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CHAPTER 5
London - June 1814
At the appointed
hour on Wednesday evening, Frederick exited a hackney and made
his way through the sparse crowd entering the performance hall.
He had wrestled with his not inconsiderable vanity over the choice
of attire and had settled on his dress uniform. He thought the
scarlet and gold braid against the navy blue of the jacket would
stand out from the rest of the gentlemen, and he was proven correct
almost immediately. The Blakeney ladies had already arrived,
and Lady Blakeney saw him soon after he entered the lobby. She
was standing with another couple when she noticed his entrance.
She smiled in welcome and called her daughter's attention to
him as he approached. Miss Violet's open delight was all Frederick
could desire.
A few steps more
and Frederick made a very correct bow, more determined than ever
to guard his tongue lest he damage himself in her eyes.
"Lady Blakeney,
Miss Blakeney, good evening. I thank you for including me in
your entertainment and trust I find you in good health."
Lady Blakeney's
welcome was all warmth and ease. "Captain Tilney, you are
welcomed indeed. We are very well, thank you."
Miss Violet smiled
prettily, blushing slightly. "Good evening, Captain Tilney."
Frederick wished
he could have taken her hand, but it would not do as their acquaintance
was still new. He thought there might be a wishful look in Miss
Violet's eyes and hoped that she felt the same.
"May I introduce
you to my friends?" Lady Blakeney indicated the others.
"Sir Andrew Ffoulkes and Lady Ffoulkes, our dearest friends
in the world. Sir Andrew, Lady Suzanne, this is Captain Tilney
of the Blues, and my son George's good friend."
Frederick exchanged
pleasantries with the couple, inwardly frustrated that he could
not spend all his time monopolizing the attentions of the lovely
Miss Violet. Still, he was resolute in his intent to be all that
was polite and gentlemanly and paid particular notice to Lady
Suzanne as she pointed out some of their fellow attendees.
"I say, m'dear,"
she said in a low voice to Sir Andrew as she gesticulated with
her fan, "do you recognize that striking lady in pale blue
by the statue there? The party of four? I declare I have seen
her before."
Frederick turned
and was startled to behold his old friend, Sir John Buford, standing
at the far side of the room with a gentleman and two ladies,
the scarlet sash of a Companion of the Bath standing in sharp
relief against his white shirt and black jacket. Buford was facing
his direction, and the two locked eyes for a moment.
"Ah,"
Sir Andrew said, "that is Mrs. Bingley if I am not mistaken.
She is Mrs. Darcy's sister."
Almost unconsciously,
Frederick made a slight motion with his hand-a small wave of
welcome. Sir John frowned slightly and, to Frederick's intense
mortification, turned away.
By God, Buford
cut me! Frederick was
shaken to his core. For years, John Buford had been one of his
closest companions. They had trained together, eaten together,
and drunk together. In their youth before Buford went to Portugal,
each took turns extricating the other out of trouble. They enjoyed
all the pleasures that the young and wealthy pursued.
Now he was rejected
by a man he once called brother. Frederick could feel the blood
rush from his face. The pain was like a knife in his belly.
The others seemed
not to notice. "Faith, she is a lovely one," said Lady
Blakeney. "The attentive gentleman next to her must be Mr.
Bingley."
"He is,"
said Sir Andrew, "and the lady in green is Miss Bingley.
But I do not know the second gentleman."
White as a sheet,
Frederick, impassive as possible, was able to manage, "That
is Sir John Buford, a colonel in his Majesty's Dragoons."
He hoped his voice was tolerably even.
"A fellow officer,
Captain Tilney? Do you know him?" Without waiting for an
answer, Sir Andrew turned to Lady Blakeney. "Perhaps we
can have the captain make the introductions and ask them to join
us for the concert."
Frederick fought
to hide his horror at the idea. Buford just snubbed me, and
I am to walk over there and demand his attention so that he may
insult me publicly? What am I to do? How do I explain myself?
His agonized thoughts
were interrupted by the sound of Miss Violet's voice. "We
are acquainted with Sir John, Godfather, but there is the bell
for the performance. I think we must go in." In a soft voice
she added, "Are you well, Captain?"
Frederick's eyes
flicked to the girl. The open concern on her face told the tale:
She had seen the interaction between himself and Sir John and
pitied him. Yet she kept her observations to herself and acted
in a manner to protect his dignity. Frederick was both thankful
for her extraordinary kindness and humiliated on his part. With
a Herculean effort, a humbled Tilney schooled his features and
spoke in his usual unperturbed manner.
"Never better,
Miss Blakeney. May I?" He extended his arms, one each to
the Blakeney ladies, and escorted them into the hall.
The concert over,
Violet and Lady Marguerite exited the hall, again escorted by
Captain Tilney. The music of Mozart was as pleasing as ever,
but Violet's attention was too divided to enjoy the performance
fully, drawn as she was by Captain Tilney's nervousness. She
had indeed seen that Sir John had cut the captain, and while
she longed to know the reason behind it, her first thought was
to protect her friend from further harm.
The worst time came
during the intermission, and she babbled about some nonsense
to keep Sir Andrew occupied and away from the Bingley party.
Violet sensed that Captain Tilney's anxiety had lessened afterwards
and became convinced that he knew that she knew
of his discomfort.
When it was time
to leave, Violet leisurely arranged her wrap, thereby assuring
that their party was among the last to leave. It served; by the
time they reached the streets, the Bingley party was nowhere
in evidence.
The party waited
for their carriages, and Violet took the opportunity to study
the captain. He was more at ease than before but still was not
his usual teasing and charming self. He was withdrawn, only talking
when someone engaged him in conversation. Violet assumed he was
distressed by the encounter with Sir John, and she longed to
know a way to comfort him. She also saw that her mother was watching
them, and she knew a long conversation at home was in her future.
Carriages were brought
up to the pavement for the patrons,, and young men steadied the
horses by holding their bridles as the guests boarded. A large
party was moving to a coach when the team of horses, startled
by another carriage passing by, reared up, tossing the post boy
to the ground. The driver on the box was unable to control the
team, and the footmen were thrown off the back of the rocking
coach. The youth was in jeopardy of being trampled, and Violet
screamed.
The next instant,
Captain Tilney appeared at the head of the two-horse team. Violet's
heart was in her mouth as she watched her friend stand between
the flailing hooves and the frightened boy, dirt flying all about.
The captain reached up, seized the bridles and pulled firmly,
all the time speaking to the panicky animals in a low, soothing
voice. The horses fought at first, but Captain Tilney was strong
and did not stop. By the time other men rushed forward to help,
the team had calmed and the lad had scrambled safely out of danger.
Only then did Violet start to breathe again.
The footmen from
the coach relieved a filthy Captain Tilney, his once pristine
uniform now splotched with dirt. His friends moved to him in
time to hear the overweight owner of the coach loudly complain
to the supervisor of the unfortunate post boy.
"I have never
been treated so in my life! My wife was frightened half out of
her wits! What did that scoundrel do to my horses? I shall complain
to the management!"
The heroic officer
stepped up, the smile on his lips not reaching his eyes. "Captain
Tilney at your service, sir. Is your good lady well?"
The rotund gentleman,
his face red from wine and anger, was taken aback at the tall,
intimidating soldier. "I…err…yes. Umm…I must
thank you, sir, for your quick action."
"I am pleased
to have been of assistance."
"Yes, but I
am very put out by this entire matter." The gentleman turned
to the supervisor. "I insist that something be done about
this young menace!"
"What?"
Tilney interrupted. "You mean this fine lad here? Why, he
risked his neck trying to keep your team under control. You should
be thankful he was not trampled."
"It would serve
him right, the clumsy fool!"
"I see,"
Tilney said in a low, angry voice. "I believe I should wish
you good night, sir." However, Tilney did not move, and
the fat gentleman, with an oath, climbed into his coach, and
it set off. Tilney did not watch it go. Instead, he walked over
to the frightened youth.
Tilney ruffled the
young man's hair. "How are you, my lad? Quite the scare,
eh?"
The boy nodded.
"Yes, sir. Thankee, sir. You…you saved me life, you
did."
"What is your
name?"
"Nate, sir."
Tilney grinned and
passed the boy a coin. "You would have done the same for
me, Nate."
The boy could hardly
believe his good fortune. "Yes, sir. Thank you, sir!"
Tilney turned to
the supervisor. "You know that was an accident, do you not,
and that Nate is not at fault?"
"Aye,"
the man answered. "I will remember that, sir."
"See that you
do," added Sir Andrew, who gave the man some money. He turned
to the soiled officer. "I am afraid your uniform is the
worse for wear, Captain."
Tilney grimaced
as he looked down and dusted off his coat. "My man will
be beside himself cleaning this lot, but there is nothing for
it." He turned to the ladies. "I hope you did not take
fright."
Lady Marguerite
answered for them all. "We are perfectly well and thankful
you are not harmed. It was a very brave thing you did, Captain."
Violet was surprised
to see Tilney shrug. "Think nothing of it, my lady. Horses
and I are old friends." He then took his leave of them,
and Violet noticed her mother whispering something in the captain's
ear. He smiled, bowed over her hand, and turned to Violet.
"Miss Violet,
until we meet again."
Violet's emotions
were already at a high pitch, and Captain Tilney's intense look
did nothing to calm her. The effect indeed was quite the opposite.
Still, she was able to bid him farewell with tolerable composure.
A few minutes later
in the Blakeney carriage, her mother sighed. "Not the best
way to end an evening, is it, Violet?"
"No, Mama.
It is very fortunate that Captain Tilney was able to help that
poor boy."
"Yes. He is
brave and quick thinking. And he was very kind to young Nate.
I believe the boy's position is safe." Violet felt her mother's
inquisitive glance. "You were very sly tonight, Violet.
It did not escape my notice that Captain Tilney was out of sorts
during the concert, and you-you were acting very strangely. Why?"
Violet, coloring,
told her mother of what she saw between Captain Tilney and Sir
John. Even in the darkness, she knew her mother was frowning.
"I am distressed
to hear that some quarrel has arisen between Captain Tilney and
Sir John." She was silent for some moments. "You were
trying to protect him from embarrassment?"
Violet was glad
her mother could not see her blush. "Yes, Mama."
"You have become
good friends with Captain Tilney," her mother observed.
"Yes, Mama."
Unsure of the depths of her feelings, she added, "He is
George's friend, and he is ours."
"Mmm hmm,"
was all Lady Marguerite returned, and so the subject was exhausted,
much to Violet's relief.
Captain Tilney was
invited a few days later to tea at Blakeney House. Lady Marguerite
awaited her guest in the parlor alone; she had timed the invitation
to coincide with Violet's music lesson because Lady Marguerite
wished to have private words with the young man.
Captain Tilney was
surprised when he was shown in by the butler to find only the
lady of the house in attendance. Marguerite studied the man closely.
The captain recovered quickly enough to make his bow without
any outward evidence of unease. He looked only at his hostess
as he sat down; he showed little interest in the furnishings
or objets d'art scattered about the room.
Either he does
not care or he is very good at hiding his scrutiny, she thought.
Once the required
inquires of each other's health were made, the captain asked
about Miss Blakeney.
"She is well
and is currently practicing her instrument," her mother
told him, the soft notes of a pianoforte floating in the background.
"She will join us shortly. I must say again how impressed
I was by your actions in the street after the concert last Wednesday.
Your quick action averted a tragedy."
"Say nothing
of that," Tilney answered. "I am glad that the only
harm received was to my uniform."
"I hope you
found the concert enjoyable."
"I did, and
I cannot thank you enough for the invitation."
"You are very
welcome," Marguerite replied as she handed him his teacup.
"I must own I was worried, for you seemed out of sorts before
we parted afterwards. Was it because of someone in the audience?"
She watched for his reaction. Where there is smoke, there
is fire, and disagreements often are forewarnings of scandal.
I must know if anything untoward will affect my family.
Captain Tilney paled,
looked her in the eye, and seemed to struggle a bit before setting
down the cup in a decidedly resigned manner. "Disguise is
impossible, I believe." The captain looked up. "There
is a quarrel between Sir John Buford and me, I regret to say,
and you witnessed a very unfortunate moment. I hope you were
not made uncomfortable."
"Not at all,"
Marguerite assured him. "A falling out is a very sad business.
I hope you will soon resolve your differences, if but for George's
sake."
Captain Tilney sat
up straight, his countenance haughty and proud. "I share
your hope, m'lady, but the matter is entirely in Sir John's hands."
"I see. I hope
he does not, then, remain intractable, lest you have an irrevocable
break."
"It would not
be of my making, Lady Blakeney."
Marguerite studied
him for a moment. A very proud man. He is upset about the
quarrel and wishes it gone but does not feel any responsibility
for it. She wondered if the man was just stubborn or if this
was a flaw in his character. Such stubbornness can be overcome
by appealing to a man's sense of justice. But if he truly believes
himself to be a man without fault, then I pity the woman who
marries him.
Is this consistent
with a gentleman who confronts danger without hesitation to save
a servant? Who are you, Captain?
She put aside her
observations for the moment. "Forgive me for bringing up
such a painful matter. Indeed, on a more pleasant note, I believe
I have recently met some other friends of yours."
The captain's face
relaxed. "Really? I am glad to hear it. Of whom are you
speaking?" He reached for the cup.
Lady Marguerite
almost felt sorry for the man. "Mrs. Norris and Lady Uppercross."
Later, Marguerite
would marvel that Tilney did not drop the teacup into his lap.
Stock-still with a face of stone, his eyes grew wide, first with
surprise, then anger, and finally…she was not sure. Fear?
Dismay? A combination of both?
"I…I do
not understand the point of this conversation, madam," the
officer managed after a few moments.
Marguerite dropped
all disguise. "Odd's fish, do you not? Do you think that
I would not wish to be well acquainted with young men who call
on my daughter, sir? Do you think me so bereft of parental affection
and common sense?"
The verbal slap
stunned the man out of his controlled composure. "Of…of
course not! Forgive me, but…but…" He paused for
a breath. "I must beg your pardon. I am not used to people
questioning my motives or character. You…you certainly have
the right," he was quick to add. "This is your house,
but I am afraid you are misinformed."
"Indeed?"
Marguerite tilted her head. "In what way?"
Tilney was firm.
"'Friend' is a term I would not use in conjunction with
those two ladies."
Eyes narrowed, Marguerite
pointed out, "Your list of former friends grows long, Captain."
"Lady Blakeney,
I must protest!"
Marguerite was not
enjoying herself. In spite of everything, she liked the courageous
captain and thought that there was a good man beneath his charm
and conceit. Under any other circumstance, she would further
the acquaintance and judge his real character based upon the
evidence of time. But that option was no longer available, for
she suspected Violet's heart was in danger. Better to have things
out now, break through Tilney's pride, and risk alienating him
than have her daughter suffer a greater heartbreak later. Answer
me truthfully, sir! she silently urged. Be open; earn
my trust! She steeled herself to be firm.
"You do wish
to call on Miss Blakeney, do you not?"
His eyes said yes
before his lips did.
Lady Blakeney glanced
at the clock on the mantle. "We have thirty minutes before
Violet is done with her lesson, Captain. I think you have time
to tell me of Lady Uppercross."
Never had Violet
wished more for a music lesson to end, and once it did, she hurried
as quickly as propriety allowed to the parlor. Captain Tilney
was to come for tea, and she had selected a particularly pretty
frock for the occasion. She hoped to settle herself and gain
mastery of her emotions before he came. There was no doubt that
the handsome officer was making inroads into her feelings.
Her surprise was
complete, therefore, upon entering the parlor to behold the man
standing behind a chair, face drained, while her mother attended
him from the sofa. She hardly knew the picture she presented-eyes
wide, cheeks scarlet, bosom heaving, standing frozen at the doorway.
"Violet, is
your lesson done?" her mother said innocently. "Well,
come in, dear." Violet knew instantly that she had been
intentionally deceived-that Mama wanted her away while she spoke
to Captain Tilney. About what, she had only suspicions.
A serious Captain
Tilney bowed. "Good afternoon, Miss Blakeney." He quickly
glanced at her mother, as if seeking permission. "You look
very well today."
Violet wore a small
frown as she thanked him for the complement. All she could think
about was that Mama had abused the young man for some reason,
and she felt very upset for his sake. She turned to her mother,
trying to think of some way of asking what had happened, when
she was astonished again.
"Violet,"
Lady Marguerite observed in a very strange voice, "you look
very flushed. Does she not, Captain Tilney?" She turned
to the officer, who after a moment's delay, nodded.
Lady Marguerite
turned back to her daughter. "My love, you should refresh
yourself with a stroll in the gardens before tea. Will you attend
her, Captain?"
Violet wondered
for a fleeting moment if her mother had gone mad. Captain Tilney
hesitated and looked to Lady Marguerite again. He received only
a blank look. "It would be an honor."
"I think Violet
would be very interested in the subject of our conversation,
Captain," Lady Marguerite said, causing Captain Tilney to
stiffen.
The man sighed before
extending his arm. "Miss Blakeney, shall we?"
As the weather was
warm, Violet had no need of a spencer. She paused only to retrieve
a bonnet, and soon the pair was walking in a rose garden behind
the house. The flowers were in full bloom, but the beauty of
the display held very little interest for her. She longed to
know what Captain Tilney was to say, for she was certain that
this scheme of her mother's was a device for the two to have
a bit of private conversation.
Properly, the two
were not entirely unchaperoned, for the gardener was toiling
in the rosebushes. Proper indeed, but unfortunate. As necessary
as his task of working manure into the ground was to the flowers,
it would not do for the gardener to overhear their conversation.
The captain seemed to agree with Violet's assessment, for he
was silent, aggrieved at the man's presence. A solution needed
to be discovered.
Think, Violet,
think! Surely, an educated lady can come up with a solution for
this situation! The
thought of education gave Violet inspiration.
"Parlez-vous
français?" Violet
asked her companion.
Startled, Captain
Tilney replied, "Oui, je parle français."
With a soft smile,
Violet continued in French. "Will you tell me what you were
speaking of with my mother?"
Captain Tilney stared
at her for a moment before understanding her intent. The light
of realization lit his eyes, but there was no amusement at her
cleverness. No, the man was nervous and grim, and with a determined
air, he moved to the garden bench. Violet sat at Captain Tilney's
request, but the gentleman remained on his feet.
In halting French
he spoke. "First, mademoiselle, I must thank you
from saving me from great embarrassment last evening. Would I
be wrong to conclude that you witnessed the unhappy exchange
between Sir John Buford and me?"
Violet blushed.
"I did see Sir John's rude actions, that is true. Think
nothing of it, Capitaine. I could not have you suffer
further mortification."
"That is very
kind. You see, Sir John and I have quarreled. I would not have
it so, but there it is."
"Is there nothing
to be done that would end the quarrel?"
"I am afraid
not. It is not of my doing or desire. We are no longer friends
until Sir John wishes it otherwise."
"That is unfortunate.
I am sorry for you."
Captain Tilney nodded,
but his expression grew even more grave, and he began to pace.
He was clearly struggling with his thoughts. Violet grew anxious
on his behalf.
The officer stopped
and turned to her. "Your mother requested…nay, demanded
that I tell you…explain to you my…acquaintance with
Lady Uppercross and Madame Norris."
Violet's eyes grew
wide. That she was full curious about the matter, she would not
deny, but she became apprehensive at his anxiety. She wondered
if this was news she really wanted to know.
"I met Madame
Norris when she was still Mademoiselle Adams. Several
Seasons ago, I made her acquaintance and would meet her at parties
and dances. I do not think I paid her any particular attention;
we danced and shared the usual inane conversation one has at
such events. I felt no danger for her reputation, for it was
common knowledge that she had accepted the courtship of Monsieur
Norris, a gentleman of some fortune."
The captain paused
and looked at the gardener. Violet understood his meaning.
"Capitaine
Tilney, do not fear. Old MacDaniel is from Scotland and certainly
does not understand French." She smiled. "I am afraid
he barely speaks the King's English."
The side of his
mouth twitched at her jest, but he became serious again. "I
suppose I should tell you that I enjoy teasing. It gives me pleasure
to please young ladies, to see their blushes and smiles."
"I have noticed,"
she replied drily. Violet wondered if this was meant for her.
Have I deceived myself? Does he care nothing for me?
Captain Tilney grimaced.
"It is all meant in harmless fun, but…sometimes, my
intentions have been…misunderstood." He glanced at
the trees above her head. "More than once."
Violet willed herself
to be calm, to hear him out. "Are you saying that such a…misunderstanding
arose between you and Mademoiselle Adams?"
"Oui.
Fortunately it was cleared up quickly, but I have no doubt that
it was as uncomfortable for Mademoiselle Adams as it was
for me."
"I am sure."
Anger rose in Violet's breast, and she could not help but say,
"Am I to understand, CapitaineTilney, that you toyed
with the feelings of a young lady while she was being courted
by another man?"
"Mademoiselle
Blakeney, please allow me to explain!"
Violet rose. "I
doubt any explanation would be satisfactory!" The rising
voices caught the attention of the gardener, and he looked at
the daughter of his employer as if wondering if his assistance
was needed.
Tilney pleaded.
"Please! I beg you-give me a chance! Trust me!"
Fighting her anger
and resentment, she forced herself to look into Tilney's eyes.
He was sincere and…something else. Afraid? Despondent? She
was not sure, but the unexpected vulnerability gave her pause.
"Very well, Capitaine. I will hear you out."
She sat back down and gestured to the gardener that all was well.
For his part, the servant rocked back on his heels, but kept
his eyes on the pair.
Tilney thanked her
for her patience. "It is a failing of mine, I know, that
I let loose my tongue far too often. I do not always realize
until too late that what I mean to be harmless amusement is not
received that way-that empty flattery is taken to be sincere
expressions of something more." He frowned at his feet.
"I must share some of the responsibility for this state
of affairs."
"Only some,
Capitaine?"
He looked up at
her, and there was righteous anger in his face. "Oui.
In the case of MademoiselleAdams, I teased her, yes, but
I already knew she had accepted the courtship of Monsieur
Norris. I perceived it as two friends harmlessly amusing themselves.
Imagine my distress when her teasing turned to flirtation. Is
it right for a lady to flirt with men other than her intended?
If she allowed her feelings to waver, to regret her choice, should
she not bear some of the fault?"
Violet frowned.
"She flirted with you? She regretted her choice?"
He nodded. "Pardonnez-moi
- it is unseemly of me to say, but I must defend myself.
Not only did she most shamelessly flirt with me, she let me know
that she would be willing to transfer her affections." He
snorted. "I assure you: I cared nothing for her or she for
me. Her interest was in Northanger Abbey. But once she learned
that my expectations were not as grand as her intended's, she
offered a…very different and irregular arrangement."
Some of Violet's
anger gave way to disgust. "Irregular? You do not mean…?
I cannot say it."
"It happens
often enough among the ton, mademoiselle." His knowing
look changed to one of pride. "I refused her, of course."
His answer failed
to satisfy, and in her disappointment, she said what normally
she would not. "Is it because she was not pretty enough?"
"Mademoiselle
Blakeney, I would never agree to that type of arrangement
with any lady, no matter how beautiful!"
A bit of hope for
his character still burned in Violet's heart, but it was almost
extinguished by his admission that he was not serious about her.
She bit her lip. "Please forgive my unseemly question, but
I own I am glad to hear your disavowal of that sort of behavior.
And what about Lady Uppercross? Does she harbor the same hopes
that you dashed in her friend?"
The captain seemed
to relax a little. "I believe that she does. Lady Uppercross
is a very singular creature. She does not feel mortification
over my rejection of her, unlike her friend. No, her resolve
is only redoubled." He thought for a moment. "There
are gentlemen who revel in the hunt-not for the sport of the
activity or to be able to enjoy the fruits of their labor on
the dinner table, but to cover the walls of their studies with
trophies rather than books. To show to their fellows that they
are more…manly, if you will, than other men. They are braggarts,
in my opinion."
"I know of
such men, and I believe you are correct. But what does that have
to do…?" Violet saw his meaning, and could not resist
a small grin. "So, you were to be a 'stuffed figure' on
Lady Uppercross' wall?"
"Precisely."
"And what are
her chances for success?"
"None at all."
Violet sighed. She
was happy to have much of Captain Tilney's behavior exonerated-to
a point. He had admitted that he sometimes said things he did
not mean, and it had led to misapprehensions as to his intentions.
And the two ladies in question had been proven not to be ladies
at all.
Still, it was painful
to realize that her hopes for the handsome captain were only
girlish fantasies. She rose from the bench, attempting to hide
her hurt.
"I thank you
for this interview, Capitaine, as unpleasant as it surely
was for you. Shall we go in to tea?" She stopped, for she
felt Tilney's hand on her arm.
"Mademoiselle
Blakeney, I am a very private man. Do you have any curiosity
why I agreed, with your mother's approval, to open my private
affairs to such an extent for your perusal?"
She lifted her eyes
to see that strange, longing expression again. She tried to hold
down the excitement that threatened to bloom in her breast. Many
thoughts came to her, but she could not speak for the world.
"Ah, you choose
to be silent," he observed. "But I-I have gone too
far not to speak." He stared at her, his throat working.
"Mademoiselle Blakeney, I have told you these things,
and I am willing to share all my private concerns with you, because
it is the price your generous mother has demanded of me. I must
place my trust in you."
"Trust? What?"
In her surprise, Violet had slipped back into English.
Captain Tilney,
his countenance intense, drew a little closer and answered her
in kind. "Miss Blakeney, please believe that I have not
been toying with you."
"Oh!"
was all that Violet could say.
He slowly took her
hands in his. "I know we have been acquainted for a very
short time, but in that time I have come to realize that you
are quite unlike any young lady I have ever met. You challenge
me. You make me want to be a better man. I would like to know
you and for you to know me. I would like us to be friends. With
your permission, I would very much like to continue to call on
you while you remain in Town."
Violet's hopes arose
like a phoenix from the ashes. "Yes. If my mother agrees,
yes." She returned his smile. "I should like that,
too."
Captain Tilney finally
smiled. "May I call you Miss Violet?"
"Yes, you may."
His grin grew wider.
"And will I be forgiven if a few pretty complements slip
through my lips?"
Violet raised an
eyebrow. "Perhaps." Her eyes twinkled. "It depends
on how pretty they are."
"Harrumph!"
The two turned to
see the gardener with one eyebrow raised. "Here now, that'll
be enough o'that, laddie. Ya two best be gettin' inside, I'm
thinkin', or the misses'll be lookin' fur ya. Now, go on."
Violet blushed intensely,
but Captain Tilney only grinned. He bowed to the gardener, offered
his arm to Violet, and the two walked inside with lighter hearts
than before.
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