Chapter Eleven − In Hyde Park
Standing in front of the mirror, Diana looked at her own pale face, her eyes slightly widened and her pulse hammering in her neck. “You can do this,” she whispered to herself, and yet, a lump of panic settled in her stomach, making her hands tremble. “You can do this!”
Taking a deep breath, Diana turned and left her room, not allowing herself another moment of hesitation, afraid that she would change her mind. Walking down the corridor to the nursery, she concentrated on setting one foot in front of the other, willing them to continue whenever they seemed to be slowing as though of their own accord.
Coming to stand in front of the door, Diana took another deep breath, then strode inside, barely noticing the surprised look on the face of her son’s nursemaid. “Mrs. Reignold, is there anything I can do for you?” the woman asked, rising to her feet.
Diana drew in a deep breath, her eyes focused on her son as he sat on the floor, his favourite toy clutched in this tiny hands. The moment he saw her, a dream−like smile lit up his chubby little face, and he reached out a hand to her. “Mama!”
Diana’s breath caught in her throat, and she swayed on her feet as that one little word echoed in her mind and heart.
Smiling through a curtain of tears that suddenly streamed down her face, Diana approached her son, gently sinking down onto the floor beside him, her gaze fixed on the delighted smile on his little face. “I’m here,” she whispered, reaching out a trembling hand and brushing a blond curl from his forehead. “I’m here.”
Releasing his toy horse, Benedict pushed himself onto his feet, gently swaying until Diana reached out a hand to steady him. Instantly, his fingers closed around one of hers, and he set one foot in front of the other, his pale blue eyes fixed on her face as he stumbled toward her.
As he stood before her, his little eyes holding a touch of curiosity, he reached out his other hand, touching it to her cheek, his finger brushing over the wetness her tears had left behind. A hint of a question lay in his eyes, and Diana smiled at him. “I’m happy to be here,” she told him, stunned beyond belief when she realised that she spoke the truth.
After dismissing Benedict’s nursemaid, Diana spent the morning in the nursery with her son, playing with his little toy horse, building a tower out of wooden blocks and delighting in its destruction or simply crawling around the room in search of things unknown.
His delightful giggles soon echoed in her heart, and although Diana had felt somewhat self-conscious at first, she quickly forgot her concerns at the sight of his joy.
Until he stumbled over his little feet and fell, hitting his nose on the floor.
Painful wails rose from his throat, and Diana froze, her gaze instantly rising to beckon Benedict’s nursemaid forward, forgetting for a moment, that she had dismissed the woman for the day.
With her hands shaking, Diana rushed to her son’s side and picked him up. His little face was contorted as he screamed in pain, his hands curling into the fabric of her dress as he buried his head in the crook of her arm.
For a moment, panic welled up in Diana’s heart, and she cursed herself for sending away the nursemaid. What did one do with a child screaming in pain?
Sitting on the floor, Diana began to rock him in her arms as she thought about who might be able to help her. She did not know much about her staff. Was there anyone who had a child? Anyone who might be able to help her?
“Hush, hush, little Ben,” she whispered, holding him closer as she continued to rock him. Looking down at his face, she saw his cheeks were bright red with a few loose strands of his golden hair stuck to them as they were wet from the tears that ran down his face.
With both arms wrapped around her son, Diana leant down toward him and gently blew on his face, hoping to dislodge the stray hairs. One by one they came loose before she even noticed that his cries had ceased and he now rested calmly in her arms, his eyes closed as he inhaled deeply, the ghost of a smile playing on his face.
“Are you all right, little Ben?” she asked, suddenly wondering at the name that had so easily left her lips. Always had she hated the name Benedict, possibly because it had been her husband’s middle name, and by giving it to their son, it had always been as though he had claimed the child as his.
Diana shook her head. “You’re mine now, little Ben,” she whispered, once more looking down at his face as he opened his eyes and peered up at her.
“Mama.”
Again, a jolt went through Diana, and for a moment, she closed her eyes, holding her son tightly in her arms and wondering how she ever could have thought that she couldn’t love him.
***
“Did she say she would be here?” Eleanor asked as they walked through Hyde Park.
With his eyes sweeping his surroundings, Arthur frowned. “Who?”
Eleanor laughed. “I thought you were going to share your secrets with me?” Stopping in her tracks, she turned to him, her gaze holding his as she looked at him with that knowing sparkle in her eyes. “You’re looking for her, aren’t you?”
Arthur drew in a deep breath, feeling the muscles in his jaw tighten. He knew what he had promised, and yet, it wasn’t easy. “She did not,” he finally admitted. “However, I suggested that she take her son out for a picnic.”
A deep smile came to Eleanor’s face as she continued to search his. “And you believe she would take your advice?”
Arthur sighed, knowing that if he judged from experience, Mrs. R…Diana would not be here. However, deep down, he thought that something had changed that day. “I do not know.”
“But you’re hoping?”
Arthur nodded, his gaze once more searching his surroundings.
“Then let’s keep an eye out for them.” Striding onward, Eleanor looked back over her shoulder, motioning for him to keep up.
After another hour walking around the green oasis in the middle of London, Arthur felt defeated as though he had tried hard for something and failed. Ready to head home, he was about to turn around when he caught sight of them.
“There they are!” Eleanor exclaimed in that very moment, grabbing his arm and almost dragging him toward the shaded spot near a grove of pine trees a little off the path.
Seated on a blanket, a picnic basket in one corner, its contents strewn about, Diana sat with her son, his head resting in her lap, his little eyes closed as his chest rose and fell with the sweet oblivion of sleep.
As they drew nearer, Diana noticed their approach and lifted her head. The moment she saw them coming, a deep smile came to her face that had Arthur’s heart thudding in his chest as though he had just run a marathon.
“Good day, Mrs. Reignold,” Eleanor greeted her, and Arthur felt a strange sense of relief at his sister’s presence. For a reason, he could not name, the growing intimacy between him and Mrs. R…Diana terrified him.
A calculated gleam came to Diana’s eyes as she gazed at them with a mixture of humour and curiosity. “Have you come to see if I would keep my word?” she asked, her gaze holding his in such an intimate way as though they were once more alone together.
Barely noticing his sister take one step backwards and then another, Arthur felt a touch of embarrassment heat up his face as he looked at Diana. “I never meant to suggest that you would not keep your word.”
“Is that so?” Diana asked, a hint of mischief in her eyes. “Then what brings you here?”
What indeed? Arthur wondered. After all, today was the first Monday of June, and he was supposed to meet with Mr. Hill, Stanhope Grove’s steward, as he did every first Monday of every month. And yet, he had cancelled in order to stroll through Hyde Park, searching for…
“I wanted to see you,” he finally said, surprised at his bold statement.
In answer, her eyes widened, and for a moment, she simply stared at him before the corners of her mouth curled upward. However, this time the smile that played on her lips held no mischief or humour. It spoke of simple joy, and it drew Arthur in as though he had spent his whole life searching for it.
“Would you like to join us?” she asked, her voice gentle, as she pointed to the blanket.
Nodding, Arthur sat down across from her, his gaze shifting to the sleeping child in her arms before he met her eyes once more, a question resting in them.
Diana sighed. “It does feel strange,” she admitted, a touch of red coming to her cheeks.
“But you’re enjoying it, are you not?”
Her smile grew deeper, and she gentle brushed a stray lock from the boy’s face. “I am,” she said, awe ringing in her voice. “I never thought I could, but I am. I don’t understand how this happened.”
“You never allowed yourself to be a mother,” he said, wondering how he knew, and yet, merely looking at her made him feel as though he knew who she was deep down. “It no longer matters who Benedict’s father is. He−”
“Ben,” she interrupted, a look of joy and peace coming to her eyes as she glanced down at her sleeping child. “I like Ben.”
Arthur nodded. “It is a beautiful name.”
“I think so, too.”
As though the peace and joy he could read on her face were contagious, Arthur felt his own heart grow lighter. “He will grow up to be a good man,” he said, conviction strong in his voice. “He will not look at you as your late husband did. He will respect and honour you, and he will love you.”
“I hope so,” Diana whispered, tears clinging to her eyelashes as she held his gaze. “With all my heart.”
“I am certain of it, Diana.”
At the sound of her given name, she drew in a deep breath as though a shiver had just then seized her.
Knowing it to be wrong, and yet, being unable to help himself, Arthur smiled, saying, “Call me Arthur, will you?”
“When we’re alone?” she whispered, delight brightening her face until he felt as though the sun were shining through her eyes.
Arthur nodded. “When we’re alo−” As the thought registered, his head snapped up and he glanced around. “Where is Eleanor?”
Searching her surroundings, Diana looked up as he jumped to his feet. “Are you worried?”
“I’m not certain,” he replied. “It is not like her to leave without saying a word.” Then he turned back to Diana, and for a moment, he held her gaze, the reluctance and regret to leave plainly visible in his own. “If you’ll excuse me?”
“Certainly.”
With one last look back, Arthur turned around and strode toward the path that led around the small grove of pine trees. With each step he took, he wondered what had motivated Eleanor to leave. Had she thought to force him into a position where he had no choice but to propose to Diana?
As that thought struck, Arthur felt his insides warm, and yet, he forced his attention on the more pressing matter at hand. Later, he could contemplate how today had changed things.
Unable to believe that his sister had simply left, Arthur strode deeper into the grove, his eyes trying to see through the dense growing trees, until a spark of light blue caught his attention.
Pushing onward, he soon could make out his sister’s sky-blue dress as she stood under the canopy of trees, her face turned away from him as she looked at…Henry Waltham, their hands linked, their heads bent toward one another.
The moment they noticed him coming, they dropped their hands, reluctantly releasing their hold on each other. However, they stood their ground, and after exchanging a whispered word with Eleanor, Mr. Waltham stepped forward. “Lord Stanhope.”
“Mr. Waltham,” Arthur returned the greeting, his voice holding a note of displeasure as he turned questioning eyes on his sister. “If you would be so kind as to leave us alone.”
“Certainly,” the man said, however, his eyes held deep sorrow as he glanced at Eleanor one last time, a soft smile playing over his lips. Then he turned and walked away.
“Do not even pretend that this was a chance encounter?” Arthur demanded, trying his best to calm down his rattled nerves. “You sent word to him, didn’t you?”
Forcing her gaze from Mr. Waltham’s receding back, Eleanor turned sad eyes to her brother. “I would have told you,” she whispered. “Nothing happened. We simply…” Shaking her head, she shrugged her shoulders, clearly at a loss for words that would do justice to the longing that lived in her heart.
And yet, Arthur could understand as his own heart urged him to return to the small picnic space on the other side of the grove.
“What if you had been seen?” he asked, unable to ignore the notion of right and wrong that he had lived by not too long ago. “You could have been compromised. We both could have…because you walked away.”
Eleanor sighed before a soft smile came to her face. “I don’t think I would have minded.” Then her gaze met his. “Would you?”
“That is not the point,” Arthur rushed to say, clearing his throat as he felt his own heart dance in answer. “I thought you said that you would not marry him against our wishes. Did you change your mind? If so, you need to tell me.”
For a moment, Eleanor closed her eyes, her shoulders slumped as though the weight resting on them had become too much to bear. “It was a moment of weakness,” she mumbled and once more met his gaze. “I do not wish to hurt you or Mother, but…” She sighed. “I do not know what to do.” Then her hands grabbed a hold of his, squeezing them desperately, as he found pleading eyes looking into his. “Please, Brother, tell me what to do.”
Exhaling slowly, Arthur shook his head. “I wish I could.”