David was welcomed cordially by Mary Margaret and Emma. After the horses had been safely stabled with a trough of water, and Leroy sent off to fetch more hay and grain, the sisters took David inside the cottage. Ingrid, as was her custom, immediately set about making their visitor feel welcome. Mary Margaret thought with some amusement that Ingrid had probably not imagined a stream of suitors lining up at her cottage when she had taken on the role of prime protector of her young cousins.
After the usual enquiries about their mutual relations and the journey, Mary Margaret said, "My brother wrote to us that you were visiting a former tutor. I hope you had a pleasant visit."
For some reason, David blushed faintly before replying. "Oh, ah. Yes. I did. Thank you."
His flustered response made Mary Margaret suspect that the visit to the tutor had been merely an excuse to get away from Bath (and perhaps visit her in Devonshire).
After dinner, Ingrid said to David, "Would you be kind enough to read to us, Mr. Spencer? Mary Margaret and Emma have praised your reading so highly, that I'm quite eager to hear a sample."
"It would be my pleasure, ma'am," said David. "But I fear Miss Blanchard and Miss Emma have been too kind—I'm no great orator."
He was offered a choice of books, amongst which was the volume of Perrault that Emma playfully thrust in his hand. They had brought the book with them from Locksley. Mary Margaret's eyes automatically sought out David's. As their eyes locked, the memory of his last reading from that book was almost tangible, and she felt breathless for an instant. After a moment, David dropped his eyes and Mary Margaret bent to her work basket with a blush.
Setting aside the Perrault, David selected a volume of Wordsworth's poetry for his reading.
The next morning, David and Mary Margaret rode out together. There was an old side-saddle in Arendell's small stable—a remnant of the days when Helga used to ride. After Leroy had given it a good polish, they fitted it on the horse David's servant had ridden. Emma and Ingrid waved them off as the two of them set off on a trot down the valley.
Mary Margaret gave David a mischievous smile. "Race you to the bottom!" she said, and with a "Hiyah!" took off.
As she set her horse galloping down the valley, Mary Margaret felt truly in her element for almost the first time since she and Emma had moved to Arendell. She had missed riding so much!
Laughing, David followed, urging his horse on. Mary Margaret reached the foot of the hill first.
The first week of David's visit went by in like manner, with David and Mary Margaret riding out most mornings. After dinner, Emma played music or David read aloud to them. Ingrid occasionally joined the young people in a parlour game.
The following week, David accompanied Mary Margaret and Emma when they left to pay another visit to the Zimmers, to check on the woodcutter's recovery and take some more provisions. As the group approached the woodcutter's cottage, the two children ran outside to greet them.
"Miss Emma! Miss Mary Margaret!" they chanted happily, skipping towards them.
Emma and Mary Margaret beamed at them.
Mary Margaret bent down a little, and said "Ava, Nicholas, this is Mr. Spencer. David—Miss Ava and Master Nicholas."
The children giggled at the solemn introduction and shyly curtsied to David.
David grinned and made them a very proper bow. He handed over the basket of provisions to Ava. As before, they were all invited inside and treated to refreshing goat's milk.
A sudden frenzied squawking and bleating outside disturbed the tranquil atmosphere within the cottage. They were all taken aback for a moment.
"Check if it's a fox, Ava," said Zimmer, sharply.
"It's after the chickens!" exclaimed Ava, and rushed outside.
Everyone else, with the exception of Zimmer, followed her out the door. The chickens were continuing to squawk like the devil was after them. If there had indeed been a fox, there was no sign of it. However, the wooden enclosure surrounding the goat's pen had been knocked down, and the animal was taking off into the forest, seemingly frightened into flight. Ava and Nicholas rushed blindly after the animal.
"They're not going to catch it that way!" exclaimed David. Taking off his coat quickly and handing it to Emma, he took off in pursuit of the runaway animal.
Mary Margaret and Emma exchanged amused looks, not untinged with anxiety. If they did not get the goat safely back, that was one steady source of nourishment for the family gone, and not easily replaceable. As they watched, David swerved and circled around the path taken by the children.
"He's going to cut them off from the other end!" exclaimed Mary Margaret.
"Hah! Smart thinking!" said Emma. She threw a sideways glance at Mary Margaret. "A Prince Charming who is both handsome and clever."
Mary Margaret smiled and rolled her eyes.
Zimmer had managed to hobble to the door using a crutch, and peered anxiously at the tree line. After several minutes of suspense, the rustling of leaves and snapping of twigs underfoot preceded the return of the rescue party, the errant animal tucked safely under David's arms.
There was a collective sigh of relief from those who had been left waiting.
"Thank you so much, sir!" said Zimmer, almost sobbing with relief.
"Thank you Mr. Spencer, sir!" echoed little Nicholas, hugging the animal close when David had set it down. The goat bleated and rubbed its head against the boy's shoulder.
"It was nothing," said David, smiling down at the little boy and ruffling his head. He then helped the Zimmers secure the animal enclosure by hammering down the wooden poles more securely and adding a few more wooden slats to fix gaps.
As the Blanchards and David walked back to Arendell, Emma teased, "You're quite the talented farmhand, David!"
David smiled. "I used to spend a lot of time around the farms in our estate growing up. I picked up quite a few tips and tricks from the farmhands."
"What would your stepmother say?" Emma continued to tease.
David grimaced. "What she doesn't know…"
Emma laughed, but Mary Margaret grew thoughtful. She had not forgotten the last conversation she had had with David.
"Have you spoken to Lady Spencer about you taking orders?" asked Mary Margaret, when Emma had walked on a little ahead of them and out of earshot.
"I have. She's as much set against it as my father was." He grimaced. "The profession is not distinguished enough in her eyes."
"And you do not want to go against her wishes." Mary Margaret stated.
David nodded. "I've already disappointed her by refusing to go into politics. My stepmother knows there is no chance of persuading Walsh into it either. I don't wish to hurt her even more by doing something she is so set against," confessed David. "I would rather wait until I can convince her to agree."
Emma had experienced a sharp stab of disappointment when she first realized who their visitor was, but for the sake of her sister, and for David, she had forced herself to be pleasant. After all, her sister had been separated from the man she loved for a much longer time than herself. Truth be told, however, Emma felt that the strength of the attachment between herself and Neal far outweighed the bond between Mary Margaret and David. What kind of a lover was David, if he could bear to stay away from the object of his affection for so long? However, he had come to visit them at last, and Emma hoped that David would not prove to be as fickle at heart as she sometimes feared.
Over the course of David's visit, Emma tried to gauge the degree of David's attachment towards his sister. Toward herself, David's behavior was that of an affectionate brother, but what he felt for her sister now was a puzzle she was unable to solve. Once or twice, when she had tried to leave David alone with her sister in a room, he had followed her out instead of making use of the opportunity to talk to Mary Margaret alone. And to her chagrin, Mary Margaret did not seem to be offering David any sort of encouragement either. And yet, Emma felt that her sister cared for David as much as ever. This was a strange courtship, indeed. About ten days into David's visit, she tentatively broached the subject with her sister one night. They were in bed, tucked under the covers, and Mary Margaret was reading her prayer book by candlelight.
"It's so wonderful to have David staying with us," said Emma, glancing at her sister.
Mary Margaret agreed without looking up from her book.
"It's a bit disappointing he has to leave by the end of this week, isn't it?" Emma probed.
"Lady Spencer expects him to be in London soon."
Emma snorted. "She's likely raring to have a second go at matchmaking David with some poor-spirited heiress."
"Very likely," said Mary Margaret, turning a page.
Emma sat up in her bed. "Mary Margaret, did you and David have a fight?"
Mary Margaret finally set down her book and turned to look at Emma. "Of course not. Why do you ask?"
Emma gawked at her sister. "Why are you acting so strangely?"
"I am not acting strangely," said Mary Margaret, pursing her lips.
"Has David proposed to you yet?" asked Emma, hesitantly.
"No," replied her sister in a whisper.
"David has come on purpose to see you. I'm sure he loves you." Emma tried to reassure her sister as much as herself.
Mary Margaret did not reply immediately. "Perhaps he does," she said finally. "But he's not free to make his own choices. You know that he is completely dependent on his stepmother financially."
"How can he endure the restraints his stepmother places on him so calmly?" Emma huffed in exasperation.
"It cannot be easy to shake off the habits of a lifetime," said Mary Margaret. "Lady Spencer brought him up, remember?"
"David is five-and-twenty! Isn't it time for him to stop being dictated to by her whims?" said Emma. "I'm sure that if Neal was in the same position, he wouldn't have allowed someone else to control his life."
"And yet he left for London on account of Mrs. Gould," Mary Margaret stated flatly.
"He only went because she needed his help with her business affairs," Emma returned. "Not because he needed hers."
"Neal has independent means, but David does not," Mary Margaret replied, sounding a little defensive. "We cannot judge the two men using the same standards."
The note of finality in her voice kept Emma from pursuing the matter further. In another minute, Mary Margaret wished her good night and blew out her candle.
Mary Margaret was thrown into a gloom on David's departure, but she made a strong effort to keep her feelings of disappointment under check. She had been initially overjoyed to see him, but as his visit progressed, she could not help but notice that his manner—towards her at least—had been more reserved than formerly. Even when they had gone riding together, he had not talked as much as he used to. Perhaps that was because they had met after a separation of three months. Or had his affections cooled? But if so, why had he come? She had always believed that if two people wanted to be together, they would find a way. But it did not seem like David was doing much of anything to show that he did want her. He had most certainly not declared his affections for her, and Mary Margaret would have despaired of David continuing to return her affections if not for his own obvious lowness of spirits at having to leave them.
Her sister was faring no better than herself in matters of the heart. Emma had received no letter from Neal Cassidy as yet. Mary Margaret's cautious enquiries to Mrs. Gould regarding Neal had not been satisfactorily answered. She had merely said that Neal was in London, and that as far as she knew, he planned to remain there for the present.
Emma and Mary Margaret were now out of the deep-mourning period, as more than six months had passed since their parents' deaths. They could therefore mix more in Misthaven society, if they so wished. But the sisters kept to the small social circle frequented by Ingrid, even though they had received dinner invitations from one or two local gentry families. They had no interest in aspiring to society whose style of living was now beyond their reach. The weather had turned very cold and added to their confinement, as long walks on the slopes were unpleasant, even well wrapped-up in shawls. Therefore, when a note arrived from Mrs. Lucas requesting the Miss Blanchards to spend the day at her home on the morrow and give the pleasure of their company to a relative who was coming on a visit, they eagerly accepted her invitation.
Mrs. Lucas greeted the Miss Blanchards warmly on their arrival, and introduced them to her guest, a Miss Kelly West. Kelly West was a distant relative of Mrs. Lucas's on her husband's side, so far-removed that the connection could only be safely labeled with the generic term of "cousin". She was a perky young woman in her mid-twenties with red hair and striking features. Her clothes were well-made but well-worn, and at least two years behind the latest modes of fashion. She lived in Cornwall with her father, and was traveling to London with some friends for the winter. Knowing that she would be passing close to Misthaven on her travels, Miss West had written to Mrs. Lucas and begged leave to pay her a visit. Mrs. Lucas had been agreeable enough, and had sent her carriage to fetch Kelly from the inn where the rest of her party were breaking their journey.
"I thought the cold front was likely keeping you two young ladies indoors, and I know how much Miss Emma hates being cooped up," Mrs. Lucas said. "So, when Kelly here wrote to me saying that she was coming to visit, I thought it would be a good idea to offer you two a change of scene and get her some pleasant company at the same time."
Emma and Mary Margaret thanked her for her kindness.
"Oh, ma'am! So very thoughtful of you!" gushed Kelly West. Addressing Mary Margaret, she said, "Isn't she the kindest woman you've ever met, Miss Blanchard?"
Mary Margaret assented to the sentiment.
"I've been meaning to pay dear Mrs. Lucas a visit this age—ever since dear Mrs. Whale married and left for London!" Kelly gave a little chuckle. Turning to Mrs. Lucas, she said, "How you must miss her, ma'am!"
"Oh, I keep myself busy," Mrs. Lucas assured her, pressing her spectacles back to the bridge of her nose.
"You're wonderful, Mrs. Lucas!" said Kelly West, raising her arms and letting them fall helplessly to her side. "If I'm half as energetic as you when I get to your age, I will consider myself extremely blessed."
Emma looked a little revolted at such blatant flattery.
"Now, now! I'll have none of that butter, child," Mrs. Lucas admonished, with a dismissive wave. "You speak as though I had one foot in the grave!"
Mary Margaret bit her lip to hide a smile as Kelly West spluttered trying to backtrack.
The butler entered with tea and refreshments. Emma, whose tolerance for Kelly West's pretentiousness ran out with the cucumber sandwiches, moved to the piano. Mrs. Lucas started knitting, the clack-clack of her needles marking a metronome to Emma's music. Slowly, the needles slackened, and then stopped. Mrs. Lucas had fallen asleep.
Kelly West stared at the older woman for a few moments as though to check if she was really asleep. Turning to Mary Margaret, she said in a conspiratorial whisper. "I've been hoping for an opportunity to speak with you in private, and I had no idea how to contrive it!"
"Indeed?" asked Mary Margaret, very surprised, but keeping her voice low to match the other woman's tone.
"Oh, yes! I've been longing to meet you for ages!" Miss West gave a little giggle. "And now that I've actually seen you, I can safely say that nothing I've been told in your praise was exaggerated."
"Do we have a mutual acquaintance?"
"You may say that," said Kelly, and giggled again. "But I dare not tell tales."
Mary Margaret blinked.
"You see, Miss Blanchard—I want to consult you over a delicate private matter," said Kelly West.
"Consult me?" asked Mary Margaret, her surprise mounting.
Kelly West took a deep breath. "Would you be good enough to tell me your frank opinion of Lady Spencer?"
"I've seen Lady Spencer a few times since my brother's marriage, and she seemed a very respectable elegant sort of woman."
"But what do you think of her disposition?" asked Kelly West, in a wheedling tone. "Do you think she is unbending in her opinions or is she the kind of person who might be induced to change her mind on occasion?"
Mary Margaret felt this to be an odd, almost impertinent question to ask of a new acquaintance. She decided to be brief. "I don't know her ladyship well enough to answer that kind of a question."
Kelly West sighed. "I'm hoping for an opportunity to be introduced to her ladyship during the course of my visit to London. But I am so apprehensive of meeting her after everything I've been told about her formidable personality. I had hoped you might be able to dissipate some of my anxiety."
Mary Margaret wondered if Miss West intended to ask Lady Spencer for a favor—a loan of money, perhaps, or a recommendation for a post as a lady's maid or a companion. "I'm sorry I cannot help you with that, Miss West. As I said, I'm not well acquaintance with her ladyship."
Kelly West gave her a keen glance. "I must seem too forward to be asking such personal questions about your family connections. Believe me, Miss Blanchard, I would not do so if I weren't desperate."
"I will not deny that I'm a little surprised by your questions," said Mary Margaret, with a slight wave of her hand. "May I ask as to the purport of your enquiries? Are you connected to the Spencer family?"
"Not yet, but I hope to be," said Kelly with a demure smile.
"You don't mean…" said Mary Margaret, an astonished huff escaping her. "You and Mr. Walsh Spencer…you're engaged?"
Mary Margaret had met Walsh only once. He had come across as the quintessential dandy. She could not imagine a more disparate pairing.
"Oh, no. Not Mr. Walsh Spencer," said Kelly West with a tiny laugh. "I'm engaged to David Spencer."
"Excuse me?"
"Mr. David Spencer and I are engaged to be married," repeated Kelly West.
Mary Margaret frowned. Either Miss West was going mad, or she was.
"I'm don't blame you for your disbelief," continued Kelly West, folding her hands on her lap. "You see, it's been a secret engagement, on account of David's stepmother."
Mary Margaret shook her head, unable to credit what she had heard. "We cannot be talking of the same person."
"But we are, I assure you!" Kelly West insisted. "I'm talking of Mr. David Spencer, the eldest son of the late Sir Albert Spencer. His stepsister married your brother, Mr. Blanchard of Locksley."
"Impossible…" the words were wrung out of Mary Margaret, even as she realized that this was the key to David's ambiguous behavior. The half-started, but unfinished confession on her last day at Locksley. His general air of dejection during his recent visit to Arendell. She had wondered if his regard for her had cooled, or whether an unwillingness to disappoint his stepmother was holding him back. But his secret had been something else entirely. Had he come to Arendell to confess the truth to her, but had lost his courage when it came to the point? She suddenly felt faint.
"Are you alright, Miss Blanchard?" asked Kelly West, the unmistakable glee in her face directly contradicting the concern lacing her voice.
Making a strong effort, Mary Margaret took a few deep breaths and pushed down the agony that was bubbling up within.
"No, no, I feel fine," she said, a part of her desperately fighting against the conviction that the other woman was speaking the truth.
Kelly West started rummaging within her reticule. "And to prove that I'm not lying, I've something to show you," she said, as though she had heard Mary Margaret's desperate thought.
"Please, don't, Miss West," Mary Margaret protested half-heartedly. Part of her did want to see if she had any evidence to back up her assertions.
"But I insist," said Kelly West. Giving a sharp exclamation, she pulled two items out of the purse. She displayed the first one to Mary Margaret in the palm of her hand. It was a simple silver ring set with a peridot in the center. "This belonged to David's mother. He gave it to me on our engagement." The second item was a locket. She opened it to display two miniature paintings of David and herself, one on either side.
A heavy leaden weight settled in Mary Margaret's stomach. The probability that Kelly West had been lying about everything was diminishing with each minute. She wanted to get more information to better understand the situation, and Kelly seemed only too willing to talk. Mary Margaret asked, "How long have you been engaged to Mr. Spencer?"
"These four years," said Kelly West.
Mary Margaret's eyebrows rose.
"My father was his tutor at Oxford," Kelly West elaborated, tucking her keepsakes back in her reticule. "After Sir Albert died, poor David used to come stay with us often in Cornwall, and we soon developed an attachment."
As Kelly West continued to talk, Mary Margaret began to fit the pieces together. It was all too easy to imagine David as a young man of twenty, in a vulnerable state of mind after his father's death, getting deeply attached to a sympathetic young woman. Especially when her manner was likely to be in sharp contrast with that of his own family. For, despite all the concern Lady Spencer professed for her children, she had never seemed conciliating in her manner toward them.
Placing a hand on Mary Margaret's arm, Kelly West continued, "I must beg, however, Miss Blanchard, that you do not drop a word of this to anyone, not even to your sister. If even a hint reaches Lady Spencer, that would be the end of all peace!"
"I did not invite your confidence, Miss West," Mary Margaret said with no small degree of frustration. "However, I will give you my word that I will not speak of your engagement to anyone unless you or Mr. Spencer authorize me to do so."
"I knew I could rely on your discretion! Poor David has become dispirited of late. He's weary of not being able to see me for more than once or twice a year, and waiting and hoping for the right time to approach Lady Spencer," said Kelly West with a sigh. "I've borne up better to the outside world than he has. My father taught me that no matter how I felt on the inside, I ought to always put on a good face."
Struck with a sudden thought, Mary Margaret asked, "Is Mr. Spencer to seek his stepmother's blessing for your marriage this winter? Is that why you're going to London?"
"Not quite that as yet, I'm afraid," said Kelly West, and dabbed her eyes with a handkerchief. "But, 'Nothing ventured, nothing gained', as they say. And I'm determined not to sit waiting for the apples to fall into my lap."
"What do you propose to do?"
"I hope to gain an introduction to her ladyship. Once she gets to know me and sees how devoted I am to her son, and how happy David and I make each other, might she not find it in her heart to give us her blessing?"
Mary Margaret shrugged, but said nothing. She very much doubted the possibility of such an outcome.
"You think I'm too naive?" asked Kelly West, giving an affected laugh. Looking watchfully at Mary Margaret, she continued, "Perhaps you think I ought to set David free? That I'm being selfish to hold David to an engagement he formed several years ago?"
"I wouldn't dream of saying such a thing, Miss West," Mary Margaret said dryly.
"But you're thinking it, I know. It's what anybody is bound to think." Kelly West dabbed her eyes once again. "I would set David free if I were not assured that he would be extremely unhappy by a rupture. In the four years we have been engaged, he hasn't given me a moment's concern about his constancy. I'm of a jealous disposition, Miss Blanchard, and I assure you I would know if David had cooled even a whit in his affection for me."
"As long as you are confident about that, why should you worry about what other people think?" asked Mary Margaret, growing quite weary of the conversation.
Kelly West shook her head sadly. "Alas! Aren't we all a little too prone to wish for the approval of other people, however foolish that kind of exercise may be?"
"I agree it is a very common failing, and not one easy to overcome."
Mary Margaret was mentally exhausted by the time Mrs. Lucas woke up from her nap and put an end to her tête-à-tête.
During dinner, Mary Margaret found it extremely difficult to focus her attention and make normal conversation with the others. She kept mentally replaying the substance of her talk with Kelly West in her mind. She had no doubt now that David had been the one to talk to Miss West about herself in his recent visit to Cornwall. Concerned over his manner of speaking about her, perhaps, Kelly West had contrived a way to come to Misthaven expressly to observe her would-be rival, and perhaps warn her away from her betrothed.
That David had let his secret engagement continue for four years was almost beyond belief! Sir Albert had left the disposal of his fortune in his wife's hands. This explained the necessity of keeping the engagement under wraps in the beginning, when David had likely not yet attained his majority. But to have let it prolong a secret once he had come of age...Mary Margaret did not know what to think. Was this behind David's reluctance to take ordination in defiance of his stepmother's wishes? To go against her known wishes in both the matter of his marriage and profession would be a severe blow to her ladyship, and would likely cause a breach between the two of them.
After dinner, as Mrs. Lucas escorted the Miss Blanchards to her carriage, she invited them to accompany her on a visit to London in December.
"My granddaughter has been very pressing in her letters to have me visit her, and I've finally decided to give in," she said. "I would very much like you both to accompany me. Ruby has particularly begged that I bring the two of you."
"Emma and I very are very much obliged to you, ma'am, for your kind invitation," said Mary Margaret, well aware of Kelly West glaring at her over Mrs. Lucas's shoulders. "But I'm afraid it is out of our power to accept."
"Nonsense, dear child!" protested Mrs. Lucas. "And if I'm to judge by the looks Miss Emma is giving you—she is not unwilling."
Mary Margaret looked at Emma questioningly, and the latter looked back at her with sparkling eyes. Exasperated, Mary Margaret turned back to Mrs. Lucas.
"I'm sure Emma knows as well as I do that we cannot leave Misthaven at present," said Mary Margaret. "We couldn't possibly leave our cousin."
"Miss White will manage without you for a couple of months! I couldn't abide to stay in London longer than that, I assure you! Half that time is typically enough to make me weary of the bustle and noise and stench of the metropolis."
When Miss Blanchard continued to look hesitant, Mrs. Lucas said, "Well…think it over at least. Consult your cousin. I daresay she'll agree with me."
Mary Margaret did not wish to encounter either David or Kelly West any time soon. It would cause her immense pain, and likely add to David's distress and embarrassment. She was fluctuating between extreme anger at David for raising hopes in herself that he could not fulfill, to feeling sorry for him for having entangled himself in such an improvident manner. She felt embarrassed at the evident insincerity of David's fiancée. But after all, it had to be torture for a woman to know that after a prolonged engagement with seemingly no end in sight, her betrothed had fallen in love with someone else. For, in spite of all the shattering revelations that Kelly West's visit to Lucas Park had brought about, Mary Margaret remained convinced that David returned her affections.
It had been very wrong of David to have visited them in Arendell, for even if his heart was not bound to Kelly West any longer, his honor was. Mary Margaret knew she ought to feel angrier over his lapse in judgment in this matter. But she could make allowances for him giving in to the temptation to see her one last time before going to London, where, perhaps, he would put his fortune to the test and open the matter of his engagement to his stepmother.
As Mrs. Lucas had predicted, Ingrid had no objection to her young cousins visiting London for a few weeks. And Emma seemed to have set her heart on going to London. Considering that it had now been a month and a half since Neal had left Misthaven, it was obvious that she hoped to reunite with him there. Whether it was because Neal had communicated his plans to her before he had left Misthaven, or merely on the basis of the information Mrs. Gould had given them was unclear to Mary Margaret. Emma also expressed great astonishment at her sister's reluctance to take the opportunity to see David again. Mary Margaret knew that Emma suspected her regard for David to be weaker than her own towards Neal, and it pained her exceedingly. Her word to Kelly West had bound her to secrecy, even though she was constantly tempted to confess everything to her sister and get some comfort for her heartache.
When Mrs. Lucas called at Arendell a few days later armed with a letter from Mrs. Whale strongly entreating the Miss Blanchards to accompany her grandmother to London, Mary Margaret gave in to the inevitable. To London, therefore, they were to go.