Page 12 of The Earl and Miss Muffet
“Wait!” Lord Crawford said. “Doesn’t anyone want to know the real answer?” The other three had already stood.
“Tell us later,” Mr. Hadley said. “I am in need of a good night’s sleep. Miss Bliss arrives in two days, and I want to get a few things settled in the morning.”
“Yes, we can continue the game tomorrow,” Lady Crawford said, stifling a yawn. “Mary, dear, please say goodnight and follow me up.”
Everyone said goodnight, and Elena soon found herself in her room. Sitting on the edge of her bed, she realized she had discovered something new about herself. She enjoyed group games! She had always bowed out of invitations to play, knowing that it would please Bianca. She fell back on her bed and covered her eyes with her hands. Oh, but Lord Crawford did not like the insinuation of her as his feigned new bride. Her embarrassment quickly melted under the warm memory of being held by him. She shook her head against her quilt. She shouldn’t ruin their new friendship by presuming Lord Crawford had feelingsfor her. Such a notion was beyond ridiculous. His temporary companionship was treasure enough.
Chapter 7
Antonwantedtopretendnothing had changed after their game of charades, but then he would be lying to himself. Something had changed, and it drove him to his horse the next morning and into the countryside. His dog chased after him for a time but finally gave up when he realized Anton wasn’t going to slow down.
All these ideas about Miss Muffet were figments of his imagination induced by a broken heart. Miss Bliss, the woman he really loved, was coming tomorrow. He waited for the heartbreak inside him to twist at his heart, but this time, he felt nothing. The curious absence of the perpetual ache made him slow his horse to a trot. Was he truly over Miss Bliss? Now that he thought on it more, the fervor of his emotions toward Miss Bliss had been lessening steadily since the house party.
It had been hard to accustom himself to the idea of his brother marrying the girl he had chosen for himself. He had agreed to be supportive and to bury his feelings. Was it possible to have buried them so deeply that they could no longer be found? Hehad woken this morning with thoughts of Miss Muffet on his mind—and her alone. Wiping a bead of sweat from his brow, he sat back in his saddle. He must be delusional. The mousy, quiet little thing had stolen into his heart without him even realizing it.
But how could he care for someone he did not even know? She was entirely unpredictable. Last night her appearance improved—outside of her distasteful dress—and her charming smile made its debut. At first, she would not even look at him and his family, but now she managed to get along with his family. Indeed, she did so without taking offense by their ridiculousness or teasing.
Something was off. There was an inconsistency about her behavior he couldn’t quite trust. It bothered him greatly that he was developing feelings for her when he could not foresee her actions. He needed to discover more about her.
Having a plan of action soothed his anxiety, and he turned his horse and headed home. Upon his return to the castle, he changed clothes and went in search of Miss Muffet. He stopped in the library, sure he would find her there, but the room was vacant. A little more exploring, and he discovered her with his mother and sister by the front door.
“You’re sure you won’t come?” Mary asked Miss Muffet, clasping her hands around Miss Muffet’s. “I promise you would be most welcome.”
“Your friends sound wonderful.” Miss Muffet played with the fabric of her skirt. “I am not quite ready for such an outing, but I will try to prepare myself for next time.”
“You take as long as you need,” his mother said. “Miss Bliss will be here tomorrow, and I am sure a familiar face will be more comfortable than a stranger’s.”
“Thank you for understanding,” Miss Muffet produced a small smile, barely visible from his position.
“Oh, Anton.” Mother caught him listening and waved him over. “We are going to make a few house calls. Do see to any need our Miss Muffet has.”
“Of course.” Anton strode up alongside Miss Muffet, and they both said goodbye. He turned to Miss Muffet. “This might be the perfect opportunity to redeem myself in chess. Do you have a spare moment for a sore loser?”
Miss Muffet looked up at him with her large doe eyes and gave him a timid smile. He wondered how hard it was for her to make such an expression of happiness. What held her back?
“I happen to be free right now.”
“Well then, shall we?” He put out his arm, and she took it. As they walked back toward the library, he congratulated himself for securing her all to himself.
“I wanted to tell you, I read the ‘Rime of the Ancient Mariner’ this morning.” Her soft voice reminded him of the gentle coos of a dove.
Anton led her through the library door to the chair on the other side of the rectangular table. The chess game was already there like a piece of permanent décor. “What did you think of the poem?”
She sat down and crossed her arms in a comfortable position. “I am sure there are a great deal of translations as to its meaning, and I wanted the ending to resonate with me more.” She straightened the chess pieces in front of her. “But I did like it. There are stanzas I cannot forget.”
Anton wanted her to expound—wanted to see how her mind ticked. “Please, tell me. What part stood out to you?”
When her gaze met his, her posture and expression were open and not guarded as in past days. “When the mariner is forced to wear the albatross he killed on his neck, I could relate.”
He studied her, wondering what sort of experiences could make her identify with the chilling poem. “How so?”
She began straightening the pieces once more. “We all have times where burdens rain down on us from every side. Some of us even have nightmarish sea monsters, keeping us riveted in our grief. I feel for the mariner, cursed as he was, and forced to watch all those horrors around him. Yet, fear kept him stuck in his situation—from being able to even whisper a prayer.”
“Until the turning point.”
She nodded. “That part was rushed and almost hidden. I’m not sure anything so awful could end so easily. That certainly hasn’t been my experience. Yet somehow, he managed to feel some sort of affection for his enemy and could finally utter his prayer. I’m not sure how he could feel affection for anything so awful. I surely could not. Yet, the very act released the albatross, and it sank into the sea. In one quick stanza, his whole reality changed, and suddenly there was hope.”
Anton watched her eyes light up with passion as she spoke. He loved finding parables in literature. “After all the horrors he sees, I think a breath of hope was all he needed. Does it change your perception or does it align with your previous methodology of thought?”
