Page 3 of One London Eve
But rest would not come. The silent stillness exacerbated the restless sense of disappointment he had quietly wrestled with for the past few hours.
Robbed of his peace, he opened his eyes. A faint glow of blue-tinged light illuminated the room. His gaze travelled to the window where brilliant moonlight shone through sheer curtains.
He did not wish to dwell on any chimerical fantasy that would be extinguished by the unrelenting rays of daylight’s reality. He had pushed aside the temptation to linger over her image and had persistently quelled the urge to examine the flickering feelings that troubled his breast.
He rose from the bed, swinging his feet to the floor in perturbed response to the moon’s persistent beckon, and stepped up to the open window to cast aside the sheer curtains. Resting his hands on the wooden sill, he gazed in mute wonder at the glory of the unreachable, luminescent sphere high above the sweltering earth.
Transfigured by the iridescent light that bathed his skin in ghostly hues, he felt himself relinquishing his determined self-control. He wondered, with a derisive huff, if perhaps centuries of lore contained some mysterious kernel of truth—that the moon in its full array cast some kind of power over the earthly creatures in its beams.
He thought of her then, allowing his mind to wander the paths he had so stringently tried to avoid. He had proudly controlled himself for a time, dancing dutifully with a few more of the London ladies presented to him. But when he had finally allowed himself to scan the ballroom for the vision he kept at bay, she had disappeared.
A current of warm air stirred the translucent curtains for a moment before its energy was absorbed in the torpid atmosphere of the room. A heavy pulse of dread sank his heart as he remembered the quickening sense of desperation that hadroused him to search even the outer halls of the venue, to no avail. She had vanished.
Why had he cared to find her? Merely that all that seemed to him lovely, noble, and worthy of worship had come together in female form. And he had held it, dancing in his grasp, for a moment.
A faint smile crept over his face as he recalled how her laughing gaze had met his at his jest. The sound of her voice still echoed in his mind. She had seemed perfectly at ease in his company.
But his smile swiftly faded as logic rose to deprecate his momentary indulgence. Surely, it was folly to think that she felt any similar stirrings. Many men would seek and court a girl of that beauty and stature. She had probably danced and would dance with countless others.
Her place was among more refined and gentle circles of London and Hampshire, a league apart from the strife and toil of his life in Milton. It was very likely that he would never see her again. And it was best if he let this brief fascination rest, to fade as naturally as the full moon. This conclusion he felt with a meager measure of conviction, for he was not one given to romantic dreaming.
However, he frowned as an unhealed hollowness tugged at something deep within. Reason could not erase the intrigue that had been born, nor quiet the dissatisfaction that had unsettled him.
The sound of voices scattered across the still, oppressive air from the windows across from the hotel. Indistinct, but varied in tone and tenor, this intrusion of sound broke the spell of reverie.
Mr. Thornton drew a deep breath and expelled it in a heavy sigh. Withdrawing from the window, he returned to his bed, resigned to a sleepless night.
Chapter two
Heavy brocade draperies and a thick Persian carpet of rich-toned colors created a silent space in the back drawing room of Edith’s London home. No evidence of any other wakeful occupant in the Harley Street house could be heard as Margaret sat at a mahogany secretary. It had become a favorite morning site for quiet reflection. Here, the first beams of the sun angled in through the scrubbed panes of glass to illuminate the objects confined within four walls. Sunlight spilled across the pages of the book laid open before her. Outside, a sparrow chirped greetings to its companions.
“There you are,” Edith announced as she swept through paneled doors to invade the sacred stillness.
Margaret placed a leather marker in the crevice between pages of her reading and lifted her face to regard her cousin. “Good morning, Edith,” she replied brightly, although she knew well that her time for peaceful solitude was now at an end.
“Do you wish me to decline our engagement to dine at Helen’s tomorrow evening?” Margaret inquired, pulling out the tray ofstationery used to attend to the constant flurry of her cousin’s social correspondence.
“Whatever for?” Edith’s face was a picture of innocent puzzlement.
Margaret smiled inwardly to see how easily the despair of the previous evening was utterly forgotten. “I thought you wished to avoid the company of a certain gentleman,” she reminded her companion gently, as she pushed the retrieved tray back in its place.
“What? Oh, no. Ned Harrelson is an annoyance to be certain, but it doesn’t signify that I shall ruin my own plans for entertainment. I was a little tired last evening. There was no one of particular interest in attendance. Only some balls are a delight, and others are more tedious. It cannot be helped, I suppose…oh!” she exhaled this last sound as her countenance revealed her sudden consternation at having caught her words working contrary to her forthcoming purpose.
“The next dance will be far more entertaining, I expect,” she added quickly with a winsome smile. “Margaret, are you certain you will not stay for the whole of our very first season? You could delay your return home. There are only a few gala events remaining for us to attend before everyone abandons the city.”
Although Margaret was commonly swayed to submit to her cousin’s childish imploring, this time the Helstone-born girl held firmly to her own will. “The arrangements have all been made, and I will not have them changed. I believe you know how much I relish the summer at home.”
“But there is no opportunity of meeting gentlemen in such a remote place. You need but stay a trifle longer and then you could come away to the seaside with us. The air will be refreshing there, perhaps even more so than in your country hamlet. And one meets so many people on such a sojourn.”
Margaret smiled at her cousin’s hints. Edith could not comprehend Margaret’s negligence in attracting a husband, nor would she ever understand the grand freedom that could be gained in roaming the forest alone and surveying the open heather with unscheduled abandon.
“There will be time enough to meet new people. I shall be away for merely two months. Besides, you know how it was that my parents were first introduced to each other. The most fortuitous circumstances are often not the device of human planning,” the country girl of eighteen offered with a sagacious air.
Edith sighed in reluctant acquiescence. “You must do as you see fit. But perhaps next summer you can accompany us.” Margaret only blinked in reply, as she maintained her pleasant composure in the face of her cousin’s pleading.
“Now I have quite forgotten…there was another reason I sought you,” Edith muttered aloud. “Oh, yes. Will you dash a letter to Verity Chattleworth for me? Tell her I will ride with her on Tuesday. I would write it myself, but I must go show Newton which gown to prepare for tomorrow’s dinner. And I must dress before Laura comes to call.” Her request made known, she exited the room as swiftly as she had entered it.
Margaret bore no ill regard toward her cousin’s hasty manners but was rather bemused by them. Pulling out the japan tray of fine paper, she prepared the desktop for writing the requested social missive. The quill in her hand remained still for a moment, however, as she considered the conversation that had just ensued.
