Chapter Ten
A MONTH AFTER Rebecca and Hermione had driven away from Stanhope Court for the last time, life at Rose Grange was finally settling back into its familiar pattern.
She should have been happy about that, Rebecca told herself, or at least content. Instead she felt restless, often sad and sometimes angry. There were days when the only thing that induced her to get out of bed was the need to look after Hermione and try to cheer her, a little.
That was proving a challenge. Hermione spent far too much time in her room with the excuse of headaches or indigestion. Why she would have indigestion, Rebecca could not fathom for she hardly touched her food. She was growing alarmingly thin and pale, with dark hollows under her eyes.
It might have helped if she’d been willing to talk about what was clearly on her mind. But since that day she had refused to speak of Mr. Stanhope or his brother. Was Hermione trying to forget what she could not forgive? Rebecca knew from experience how futile, even dangerous that could be.
Now, as Hermione sat at the pianoforte, listlessly picking out yet another slow, doleful melody, Rebecca could stand it no more.
“Enough of this.” She surged up from her chair and dragged Hermione to her feet. “We are going to pay a call on some poor soul who is unable to get out and enjoy the fine summer weather.”
Hermione tried to resist. “What if we meet someone on the way? I know the whole village must be gossiping about my broken engagement.”
They’d heard that Claude Stanhope had departed for parts unknown. Lord Benedict was said to be in seclusion at Stanhope Court, seeing no one.
“Nonsense!” Rebecca tugged her through the door. “I’m certain everyone has tired of the subject and moved on to some fresher local scandal by now.”
She knew she must sound heartless, but this was the first spark of spirit she had seen from Hermione in days.
Still she was quite surprised when her young friend gave a wan smile. “Perhaps you’re right. I have spent too long wallowing in my misery. It will do me good to remember people with worse troubles. Let’s visit Mrs. Rollins. She is such a dear soul and I have neglected her of late.”
To Rebecca’s immense relief, they had a very pleasant visit with Mrs. Rollins—only a little subdued on Hermione’s part. The few people they met on their walk through the village were all kind and tactful. It gave Rebecca hope that it would be even easier to coax Hermione out the next time.
As they strolled home, arm in arm, Hermione glanced toward the church. Rebecca realized they were passing the spot where Sebastian had often parked his gig on Sunday mornings.
“How could he do something so heartless to me?” Hermione asked in a small voice, as if thinking aloud. “I never would have done anything to hurt him, or... his brother.”
“Of course you wouldn’t.” Rebecca slipped a comforting arm around Hermione’s shoulders. “But someone did hurt him very badly and he has never gotten over it. Bitterness warped his protective feelings for his brother into something hurtful.”
“Can you still defend him,” Hermione cried, “after what he did?”
“I do not condone his actions in the least, but I do have a little compassion for what made him act as he did. I hope someday you can too. Otherwise I am afraid you could end up the same way. That would be a great pity indeed.”
She felt on firmer ground talking about forgiveness these days. One good thing to come out of all this was that she’d taken the first small step toward making peace with the hurts of her own past. She had written a letter to her Aunt Charlotte, not asking anything, but opening the door for further contact. Of course that had been almost three weeks ago and she’d received no reply. Perhaps her aunt wanted nothing more to do with her than she had when Rebecca was a child.
But at least she’d tried. Somehow, making the overture had lifted a burden from her soul.
Hermione gave a choked little sob. “I’m afraid I may be more like Lord Benedict than I care to admit. I made noble-sounding excuses for breaking my engagement, and I did mean them. But some spiteful part of me knew it might turn Claude against his brother. It felt like the only way I had to strike back at him. For that, I hurt the man I claimed to love and threw away my only chance for happiness!”
The tears Hermione had locked tightly inside her now began to flow. Rebecca sensed they were not so much for the injury Lord Benedict had inflicted upon her, but remorse for her actions.
“I’m certain you will have many more chances for happiness.” Rebecca produced a handkerchief and handed it to her young friend. “Indeed, I think we both will.”
Did remorse for one’s own failings and compassion for the flaws of others breed hope, Rebecca wondered. Suddenly she felt more hopeful than she had, not just in the past weeks, but in many years.
“I wonder what’s for dinner?” Hermione asked as they reached Rose Grange. Her tears had dried and she sounded much more like her old self. “Our walk has given me an appetite.”
The housemaid met them at the door. “A letter came for you, Miss Beaton.”
“Thank you, Mary.” Rebecca’s stomach tightened as she stared at the elegant, flowing script and realized it must be from her aunt.
Bracing herself for what it might say, she began to read. As she scanned the words, a smile slowly tugged at the corners of her mouth. By the time she finished, she was beaming while blinking back tears.
“It must be good news,” Hermione speculated as she removed her bonnet and gloves. “Is it from one of your school friends?”
“My Aunt Charlotte,” Rebecca murmured, still somewhat bemused. “Lady Atherton. She is widowed now and living in Bath. She would like me to come for a visit.”
“That is good news.” Hermione tried to appear enthusiastic. “You could do with a change of scene.”
“I reckon we both could,” Rebecca replied. “Would you like to come with me? From the tone of her letter, I am certain Aunt Charlotte would welcome your company. I know I would be grateful to have someone familiar with me.”
“Could I?” Hermione did not have to feign her excitement now. “We used to go to Bath when I was a child, but I haven’t been in years. I would love to visit there again.”
Seizing Rebecca in an impulsive embrace, she whispered, “I believe you were right about having more chances for happiness.”
Though she nodded in agreement, Rebecca could not suppress a pang of sorrow for the happiness she might have known with Sebastian. Much as his actions had injured her and Hermione and his brother, she was certain he’d hurt himself worst of all.
The only thing worse than having his happiness ruined by others, was the knowledge that he had done it to himself. During the past three months, Sebastian had discovered that, to his grief and shame. The only good thing to come from it was a hard but worthwhile lesson about forgiveness. With that, he had found the first true peace he’d known in a very long time.
Now, as he marched through Bath’s Sydney Gardens on an unseasonably warm autumn afternoon, Sebastian feared he might be about to lose that hard won serenity. Coming face to face with Rebecca Beaton again would be a brutal reminder of what he had willfully destroyed through his arrogant, stubborn, ruthless actions. He only prayed he had not ruined her happiness, too, by rejecting her love and devotion even more cruelly than her relatives had rejected her as a child.
His prayer was not a mere wish that events might unfold as he desired, but a humble, heartfelt petition lifted to a Higher Power who understood him better than he understood himself. One that could still love and forgive him in spite of what he’d done. The hardest part about learning to trust and embrace that Divine Grace had been recognizing that it also forgave those who’d hurt him.
His steps slowed as he scanned the crowd that had turned out to enjoy the pleasant weather and promenade their fashionable finery. Was it too soon to put his fragile enlightenment to the test by facing two of the people he had most deeply wronged? What if Hermione Leonard threw his overture back in his face, as she had every right to do? What if he looked into Rebecca’s dear eyes and saw only the corrosive bitterness he had caused? Might he fall back into his old destructive habits and lose the small spark of faith that had been his salvation?
That fear terrified him to the darkest depths of his soul. Yet Sebastian knew he could not let it stop him if there was the slightest hope he might mend a tiny part of what had so callously shattered.
Just then the twirl of a parasol caught his eye and he recognized two familiar figures on the main promenade. Yet, they looked different than he remembered, Sebastian realized as he approached them—Rebecca especially. Instead of the plain, dark clothes in which he was accustomed to seeing her, she was decked in a golden yellow walking dress with a smart little brown jacket and cunningly trimmed bonnet that framed her face to perfection. Miss Leonard looked very pretty too, in shades of pink.
It appeared the eligible gentlemen of Bath had taken notice of two such beauties in their midst, for a trio of dashing young bucks had engaged the ladies in spirited conversation. As he hung back, reluctant to interrupt, Sebastian found himself torn between pleasure at seeing Rebecca look so well and a sinking mixture of jealousy and despair. Was he already too late?
Before he could answer that question to his own satisfaction, Miss Leonard glanced his way and gave a violent start of recognition. Did the poor creature think he meant to insult her in front of her new acquaintances and spoil her chance to secure a husband?
When she smiled and called his name, her generosity of spirit humbled him. “Lord Benedict, what a surprise to see you in Bath. Gentlemen, may I present Viscount Benedict. My home in the Cotswolds is near his estate, which has the most beautiful gardens I’ve ever seen.”
Miss Leonard introduced the young beaux but Sebastian had eyes and ears only for Rebecca. Up close, she looked even lovelier than at a distance. Her complexion had taken on a fresh bloom, making her look nearly as young as her former pupil. Though her eyes held a soft brown shadow of sorrow, they were lightened by a verdant glow of deep joy.
Perhaps awed by Sebastian’s title or frightened by his reputation, the young dandies made themselves scarce soon after their introduction. He was not sorry to see them go.
“What brings you to Bath, Lord Benedict,” asked Rebecca. “You are not ill, I hope,” she added, referring to the way many people flocked to the fashionable spa to drink and bathe in the local mineral waters.
“I am no worse than ever,” he repeated his accustomed wry quip. “I need not ask if you ladies are well for you could not look so lovely unless you were in the very best of health and spirits.”
As he spoke, Sebastian intercepted a look between Hermione and Rebecca. It seemed to suggest, as his brother once had, that he sounded far too amiable to be the real Viscount Benedict.
“If I look well,” Rebecca replied, “it must be on account of my new clothes. We are presently staying with my aunt, Lady Atherton, who is determined to spoil me with kindness.” She glanced about. “Has your brother accompanied you to Bath by any chance? I should very much like to see him again.”
The mention of Claude caused Miss Leonard to give a sharp little intake of breath.
Sebastian hoped he did not disappoint her too greatly when he shook his head. “Unlike you, I have not had the happiness of reconciling with my estranged family.”
Pleased as he was that her life had taken such a fortunate turn, he could not stifle a pang of regret. Rebecca’s aunt was clearly a lady of fortune, perhaps anxious to make up for past neglect by showering her niece with everything her money could buy. Even if he could ever summon the nerve to court Rebecca properly, she no longer had any compelling reason to encourage his attentions.
Thrusting that dispiriting thought to the back of his mind, Sebastian strove to concentrate on what he had come to do. “I have heard my brother is in London where he has found lucrative employment with an insurer of shipping. Though I believe it is his way of declaring independence from his interfering elder brother, I am proud of him.”
The ladies nodded in agreement, but afterward Miss Leonard’s head remained slightly bowed.
Rebecca appeared concerned for her young friend and perhaps anxious to escape the company of one who had distressed her. “You failed to answer my question, sir. If you are not ill or travelling with your brother, what has brought you to Bath?”
There it was, open and direct as always.
Sebastian replied in kind. “I must admit, I have come in search of Miss Leonard.”
“Me?” Hermione squeaked.
Sebastian nodded. “Ever since we last parted company, I have been tormented by the shame of the great wrong I did you. And the terrible harm I caused my brother by depriving him of as fine a wife as he could ever hope to find. I neither expect nor deserve your forgiveness, but I beg you not to make my innocent brother pay for my wicked folly. A single word from you is all it would take to restore his happiness. Anything you would ask of me, I will do and be grateful for the obligation if only you will give my brother reason to hope.”
Miss Leonard raised one delicate, gloved hand to still her trembling lips. When she mastered her voice to speak, it was with the blessed whisper of pure kindness and generosity. “How can I withhold forgiveness when I am in need of it myself? If your brother can find it in his heart to pardon me the grief I have caused him, it would be the greatest honor and joy of my life to be united with him.”
Too moved to stand, Sebastian sank to his knees, seized her hand and pressed it to his lips. “There is nothing in my power I can do to adequately show my gratitude.”
She let out a self-conscious giggle that was one of the sweetest sounds Sebastian had ever heard. “You could begin by standing up before you draw any more attention to us. I fear it will be all over Bath by sundown that you have proposed to me. I must write to Claude at once before the gossip spreads to London and he thinks the world has gone mad.”
Her quip made Sebastian chuckle past the lump in his throat as he scrambled to his feet. “In that case, I will detain you ladies no longer. If you permit me, I will dispatch my footman to deliver your letter. A fast enough relay of horses might just outstrip the speed of Society gossip.”
Behind his banter, his heart ached at the prospect of parting from Rebecca, who had blinked back tears as she witnessed his exchange with Hermione.
“I’m afraid that won’t do at all.” Hermione’s radiant smile belied her words. “By all means let your footman deliver my letter to London. I will have it ready to send in an hour. But as for the gossip, I fear there is only one way to nip it in the bud.”
“Indeed?” The glint of sweet mischief in her eyes made Sebastian a trifle wary. “And what is that?”
“You must propose to my friend again, of course.” As Rebecca glared at her and tried to protest, Hermione hurried on. “I see your neighbor, Mrs. Goddard. I shall walk home with her so you two may talk in private.”
She glanced around at all the people staring at them. “At least as private as you’re likely to get in the middle of Sydney Gardens.”
She breezed away, calling out to Mrs. Goddard, while Rebecca lingered behind, looking thoroughly rattled. “I cannot imagine who raised that girl to be so abominably forward! Pray do not feel obliged to propose to me at her bidding.”
But Sebastian sank down again, on one knee this time, for all the gawkers to see. “I would say you brought her up very well. I only wish I had not been too blind to appreciate her many merits until now. She is sweet-natured, forbearing, clever and witty. Not to mention very perceptive to bid me do the one thing I wished to with all my heart. I would say she will make my brother the best wife in the world, but that might not be quite true. If you will consent to marry me, dearest Rebecca, then even such a paragon as your Hermione can only come second. I have no right to ask, let along hope that you will accept. But if you do, my happiness will be assured.”
The whole park seemed to hold its breath with him as he waited for Rebecca’s answer.
Instead she replied with a question of her own. “You have found a way to forgive Lydia, haven’t you?”
“Not without a struggle,” he confessed. “But I have. After hurting those I loved, I found I could begin to understand her, as you advised me. Forgiving your family must have taken far more goodness than I could muster, but it does not surprise me that you managed it. I am delighted to see how happy it has made you.”
“Prosperous, too,” he added. “I fear I no longer have anything to tempt you to marry me. Except my heart, and you know better than anyone what sorry condition it is in. But whether you choose to claim it or not, it belongs to you and always will.”
“I would not have dared wed a man who could not forgive.” Rebecca seemed to have forgotten their audience. “And I could not have been a proper wife until I had learned how, myself. Now, I believe we can be happy together. And I would rather have your battered heart for my treasure than all the gold and titles in the world.”
This was better than good fortune, Sebastian realized as he surged to his feet. It was pure, sweet grace, precious and unfathomable.
“Go ahead and kiss the lady!” called someone from the crowd, of which Sebastian and Rebecca were suddenly aware again. “You cannot make tongues wag any harder than they will already!”
The onlookers erupted in laughter. Sebastian and Rebecca laughed too, as they fell into each other’s arms. Their lips met in a kiss of such tender intensity that neither heard a sound as the crowd broke into loud applause.
Except the pulse of their two hearts, healed and united by the power of love.