“Hestony. My dearest. Are you alright?”
“Yes, Hal.” Her voice was a whisper. Her fingers pressed his gently, but insistently. “I’m alright. Come in?”
“Thank you.” Hal nodded—he supposed that the servants assumed that they were courting. Otherwise, the impropriety of being unchaperoned in her rooms would have given him pause. He slipped in through the door, finding himself in a small parlor-like space attached to the guest bedroom. It was decorated with cream wallpaper, chintz-covered wing-back chairs appearing darker than they were because the peach-colored velvet drapes were drawn. He went over to a chair and Hestony sat down opposite him.
“Hestony,” Hal said through a tight throat. He coughed to clear it. Why did it feel so hard to draw breath? “Um…you’re here.”
Hal, speak sense! She knows she’s here.
“Yes,” Hestony murmured. She looked a little puzzled, but it seemed that the meaning conveyed itself to her, because she looked at her hands awkwardly.
“And, well…people will know that you’re here. I don’t care that they know…a fig for their good opinion!” He waved a hand, but his laughter sounded strained. “And, well…you know what I am trying to say,” he added, looking at his feet.
This was the worst way he could possibly have said it! But he couldn’t think of anything better. His mind was trying to encompass the hugeness of what he wanted to say. Sitting here, looking at her, his heart felt full fit to bursting and he knew that, no matter how hard he tried, he would never be able to say his love in words.
“Hestony, I love you.”
He said it so suddenly that his own head shot up, staring at her. He expected to see a shocked expression on her face, but instead he saw it seem to melt, her eyes softening, her mouth moving into a line that was as much a smile as it was meant to hold back tears.
“Oh, Hal.” She sniffed, the grin blooming in spite of tears. “Oh, Hal – I love you, too.”
He went to her and knelt on the floor before her, looking up into her face. Her hands held his. He felt himself drown in the softness of her eyes. He wanted to stay here forever. It felt so right.
“Hestony,” he said, and suddenly the words came so easily. “Will you be my wife?”
“Oh, Hal.” Hestony grinned at him through tears. She bent down and took his hands in hers, kissing them. “I want that more than anything! I never…”
“Never?”
“I never thought we would be able to!”
He laughed. “You silly thing.”
They both smiled at each other. He pressed his hand lightly to her cheek and they kissed. He felt her tender lips under his and his heart felt as if it were consumed in a fire of love and sweet longing. He felt his grip tighten on her hands and looked away, breath tight in his throat.
“We should make arrangements,” Hal murmured. “I thought mayhap we could go to the Scottish borderlands? If we wed there, there’ll be no impediment. We can come back and announce the marriage to London happily.”
“Yes,” Hestony murmured. “We should do it like that.”
“I’m sorry we can’t wed here,” Hal said, feeling guilty about the rushed nature of it. “I just know it would be difficult.” He stopped, not knowing what to say. Her mother would make it difficult. Primarily, that was what he feared.
“I know it would be difficult,” Hestony murmured bravely. “We’ll go today.”
“Thank you,” Hal said softly.
“You silly thing,” Hestony replied, using his own words against him.
Laughing, feeling his heart soar, he kissed her and then stood. “I’m going to pack,” he said.
Hestony nodded. “We have a long journey ahead of us.”
Hal nodded and headed up the stairs, feeling a strange elation lifting him up. He would never have imagined he could do that, or that it would be so easy! He shook his head in astonishment.
“Tomorrow, I get married,” he said to himself.
It didn’t seem possible! His greatest wish had been to marry Hestony, ever since he first saw her at that ball, a year ago now. And now it was going to happen!
“Mr. Townsfield?”
“Yes, sir?” a voice came from the wardrobe-room.
“Have you packed my cases?”
“I packed your case, yes, sir. Which boots will you take? The riding boots and…what else?”
“A pair of day-shoes, please,” Hal suggested, his mind far away. “Something to go with my best suit.”
“The ones from the London shoemaker?”
“Yes, those ones,” Hal confirmed. They were fiendishly expensive, made by the foremost shoemaker in the whole of London, but at this stage, good shoes were the last things on his mind. He was dreaming of what would happen tomorrow.
“Father?” he called, heading swiftly up towards the gallery. His father’s small office was next door, and he needed his guidance.
“Son?” Ranvier’s wavering voice called down the stairs. “I’m just heading down for a light luncheon. Is it urgent?”
Hal put his head in around the study door. Ranvier was standing at the doorway, dressed in a casually-elegant day suit.
“Sort of,” Hal nodded. “Father…an inn on the Scottish border – close to us. Can you recommend one?” He had just thought of the difficult question – where would they spend the night? It ought to be somewhere truly inspiring.
“A few good inns up there,” the older gentleman said, wincing as he sat down. “But son, surely the best place to stay would be to head directly back to Ellington Court? It’s an hour away from the border. You can’t do better than that house.”
“That’s true.” Hal nodded, brow wrinkled. He hadn’t thought about the fact that it would be easiest to spend their wedding night at his father’s Northernmost estate. But…Hal’s memory of the place was more like hunting-home…rustically beautiful, but not exactly suitable for ladies.
“I can have Mrs. Hamden go up there and fix the place up a bit?” Ranvier suggested. “The stagecoach is slow, but she should be there by the time you arrive…” He left the comment hanging.
“I think so,” Hal agreed swiftly. “See to it, please?”
“The least I can do, old fellow.” Ranvier nodded. “Now…I suppose you have a lot to get ready?”
Hal nodded. “Probably, Father.”