Page 25 of War of the Wedding Wagers
She turned to find Sir Frederick kneeling near the window, his hands gently feeling along the stonework, his eyes closed.
“Goodness, Sir Frederick, you look as if you’re a spymaster conducting a deep search!” Amelia said.
“And I’ve found what I’m looking for, too,” he said, working at a stone which he pried loose before plunging his hand into the cavity and withdrawing a small wooden box.
“Lady Pendleton must think we are cleverer than we are! And we’ve fooled her!” said Miss Playford, hurrying over and then sitting on the bed as Sir Frederick dusted off the top of the book and prepared to open it.
Amelia had so nearly sat on his other side before realizing the impropriety. Yet there was something rather sweet in the way Miss Playford seemed to forget she was a young lady unleashed into society rather than a schoolroom miss who was eagerly helping her older brother solve a puzzle.
Older brother? Amelia cast them both a sidelong look as she took a seat at the dressing table. No, that was the first impression that had come to mind. Miss Playford had greeted with such eagerness the possibility that Sir Frederick might look upon her as a marital contender, earlier.
“A letter! The final clue!” Miss Playford cried, but Sir Frederick shook his head and his tone was grim. “It’s a letter, but I don’t think Lady Pendleton knows about it or it would certainly have been burned. Miss Playford, would you care to do the honors?”
Her face lit up when he handed her the letter, and she began to read:
“My dearest Pernilla,
As I sit here in the stables, having just finished tending to your father’s prized stallion, my thoughts, as always, turn to you.
The scent of hay and leather surrounds me, but in my mind, I am lost in the sweet perfume of your presence. I know that to the world, I am nothing more than a lowly groom, unworthy of your affections. Yet I dare to dream,my love, that the connection we share transcends these artificial boundaries of class and fortune.
Do you recall our conversation in the library last week? How we lost ourselves discussing Alexander Pope’s beautiful poem? Your insights were so keen, your wit so sharp. In those moments, I forgot the dirt beneath my fingernails and imagined us as equals, two minds entwined in the joy of shared knowledge.
I often think of my days at Oxford, before my family’s misfortunes forced me to abandon my studies. How different my life might have been had fate not intervened.
Perhaps I would have been deemed a suitable match for you then.
But I cannot bring myself to regret the path that led me to your side, even if I must admire you from afar. Your father’s library has become my sanctuary. In the quiet hours of the night, I devour volume after volume, striving to better myself, to be worthy of the love I see in your eyes.
Plato, Shakespeare, Newton—their words fill my mind, but it is thoughts of you that fill my heart. I know our situation seems hopeless. A penniless scholar turned groom can offer you little in the way of comfort or status.
But I offer you my mind, my heart, and a love as deep as the oceans we’ve read about in your father’s atlases.
Forgive me, my darling, for daring to hope. For dreaming of a world where love and intellect are the true measure of a person’s worth.
Until then, I remain,
Forever yours in heart and mind,
William Greene”
Miss Playford gasped as she dropped the letter and looked at the other two.
“So, William wasn’t just the lowly groom Lady Pendleton said he was? He was educated?”
“But he had no money, so of course he was unworthy of her.” Amelia raised an eyebrow. In fact, she felt a little combative and wondered what Sir Frederick’s response would be when she added, “The girl’s father had a far more illustrious match lined up—and little matter that she didn’t care for him.”
Sir Frederick didn’t disappoint. “If I were the girl’s father, I’d certainly be concerned if a marital contender was a fortune hunter. Besides, it’s not as if she could be forced to wed against her will. No one can be coerced to that degree.”
Both Amelia and Miss Playford stared at him. “You are a man,” Amelia said with real acid in her tone. “You exist on a privileged plane. You cannot know the degree to which a young woman can be coerced to do as her elders—her closest male relative—wishes them to do.” She felt herself growing increasingly worked up, which was rather surprising, for Amelia was always mistress of her emotions—or so she thought. But the pressure was building as to what she might do if she failed in the plan required to ensure Edward didn’t lose his bet. “Why do you suppose I wish to retire quietly to the country? I have a small inheritance and thank the Lord it’s sufficient for me to live sparingly, but independently. I am nearly five and twenty and can retire from revels like this. Soon I will no longer be dependent upon the whims of the menfolk in my life.”
He stared at her. “Your brother—?”
“Edward is the most devoted and loving of brothers. I could not wish for a better. But he is four years younger in years and a great deal younger in good sense. I am aware of his good-hearted attempts to do what is best for me but, in the eyes of the law, and with no means, yet, of my own, I am completely at the mercy of others. It is not a situation that I relish. So, if Miss Pernilla wished to marry a man who was educated but whose familyfortunes had left him with no independence, I say she ought to have been able to choose for herself.”
“And clearly she was not able to,” Miss Playford said, taking up the argument with equal fire, “because she’s a ghost!”
The fierceness of her words, and perhaps the faint ludicrousness, stopped them all in their tracks.
