Pursuing Miss Hall by Karen Thornell

Chapter Eighteen

The morning sunlight filtering past Meg’s drawn curtains was not morning sunlight at all.

Confused, Meg slid from her bed and paced to the curtains, pulling them wide. The sun was nearly midway into the sky. She had slept the entire morning away.

Scrambling, she ran for her dressing room. Sarah was gone, and Meg did not have the patience to wait for her to be called. Slipping into one of her only dresses that did not require help and twisting her hair into a low chignon, she quite literally hopped from the room—still attempting to put on one of her slippers.

The hallway was as deserted as her rooms, and Meg had no idea where Nathan had been housed the night before, nor would it be entirely proper of her to go banging on the door of his bedchamber if she did, as much as she might wish to.

So, instead, she made straight for her father’s study. She could hear voices in the drawing room but did not enter—she did not wish to speak with the party guests, most especially Lord Hatfield, and Papa was likely not inside anyhow. Pausing only momentarily to knock and be invited in, Meg then stepped into the study, closing the door behind her.

“How is he?” she asked before Papa had even looked up from his desk. He chuckled and set aside his papers.

“He is not here.”

Meg halted in the process of walking toward his desk. “What? Where is he—has something happened?” Her voice rose with panic, fear causing her heart to jump into her throat.

Papa stood, circling his desk and coming to rest his hands on Meg’s upper arms.

“He is fine, Meg, perfectly fine. He awakened during the night, and this morning, Mr. Cooper deemed him fit to travel the few miles home. We all believed he would be more comfortable there. We sent them in our best carriage—it is remarkably well sprung, as you may be aware.”

“Well . . . I . . . I am happy to hear that.” And she was, truly. She was unbelievably happy that Nathan was safe but also rather cross that he was gone and no one had thought to tell her.

“I am certain you are, but there is something else I wished to discuss with you.”

“He is gone, Robert! Gone! The audacity of the man—horrible manners!” Mama burst through the doors, freezing when she saw Meg. “Oh, Margaret, you are awake.” Mama smoothed the front of her skirts, almost appearing abashed.

“Yes, Mama, and he simply returned home. The physician deemed him fit to do so.”

Mama’s eyes widened, her lips pinching together. “That makes no—oh. You mean Mr. Blake.”

Meg nodded, eyeing Mama with a tilted head. Who was she speaking of?

“And you mean Lord Hatfield.” Papa’s voice came from behind them. He had returned to his desk and gestured that the women sit. Meg did, but Mama refused to, so neither did Papa.

“Yes. I do mean Lord Hatfield. Not a word. Simply an explanation from Mrs. Rutledge that he left at first light. The nerve! He had better intend to uphold the betrothal—if he leaves Margaret with the stain of this, I shall have his neck!”

From her seat, Meg’s head swiveled between her parents: one livid and the other entirely calm. It was as if they had forgotten she was in the room.

“He does not intend to uphold the betrothal, Arabella, but I expect you guessed as much based on your reaction.”

Mama stomped her foot, her curls bouncing against the sides of her face and her mouth pinched severely. “I knew it! I always knew he would amount to nothing! How can he act with so little honor? Did he speak to you at least, Robert? Tell me, or I shall die with anger toward the man.”

Papa crossed to Mama, threading her arm through his and leading her to the chair near Meg. Defeated, she sat.

Meg looked between both her parents in confusion.

“He did speak with me,” Papa offered once he’d returned to his desk, “just before leaving. I am sorry, Arabella, but it seems he felt we were being dishonest by withholding Meg’s illness from him. He retracted his proposal and anticipated we would understand his reasoning.”

Mama scoffed, but Meg felt no anger—only relief. Was he truly gone? Was she to be released from the engagement that simply?

“Do not apologize to me, Robert! Apologize to your daughter—she was to be a viscountess, and now she will be ruined! I cannot believe you did not force the spineless pig to make good on his proposal!”

Papa smiled a little sadly at Mama before turning to Meg, a question in the lift of his brows. “Forgive me, Meg, but I did not believe you would be particularly heartbroken by Lord Hatfield’s actions. I do apologize if I was wrong.” His inflection raised slightly at the end of his words, turning them into a question.

Mama scoffed again.

Meg met Papa’s eyes hopefully. “No, Papa. I admit I am not unhappy with his departure.” A gasp came from Mama, but Meg continued, looking at each of her parents in turn. “In fact, I wished to speak with you both today about the possibility of retracting my acceptance. I simply cannot fathom marrying someone I do not care for—viscount or not.” She schooled her expression into its well-practiced serenity, but her foot began tapping against her will. Should she have pretended to be heartbroken so as to not disappoint Mama? No. That would be dishonest, and Meg did not wish anyone to believe she pined for the viscount or his title. Most especially not Nathan.

“Well said, Meg. There you have it, Arabella. It would seem our daughter shall remain unscathed by this change in plans.”

“Unscathed! This entire house party is aware of the attention Lord Hatfield has bestowed on Margaret. Surely they will speak, and our daughter will be ruined! Our whole family will be shrouded with scandal. Ruined—the lot of us!”

Meg swallowed. Could that be true? Could she truly be the reason her entire family fell to the weight of gossip and scandal?

Papa’s expression did not change, save for a curious twinkling in his eyes. “As a matter of fact, Arabella, I believe I may have an alternative for that possibility.”

Both Meg and Mama looked sharply at Papa. He chuckled.

“You see, Meg received another proposal. Should she wish to accept it—and I truly mean that Meg, you must accept it of your own accord—then we can simply put it about that she chose this gentleman over the viscount. No scandal, no gossip, only a case of a horribly popular lady and her two suitors.”

Meg took a deep breath. Could she really marry Mr. Evans if it meant helping her family? Again, she answered her own question easily: no. She would not trade one loveless marriage for another, especially when she fully intended to convince the man she already cared for to care for her as well. Perhaps her parents could accept that as a sort of half-solution to their problem.

Mama beat Meg in responding. “Another proposal? Well then, it cannot be as appealing as the viscount’s, but as we have already deemed him wholly unworthy of Meg, I suppose it may do. Who is it, Robert?”

“Mr. Blake.”

Mama’s mouth dropped open at the same time that a soft cry of disbelief escaped Meg. Nathan? Nathan had been the other proposal? Why?

And why had she not asked to know who the other proposal came from?

Papa was grinning fully now, but Meg was growing suspicious. Nathan had not mentioned a proposal to her. Why would he not have spoken to her? He’d not wished her to marry the viscount. Would he truly have gone so far as to place himself as an alternative? Or, she stilled, did he think he owed her for his actions in the garden? The thought made Meg’s stomach turn. She could not marry Nathan because he felt it was his duty, not when she was in love with him. What a horrible existence that would be.

Yet it would solve the problem of scandal. And perhaps he could grow to love her. Perhaps she could convince him.

“Mr. Blake? Whyever would he do that?” Mama spoke Meg’s own questions. Or at least one of them.

“I imagine he is in love with our Meg, Arabella.”

Meg’s chest tensed up, butterflies erupting. No. She could not allow herself to hope for such a thing.

“Psh! Mr. Blake has not a romantic bone in his body. Is it for her dowry, Robert? I will not abide a fortune hunter, no matter the scandal he may save us from.”

Meg was growing dizzy from the conversation as yet another possibility for Nathan’s actions was presented. Were Nathan’s motives pure or impure, honorable or not? Did she even care? The more she contemplated being his wife, the more her entire being lightened. Could she truly marry him if he’d only proposed for her money or for recompense over their moment shared in the garden? There were too many questions. She had to see him. But she was unsure if she could face him.

“I do not believe him to be a fortune hunter. We have known Mr. Blake nearly his whole life. I think you would agree that he may be lighthearted in most areas, but in regards to Meg, I believe him quite serious.”

Meg met Papa’s eyes, hope blossoming in her against her own will. Papa’s lips quirked up.

“What say you, Meg? Would you be willing to accept his proposal?”

“I-I do not know.”

Papa smiled softly at her. “Why don’t we pay the Blake family a visit? If nothing else, you can be assured of his recovery. Nothing need be said regarding an engagement if that is what you wish.”

The prospect was tempting, too tempting, and so Meg agreed. Part of her was certain she would turn to a puddle of embarrassment at seeing him so soon after confronting her own emotions and learning of his proposal, but the other part of her, a much larger part, simply craved his smile and needed to see that he was well.

“Now?” Mama’s incredulous voice broke into Meg’s reverie. “We cannot pay them a visit now. We have a house party to conclude, guests to see to. Not to mention the poor boy is probably half asleep from laudanum. No. We will go after our guests leave. I will brook no argument.”

Meg looked to her father, hoping he would disagree. But Papa, after hesitating only a moment, nodded in agreement. “Your mother is correct, Meg. We shall send a note round their house indicating our desire to visit with the family. But we ought to give Mr. Blake time to heal.”

Meg did not like it. Her heart had lifted so high at the possibility of seeing Nathan, of assuring herself of his health, that it was rather hard to accept the change. But she was certain her parents would not bend, and truthfully, they had the right of it. If they went now, Meg likely would not even see Nathan. And so she acquiesced before excusing herself to return to her room.

***

A full nine days later, after Mama had gracefully brought the house party to an end, smoothing over the viscount’s hasty departure with vague and well-chosen explanations, Meg and her parents finally set out to visit the Blakes.

They were shown immediately into the drawing room, but only Mrs. Blake was there. She greeted them warmly, informed them that Nathan was resting and his father was attending business, and offered them tea. After only five minutes of conversation, Meg could be still no longer.

“Mrs. Blake, would you mind terribly if I took a turn in your garden? I feel I am a bit overexcited this morning and unable to remain still.”

Mrs. Blake’s expression warmed. “Of course, dear. I presume you know the way?” Meg nodded and hastened from the room, only breathing evenly when she reached the fresh air of the small, inviting garden nestled into the courtyard of the Blakes’ home.

Pacing the orderly paths, she wondered what to do. More than anything, she wished to speak to Nathan, to see him and perhaps ascertain if he felt any affection at all for her. She could do neither while he convalesced out of her reach. Light glinting off a second-floor window caught her attention, and she paused. Counting three windows from the left side of the rectangular house, Meg settled her eyes on Nathan’s bedroom window. She only knew which it was because Nathan had once joined her from it when she had paid his mother a visit only to have Mrs. Blake need to attend to household duties halfway through their stroll.

Meg stared at the window, considering.

Then, before she could stop herself, she scooped up a handful of smooth pebbles and lobbed one at the window.

It went too far to the right, bouncing off the light-colored stone, so she tried again. This one was successful, as was the next. But it wasn’t until the fourth pebble hit its target that the window swung open, revealing Nathan’s grinning face.

All at once, Meg’s heart lifted. The anxious energy that had coursed through her the last week and a half settled at the sight of Nathan’s cheeks creased in a smile, gray eyes twinkling, and dark hair falling over his brow as it was wont to do. She loved this man.

The thought made her cheeks heat, so she quickly spoke to cover her embarrassment.

“I considered climbing up but did not think it would do to have two of us sporting broken legs.”

Nathan laughed, leaning one arm against the windowsill. “While I would have paid good money to see you attempt such a feat, I would have to agree with you on your choice not to.”

“I am glad my well-being ranks higher than your entertainment.”

Even from his height two stories up, Meg could see the earnestness in his expression, and her heart beat harder. “I rank your well-being above a great many things, Margaret Hall. Now, what brings you to my window?”

Meg paused, feeling suddenly timid. “I wished to speak with you.”

His brows lifted, then furrowed. “Oh. I imagine I know what about. I will come down. Meet me in the drawing room?” His voice was guarded.

She wondered at his change in tone, but now was not the time to dwell on it. She shook her head. “Our parents are visiting in the drawing room.”

“The dining room then. It will be vacant just now. Luncheon finished an hour ago.”

This time she nodded. “Can you manage the stairs?”

Nathan scoffed, feigning annoyance. “Can I manage the stairs, she asks.” He huffed. “It is as if you do not realize what a fine, athletic specimen I am.”

Meg laughed. “Oh, I am quite aware.” She blushed further when she realized the unintended—or was it intended?—meaning in her words and hastened to add, “I would only feel horrible if you further injured yourself because of me. What if you fell down the stairs? I am already dealing with the guilt of the first injury. I cannot bear any more.”

Nathan grinned and winked, then disappeared from the window. Apparently, he did not care overmuch for her guilt. Unable to contain either her nervousness or her excitement fully, she re-entered the house with shaking hands and found her way to the dining room, surprised to find that Nathan had managed to beat her to their meeting spot. He was standing near a bay window with a seat tucked into it, leaning against the wall, and holding a walking stick. His left leg was bandaged to just above his knee, his left boot missing. But it was his smile that captured her full attention. Oh, she wished she could see that smile every day for the rest of forever. Depending on how their conversation went, perhaps she could.

Meg stopped in the doorway, not quite closing the door behind her.

“You beat me.”

“Fine, athletic specimen, remember?” He pointed at himself, smiling. She cocked her head, pretending to consider him, all while her heart beat madly in her chest.

“I would guess you had a pair of footmen carry you down.”

“If you must know, I employed a long-ago mastered skill of sliding down the main banister.”

A laugh escaped her at the image that brought to mind, and she relaxed.

Nathan indicated she should sit in the window seat, then joined her. The seat was not small, and so there was a fair amount of space between them when she turned to better address him. She could not decide if that was a good or bad thing.

“I have two things I wished to speak with you about,” she began, not quite meeting his eye. “First, I have to apologize. It was my doing that sent you out into that storm, and I do not believe I will ever forgive myself and will not blame you if you cannot either.”

“It is already forgiven, Meg. No, actually, it is not, because there is nothing to forgive. And so, let us put it behind us. What is the ‘second’ for our conversation?” His jaw tightened, and he seemed to be steeling himself against whatever she would say next. Meg steeled herself as well, staring at her hands.

“Well, truly I do not know how to start such a conversation, but frankness has always served us well, so I shall simply say it. My father told me of your proposal.” She peeked at him to see his reaction.

His face registered surprise before his brow furrowed. “Are you concerned that it will affect your engagement to the viscount?”

“I am not engaged to Lord Hatfield.” This time, she could not manage to meet his gaze at all.

“But your mother—”

“My mother wished me to be, yes. That is no secret. But Lord Hatfield rescinded his offer after learning of my illness.”

Surprise, anger, and confusion crossed Nathan’s face. “That cad.”

“It bothers me not. I had intended to rescind my acceptance before even knowing he had left.”

Nathan did not say anything, and when Meg dared to glance at his face again, she saw he was gazing out the window, lips pressed together and brows drawn inward.

“Why did you propose, Nathan?” Her voice was barely audible, but she had to know. When he did not immediately answer, she tried again. “Was it because of what happened in the garden? Did you feel you owed it to me?”

“No.” He glanced at her, then away again. “But yes, I suppose partly. At least, that’s what I told myself. I . . .” He looked at her again, his eyes dropping to her mouth before he groaned and tried to stand. “Blasted leg,” he muttered when he could not easily make it to his feet.

Meg sighed. Clearly, Nathan did not wish to continue this conversation. That had to be as much of an answer as she needed. She fought to keep her feelings of disappointment at bay.

“Well, I only wanted you to know that you do not owe me anything. I should leave. My parents will be looking for me.” She rose to her feet, turning away from Nathan and the emotion that was rising in her throat and burning her eyes.

“Meg, wait.” His hand grabbed her wrist, and a pleasant warmth snaked its way from the spot. She wished she were numb to it. She turned back, blinking moisture from her eyes. He released her wrist just long enough to push himself from the cushioned seat, successfully this time. Leaning heavily on his walking stick to support his bad leg, he ran a hand down his face and pierced Meg with a look that sent heat curling down to her toes. “I promised myself I would not act so cowardly again, and so forgive me, as I am sure I am about to overstep a great many lines.”

He took a deep breath, and the air between them filled with anticipation. Unconsciously, Meg took a small step closer. His gaze bore into her own; she could not look away.

Nathan took a second, almost steadying breath. “I love you, Meg.”

The air caught in her chest, and all coherent thought fled. Her mouth parted in surprise.

Nathan’s gray eyes searched her own, the attention full of steely determination. “I love your selflessness, your wit, your incredible mind. I love the way you make me laugh yet make me wish to be serious enough to convey my regard. I know our friendship may never survive such a display, but I simply cannot live any longer in a world where you are unaware of how deeply I care for you.” He swallowed but did not look away. His hand caught hers and squeezed. A whirl of emotion rose up in Meg’s chest. “And that is why I proposed to you, Meg. Because I love you and cannot imagine a life without you.” His chest swelled with breath as he finished speaking, and he watched Meg expectantly.

Love.

Thiswas what she had dreamt of, this feeling of simultaneous joy and anticipation, comfort and excitement. This feeling of never wanting to be parted from him again.

When words escaped her, Meg did the only thing her mind seemed capable of performing. She stepped even closer, brought her free hand to Nathan’s jaw, and after holding his gaze for several moments, she kissed him.

His response was almost immediate. After an instant of apparent shock, in which he did nothing, he dropped her hand and snaked his arm around her waist, pulling her as close as he could manage. His lips were firm on hers, moving with a fervor that made Meg believe every word he had just confessed. Her hands curled around his neck, then buried themselves in his hair. And then his walking stick clattered to the ground, and they stumbled backward a step, her back hitting the wall but their kiss never stopping. Both his hands traced heat up her arms, where they cradled her face. The kiss became overwhelmingly tender as he tilted her head to the side. She nearly melted into the floor.

At long last, and after no time at all, he drew back marginally, staring into her eyes with the ghost of a smile lifting his lips. Their chests rose and fell rapidly in tandem.

“Can I assume that means you feel similarly?” he said.

Meg pulled on his coat, bringing him close enough to place a soft kiss to his lips. She spoke teasingly. “You can if you’d like.”

His smile grew. Leaning close again, he placed a lingering kiss on her jaw, then on the spot just below her ear. She took a sharp breath.

“Can I also assume this means you will marry me?” His voice, low and slightly hoarse, sounded in her ear.

“You can if you’d like,” she responded, breathless.

He lifted his head, bringing his forehead to rest against her own, his breath caressing her face. His gray eyes searched hers, small crinkles at their edges indicating a smile that was not fully upon his lips.

“I love you, Margaret Hall,” he murmured.

The warmth that filled Meg’s chest was all-encompassing. “And I love you, Nathaniel Blake.”

And then, with a full grin gracing his face, he kissed her again until Mrs. Blake peeked her head in the dining room and informed them that they were all anxiously awaiting their news if they did not mind.