Page 63 of The Duke Who Loved a Widow
Arabella took her flimsy lace-edged handkerchief and dabbed her eyes. “You’re right in all you say.” Her fingers worked on the lace edging as she thought about what to say next.
“I began to feel close to Robert, to the duke. It’s difficult to talk about it, but I knew there was something special,” admitted Arabella. “It seemed too soon, and I enjoyed his company but was cautious. Also, if you remember, we didn’t get off to a great start. He almost accused me of being responsible that day when he took a fall from his horse in the woods. Although he later apologized for his harsh words.”
“And rightly so,” interjected Aunt Grace. “If anyone was to blame that day, it was Emma, and even then, I find it is impossible always to know where Henry is. He does get these plans and ideas, and you blink, and he’s gone.”
“That’s a very good way of putting it,” said Arabella, the ghost of a smile appearing on her face.
“Yesterday, the duke and I walked together along the lake path.” Her breath sounded a little ragged, and her aunt patted her hand gently.
“I told him about the latest legal letter, and he promised his help,” Arabella continued. Tears began to fall silently down her cheeks, and her aunt waited for her to say more.
“I felt something for him. As we walked along the lakeside, I knew he felt something for me, too. I knew that I loved him,” Arabella felt relief at confiding in Aunt Grace.
“Arabella, there is nothing wrong with loving a man. You deserve a second chance of happiness in life. There is no need to feel guilty about this. It’s what Edward would have wanted for you.” Aunt Grace spoke gently, with quiet forcefulness.
“I know; I’ve been thinking about this since he came here for the soiree that evening. He left soon after we returned to the party. I knew he would be speaking to his lawyers again about Henry’s case. I’m anxious about Christopher Farrington, but I felt alive, excited, looking forward to seeing the duke again.”
Arabella paused, and Aunt Grace handed her another handkerchief, which she took and twisted around her fingers.
Arabella continued, “As I made my way back to Horton Hall, I saw the duke in the distance, and I was about to wave when another figure approached him. That elegant lady who is staying at the castle, The Duchess of Wyndale. I know he was once engaged to her and that she abandoned him for his brother.”
Grace nodded, tender concern etched across her face.
“She drew close to the duke, and he held her in his arms. It must have been an embrace. I can’t see that it could have been anything else,” Arabella told Aunt Grace, the despair evident in her voice.
“I see. It seems very strange to me. I rather like him, and your uncle thought he seemed genuine this morning. But you saw him take The Duchess of Wyndale in his arms. Can I ask what happened then? Did he see you?” asked Aunt Grace.
“I don’t know. I ran away. I screamed, so he may have noticed me. I honestly don’t know.”
“Well, it seems to me that you must tread carefully. You are very fragile; I’m worried, Arabella. We need to make sure you have space and time to feel stronger. It’s impossible for anyone to keep bouncing back after endless traumatic events. Think about all that’s happened, with your leaving your home and moving here, plus the anxiety around Christopher Farrington. That in itself is too much.”
Grace re-filled her cup with hot tisane and sat back in her chair, mulling over what she had heard.
“You have been through a difficult time, and the legal issues are a cloud over all our heads. On top of this, you thoughtyou had a possibility of love, and then you saw the man you cared for holding another woman in his arms. It’s too much, my dear. I’m in awe of how you are coping with this.”
“I’m foolish, to even think of loving again. I have no idea how I got into this emotional mess. It just felt right. And he has been such a positive influence on Henry,” explained Arabella.
“Which is why you are going to have to be brave and keep that contact with the castle. It will mean that you keep seeing the duke,” Aunt Grace warned her.
“I know, and you’re right. Henry thrives in the duke’s company. I can’t tear that away from him.”
“You’re right, you can’t. Love is a very strange thing. Think of all the poetry, novels, and music it has inspired. I still think there is something very odd about what you saw,” pondered Aunt Grace. “Time will tell, I suppose.”
“And you’ve just reminded me that I haven’t written for ages,” Arabella said with a start. “I’m going to go into a quiet place in the garden and see if I can write a verse or two.”
As she rose, Aunt Grace came towards her and took her in her arms. “This will pass, and you know we all love you and Henry too.”
***
Arabella returned to the strategies that had helped after Edward had died. She followed routine and concentrated on what was in front of her, whether that was a person she was talking to or a job she was doing. Aware she felt anxious and irritable, she took as many walks alone as she could and spent time in far corners of the house or garden writing her verses.
Strangely, was the only thing going well. Her poetry flowed, and she knew it was good quality.
I suspect I’ll have another volume published soon, she thought, with a quiet satisfaction that she had not lost her ability to write her verses.
She walked to the village to post some samples of her recent work to Eagleton and Fraser, her publishers in London and felt that quiet satisfaction as she handed over her letter at the Beehive for the new postal system, which had made life so much easier.
Emma was busy assisting the Reverend Colbrooke, and the boys were increasingly out on the lake, sketching the shoreline from the water or fishing with a net, which meant most of their catch could be thrown back, always after necessary scientific study. Henry thrived under Nathaniel’s tutelage and his growing friendship with Freddy.
