Miss Edward

A swift judgment

Now there he was, standing alone on the dance floor, alone with his thoughts. Such news was of high density for a young woman of impressionable age, and now she had an estate on her shoulders, an estate to run with no prior experience. Oh, his thoughts were going wild on and on. In which way would his friend take the estate on? Had he dropped the news suddenly, perhaps? And who was this Mr. Legrand she spoke of; he had never heard of him. Should he investigate him? He felt protective over her. Then again, he had been away quite some time, for perhaps that was the reason he had not heard of him.

“I must need to inquire further about him. Does he really care for her, or is he aware of the estate Miss Edwards has been left? How dare he, how dare he use my best friend in such a manner?” And yet, had he given reason to him? Was he being harsh towards Miss Edwards? No, he had always been honest with her, and thus he had been this time too. Or was he now being harsh towards Mr. Legrand, a man he barely knew?

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So lost in thought was he, he was unaware of the presence of Mr. Legrand, who had now been there, swirling his wine cup for some time.

The music had shifted to a slower air, but neither man moved to the measure of it.

The light from the chandelier candles shone on the wine glass, giving the tint of it a deeper red. Mr. Legrand took a step closer.

“You think me indifferent to the feelings of Miss Edwards, and judge my character by merely knowing me from this encounter?” He set his glass upon the near lacquered table, his voice low enough that only they could hear. “That is a swift judgment to make on a man you barely know.”

Arrington did not turn to fully face him, his gaze lingering upon the door where Miss Edwards had vanished.

“Thinkest thou thyself honest? Dost thou not know Miss Edwards has left this room more burdened than she entered it, and I believe part of that is owed to you?”

“And the other part — to what is it owed?” Legrand’s smile was thin; there was no pretense now.

“Oh, as if thou hadst not knowledge,” Arrington said. “Why dost thou pretend to care for her, when thy intentions are otherwise?”

Legrand’s face shifted from that thin smile to something puzzled, as if he did not comprehend. “My intentions? Pardon me. And again thou speakest of my character. I do differ. Help me understand thy accusations.”

“The estate.”

Silence fell between them for a moment as the servants passed by with another tray of wine. Mr. Arrington took a glass, now fully facing Legrand as if he owned the moment.

Mr. Legrand chuckled a little. “The estate? Of what dost thou speak?”

“Prague.”

From across the room, Mrs. Helmbold was watching them over her fan.

Legrand’s eyebrow furrowed. “Prague, I have not a notion of what thou speakest. Thy accusations towards me, may they be of the guilt of thy own conscience that thou hast found the need to come back to Erlington?”

Arrington could nearly crush the wine glass in his hands. “Art thou blaming me for the burden bestowed upon Miss Edwards—”

“She did feel the need to leave when thou took her.” With that, Mr. Legrand took the last taste of wine and walked away.

The music in the room seemed to intensify. Mrs. Helmbold, being a talebearer and observer, understood something grand had happened and could not wait to tell her friends what tale to tell she had.

Legrand was oblivious to the fact that they had been carefully observed by Mrs. Helmbold, and Arrington, in his vest pocket, held a copy of the tidings he had borne to his friend, which he slowly caressed with his hands, without letting anyone notice what he held. In all truthfulness, he could be questioned, as he had been away some time; he had only come to Erlington to impart tidings.

But now, perhaps if people knew, if they grasped anything that had happened in the room, they would question his integrity, his motive. Unlike Legrand, he was aware Mrs. Helmbold observed them, giving the understanding that all would know soon. He could only hope she had not heard all.