Kate and Ariel.
Ophelia’s dress was in the latest fashion, an evening dress in an emerald green silk. Her auburn hair, piled high on her head, looked rich against the emerald green.
“You look like the queen of the fairies, Phee, ready to command men’s hearts,” Tom whispered, as he accompanied Ophelia to the front of the church.
“Only Sidney’s,” she whispered back. “He is the tree around which the vine of my heart entwines.”
“What does that mean, Phee?”
“It’s chemistry, Tom. Someday you’ll understand.”
Love Rachael Miles?
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ENCHANTING OPHELIA
Coming soon from Lyrical Press
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Lady Arabella Lucia Fairborne has no need of a husband. She has a fine inheritance for the taking, a perfectly capable mind, and a resolve as tough as nails. But what she doesn’t have is the freedom to defy her cousin’s will—and his will is to see her married immediately to the husband of his choosing. So is it any wonder that she dresses herself as a scullery maid and bolts into the night?
Colin Somerville’s current mission for the home office is going poorly. Who would have expected otherwise for a rakish spy tasked with transporting a baby to the care of the royal palace. But when, injured and out of ideas, Colin stumbles upon a beautiful maid who knows her way around a sickroom, it seems salvation has arrived. Until he realizes that though Lucy may be able to help him survive his expedition, he may not escape this ordeal with his heart intact . . .
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Harrison Walgrave, the Earl of Levesford, let his father coerce him into marriage, but his true devotion is to his Parliamentary career—and his secret work for the Home Office. Yet now, with freedom in his grasp, he finds he cannot so easily release his wife. Seeing her stirs a hunger no other woman has reached. A distraction now, when he is a breath away from revealing a ring of traitors, could be deadly. Still, wherever his investigations lead, the thought of Olivia lingers. It might be obsession. It might be treason. But the only way to escape the temptation is to succumb . . .
Meet the Author
Rachael Miles has always loved a good romance, especially one with a bit of suspense and preferably a ghost. She is also a professor of book history and nineteenth-century literature whose students frequently find themselves reading the novels of Ann Radcliffe and other gothic tales. A native Texan, Rachael lives with her indulgent husband, three rescued dogs, and an ancient cat. Visit her at www.rachaelmiles.com.