Town was very thin of company, but the weather was not so sultry as to make the streets disagreeable. The month was showery, and few were the days when even the most modish young lady cared to venture forth without a pelisse or a shawl.
Others besides the Ombersley family had chosen to remain in town until August. Lord Charlbury was still to be found in Mount Street;’ Mr. Fawnhope in his rooms off St. James’s; Lord Bromford, deaf to the entreaties of his mother, refused to retire into Kent; and the Brinklows found several excellent excuses for remaining in Brook Street. As soon as all danger of infection was over, Miss Wraxton was once more to be seen in Berkeley Square, gracious to everyone, even caressing toward Lady Ombersley and Amabel, and very full of wedding schemes. Mr. Rivenhall found pressing business to attend to on his own estates; and if Miss Wraxton chose to assume that his frequent absences from town were accounted for by his desire to set his house in order for her reception, she was quite at liberty to do so.
Cecilia, less robust than her cousin, did not recover so quickly from the anxiety and exertion of her four weeks’ incarceration. She was a good deal pulled down and had lost a little of her bloom. She was rather silent, too, a fact that did not escape her brother’s eye. He taxed her with it; and, when she returned an evasive answer, and would have left the room, detained her, saying, “Don’t go, Cilly!”
She waited, looking inquiringly at him. After a moment, he asked abruptly, “Are you unhappy?”
Her color rose, and her lips trembled in spite of herself. She made a protesting gesture, turning away her face, for it was impossible to explain to him the turmoil raging in her own heart.
To her surprise, he took her hand and pressed it, saying awkwardly, but in a softened tone, “I never meant you to be unhappy. I did not think — You are such a good girl, Cilly. I suppose, if your poet will but engage on some respectable profession, I must withdraw my opposition and let you have your way.”
Amazement held her motionless, only her startled eyes flying to his face. She allowed her hand to lie in his, until he released it and turned away, as though he did not choose to meet her wide gaze.
“You thought me cruel — unfeeling! No doubt I must have seemed so, but I have never desired anything but your happiness. I cannot be glad of your choice, but if your mind is made up, God forbid I should have any hand in parting you from one whom you sincerely love, or in promoting your marriage to a man you cannot care for!”
“Charles!” she uttered faintly.
He said over his shoulder, and with some difficulty, “I have come to see that nothing but misery could result from such a union. You at least shall not be subjected to a lifetime of regret! I will speak to my father. You have resented my influence with him. This time it shall be exerted in your favor.”