Carving for Miss Coventry by Deborah M. Hathaway
Chapter Thirty-Seven
Marianne had refused to join her family in the dining room for days. Father had requested her presence especially, but she’d sent a message straight back that she would not join them. She could not face them after all that had occurred.
She still had not received any word from Mr. Steele, and though three days was not an eternity, it felt like one without him at Daffley Park.
She needed to take care, to resign herself that this was her future now. That Mr. Steele was not to be a part of it because he had other responsibilities.
But had he given up on her?
As another day passed by with her lodged securely in her room, she stared at the dark clouds preventing any sight of the sun. In one hand, she held the comb Mr. Steele had carved for her, her free fingers tracing the small flowers across the top of it.
She needed to look for the sunsets in her life, but what if the clouds were simply too thick to penetrate? What if there was no hope to be found?
A knock sounded at her door. That would be Jane with her food.
Marianne slipped down from her seat by the window and opened the door, frowning as Beatrice stood before her instead of Jane, a tray of food in her hands.
“What are you doing up here?” Marianne asked.
They had not spoken since that rainy day outside of Daffley.
“Mother sent me with the tray to see if you would speak to me, as you won’t speak to anyone else.”
Marianne hesitated. She was not in the mood to speak, especially with Beatrice, who apparently seemed to think she knew Marianne’s mind better than Marianne herself.
Still, she could not shut her out forever. With a sigh, she opened her door farther and allowed her in.
Beatrice entered, closing the door behind her with a soft tap of her heel. Silently, she set the tray on the table near Marianne’s bed.
“How have you been?” she asked softly.
Marianne shrugged. Surely Beatrice should know. Had she not just experienced a heartbreak of her own?
Beatrice sighed. “I know the pain you must be feeling now is rather poignant, but trust me when I say that it eases with time.”
Marianne turned away, sitting down on the window ledge. “Or you simply learn to live with the grief Father has caused.”
Beatrice hesitated, then she came to sit beside Marianne. “He only wants what is best for us, Marianne.”
“I know. But he does not always know what is best for us.”
“You truly believe marrying the woodcarver would benefit you?”
Her question was unassuming, but it nibbled at Marianne’s patience. “How can you think it would not?”
“Marianne, listen to yourself. He is poor. He will no doubt struggle with money for the rest of his life. And…” Her brow furrowed. “Father told us about the rumors surrounding his name.”
Marianne stood from the ledge at once, walking away with a growl of frustration. “The rumors were false! Why is that so difficult for this family to understand?”
Beatrice continued in a soft voice. “It matters not if they were false. His reputation—”
Marianne raised a hand, refusing to listen any longer. “Mr. Steele’s character speaks far more than what the world views as his reputation. I know my name would be brought lower by association. I know I would be poor. I know we would no doubt struggle. But…” She broke off with a sigh, her shoulders falling forward as a feeling of hopelessness overcame her. Why could her family not understand? “But what marriage comes without a struggle? And what love is not worth the fight?”
A small, faint line formed in Beatrice’s brow as she frowned. “I don’t understand. You would not mind, then, returning to the life we lived before Father made his fortune?”
Marianne knew her answer at once. “No. Not if that meant I could be with the man I love.”
Beatrice stared out of the window, her lips pulled down.
“Would you not do the same to be with Charlie Macrae?” Marianne asked.
She still had yet to process the fact that Beatrice had fallen in love with a stable hand. But surely that ought to connect the sisters more than anything.
“In truth?” Beatrice asked. “I don’t believe I would.”
Marianne pulled back, the answer foreign to her own desires. “Do you not love him?”
Beatrice raised her lips into half a smile. “I believe I do. Or rather, I did. At least to a degree. I found freedom with him. Something I had never experienced before. But that faded as I realized that I could not give my heart fully to a man with whom I could not truly be happy.”
Marianne’s heart reached out to her. Beatrice had been looking for freedom, just as Marianne had. They’d suffered such a similar grief, yet they’d each had to mourn alone. How could they have both been struggling without the other knowing?
Beatrice’s eyes took on a distant look. “But even though I prevented myself from fully falling, that does not mean it did not hurt to say goodbye. That night we spoke in the drawing room?” Marianne nodded before Beatrice continued. “Charlie had proposed. I declined, telling him what I had told him from the beginning—that we could not marry.”
Marianne’s heart bowed at the pain still reflecting in Beatrice’s eyes. No wonder their argument had been so bitter, so raw. “Is that why you told Father you would never marry?”
“Yes.” Beatrice winced. “I am not proud of this, but I was saying so to injure Father. When he discovered that I’d fallen for a stable hand, he’d reacted the very same as he had with you, shouting and threatening. He did not give me the opportunity to tell him that I had already decided against marrying Charlie. In impulsive retaliation, I proclaimed that I would never marry. In truth, I still have hope to do so one day.”
Marianne thought for a moment, an errant smile spreading across her lips. “That must have been satisfying to let Father stew in such a way.”
Beatrice gave a half-smile. “As I said, I am not proud of my behavior…but it was rather satisfying to have his face turn so unflattering a shade of red.”
She shared a small laugh before Beatrice sobered. “I truly am sorry for your loss, sister. If I had known you were falling for Mr. Steele, I could have warned you to prevent any injury.”
Marianne hesitated, her defenses falling in time with her shoulders as she sat beside Beatrice at the window seat. “Your warning would not have helped. You may have prevented yourself from fully falling for Charlie. But I gave my whole heart to Mr. Steele, and I will never get it back.” Tears filled her eyes as the pain returned. “I love him. I will hold out hope and pray harder than I ever have for matters to be resolved so we can have the life we wish to share together.”
Saying the words aloud infused her with renewed hope. But was what she wanted even possible with the world against them both?
“You really love him.”
Marianne nodded. “I will always love him.”
Beatrice studied her for a few moments in silence, as if to determine the truth, then her brow softened. “I’m sorry I did not know your true feelings before all of this. But now that I do, well, I did not marry my stable hand, but we can certainly get you your woodcarver.”