Authors: Highland Rivalry
* * * *
Although she could not have thought it possible, Phoebe became even more miserable as the week progressed. Celeste continued to behave as though her betrothal and eventual marriage to Lord Murray were a foregone conclusion. Olivia was somewhat subdued, but continued to follow her strategy of admiring all things Scottish, her enthusiasm causing Phoebe to wish Miss Atwood would choke on her oats. Lord Murray was more and more distant in his behaviour towards Phoebe, which hurt her deeply, although she realized that if Celeste persisted in going ahead with the betrothal, Lord Murray would have no choice but to marry her.
Repeatedly, Phoebe tried to persuade Celeste to confide in her, but was continually rebuffed. This was the first time in their lives the two friends had had a serious quarrel and Phoebe felt the estrangement keenly. The only person who remained unchanged was Wilfred, and consequently Phoebe sought to spend more time in his company.
She and Wilfred were on their way out for a morning walk when they were stopped by Dinsmore.
“Miss Hartwell, there is to be another dance in the Great Hall this evening, and I thought perhaps Miss Atwood would like to attend, given her love of the pipes. And you also, Mr. Atwood.”
“That is an excellent idea, Mr. Dinsmore,” Phoebe agreed, intrigued by the twinkle evident in Dinsmore’s eyes. The piper must have something in mind.
“A dance? I’d like to attend, and Livvy is mad for Scottish customs,” Wilfred said.
“A guest’s likings maun be indulged,” Dinsmore said blandly.
“I know Livvy’s enthusiasms must be wearing on you,” Wilfred said to Phoebe as the two continued on their way. “But you know how she is. Never gives up. She still wants Lord Murray, despite his betrothal to Miss Laurence.”
“I do not think she is going to succeed,” Phoebe said, “Lord Murray will not be tempted to break his word.”
“No. I don’t suppose Livvy will succeed,” Wilfred agreed. “Thought at first he had taken my advice and you were the one Lord Murray had offered for,” he added. “Would have been a better choice.”
“You advised Lord Murray to offer for me?” Phoebe asked, not sure whether to feel amused or mortified.
“Oh, yes, and if he had he would have spared himself all this,” Wilfred replied confidently.
Phoebe could not follow Wilfred’s last reasoning, but his information was interesting. If Wilfred had advised Lord Murray to offer for her, Lord Murray must have been considering her as well as Celeste for a bride, but for some reason he had chosen the younger girl instead. Phoebe wondered why.
* * * *
That evening Lord Murray and his guests collected in the drawing room before going down to join the kinsmen in their dance. Lady Atwood had chosen to remain upstairs with Lady Melville, but the others all planned to attend, and gathered in their evening finery. Olivia entered the drawing room last, wearing a new white silk gown trimmed with bands of tartan. Phoebe had to admit Olivia looked very attractive, particularly with the matching tartan ribbons wound through her dark hair. Phoebe felt she and Celeste looked very young and unpolished next to Olivia, although Celeste outshone Olivia in sheer beauty.
Wilfred had quite surpassed himself, wearing a new evening coat, knee breeches, and white silk stockings, but Phoebe could see the breeches were already creased and one white stocking displayed a black smut. Mr. Huntsford was without doubt the most resplendent of the gentlemen, for he was once again attired in full Highland dress. Phoebe glanced at Celeste to gauge her reaction, remembering how impressed the young woman had been the first time Mr. Huntsford appeared in Highland dress, but found Celeste studiously ignoring Mr. Huntsford. Phoebe wondered if the two had had a quarrel. They must have! she realized. That would explain much of Celeste’s behaviour of late. What a pity she had been so immersed in her own troubles she had not noticed before, Phoebe thought. She would not have felt so hurt by Celeste’s anger, understanding much of it must have stemmed from the younger woman’s quarrel with Mr. Huntsford.
Once the group was all assembled, Lord Murray led them downstairs and procured seats for the ladies. Celeste did not wish to dance, but this time Lord Murray did not remain with his betrothed, but joined in the dancing since Miles Huntsford and Wilfred Atwood were present to keep Celeste company. Phoebe noticed that Lord Murray danced with Olivia first, patiently teaching Miss Atwood the steps. Phoebe watched from the sidelines with envy, and Olivia intercepted the look, throwing Phoebe a look of triumph.
Phoebe did not remain by the sidelines, however, for Mr. Huntsford asked her to partner him. Miles turned out to be an excellent dancer, as Phoebe would have expected, and when he returned Phoebe to her place he immediately partnered Olivia for the second dance. Phoebe hoped Lord Murray would request her hand for the dance, but he did not, and Wilfred stepped up to ask for her hand.
As at their first Scottish dance, the music and dancing became wilder and wilder as the evening wore on. Phoebe and Olivia were both sitting a dance out when two of Lord Murray’s kinsmen approached.
“Miss Hartweel, you’ll take the floor wi’ me?” the taller one stated confidently to Phoebe, holding out his large hand, as his companion repeated the invitation to Olivia. As Phoebe placed her hand in the large paw that was proffered, she glanced at Olivia and caught the fleeting expression of horror that crossed Miss Atwood’s face when the rough-looking Scotsman asked her to dance. In a flash, Phoebe realised what Dinsmore had had in mind when he had invited the new guests to the dance. Despite her efforts, Olivia had not been able to conceal her disapproval of the Scots’ more democratic ways, and nowhere did the Scottish gentleman feel more equal to everyone present than at one of their dances.
But however reluctant Olivia was to accept the highlander’s invitation, Phoebe knew she dared not refuse and destroy the pose she had so carefully cultivated since her arrival. The four joined those already on the floor, and the reel commenced. As Phoebe’s partner whirled her about, she tried to watch Olivia and her partner as well. To Phoebe’s great delight, Olivia’s partner did not treat her gently as Lord Murray had, but swung Miss Atwood clear off the floor. Phoebe’s own feet left the ground shortly thereafter and she could no longer watch Olivia. But when the reel ended and they were returned to their party, Phoebe could tell by Olivia’s brittle voice as she thanked her partner that her sense of dignity had been outraged.
Not long afterwards, Olivia pleaded a headache and excused herself to return upstairs, Celeste accompanying her. Lord Murray was once again forced by good manners to leave the dance early, although Phoebe, Miles and Wilfred chose to remain. As Olivia walked up the wide stone steps with Celeste, Dinsmore caught Phoebe’s eye and winked, and Phoebe thanked the piper with a wide smile.
* * * *
Phoebe, physically exhausted from the many reels she had danced, fell asleep almost immediately upon sinking into her bed that night. A short time later, she struggled to wake from her deep sleep, something telling her there was a reason to come fully awake. Dragging herself reluctantly into consciousness, Phoebe managed to sit up and shake her head, trying to clear the clouds of sleep. It was then she heard the sounds that must have penetrated her sleep-drugged mind: muffled sobs from Celeste’s room. Knowing something must be very wrong; Phoebe rose out of bed and softly opened the connecting door to Celeste’s room.
Celeste lay with her head buried in her pillow, sobbing miserably. Forgetting their falling-out, Phoebe immediately hastened to her friend and gathered her into her arms, holding her close.
“Can you not tell me what is wrong, Celeste? Please do not keep it to yourself, whatever it is,” she begged, smoothing the wet curls from Celeste’s face.
Celeste made no answer and only sobbed harder. Phoebe, remembering her earlier suspicion, asked, “Have you quarrelled with Mr. Huntsford? Is that what is amiss?”
Celeste’s sobs increased, but she managed to choke out an answer.
“Yes. He thinks I am nothing more than a spoiled child, and wants nothing more to do with me.”
Slowly, between big gulping sobs, Celeste told Phoebe the whole story.
“Oh, Celeste,” Phoebe said, still holding her close, “why
did
you announce your betrothal to Lord Murray if you had already confessed your feelings to Miles Huntsford? Was it only to vex Olivia?”
“Even you do not understand,” Celeste said, sitting up in her bed, her tears beginning to abate. “I cannot bear to see Olivia be the one to marry Lord Murray. Remember how she has treated us in London—as though we were little better than kitchen maids, only because we do not have the word ‘Honourable’ or something grander written before our names on envelopes! I only intended to stay betrothed to Lord Murray until she left.”
Much as she disapproved Celeste’s recent actions, Phoebe felt she could understand the younger woman’s motivations. Olivia’s snubs must have cut Celeste more deeply than she had realized.
“Was it fair to Lord Murray, though?” Phoebe asked mildly.
“Oh, he does not care a fig for me any more than I care for him,” Celeste replied with conviction.
“But others did not know that, and were hurt by your impulsive behaviour. I, for one,” Phoebe said, sensing the time had come for her to confide her own feelings.
Her words stopped Celeste’s tears entirely.
“You mean
you
care for Lord Murray?” Celeste asked in astonishment. “Miles said that I had been blind, but I could not credit it. Now I see that he knew you had formed a
tendre
for Lord Murray and I had no idea.”
“Yes, I have,” Phoebe admitted, thinking that Miles Huntsford was quite as keen an observer of people as she had suspected.
“Whyever did you not tell me?” Celeste exclaimed. “I am
your friend.”
“How could I tell you?” Phoebe countered. “You were betrothed to Lord Murray. I felt ashamed of my feelings for him, because I felt as though I were betraying you. At first I was not certain that you did not care for Lord Murray, and then when it appeared that you did not, I had hoped to be able to talk to you privately and sort the matter out between us. But Olivia arrived soon after that, and—well, you know what happened. But, Celeste, my dear, I did so try to talk to you, the night you announced your betrothal to Lord Murray to everyone, but you refused to listen.”
“I am sorry,” Celeste said contritely. “If I had known how important it was for you to speak to me, I would have listened. But I was so hurt and shamed by my quarrel with Mr. Huntsford that I could not bring myself to talk to anyone.
“Oh, Phoebe, I have been such a fool. I truly do love Mr. Huntsford.”
The women hugged each other tightly, glad to be friends once more.
“You must go to Mr. Huntsford and tell him exactly what you have told me,” Phoebe advised her young friend. “I feel sure he will forgive you. He is only waiting for you to approach him and admit your mistake.”
“Yes, I shall, but I shall first have to break off with Lord Murray. Oh, dear,” Celeste said in distress, “if I end my betrothal to Lord Murray, Olivia will stay and pursue him more determinedly than ever. What about you and Lord Murray?”
“I shouldn’t worry, I shall simply have to take my chances,” Phoebe responded. “You cannot allow this misunderstanding to continue. Besides, I do not think Lord Murray can be persuaded to marry Olivia if he does not wish to do so. We must bear her company as best we may. None of our plans to make her leave have worked. Perhaps,” Phoebe laughed, “you should use some of your faery-power to encourage her swift departure.”
When Celeste had become aware that most of the inhabitants of the castle were convinced she had been sent by the Daoine Shi’, she had been more flattered than offended by the Highlanders’ notion she was connected with the faery folk.
“Perhaps I shall,” she agreed, laughing with Phoebe.
Both feeling more hopeful than they had since their falling-out, the friends returned to their beds and slept soundly through the rest of the night.
Chapter Eleven
Celeste, given hope and courage by Phoebe’s words, decided to take her advice and speak to Miles Huntsford. First, however, she had to end her betrothal to Lord Murray. Wishing to get the deed over with as soon as possible, she sought the earl out in his study the morning following her talk with Phoebe.
Lord Murray’s dark head was bent over some papers he was apparently much absorbed in, for he did not hear Celeste’s light step as she entered the room. She paused for a moment, contemplating the man whose suit she had accepted so blithely. She could not regret her action, for it had led to her meeting Miles, but she understood now that
had
she gone through with the marriage, love was not something that would ever have come afterward. Not true romantic love. That was something one felt immediately, in one’s heart, as she had for Miles. She wondered if Phoebe felt the same way for Lord Murray. Celeste did not see how Phoebe could, for Lord Murray had none of the urbanity of Miles, but perhaps different qualities engendered feelings of love in different people.
“Lord Murray, may I speak to you?” she asked, stepping forward.
He looked up with a welcoming smile. “Of course, Miss Laurence. Please sit down,” he added as he stood and drew a chair near his desk.
Celeste came directly to the point.
“Lord Murray, I have come to the conclusion that we should not suit,” she said baldly.
“I rather suspected you would arrive at that decision,” Lord Murray said, relieved that Miss Laurence had recovered her senses in time. Several times over the past few days he had feared she would not. “I agree that we should not be a good match, although you will always remain high in my esteem,” he replied.
Lord Murray paused, and then added, “Since our betrothal was never officially announced, I see no reason to inform anyone of our change of mind beyond our immediate families.”
Celeste heard Lord Murray’s latter words with great relief. Perhaps the Atwoods need not learn of the broken engagement. If they did not, Olivia would have no reason to linger.