Willoughby's Return_ A Tale of Almost Irresistible Temptation - Jane Odiwe [83]
“But how is it to be accomplished, Henry? I dare not hope that we will be together at last,” cried Mademoiselle de Fontenay. Her voice was strained and anxious. “If anyone were to see us, all will be undone!”
“You must not worry,” Henry replied in a soothing manner. “True love always finds a way; you must believe me, Antoinette, my dear girl. Have I ever let you down yet? I promise I will not fail you.”
“If I could only feel that what we are to undertake will not be seen as folly or despicable behaviour. I do not wish to upset my mother, but I cannot see what else we are to do. Our happiness is at stake.”
“I have told you, Antoinette, my dearest one, I will think of a way and with luck, all will be resolved in time. I have a plan. All I ask is that you trust me.”
“Oh, Henry, of course I do. I trust you with my life; I always have, ever since those days, so long ago in France, when we were only playmates. If we had known then how the fates would join us…”
Margaret involuntarily and audibly drew in her breath. A moment of terrified suspense followed, there were scuffling noises and fretful whispering on the other side, as the couple recognised that they might have been overheard. Seconds later, as Margaret hardly dared to let go her breath for fear of discovery, she heard their footsteps retreating, until they were distinguished no more. Her own emotions still kept her fixed to the spot. She had much to recover from before she could move, she had heard a great deal to disturb her. What on earth could they be planning and why were they being forced to act with such secrecy? The more she thought on the matter, the more she puzzled on a conclusion. It didn’t make any sense.
As soon as she could, she went after Marianne, and having found, and walked back with her to their carriage, felt some consolation in being together. London was as crowded and noisy as ever. People thronged the streets in profusion. But despite the comforting reassurance of her sister's company, Margaret had never felt quite so lonely or dispirited.
Marianne had once thought that she never wished to see London again. Her discovery of Willoughby's duplicity and consequent marriage to Miss Grey with her fifty thousand pounds, several years ago in this very town, had been quite enough to resolve upon a disinclination for the metropolis. However, marrying William had changed this perception. London had been a splendid backdrop to their mutual discovery and blossoming love for one another. So, it was with some surprise that she found some of her old feelings of agitation and apprehension returning as she stared out of the carriage window at the familiar streets. Her disappointment for Margaret was partly to blame, her heart ached for her sister as she recollected those emotions which loomed out of the past, lingering like the swirling fog which rose from the river, cloaking the city. But most importantly, her beloved William seemed aloof and distant. Since her outburst, there had been no further dispute or disagreement between them. On the surface, everything appeared to be perfectly fine, but Marianne felt the want of intimacy, which prevented them from being as close as was usual. She knew in her heart that she should apologise to Brandon for speaking so ill of his sister, but she also felt she had been right to do so. Marianne could not bring herself to say sorry, but also knew that in order to feel at peace with the world, the situation must be dealt with sooner or later.
On their return from Hookham's they discovered that Mr Carey had called in their