Chapter 14
Most of the guests had moved back to the ballroom from the supper room long before the orchestra started to play again. The display through the long doors was too spectacular to be missed. Lightning flashed almost constantly, zigzagging in dazzling streaks across the sky, revealing trees and grass being bowed and tossed by the wind. Crashes of thunder came soon enough after the flashes to make it clear that the storm was close and coming ever closer.
More than one lady fortunate enough to have a husband or betrothed to cling to, clung quite shamelessly. Others huddled in groups for reassurance. Even as they watched, the rain swept down. There was no gentle beginning, no warning to anyone foolish enough to be outdoors that it was time to seek shelter, just a sudden and overwhelming downpour. Those who had to travel any distance after the ball was over began to wonder if the roads would be passable. Perhaps they would have to impose on the hospitality of Lord Rivers for the night.
Algernon entered the ballroom from the direction of the main hall. He was looking quite thoroughly disheveled, his normally somewhat unruly fair hair completely wild. Fortunately, his coat was dry. He had reached the house before the heavens opened. He looked around him and made his way to where Lord and Lady Edgeley were standing, seemingly uninterested in the natural fireworks display proceeding beyond the windows. He spoke quietly to them and smiled before turning away and looking around again.
He saw the object of his search almost immediately as Celia appeared in the doorway, her face looking drawn and somewhat frightened. Algernon hurried toward her and took one of her hands in his.
'You need worry no longer, Miss Barnes,' he said, squeezing the hand he held. 'The foolish girl has gone home.'
'Gone home?' said Celia. 'You mean to Oakland? Alone? And in this storm?'
'Yes to the first two questions,' he said with a slight smile. 'But it seems she left quite a while ago with my gig. She will have arrived safely home before the wind really got up, and certainly before this rain. She will be quite safe. There is a houseful of servants to keep her company.'
Celia looked uncomprehending. 'But why would she do such a thing?' she asked. 'She was vastly looking forward to this ball. She was in high spirits-even for Rachel-earlier this evening. And she seemed delighted today by the arrival of Lord Stanford. It is unlike Rachel not to honor her commitment to her partners.'
Algernon looked down at her, his smile no longer in place. 'I think I know the reason,' he said. 'Rache told me earlier this evening that she does not wish our betrothal to become official after all.'
'She what?' Celia stared blankly at him.
'Please excuse me for a minute, ma'am,' he said. 'I must see if the orchestra is willing to play some lively tune so that we may start the dancing again. I shall be back to claim our dance.'
But when he returned to her side a few minutes later, Algernon did not immediately lead her into a set.
'Would you care to find somewhere quiet to sit and talk?' he asked. 'After the excitement of tearing all over the house for the last half-hour looking for Rache, you probably feel more like resting than dancing.'
'Yes,' Celia said, eyeing two empty chairs close to the door.
But Algernon laid her hand on his arm and led her from the room into the main hall. It was flooded with light. Even the normally shadowed alcoves had been hung with branches of candles. He led Celia into the library and seated her at the fireplace. He did not light any candles in the room but left the door wide open for the sake of light and a measure of propriety.
'I am sorry about you and Rachel,' Celia said hesitantly. 'I do not understand it. You seem so well-suited. Are you sure that it is not all some quarrel that will be set to rights tomorrow?'
'Yes, I am sure,' he said quietly, seating himself in a chair at the opposite side of the fireplace. 'Rache was quite clear on that point.'
'Is it Lord Stanford?' she asked hesitantly. 'But I was so sure that Rachel does not really care for him.'
'No, I think he has nothing to do with her decision,' Algernon said.
Celia stared into the shadows. She could not see his face clearly, though flashes of lightning revealed that he was looking at her. 'I am sorry,' she said. 'The evening has been ruined for you.'
'Not really,' he said. 'Rache and I are very dear friends. Always have been. But I think it is probably better that it remain that way. I am not sure that marriage would be wise for us.'
'But you love each other,' Celia blurted, her eyes wide.
'Yes,' he admitted, 'we do. Like brother and sister. Or perhaps somewhat more than the average brother and sister. But not like husband and wife.'
Celia said nothing for a while. Her hands twisted in her lap. 'But you agreed to become betrothed,' she said, 'a mere few weeks ago.'
'Foolish, is it not?' Algernon said gently. 'I remember Rache when she was ten years old and all skinny arms and legs and eager eyes. I knew then that she was very dear to me. Oh, I felt very superior and protective with a year of university behind me, of course. But that affection has never faded. Or hers for me. Under the circumstances I suppose it was natural for several people to assume that we would marry one day. But deep and lasting affection is not necessarily the same emotion as the love one hopes to have for a spouse. Since our, er, unofficial betrothal, we have both discovered persons who would be far more suitable partners.'
Algernon watched quietly from the shadows as her eyes widened again and her face took on comprehension. 'Rachel loves someone else?' she asked. 'But that cannot be. Who?'
'The Reverend David Gower, it would seem,' Algernon said.
Celia stared. 'She is my closest friend,' she said eventually. 'How is it that I have not noticed?'
'I think perhaps because she has been trying to hide the fact even from herself,' Algernon said. 'I was taken totally by surprise too, and usually I know what is going on in Rache's mind. We are close friends.'
'Are they to marry?' Celia asked.
'When I asked the same question, she told me merely that David will be leaving here soon after all the guests have gone,' Algernon said. 'I take it there is to be no marriage.'
'No, they would not suit,' Celia said. Then Algernon watched as a frown drew her brows together. She stared down at her hands, not speaking for a long while. 'What a foolish thing to say,' she continued. 'Of course. But of course. He is what has been missing from Rachel's life for as long as I have known her. Rachel has always needed a cause, you know. Yes, Mr. Gower is just the sort of man to whom she would attach herself. With great devotion. And for life. But they are not to marry?'
Algernon shook his head, though he did not know if she could see the gesture, as he was sitting totally in shadow, his back to the door. She looked at him for a while and then simultaneously with a flash of lightning her head jerked downward. There was not enough light for him to see if she had changed color.
'Did you just recall the rest of what I said?' he asked.
She did not answer. But she did not ask him to explain his meaning.
'I love Rache,' Algernon said quietly, 'and had she not spoken tonight, I would perhaps have felt honor- bound to contract a betrothal with her soon. If that had happened, I would have devoted most of the energies of my life to seeing her happy and protected. But I would always have known that I had wished to pursue the acquaintance of the woman with whom I might have been happy for the rest of my life.'
Celia looked up, an agony of embarrassment in her face. 'My lord?' she said.
'Algernon.'
'Algernon.' She lost her courage suddenly, looked down, and jerked to her feet. 'I must return to the ballroom,' she said. 'It will not look good if I am missed.'
Algernon too got to his feet. 'It seems almost in bad taste, does it not,' he said, 'to pay my addresses to a lady a mere few hours after another has released me from a sort of promise? But you are to leave the day after tomorrow, Celia, and who knows if there will be any opportunity tomorrow to have a private word with you? I must speak now.'
'No.' Celia looked at him again, her eyes not quite steady on his face. 'It is just that you are naturally disappointed over Rachel. And you must know that I like you and admire you, my lord. That is all it is.'
'Algernon,' he corrected. 'And that is not all it is, Celia. You have such a poor opinion of yourself, do you not? You cannot imagine that a man could love you and want you for his wife?'
'Not you,' she said. 'Oh, not you, my 1...Algernon. You are so very… handsome. You… Oh, no, you could not
