Page 5 of Romancing the Artist

Edward ground his teeth together briefly, then muttered, “Why must marriage be part of that duty?”

This was the other reason he kept silent on the truth of his and Mariah’s mutual disinterest in a marriage between them. Because his parents had lately made every conversation with him about marriage. Their every hope and expectation hinged on Edward settling down, when he had no wish to settle.

Restlessness stirred within him. His imagination was captivated by the allure of unknown places that he read about in books and monthly journal publications. In his heart, a yearning, aching need grew day by day to walk out of the door and be swept along strange roads and pathways. And he didn’t dare tell his father. Not when the ghost of his late uncle, Matthew Everly, haunted every mention of the world outside of England.

His father closed his book with a snap, bringing Edward back to the present. “Why are you so averse to the idea of matrimony? Have your mother and I not proven what a well-made match can mean? Respect, devotion, familial affection! Don’t you want those things, Edward?”

He met his father’s gaze, reading impatience and incredulity there, but not curiosity. Not even a father’s desire to understand the son’s point. “Not presently, sir.”

Edward couldn’t marry. Not when it would add tethers to his soul. The thought of being tied down, whether to a wife, the weighty responsibilities of the estate, or the expectations of his parents, stifled him.

There were dreams within Edward's heart that whispered of distant lands, of adventures yet to be embarked upon, of knowledge waiting to be acquired. He longed to chase the horizon, to witness the breathtaking beauty of foreign landscapes, and to engage in intellectual pursuits that would broaden his understanding of the world.

But Edward’s father thought the six weeks Edward spent exploring the Tuscany region enough for any “man of sense.” His father hadn’t ever wished for an adventure. And he seemed to resent those who wanted one for themselves.

The argument hadn’t ended with Edward’s quiet comment.

“And what happens when I die, hm?” His father scowled and one hand balled into a fist where it rested on the arm of his chair. “What will your opinion be then? How will you expect to live here, without a wife, without settling down?”

Perhaps he ought to tread carefully, even if his father had held the subject of his mortality over Edward’s head on other occasions. “I will care for my mother and sisters as you have, sir. I needn’t be married to do that.”

“The house needs a mistress, Edward. You need a companion. And there must be an heir.”

“We are not a noble house, Father. An heir isn’t necessary.”

A muscle over his father’s left eye spasmed. “If you die without a son, you know who inherits the whole of it! Your cousin Claude Everly. The gambler. The unprincipled offspring of my wastrel brother, the very brother who likely drank himself into his grave not even two years past.” They didn’t know what Samuel Everly had died from. He hadn’t spoken to Edward’s father, or any of the family, in over two decades. Though he had sent his wife and son to visit the family estate when Edward’s mother extended the invitation. She had tried to mend whatever had broken between the brothers, to no avail. “Do you want Claude sitting in this house? Casting your mother or your unwed sisters out?”

His father spoke as though he expected both himself and Edward to succumb to the plague that very summer. Edward dropped his gaze to the carpet. “No, Father. That is not what I want.”

“Then stop wasting everyone’s time,” the older man snapped, opening his book harshly enough that the spine protested with an audible creak of thread and glue. “And don’t neglect your duty or Miss Kimball’s interest.”

Edward didn’t say another word. He stayed slumped in his seat a few minutes more, so as not to appear frightened off by his father’s temper, then rose at last with a quiet farewell and left the room.

He needed fresh air and time away from home. A ride would be just the thing. Perhaps he would visit his sister, Grace, at the vicarage. She had the patience of a saint, though how she had put up with their parents’ interfering in every aspect of her life, he hadn’t any idea. His sister had managed to stave off marriage until the man she cared for finally realized that he and Grace were a perfect match.

The events leading up to that realization had become something of a local legend. Most in the family laughed about it now. But Edward’s father always grew quiet and somber when the story arose. Whether because he hadn’t forgiven himself to pushing his daughters to that extreme or because he still harbored disappointment in their actions, no one knew. No one dared ask.

Edward had been away at school at the time. He had the feeling that Grace, his brother-in-law Jacob Barnes, and his father left a lot of details out of the story when they told it, too. But that was neither here nor there at present.

If anyone could give him advice on how to avoid his father’s plans for him, it was Grace.

He arrived at the vicar’s cottage where it was nestled close to a hill, across the lane from the church. The air here, even close to his family’s home as it was, tasted more strongly of the sea. The vicarage was but a short distance from the shore. Only a small rise of the land kept the gray waves from view.

He sat a moment on his horse, looking toward that rise. Gulls flew above, gliding on invisible waves of their own and calling to one another in gentle squeaks and caws. Perhaps their lives weren’t peaceful, but it certainly appeared as though they hadn’t any cares so long as they were soaring above land.

The cottage door opened, and Edward turned to see his sister standing there, one hand on the doorway and the other on her hip. Though a decade older than her brother, Grace’s cheerful demeanor always made him feel they were much closer in age. “Do you intend to sit on your horse all day, or will you come inside and keep me company?”

Edward chuckled as he dismounted, leading his horse closer to secure it to the pole and ring meant for that very purpose. “Haven’t you children for that sort of thing?”

Grace raised her dark eyebrows at him, her blue eyes sparkling merrily. “A four-year-old and a two year old are very good company, but even I occasionally like to discuss things other than bunnies and the sounds cows make.”

“What a shame. It is precisely with cattle in mind that I came to see you.” He followed his sister into her home, a modest dwelling filled with all the trappings of a young family. They passed Jacob’s office, the door open to reveal the vicar wasn’t presently at work or at home, then along the narrow corridor into the sitting room.

A maid-of-all work appeared with a curtsy and took Grace’s request for a tea tray, then disappeared again while Edward and his sister took their places. He sat in a chair near the window, and she perched on the end of her sofa with her hands folded demurely in her lap.

“Where are my nieces at present?” he asked, eyeing a small doll wrapped in muslin and tucked into the corner of his sister’s couch.

“Napping,” she informed him with a tired smile. “Where I should like to be, in all honesty, except I cannot seem to settle long enough to so much as daydream. The moment I close my eyes, I think of a dozen things that need to be done. And when better to do them than when the children are asleep?”