Page 44 of An Amiable Foe
Miss Belford took a breath. “Miss Edgewood, I wished to apologize to you. I was not compassionate toward your plight at the ball.”
“Oh.” This was the last thing Marianne expected, and she did not know how to respond. Miss Belford went on.
“I am by no means a saint, but I don’t think I’m cruel, either. I don’t know why I’ve never made an effort to befriend you before, except that perhaps it was Mrs. Vernon’s explanation of your circumstances that seemed to hint at your not being interested in local society.”
Marianne frowned, wondering why Mrs. Vernon would say such a thing. “That is far from the truth. Brindale is my home, and I do care about local society. I am merely…a bit shy, I suppose. I did not dare to go to balls or assemblies.” She gave a bitter smile. “And now I suppose we both know it is for the best.”
Miss Belford shook her head. “This was the other reason I wished to visit. A ball or assembly is an intimidating thing when one has no female friends there in support. I am hoping you will attend another ball, as soon as we have had a chance to become better friends.”
Marianne lifted her eyes to Miss Belford, surprised. “I would like that. That is…if I might have help with my wardrobe. I do not dare attempt it again without assistance. Left to my own devices, I seem to only produce disastrous results.”
Miss Belford sent her a warm smile in return. “Of course. It is what I like above all things. Please then, call me Amelia. And feel free to visit Loden any time you wish. You will always be welcome there.” She was seated close enough to reach out her hand in friendship, and Marianne clasped it in return.
The warmth that had lingered after her exchange with Perry only grew at this further evidence of the possibilities for friendship—for extending her heart past the walls of Brindale.
“Please call me Marianne. I should probably not confess this to you, although you likely know it already. I have never had a friend—well, except for Robert Vernon.” She went pink at this admission.
“A male friend is well and good, but it cannot replace female friendship.” As Sarah brought the tea tray into the room, Amelia lifted her brows and sent a warm smile. “I believe my offer of friendship has not come too soon.”
CHAPTERTWENTY
It had only been two hours, but the castle seemed emptier without Marianne in it. Perry went around the estate and checked the house next to the smithy, which had been made ready for Joe Dobson’s arrival. He went to inspect the apiary, from which he could now hear faint buzzing. He would ask Mr. Mercy to see to hiring someone to begin harvesting the honey.
The clay tiles arrived at last for the roof, and the steward would have them put up before more spring rains arrived. They had been fortunate in the weather. Now, Perry rounded the northern tower of the castle and came upon the pond. He must have it stocked with carp, as much for the sport as for his table. The more he could use the estate to his benefit for profit, the quicker he could bring it to self-sufficiency. The largest project, he had yet to begin, and that was the livestock. But he would do that soon enough.
His uncle was content to spend the hours looking over his correspondence and putting his accounts in place, so Perry did not need to entertain him on his last day. He went riding and gave Beau a decent run, but by nightfall he was still restless. Even the excellent dinner and his uncle’s discussion of estate business over port was something to be endured rather than enjoyed. He kept thinking about Marianne by herself in the cottage—or rather, not by herself but with servants and that unpleasant Miss Fife. How could she bear the woman?
His uncle bid him good night at eleven o’clock, saying he wished to retire early to prepare for his journey the next day. Perry was glad of it, because it meant he could be left alone with his thoughts—thoughts that turned rather compulsively around the subject of Marianne Edgewood.
He told himself he merely worried that she was in some sort of danger over at the cottage. After all, that poacher or smuggler or thief, whoever he was, might have returned if he knew of her circumstances and thought her weak prey.
A half-hour of useless rumination brought him no peace, so he decided to take a walk on the estate. Slipping on his cloak, he opened the door to the fresh night air. His steps directed themselves toward the cottage as though they had a will of their own, and he told himself he was going merely to see that no one had disturbed her peace.
The estate was dark in the front, but not yet shuttered, and a flash of irritation shot through Perry. How could he protect her when she wasn’t willing to close the shutters of her house? Now, he had good reason to circle the cottage and make sure no one was lurking there. From the look of it, everyone was already asleep inside, but as he rounded the corner of the house, he saw signs of life. The drawing room shutters were open as well, but this time candlelight was discernible from the inside. Not wishing to frighten whomever was in there, he crept over to the edge of the window and looked in.
Marianne was seated alone in the drawing room. A book was on her lap, but she was looking off into the distance, her thoughts clearly elsewhere. He stood for a moment as though bewitched, his breath coming quietly in the rustling sounds of night. She did not move. What was she thinking of? Was it of him?
With Marianne so near, he fought the temptation to speak to her. It would be completely inappropriate in these circumstances and at this time of night. As the seconds ticked by, however, the desire became too strong. He was simply here to ensure her wellbeing. He would only ask her if she was all right.
He had to make his presence known but rejected the idea of knocking at the front door and waking the household, only to tell them that all was well outdoors and there was no danger. He tapped on the window softly, and thankfully her quick glance toward the sound did not show fear, but rather curiosity. When she spotted him, her face broke out into a smile, and she set her book down and hurried over to the window and opened it.
“Perry, what are you doing here?”
“I did not wish to alarm you, but I could not rest until I had taken a turn around the cottage to make sure there was nothing to disturb your peace.” He paused for a moment. It was awkward conversing with her in such a way.
“May I come in?” He would not stay long.
“You may. I will go open the front door.” She began to close the window, but he stopped her.
“There is no need. It will be a simple thing for me to climb in over the windowsill.” He turned and pulled himself up to a seated position on the ledge and swung his legs over into the room. “I should not be in here this late, but I promise my goal was merely to ensure your safety. Is your companion still awake? Your servants?”
“No one,” Marianne said. “Should I make us some tea?” Then she laughed, as though it had just occurred to her that serving tea to a gentleman caller at midnight might not be quite the thing.
She did not show any consciousness of their being alone together. He was not sure if it was from naïveté or because she was so comfortable in his presence that she knew she need not fear anything from him. He hoped she knew it.
Perry shook his head, glancing at the empty teacup on the table by her side. “I do not require tea, and it looks as though you’ve just had some. I came… Well, the clay tiles for the roof should be coming any day now, and I wanted to tell you about the hives, too. I’ve started to hear the bees moving there.” He was blathering on.
She gestured back toward her own chair and the one next to it. “Well, do sit then and tell me.”
