She could not help but laugh outright at his gravity. He smiled. ‘And secondly,’ he proceeded eagerly, ‘why should you suppose that our life together would be one of continual dispute? The circumstances which occasioned our late disagreement were, you must grant, exceptional. I daresay we could go through fifty years of happy matrimony without there ever again occurring this situation of one of our acquaintance being accused of murdering his aunt!’
‘Oh!’ said Dido resuming her walk, ‘I daresay I should find enough to argue with you about!’
‘Well then,’ he suggested, falling into step beside her, ‘you might learn not to argue. Where there is real, solid affection, I am sure it is possible to learn control of the temper. When I was your husband you might find it easier to heed my advice.’
His smile broadened; but she was quite determined not to be diverted by the pleasure of conversing with him. She merely shook her head sadly and walked on.
Then, as they reached the end of the avenue and turned back, she sighed heavily and said, ‘I do not think that it would be wise for us to marry in the hope of such a material change in my character. Such a course would involve too much…struggling against my feelings. Too much dishonesty. Mr Lomax I am persuaded that without honesty – without being able to confide entirely in her husband – a wife would find herself quite unable to feel all that she ought – that she would, in fact, be able to offer him only the pretence of affection in return for all the material advantages which he bestowed upon her.’
He stared at her. Puzzled, offended, but, above all, extremely unhappy. She could stay with him no longer. It was too dangerous. With a few more hasty words of gratitude for his offer, she shook her head, begged him to excuse her and began to hurry away along the avenue.
For a moment he stood and watched her, his face betraying all the agony that he felt. But, at last, the sight of her determined little figure retreating through the shifting sunlight was more than he could bear. Without knowing that he was doing it, he pressed the tips of his fingers together. ‘There is of course a third possibility,’ he said quietly to himself. ‘You could simply continue to argue with me.’
He smiled at the prospect and, although he feared he was going to regret what he was doing, he called out, ‘Miss Kent!’
She did not falter in her walking.
‘Miss Kent! Please! Please wait a moment!’ And he began to run so that he might catch up with her before she reached the end of the lime-walk.
About the Author
ANNA DEAN lives in the Lake District with a husband and a cat. She sometimes works as a Creative Writing tutor and as a guide showing visitors around William Wordsworth’s home, Dove Cottage. Her interests include walking, old houses, Jane Austen, cream teas, Star Trek and canoeing on very flat water.
www.annadean.co.uk
By Anna Dean
THE DIDO KENT SERIES
A Moment of Silence
A Gentleman of Fortune
A Woman of Consequence