When her maid had gone, Hestony sat down at the dressing-table with the letter and a spoon in her other hand. Her sorrow had evaporated and she felt as if the space where her heart was had been occupied once again.
“Dear Hestony,” she read, scanning her eye down the page. Hal! The signature was his. She hugged herself.
I find myself in a difficult situation. I am in no doubt as to the depth and size of my affections for you. Yet, I find myself in a quandary of doubt. If I profess to care, then surely, I should rejoice in your future safety? I am aware of your difficulties. I should be able to evade selfish motives and be glad for you. There is so much more for you in this future than in any I could give. I remain your most affectionate supporter, even while I revel in your good fortune. Yours, Henry L. Ellington.
Hestony felt her fingers tear the paper. It was crumpling in her fingertips, her eyes blurring with tears. How could he?
“He doesn’t care.”
She knew that for unfairness, and yet, what else was she to think? In light of what her mother had said – that he would swiftly forget – it seemed too obvious. His letter was courteous, but no more warmth was there in it than the faint warmth he might show a distant unknown relative.
“He is happy to move on.”
She put the letter down and went and sat on her bed.
The depth of the hurt was far too great for sorrow. Now, dry-eyed, she stared into the night. She had to act.
“I need to speak to Emilia.”
She would know what to do. If it was sensible to throw caution to the wind and throw herself into courting Lord Osburne, or if she should quietly retire to a convent, Emilia would know. In her own mind, those were her alternatives.
“Emilia will know what is best.”
She felt a little better after coming to that decision. She would set out early in the morning, as soon as the sun was up.
Having a plan made her feel better and she found her nausea had gone. She lifted the spoon and finished the posset, then pulled the bell for Judy.
“I wish to go to bed. If you could help me undress? And take word to my mother I’m indisposed.”
“Oh, My Lady! Should I fetch the doctor?”
“I don’t think it’s that bad,” Hestony said guardedly. She didn’t want anybody to try and stop her from leaving tomorrow morning. “In fact, I have a mind to ride tomorrow morning. I think it will help my health.”
“Only if you’re sure,” Judy said carefully.
“I’m sure,” Hestony agreed swiftly. If Judy could fetch her riding things from downstairs, then she could try and dress herself at first light.
When she was dressed in her nightgown and alone, she undid the drapes, letting the light in. That way, when the sun rose, she would be wake. She slipped into bed, feeling the strange excitement of the moonlight, silvery on the dressing-table. She felt her fear and hurt dissipate for a while. Now that she had a plan, it did not seem so bad anymore.
She would escape an evil fate, one way or another. And, one way or another, she would not again make choices based on duty alone. No – for the first time, she was going to listen to her heart.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Discussion in the Rain
Hal woke the next morning with a sore head. He blinked at the gray light pouring in through the window. He blinked and sat up, rubbing his eyes and cursing whomever had left the curtain open.
“Not as if I had enough sleep,” he grumbled, sore-eyed and disgruntled.
He had been unable to sleep. His mind had traced the words of his letter again and again, each of them etched with pain in his heart. He would never have written those words, had he not felt it was his duty to do so. He had no right to put restraints on Hestony, just because he felt he loved her. He should be strong enough to let her follow her own choice.
“I shouldn’t be feeling so sorry for myself.”
He rinsed his face in the basin of water on the nightstand, drying it off and reaching for the bell-rope. Where was Mr. Townsfield when you needed him?
He brushed his hair, waiting impatiently for his manservant. He felt a strange sense of urgency that he couldn’t clearly understand. For some reason, he felt a fevered need to be outside, doing something.
“Mr. Townsfield? There you are. Any chance of a shave?”
“Of course, sir,” the man said with his customary playful grin. His irreverence was one of the reasons Hal had taken him on in the beginning. If there was one thing that he found refreshing, it was to have his manservant treat him as honestly as he would anybody else.
“Right. I’ll sit here,” Hal commented, sinking down into a seat near the mirror. He looked over his shoulder to where Townsfield, grinning, started to set out his equipment.
“What can I find you to wear?” his valet asked, busying himself with laying out Hal’s cravat.
“Um…if you could fetch my riding things?” Hal asked, leaning back as his valet prepared him for a shave. “I fancy a ride.” The idea had been growing in his mind, and now he decided quite spontaneously that was what he wished to do.
“Unseasonable, isn’t it?” the man commented, sharpening a razor.
Hal squinted outside, noticing the dark clouds. “I’m willing to try my luck,” he said and pulled a face.
Mr. Townsfield laughed. A cheerful man about Hal’s age – or so Hal guessed, since he claimed he didn’t rightly know, having been raised on the street in London – he had a wonderful combination of a cheerful grin and apparently no nerves. That certainly seemed to be the case, as he started to shave Hal with almost freestyle strokes.
“Careful you don’t have my head off,” Hal murmured, watching with some alarm as the bright reflection of the razor danced on the ceiling.
“No fear of that, sir,” Townsfield assured him happily. “It’d take a fair bit of effort to cut your head off with one of these.”
Hal started laughing, but any pressure made the blade dig rather ominously into his skin, so he contained his mirth until his valet had finished.
“There,” he commented, rubbing a hand over his fresh-shaved chin. “Now…how about a look through the Gazette while you fetch my things?”
“It’s over there,” Townsfield said, nodding to where he’d left it on the table by the window. Hal grunted in surprise, but Townsfield was already in the wardrobe-room, making cheerful chaos as he rummaged through clutter.
As soon as Hal was dressed, he felt his restlessness return. His clock – on the mantelpiece over the fireplace – said it was eight, but he felt as if it was time he set out. He decided to take something from the breakfast room to eat on the way. He just wanted to be off without any fuss.