The weeks were going wonderfully in Abigail’s eyes. Not only was she getting along with Colton, she felt they were also already making a big difference in many lives. Tonight was the night that she had been preparing for.
Sir Blanchard and his wife had accepted their invitation and would be joining them and the Reverend Mr. Fitzwilliams for dinner tonight. It was their wish that conversations could turn to making working conditions better for all those involved.
“Lady Gilchrist, it is wonderful to make your acquaintance finally,” Sir Blanchard said in greeting as he came into the drawing-room that night.
She took the briefest of moments to size up the gentleman as well as his wife. They were most likely her mother's age, and Sir Blanchard was almost entirely gray of hair. He surprisingly wore no wig, which was common among the young portion of society but not for someone of his age.
His silk words and the fact that he seemed to stay up to date in the fashion of his clothes and style immediately told Abigail that society was essential to the man.
Mrs. Blanchard didn’t say any words but merely looked around the house with a downcast look on her face.
“I must confess,” Sir Blanchard continued, “that Mrs. Blanchard has wondered for some time what the inside of this estate looked like. We quite thought we would never see the place open again.”
“My father was never one for country life,” Colton said in response, “But I find it to be very relaxing.”
“Something I am sure you are in great need of after your time serving the King. You certainly gave more than I would ever be willing to do,” he added with a wink.
Though it was said in a joking fashion, there was no laughter in the room behind it. Colton’s condition resulting from the war was not a laughing matter to him.
Instead, Colton quietly cleared his throat and turned to greet Mrs. Blanchard. Abigail decided in that instance that, where she might have held back judgment before, she had surmised her verdict on the man.
The dinner was a tedious affair. Mr. Fitzwilliams regularly found opportunities to bring up the livings of Sir Blanchard's employees and again and again Blanchard found reasons to wave them off.
“Yes, it is most unfortunate that I cannot give more,” Sir Blanchard said as if he ran a charity. “But the copper trade is not what it used to be. I have seven mines doting these lands. Each one seems to produce less and less as the years go by. Now that relations are beginning to be reformed between the crown and the colonies I fear we will lose a great handle on the market.”
“Surely that doesn’t prevent you from showing Christianity to your fellow men?” Mr. Fitzwilliams retorted.
Abigail was seated on the sofa in the large drawing room next to her husband. Mrs. Blanchard hadn’t said more than a handful of words and those spoken were so quiet Abigail wasn’t sure she had even heard them right.
She had given up all hope of finding a connection with the lady and settled instead to listen to the gentlemen’s strained but adequately spoken discussion. Colton for his part interjected and mediated between the other two in between sips of his glass of sherry.
“I promise you, vicar,” Sir Blanchard said now feeling rather exasperated by the constant barrage from the preacher, “I do my Christian duty by providing these people with means to support their families.”
“And what of the twenty-six men removed from their jobs over the last year alone? Have you done your Christian duty towards them?”
“As I said there have been many setbacks as of recently and sadly my employment may reflect that. It is strange you claim to be such an authority on my business when you, yourself, have been here such a short while?” Sir Blanchard spat back.
Abigail feared that things were starting to get out of control. She looked over at Colton who smiled down at her assuringly before standing to intercede yet again.
Abigail couldn’t help but feel some pride in watching Colton come to stand and walk so smoothly. Usually this late at night it was a struggle for him to do either. She was sure it was the salve she had given him.
Colton had already requested the second jar having finished off the first. Not only did he seem to move more smoothly, but she was also sure it improved his spirits as well.
“I think that what Mr. Fitzwilliams is trying to explain is that people in your employment find themselves unsure if they will have secure employment. Perhaps if there were a way to ensure their conscience they would be more efficient at their work.”
“I thank you for your advice, Lord Gilchrist. You will forgive me, but I believe I know my business better than you do.”
“Of course, Sir Blanchard. I only mean to give suggestions to see to the needs of those in my district seat. I would not fulfill my duty if I did otherwise.”
Although no agreements had been made that night, Colton was hopeful that over time, with the knowledge that Colton would be there to oversee how Sir Blanchard treated the people of the area, things would improve.
Abigail was less resolved to this fact. She made her distaste for the man known once all the guest retired to their own homes for the night.
“Fitzwilliams was trying so hard to give him gentle council, and Sir Blanchard seemed to just walk all over him. I fear we may have just made things worse and not better.”
“I don’t think that is true,” Colton said happy to see Abigail return to her seat next to him on the sofa instead of the one across from him, as she usually did.
“Sir Blanchard knows that I am here now and that I will keep an eye on him. I can influence his dying trade in ways he will not like if he doesn’t adhere to my request.”
“Such as what?” Abigail asked surprised.
“Regulations on the trade to start. The house of Lord’s doesn't take much convincing when it comes to adding regulating taxation,” he added.
“And you would think that would help?”
“I think the knowledge that I am here and displeased with his actions is enough for him to reform before I take those drastic measures.”
“You seemed to be well versed in politics like this. I find it all to be slightly slimy,” Abigail said with a little shiver.
“I took my commission to seek adventure. Instead, I got a proper education in the politics of our world. Though my father may not have wished me to go, I am sure that my time prepared me more to be the Earl of Gilchrist more than anything else in the world could.”
“He was not happy you went then? I remember Isabella saying he supported the decision.”
“Well, he did for the sake of my mother. She can have such a weak constitution at times. He did his best to talk me out of it, though. If only I had listened," Colton added with a scoff.
Abigail thought he was referring to his pain and scaring. She had no way of knowing the guilt that dug deep into the core of him. He was sure if he had just listed to his father, he would still be alive.
“I can see it has changed you much from the man that I once heard stories of. That being said,” Abigail continued, “I am sure I much prefer the person you are now to the ghost of the one you used to be.”
Colton raised a blonde brow to his wife as he looked down at her. He couldn’t believe that she would say that she actually preferred the scarred mess he was now than the possibility of being married to a regular peer of the realm.
“Yes, well I suppose if I was not the man I am now,” he said waving at the left side of his face, “then we would have never come to Cumberton Park, and you would have never had the acquaintance of the charming vicar.”
Abigail stared at him surprised at his word.
“Mr. Fitzwilliams?” she stammered out.
“Yes. You two seem to be very good friends,” Colton said trying but failing to hide his jealousy.
“Colton, do you think there is something between the preacher and myself? How could you possibly think that?”
“You are a young and attractive girl; he is a charming man, why wouldn’t you?”
“Because I am married to you, and he is a preacher!” Abigail said still holding on to the fact that he called her attractive and was clearly jealous.
She took a steadying breath to hide her fast racing heart at the thought of his jealousy. “You have nothing to fear. I made my promise to be devoted to you.”
Abigail hesitated for just a second before reaching her hand out to him. Colton thought so little of himself that he actually thought that she was willing to look elsewhere for happiness. She slipped her hand into his.
Colton looked over at Abigail surprised by her initiation of touch. He could tell she was nervous but also saw something else in her movement. He couldn't believe that it might actually be that she felt something for him.
“Abigail, I have no illusions about how this marriage was formed.”
Abigail nodded her head, “I know we both had our own reasons for why we chose to marry. Even before that, I can’t really say we always got along,” she added with a smile. “But I can promise you there is no one else I would rather be with.”
Colton looked down at their intertwined hands relishing the feeling of her touch. She was risking everything at that moment to tell him how she felt about him. He could see from her nervous eyes; she had no idea that his feelings for her had run more profound and much longer than their union.
“I have cared for you,” he said in honesty as he turned her hand in his, “since long before I asked you to marry me.”
“You have?” Abigail said surprised and relieved at the same time.
Colton gave a soft laugh as he turned in his seat to face her head on. He reached his hand up to brush along Abigail’s cheek. He had wanted to touch her for so long.
“I never thought you would feel for me anything remotely close to what I feel for you. I was happy just to have your companionship as long as you were willing to stay by my side.”
Abigail titled her head up to look deeply into his blue eyes.
“What if I want to stay by your side for the rest of our lives?”
“I think I would like that,” Colton said dipping his head low and kissing Abigail softly on the lips.