Chapter Twelve

 

 

“Letitia, will you please slow down?”

“Why? What is there to slow down for?” Letitia shot the response over her shoulder as she marched down the path toward Ridlington. “I want to put as much distance between myself and that…that…”

“I understand,” panted Harriet. “But tripping over our feet or these roots isn’t going to assist matters one whit, so please walk more slowly. Have pity on me, at least.”

That did the trick. Letitia finally slowed from the gallop she’d started once reaching the bottom of the FitzArden Hall steps. Harriet had been convinced that she would break her neck if she wasn’t more careful—her descent over those slippery marble slabs was enough to turn a brave man pale as a ghost.

She had sent a fast prayer upward and then hurried after Letitia, wondering if she’d be able to pick up the bits when the inevitable disaster occurred. But fortunately for all, it didn’t, and Letitia reached the last stair safely, ignored the carriage and the two footmen and set off at a pace that made brisk look like a casual stroll.

Hence Harriet’s breathless pleas.

They were well into the forest, and as they slowed, the trees around them whispered softly. A few lingering raindrops pattered down, and the air thickened with the onset of some early evening fog.

Harriet walked beside Letitia in silence for a while, not sure how to approach this woman who had become her friend and confidante in such a short time.

Finally, Letitia spoke. “How could he?”

“I don’t know.”

“I had no idea…he’s never mentioned…”

“Well he wouldn’t, would he?” said Harriet reasonably. “A gentleman doesn’t speak of such things to a lady.”

Letitia snorted. “He’s no gentleman, then. And I suppose I’m no lady.”

“Of course you are. Just because that woman said what she said, doesn’t make you any less of a lady.”

“I know that,” snapped Letitia. “It wasn’t her. It was us. Me and James.”

Harriet ignored the argumentative tone and thought about that for a few minutes. And light dawned. “While you were alone…” She left the comment hanging in the air.

Letitia came to a halt, and to her dismay Harriet caught the glisten of tears on her friend’s cheeks. “Oh Letitia, please. Don’t upset yourself.” She pulled out a handkerchief and passed it over. “Here, dry your tears and tell me what happened.”

“I’ve been a bloody fool, that’s what happened,” answered Letitia. She took the handkerchief, dried her eyes and then blew her nose. “I’ve been yet another victim of the typical Ridlington traditions. We cannot and should not care for anyone.”

She handed the handkerchief back to Harriet, who looked at it then carefully put it away in her pocket. “You have feelings for James, of course. And knowing he has a mistress…I’m sure that came as a shock.” Harriet tried to keep her voice level. This was not the time for an argument, it was the time for Letitia to sort out her emotions.

“I thought I had feelings for James,” she answered. “Especially after this afternoon. I asked him, Harriet. I asked him to help me with those feelings, those sensations that were apparently missing from my book.” She shook her head. “God knows why I did. It must have been the damn brandy.”

Harriet managed to repress a chuckle. “Don’t blame the drink, dear Letitia. I believe you wanted James to help you. It was a convenient excuse but not the reason for your actions.”

Letitia waved her hand airily. “Whatever the cause or the reason, it happened. He…well, he kissed me.”

“Ah.” Harriet let that sink in for a bit. “Was it a nice kiss?”

Letitia rounded on her. “Nice? Nice? A kiss on the hand is nice, a peck on the cheek is nice. This was…not nice at all. It was…” She struggled for words. “It was as if every sunrise and every sunset exploded around me at the same time.”

“Oh, my.”

“It was lips, but not just lips. It was teeth and tongues and hands and more.” Letitia’s voice broke. “It was wondrous, feeling him touch me, feeling his lips against my bare skin. My whole body ignited. I swear there were flames shooting deep and low inside…” her hand dropped absently to her stomach, pressing against her cloak.

Stopping her conversation, Letitia sighed, lowered her head and began to walk on.

Harriet followed, letting the air and the gentle forest sounds help calm the other woman. It seemed as if Mother Nature herself were offering comfort, delicate touches of moisture against their skin and tears of compassion falling on them now and again from the dying leaves of massive chestnut trees.

“Well,” said Letitia finally, lifting her head. “At least now I can edit my book and perhaps come close to what Lesley suggested.”

“A positive result,” encouraged Letitia.

Lights from Ridlington began to twinkle through the murk, and Letitia paused once again. “I must ask one thing, Harry,” she said. “You’ve lived in London. Do you know that woman?”

“Not personally, no.” Harriet racked her brains for information. “I had heard of her, though. Mostly gossip, but a few mentions in the newspapers now and again. She is notorious for her fleeting interest in many men. She’s a wealthy widow —inherited a massive fortune from her late husband, I believe—and strange as it may seem, she’s of good breeding, both of which facts allow her to run much closer to the line between acceptable behaviour and outright scandal.”

“Ah.” Letitia absorbed this information. “A titled whore. Probably a lackwit as well.”

Harriet frowned. “No, I cannot say either with certainty.” She put her hand on Letitia’s arm. “In fact, I distinctly remember my uncle mentioning her during one of our…conversations. He asked my aunt why I couldn’t be more like Lady Augusta, and she answered that I wasn’t smart enough.”

Letitia’s countenance crumbled. “Oh my dear girl.” She hugged Harriet. “I’m so sorry to bring up a memory so unpleasant.”

“Oddly enough, I can recall things like that now without pain,” answered Harriet, returning the hug. “Entirely thanks to you.”

“Well we’re helping each other out, which is exactly how a good friendship should be conducted.” Letitia squared her shoulders. “I am going to take what happened today and add it to my store of useful experiences.”

“An excellent notion,” concurred Harriet, not believing a word of it.

“I shall put it to good use. In fact, I think I shall being editing my book this very evening.”

They walked across the terrace and up to the side entrance to Ridlington, where Letitia turned to look at Harriet. “Will you make my excuses for dinner for me? I don’t believe my work will wait another moment.”

In other words, thought Harriet to herself, you can’t deal with family at the moment. He must have really upset your ordered world.

“Of course, Letitia. I’ll make sure they send up a tray. Authors do need sustenance, you know. After all, brilliant minds have to be nourished.”

She was happy to see that her parting comment had brought the first smile to Letitia’s face since that fateful moment on the steps of FitzArden Hall.

Damn you, James FitzArden. You just destroyed something very precious. On that thought, Harriet walked out of the growing darkness and back into Ridlington Chase.

 

 

*~~*~~*

 

Letitia did indeed set herself to work that very night, and more days and nights after that. She worked hard, not only dealing with Lesley’s editorial suggestions, but tightening the story here and there, improving small things, adding and changing and correcting…

After a week, she was tired but still very enthusiastic about the way this book was turning into something even she thought was quite special. Life continued around her, of course, and the weather cooperated by being utterly miserable for most of the next two weeks, condemning everyone to spending the majority of their time under their own roofs.

She spared little thought for FitzArden Hall and its owner—Paul and James had left, but whether they’d taken that woman with them, she didn’t know. She told herself she didn’t care.

Harriet was at loose ends, and found herself assisting Rosaline now and again. The two women grew to know each other a little better, and Rosaline declared herself delighted with Harriet’s ability to entertain baby Hugh long enough for his Mama to enjoy an excellent restorative nap. She was also well-read, so occasionally the two of them would have quite unlikely conversations about matters ranging from Shakespeare to Sheridan. Politics wasn’t high on either women’s list of interests, but Sheridan’s history, colourful as it had been, provided meat for several afternoons of discussion.

Letitia was pleased that Harriet was getting along so well with her sister-in-law. It gave her chance to do what she needed to do, and not feel obligated to pay attention to the rest of the Ridlington household.

As far as James was concerned…well, there was no James to be concerned about anymore.

Letitia had done her best to shut that door, to wall off those emotions he might have aroused at various times during their acquaintance. He had returned from town, and visited a few times, but she’d managed to avoid him without it seeming too overt.

Of course, her avoidance was noted, but since she had her editing work as an excuse, and her ink stained fingers as evidence, the comments were few and made only in passing. At least to her.

They heard not long afterward that he’d left for London again. Autumn was fast giving way to what promised to be a cold winter, and speculation was rife that James might spend the bitter months in the metropolis. Letitia contributed little to that conversation, merely agreeing that for a man with active business interests, it was probably a logical move, given the difficulties of winter travel.

She refused to even consider that he might seek warmth in the arms of his mistress. She was afraid of the lurking pain such a notion would bring to that odd little area around her heart.

So the days passed, and it wasn’t until early November that word arrived from London as to James’s whereabouts. And even then, indirectly.

“’Tis news from Kitty,” said Edmund that morning. He held up a letter. “It only took me an hour to decipher it. Kitty’s penmanship leaves a lot to be desired.”

“Don’t keep us in suspense, my dear,” said Rosaline. “How are they going on in town?”

“Do tell,” added Letitia.

“Well, it would seem that their Aunt Venetia has experienced a stroke of enormous good fortune.” He glanced around the table at the Ridlington ladies. “She has inherited a considerable legacy from a cousin she barely knew.”

Assorted exclamations followed his words.

“Kitty must be over the moon,” commented Hecate dryly.

Edmund raised an eyebrow at her.

“Well, isn’t she?” Hecate responded to the silent question. “She’s always loved the thought of all the things money can buy. And now she’s in the company of a woman whose good luck has also added the glow of prestige.” She sighed. “You know how Society is. Both of you.” She looked at Edmund and Rosaline. “Money is the arbiter of all things fashionable.”

“I cannot argue that, much as I would like to do so,” answered Rosaline. “But let’s be happy for Kitty. And Richard as well.”

Edmund agreed. “Something like this, while as horribly mercenary as Hecate asserts, will go a long way toward wiping out that Ridlington stain for both Richard and Kitty. Which can only be a good thing. I imagine Kitty will now have a much better dowry than I could have provided for her…”

“I suppose so,” conceded Hecate.

“And…” continued Edmund. “She says you and Letitia are welcome to visit. Aunt Venetia is planning a large ball to celebrate her new status, and Kitty would love to have you both there.” He glanced down at his sister’s scrawl. “She says something about the upcoming holiday season and festivities, but damned if I can make out more than that.” He passed it to his wife. “Here. You try.”

Rosaline turned the paper this way and that, squinted, frowned and held it up to the light before shaking her head. “It’s no use. She says seasonal something-or-other, so exciting, ball and new dresses. That’s the best I can do.”

“Typical,” chuckled Hecate. “Well, I won’t be going.”

Letitia’s mind was working rapidly. “Hecate, can I urge you to change your mind?”

“I doubt it, but you’re welcome to try.”

“Annoying girl,” grinned Letitia.

“I think you both should go,” interjected Rosaline. “It would be a wonderful break for you. Hecate, you’ve isolated yourself here in Ridlington. It’s time you saw a little more of the world. And Letitia, you would benefit from a trip to London, I know, given all your hard work on your book. And seeing Kitty and Richard again would be good for everyone.” She looked at her husband. “I don’t want any of us to forget we are a family.”

He reached out and picked up her hand. “As if we could with you at the head of it.” He kissed her knuckles.

“I rather think young Hugh is the head of it at the moment,” she smiled back.

“I don’t know, Rosaline,” said Letitia, whose lightning-fast brain was already a week ahead. “I am not comfortable leaving you with just Edmund for company. What about darling Hugh?”

“I probably should be upset at that comment,” said Edmund with a grin, “but I do understand your point.”

“I have Nurse,” Rosaline assured her. “And perhaps—here’s another suggestion—would you leave Harry here? She’s very good with Hugh and I am coming to enjoy her conversation. We all know that London, for her, might be unhealthy, and I’m sure Kitty’s aunt has maids in abundance for your convenience…”

Since this was exactly the place where Letitia had hoped to lead Rosaline, she merely smiled and nodded. “A truly excellent notion, Rosaline. I wonder why I did not think of it myself.”