Remember Love (Ravenswood #1)(48)
She was very much in danger, she had begun to think after that particular occasion, of ending up on the shelf, a spinster with nothing to do but care for her mother and father, if they should ever grow old enough and infirm enough to need her care. There was no sign of either affliction yet. Worse, she might end up alone in her old age and dependent upon Idris to give her a home with him. That would be a dreadful fate, for Idris, at the age of twenty-nine, was in a serious courtship of Eluned Howell, daughter of one of their father’s closest friends in Wales. Gwyneth loved her dearly, but she did not fancy being an unmarried sister-in-law in her household. No doubt Eluned would not fancy it either.
Gwyneth did not believe she was going to end up alone, however. For Idris had stayed on in Wales after she and her parents came home from there a few weeks ago, and he had just let them know that he was coming in a few days’ time and was bringing Aled Morgan with him. Gwyneth had met Aled last year when she was competing in the harp contest at one of the eisteddfodau, or arts festivals, for which Wales was famous. She had won the contest. Her father had undertaken the Herculean task of taking the youth choir there too, and Gwyneth had accompanied them with her harp. They had placed third, one position higher than they had two years before. Aled Morgan had not been an entrant in any competition himself, but he was a well-known musician and conductor. He had conducted orchestras and choral works in London and Edinburgh as well as in Bristol and Cardiff and Swansea. The prince regent had shaken his hand after one performance—though it was not Aled himself who had told Gwyneth that. He was not a boastful man.
He was a pleasant, mild-mannered man in his middle thirties, passionately involved with music. He had gone out of his way to commend Gwyneth on her harp playing. He had persuaded her to play just for him one evening—the large festival tent had been empty, but people milled outside and so made her being alone with him inside not quite improper. He had watched her intently while she played and afterward had kissed the back of her hand and told her he hoped they would be friends. She had seen him again this summer, and he had made it very clear that he wished to move their acquaintance to another level. Now he was coming to Cartref at her father’s invitation, to see and listen to the organ at the church. He was also coming because of her, Gwyneth believed. She fully expected that he would propose marriage to her while he was here—he had hinted as much when he took his leave of her the evening before she came home with her mother and father.
And this was a proposal she would accept. It was high time she was married. She was twenty-four. More important than any unease she felt over her advancing age, however, was the fact that she was very fond of Aled. They had a great deal in common and never lacked for topics to draw them into deep, animated conversation. He would be a kind husband, she was sure, and an intelligent and constantly interesting companion. He would treat her as an equal. He professed to admire her as much as she admired him. He had a wealth of friends in all parts of the country. She would have a stimulating and varied life with him. He was not a vastly wealthy man, she believed, but he could undoubtedly offer her a comfortable and secure life.
She was not going to wait any longer for love—romantic love, that was. It was for the very young and was, moreover, extremely precarious and ultimately painful. Poor young people, who had to discover the truth of that for themselves! It was so much more sensible to marry for affection and shared interests. And really, affection was a form of love, but more stable and longer lasting than romantic passion. She felt a warm affection for Aled.
She had been staring at Ravenswood for a long time, she realized. Long after there was anything to see. Her poor horse had even given up dropping hints about moving on and was nibbling forlornly at the scrubby grass beside the track.
She turned toward home and the pleasant prospect of seeing Aled again within the next day or two. It was just a pity that the Earl of Stratton had chosen almost the same time to come back to Ravenswood to offer an unwelcome distraction. But he had to come sometime, she supposed, and now was probably as good a time as any, now that the wars were over, the harvest was in, and the winter had not yet descended upon them.
It did not really matter to her anyway. While the neighborhood for miles around buzzed with the news that he was back, she would have something and someone else to hold her attention.
She so looked forward to Aled’s coming here, to her own home and her own neighborhood this time. She wanted to be seen with him. He was a distinguished, good-looking man. She wanted her neighbors and friends to see that she had indeed and at long last moved on in life, that the return of the Earl of Stratton meant nothing whatsoever to her.
It would be lovely if she did not have to see him at all, though she supposed that was not a realistic wish. Well, then. When she did see him, she hoped she would have Aled by her side.
It had been one day. Just one. More than six years ago.
* * *
—
Their approach had been noted.
It had probably been watched for all day, in fact. The main street through the village and the village green had been unusually busy with people, all apparently just going innocently about their business, though all had stopped and fixed their gaze upon the carriage as it passed on its way toward the bridge. And now, at Ravenswood itself, the butler and a number of footmen and grooms, all smartly dressed as though for a special occasion, were out on the terrace, the butler waiting to open the carriage door and set down the steps lest the coachman Devlin had hired in London be incapable of doing so himself, the footmen ready to carry what they must be expecting to be a great mountain of baggage inside and up to their relevant chambers, the grooms to lead away the carriage and horses.