A Spinster No More by Rose Pearson
Chapter Six
Everton didn’t know whether to laugh or stare open-mouthed at the way his brother seemed to have come alive. The only other time Henry had seemed to be so delighted, so engrossed in anything was when he had been at university, arguing with his tutors and peers alike about some pedantic point only he cared about. And here he was, at a ball, in a heated but obviously much enjoyed discussion – by both parties involved. Everton had thought he’d enjoyed conversing with Miss Knorr, but it was clear just how much more he was enjoying his heated discussion with Miss Spencer.
“How did you know that would happen?” he asked Miss Knorr.
“I did not know for certain,” she admitted. “But I must confess I hoped. Caroline was so honest with me earlier and as she spoke, I closed my eyes and thought of what she was saying – rather than who was saying it.”
“And it reminded you of Henry.”
“It did,” she said. “They are very alike. If Caroline were a man, she would probably have been a scholar – as Henry longs to be.”
“He does?” Everton asked. Henry had never said such a thing – but then Henry never said much about anything – he assumed nobody wished to hear his thoughts on any matter, having been told to be quiet so many times throughout his young life. He was simply too passionate about his singular interests, and it was off-putting for those around him to hear one of his monologues.
“Yes, I think so. He speaks very fondly of his time at university – how he felt able to be himself there.”
“I have suspected as much, but why has he never spoken of it to us?”
“That I cannot say,” Miss Knorr said politely. “Perhaps you might have an idea why he would feel it difficult to say such a thing?”
Everton fell silent. It was clear enough to him why Henry would not have said such a thing. Throughout their lives, both boys had been groomed to enter their father’s enterprises. They had been sent to the finest schools in the country. Both had attended Oxford and then had followed dutifully in their father’s footsteps ever since. The work suited Everton. He enjoyed the cut and thrust of commerce, and the challenge of finding new markets and increasing the family’s wealth. But such things bored Henry. He had been unhappy for years.
“Perhaps I should speak with my father on Henry’s behalf,” he said. “Though what he will say, I simply cannot imagine.”
Miss Knorr gave him a sad smile. “It should be Henry that says something, not you. He needs to learn to speak up for what he wants.”
“But he will not, you know him as well as I do – if not perhaps better,” Everton admitted. “He will never gainsay my father.”
“Mayhaps if he knows he has your support, he might find the courage to do so,” Miss Knorr said with a little shrug.
Everton pondered what she had said, as he danced with Lady Gertrude, then Miss Jessup and finally with Miss Knorr once more. He had purposefully claimed the dance before supper on her card so they might speak some more – and so that she would have someone to escort her into the dining room. With Henry otherwise engaged, he felt it his duty to ensure Miss Knorr was not in any way left out. Yet though he felt bad for her, Everton couldn’t help but smile to see his brother so content.
Despite Lord Wilson’s obvious unhappiness at being usurped, Henry and Miss Spencer were still discussing something animatedly, with many hand gestures, contorted expressions and occasional explosive outbursts. It was as if neither of them had even noticed the man. It must have been hard for Bertie to understand. One day he was the only man Miss Spencer seemed to care for, and suddenly it was as if he had never existed to her. It was not a particularly ladylike trait, but it was one he had seen in his brother on many occasions. Once caught up in a new passion, he would be lost to anything that had gone before it. It seemed that Miss Spencer was the same.
“Poor Bertie,” Lady Gertrude said as they went into the supper room, glancing over at the red-faced earl. “He does not know what he did wrong.”
“Do you think she will return her affections to him?” Miss Jessup asked.
“I do not think she really had any,” Miss Knorr said knowingly. “But it is quite clear that he did. I feel sad for him.”
“Do you not mind for yourself?” Everton asked Miss Knorr as they sat down.
“Why should I mind?” she asked him, genuinely surprised by the question.
“I had thought that you and my brother had a mutual understanding.”
She laughed. “We do, I suppose – as much as dear Henry could. I was interesting enough not to bore him,” she said sagely. “But I don’t think I could ever have managed more than that.”
“I am sorry,” Everton said.
“That your matchmaking, with Lady Gertrude came to nought?” she asked with a twinkle in her eye.
Everton felt color flood his cheeks. “You knew?”
“It was hard not to see how much you tried to throw us together,” Miss Knorr said, clearly amused by his discomfiture.
They sat in companionable silence for a few moments. Everton shook his head from time to time, as a smile played over his lips. “I am sorry,” he said eventually.
“Do not be,” Miss Knorr said. “I am flattered that you would wish me to be a part of your family.” She paused. “But I am interested in why you seem so determined to marry off your much younger brother – when you hide behind Lady Gertrude in order to avoid even the merest hint of speculation about whether you will or will not choose a bride yourself.”
Everton’s mouth dropped wide open. He had not expected that. “That was very direct,” he said.
“Perhaps I am taking a lesson from my charge, mayhaps from Henry. But do you not think there is a little too much subterfuge in Society? Things might get managed much more quickly and more to everyone’s satisfaction if we could all be a little more honest?”
She wasn’t wrong. But Everton wasn’t sure if he was ready to answer her question. He tried to think of ways to explain that wouldn’t seem rude or utterly maudlin and failed. He looked at her sweet face and found himself impressed by the strong woman beneath. “You need not tell me,” she said. “It is, after all, none of my business. I am perhaps too curious for my own good.”
He took a deep breath. “I was affianced, some years ago now. My Katherine died of influenza, mere weeks before we were supposed to be wed.”
“Ah,” Miss Knorr said, reaching out and placing her dainty hand over his giant paw tenderly. “I am sorry. I should not have asked.”
“No, I don’t mind,” he said, looking into her kindly eyes, and was surprised to find that he was telling the truth. He truly did not mind her asking. “Perhaps I have been too silent for too long.”
With that supper was over and everyone made their way back into the ballroom. The orchestra began to play, and people scurried around trying to find partners. Everton retreated to the back room, where a card game was in progress. It made a change not to find his brother at the tables, but he sat down and took a hand. He wondered what it was about Miss Knorr that made people open up to her. She had gotten to the very crux of who both Henry and Miss Spencer were, seeing their similarities and their compatibility. And she had made him admit that Katherine was dead.
Saying it out loud to Miss Knorr had somehow made it real. It was almost as if the past three years of never speaking of it, of Katherine, had been a way of pretending that it wasn’t true. That one day his Katherine would reappear, and everything would be as it was. Tonight, that feeling was not there any longer. He felt a peculiar mixture of relief and grief.
He threw his hand down on the table, stood up and made his excuses to leave. He bade goodnight to Lady Gertrude, waved at his brother who did not even notice him he was so wrapped up in his continuing discussion with Miss Spencer and nodded politely to Miss Knorr who was dancing with a red-coated army captain.
He walked out into the street and wandered without any thought to his direction. He walked along streets and avenues, through the elegant garden squares and out onto the busy thoroughfares. He tried not to think, but images of Katherine crowded his mind. Her face the day he’d proposed, so full of hope and happiness. The way she’d looked the first time he ever saw her, at Almack’s in her finest ball gown, dancing, her head thrown back and a broad smile upon her face. And the way she had looked as she took her last breath, as he held her hand tightly and willed her to stay with him.
He had loved her with all his heart. But as he walked through the dark streets of London, he realized that he was not that man any longer. The man that had loved Katherine had been full of life. He had wanted to experience every pleasure, every joy – even every sadness, except the one that had taken her from him. The man he was now denied himself happiness. He felt himself to be undeserving – and that it would be a betrayal of her memory if he found the kind of joy that he’d known with her, with anyone else.
And so, he had learned to keep everyone at a distance. He had vowed to never love again.
But who was that punishing? Was it punishing the influenza that had taken Katherine from him? Was it punishing a cruel God who had seen fit to reclaim one of his angels early? Could he have done anything differently? Was it really his fault that she had been lost to him and everyone else who loved her?
The simple answer was the only person being punished by his refusal to let her go, was himself. Katherine would never have wished for such a life for him. She had loved him utterly. She would be ashamed of the man he was now if she could see him.
He stopped in the middle of the road and stared up to the heavens. “What should I do?” he asked her, knowing he would get no reply – but wishing on every star in the heavens that she could tell him what to do, how to live without her. He’d been surviving, but he could not go on this way forever.
He slowly retraced his steps, back to Almack’s. The revelers were making their way out of the doors and into their carriages. Lady Gertrude and Miss Jessup were amongst the last to leave. He smiled ruefully at them as he stepped forward to open their carriage door. Lady Gertrude placed a gloved hand over his. “Are you alright?” she asked him gently.
“I think I will be,” he said. “Though it might take me a while.”
She gave him a sad smile and leaned over and kissed him on the cheek. “Be careful, you’ll ruin your reputation,” he teased.
“Everyone in the Ton knows you are as good as a brother to me. I doubt anyone will think anything of it,” she said getting into the carriage, followed by Miss Jessup. He shut the door behind them. Lady Gertrude leaned out of the window. “Darling Everton, I know you loved Katherine – but is it not time to let her rest?”
“I think you might be right,” he said. “It will not be easy though.”
“No, especially with a living, breathing reminder here every day to drive you half mad.”
“You noticed the resemblance between Miss Spencer and Katherine, too, then.”
“I did. But other than their looks, they are nothing alike. You know that don’t you?”
He nodded. “I do. Katherine was fond of Henry, but he drove her to distraction at times. She would never have gotten lost in discussion with him the way Miss Spencer did tonight.”
“It was rather remarkable, wasn’t it?” Lady Gertrude said shaking her lovely head. “She has not missed the opportunity to dance even once this Season – yet tonight, she rebuffed every gentleman on her card in favor of Henry. They will be quite the talk of the Ton tomorrow – a veritable scandal.”
“I know, and I cannot say how glad I am of it. Perhaps Henry has finally found someone he can be himself with.”
“And Miss Spencer. She was quite a different person tonight. I might have to completely change my opinion of her,” Lady Gertrude said with a grin.
