But Belle was not being childish at all. She was acting like an adult. She had been all but sold to a man she’d never met. And when she’d had the audacity to question the decision, the person who loved her most in the whole world had lied to her and dismissed her feelings as unimportant.
‘I am sorry that I did not listen to you,’ Amy said, running her fingers over the panel of the locked door. ‘Come out and we will talk.’ Then she could explain again, but better, this time. And then everything could go back to the way it had been and they would be happy.
But that was not true, either. No amount of explaining could take them back to a time before Ben Lovell. Nor could it make Guy Templeton into the sort of man who was worthy of her sister.
‘I know this is hard to understand,’ she began again. It was hard to explain as well. ‘But this marriage is for the best. You cannot simply lock yourself in your room to avoid it.’ Nor could they drag her down the aisle and force her to marry a man she did not want. All the plans she’d made for the pair of them had been based on a willing and agreeable Belle. She had sacrificed her own life to that end, knowing that, even if she had no one else, Belle would always love and need her. What was she to do, if Belle no longer wanted her help?
She stroked the door again, as if it were possible to transmit the comfort through the wood to the person who needed it. ‘Have a good cry. Later, when you are feeling better, come to my room and we will talk.’
Then she walked slowly down the hall to her own room, near to tears herself. What was she to say or do that would make any of this better? It had always been her job to take care of Belle. She was always there to make sure things did not go wrong and to fix them if they did. But how could she fix something that was just the way it had to be?
Perhaps Ben Lovell had an answer. It was his ambition that had brought them to this point. He should take some responsibility for the misery he was causing. He had been so kind, when they had been together in Vauxhall. If only he were here to help her.
Then she remembered the letter in her pocket. As Belle had done, she locked her door, wanting to savour the moment of reading, whether it brought pleasure or pain. She unfolded the paper again and turned it on its side to read the second half.
Amy, dearest,
I have no right to call you such. And yet I cannot help myself. No matter what you feel in return, to me you are and always will be dearest.
I have been trying to find the words to explain my behaviour towards you. But there is no justification for what I have done and what I would do in the future if the opportunity presents itself. I cannot see you without wanting you.
Please accept my apology for the liberties I took. I know how you responded to another who overstepped himself. And I have earned far more from you than the blackened eye you gave to Haines.
She stopped to smile and touched the letter to her lips before reading more.
I am promised to another and bound by oath to the current course of action. The engagement is unbreakable as you warned me it would be. But when I am with you, I forget all that. Honour has no value. The future has no meaning. I only see the moment. I only see you.
Though you might not want me, if I could find a way to free myself, I would run to you. Perhaps you would cast me off as you did the other men who courted you. Even if it cannot be, you will always have my heart.
But the rest of me is promised to another. Please, for the sake of your sister, accept the invitation to my home. As I made clear on our last meeting, sharing a household would be disastrous. But we must find some way to be sure that your sister has the help she needs in her new life.
It will not be easy for either of us, but we must both do what is best for Arabella. I swear, I will not trouble you, as I have in the past. It will be best if we try, as we should have from the first, to abide by the constraints of society and make use of a chaperon, for the sake of your reputation and my peace of mind.
She smiled again. Once, he had said he did not need peace. Now that it was gone, he had changed his mind. One could almost feel sorry for him.
I eagerly await your answer to my invitation and your attendance at my home.
With love,
Ben
She held the letter for a moment, unwilling to admit that she had reached the end. It was everything she could have hoped for. He burned for her, as she did for him. He had called her his dearest and offered his heart.
He had offered his love in the closing, but that was hardly an uncommon way to end a letter. There was no point in either of them saying that particular word too often. With things as they were, it could mean nothing but pain. It was far better that the feeling they shared was something far less permanent, a flame that would burn itself out once they stopped feeding it.