Page 52 of Fair Weather Enemies
They rimmed the sacred valley in a stone circle laid down by a higher power, not by men. Bundled in a pair of Mrs. Morgan’s wool blankets, he lay on his back in the grass alongside Barlow in hushed conversation and watched the larger sentinels dissolve into the night, still present but no longer obvious. By the time the peaks vanished, Barlow had lapsed into silence. From across the circle, the sleepy voices of Jane and Hester drifted on the still air, snatches of conversation, isolated phrases, and an occasional giggle. His worry over their physical discomfort faded. Despite the poor weather, or perhaps because of it, the wild grass proved plush and comfortable, a bed fit for a faerie queen. Tethered to one stone, the horse apparently approved of the turf as evidenced by his muffled munching.
Adam shifted his focus from the darkened horizon to the panoply of stars emerging above. One by one, then tens by tens, they leaped into view until spraying the night sky from end to end. A shooting star caught his attention, and he followed it until it winked from existence, another Icarus lost to time.
The warmth of the blankets, the luxury of the grass, the box seat inside the theater of creation—all these conspired to settle upon him an abiding peace he had not felt since childhood. A deep sigh welled up within him.
“The majesty of it!” he whispered.
Lost in the moment, he considered the concerns that had laid heavily upon him for ten years and more. The estate. The family wealth. His reputation. His responsibility to carry the mantle. The war against the Hancocks. These burdens had been cast upon him when he was barely more than a child, and he had carried them without question or complaint despite how they had bled his spirit dry, drop by excruciating drop. In this magical place, however, perspective shifted beneath him as if a great hibernating bear tossed restlessly in its sleep. Those soul-crushing burdens seemed suddenly diminished; the well of his spirit seemed abruptly less dry. With some surprise, he entertained a startling new notion—that he could surrender his privilege for a lifetime of moments like this one.
He tore his gaze from the diamond-encrusted skies and rolled to face the far side of the circle where Jane lay. Her conversation with Hester had ceased, possibly signifying that one or both had drifted into slumber. While peering into the darkness that held her, it occurred to him that much of his newfound peace was a direct result of her presence. However, his pride and duty rose up swiftly to shatter that peace. Agreeing to marry Miss Rutley in order to save his land and social standing was necessary and had seemed tolerable at the time. That decision had taken a wicked turn, one that twisted him into knots of guilt. The affinity blooming between Jane and him was doomed to wilt on the vine. Regardless of the outcome of the search, he could not reasonably maintain contact with her. Whether or not she was in debtor’s prison, he would occupy a jail of another kind—one built by his prideful ambition and locked tight by a poison promise.
“What bothers you, Adam?”
The question from Barlow caught him by surprise. He had assumed the solicitor to be sleeping. Moreover, the tone of the query and use of his Christian name marked a depth of concern that invited candor. He rolled to face Barlow.
“Why do you suppose anything is bothering me?” He kept his voice barely above a whisper, not wishing for Jane to overhear. Barlow chuckled.
“I was once your age. I recognize the yearning for one you cannot have. The deep sighs give you away.”
“They do?”
“Yes. Yes. The source of my deep sighs came in the form of Miss Hockley, a lovely young woman from a fine family. However, a young and poverty-stricken law student was apparently not up to the family’s standards. I might have tolerated her father’s rejection, but Miss Hockley’s setdown nearly broke me. It was then that I swore off marriage to seek the road of confirmed bachelorhood.”
The story answered one of Adam’s questions regarding Mr. Barlow—how a wealthy man considered handsome had evaded marriage for so many years.
“Do you harbor any regrets over that decision?”
Barlow expelled a slow breath. “Not really. My independence allowed my practice to flourish and made the loneliness tolerable. And I never met a woman who caused me to second-guess my decision.” He paused to take a breath. “Until a week ago.”
“Mrs. Byrd?”
“Who else? Surely, you see the rapport developing between us. A finer woman I have not met in all my life.”
“I have noticed. I think all of Cumberland has noticed.”
Barlow chuckled. “Very well. But let me say that all of Cumberland could not have missed your and Jane’s mutual affection.”
“I would not call it affection.”
“That is because you are young and foolish. You are clearly affected by Miss Hancock. You may as well unburden yourself. Sharing one’s misery is good for the soul.”
Adam found that he agreed with the suggestion. He was willing to try anything to untangle the knots. “Right, then. I do possess feelings for Jane, I admit. And I didn’t always despise her. However, at our meeting a week ago, I was certain I had come to hate her as I was taught to do. However, only a few hours in her company convinced me that hating her is impossible, despite our family history. Since then, I’ve found it equally impossible to not…”
“Love her?”
He swallowed hard. “Perhaps.”
“I see.” Barlow paused. “That does present a prickly problem. Did you not promise yourself, in writing, to Miss Rutley? And at the end of this affair, will not one of you suffer in some way?”
“Yes. That is true.”
“Well, Adam, if someone must suffer, do you not wish it to be Miss Hancock instead of you?”
Adam answered without hesitation. “No. I do not wish that.”
“So, then you prefer to suffer instead?”
“No, Simon. I do not prefer to suffer either.”
