Chapter 29 - One Last Spring

Gwen was so consumed in her own thoughts that she didn’t hear Cecilia until the young woman spoke to her.

“Are you not coming to the theatre after all?” Cecilia asked.

Gwen stood, thankful that her initial shock over Thomas’s conversation with his mother had passed and she could stand without fear of falling.

“Yes,” she said. “I’m ready.”

Only then did she notice how Cecilia was dressed. Her dress was of pale-pink silk and was cinched tightly at the waist, with layers of fabric gathered over a prominent bustle at the back. The dress’s neckline was cut low, and the flimsy cap sleeves covered almost none of her arms. Gwen did her best not to gasp. She knew Aunty Jane would be appalled at such a flagrant show of skin.

“Did you not pack an evening gown?” Cecilia said.

Gwen glanced down at her practical but modest attire. “No,” she said, not sure that this was the right time to admit that she didn’t own one or that her Methodist minister father would turn over in his grave if she were to ever put something like that on.

“Oh dear.” Cecilia seemed quite distressed. “If you’d only told me earlier, we might have made one of my old dresses do for you.”

Seeing as Cecilia was at least four inches shorter than Gwen and probably that much wider, Gwen thought the likelihood of one of her dresses fitting was unlikely at best.

“That’s very kind of you,” Gwen said, “but I’m quite all right making do with these clothes.”

Cecilia looked uncertain. “Well, if you’re sure.”

A clatter of footsteps on the stairs had both women turning their heads to see Thomas hurrying toward them.

“I’m sorry to keep you waiting,” he said.

He smiled at Gwen, and she felt herself relax. He was not aware that she’d heard anything, and it appeared that for now, at least, he would treat her as he always had. Cecilia placed a shimmery wrap across her shoulders and reached for her brother’s arm, then Thomas turned and offered his other arm to Gwen.

Gwen sat opposite Thomas in the carriage, and as his sister told him all about what their friends had been doing while he’d been in Wales, Gwen studied him. He was a handsome man with a pleasant smile and an easy demeanor. His clothes were well cut and of high quality, and she could now quite assuredly report to Aunty Jane that Thomas had more money in the bank than all the young men in Llanwddyn combined. He was kind, attentive, and thoughtful and had proven himself a true friend.

Her personal experience with romantic relationships was sadly lacking, but Gwen was beginning to realize that if Thomas wished to marry her despite his mother’s objections, his feelings for her were far deeper than the feelings of comfortable companionship she felt for him. When Thomas had walked down the stairs to greet her and Cecilia, she’d been happy to see him, but his appearance hadn’t done anything to her heart rate. When she’d taken his arm, her fingers hadn’t tingled the way they had when she reached for Lewis’s—

Gwen didn’t realize she’d audibly gasped until Thomas and Cecilia stopped their conversation midsentence.

“Are you all right, Gwen?” Thomas asked, concern in his eyes.

“Yes.” Gwen tried to pull herself together. “Yes, thank you. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to interrupt.”

“You’re not interrupting,” he said. “We’re almost to the theatre.”

Gwen turned to look out the carriage window. An imposing redbrick building was coming into view, with “The Royal Alexandra Theatre and Opera House” written in bold letters across the dark-red, semicircular awning. Up ahead, well-dressed men and women were getting out of carriages to join the milling people who were already climbing the stairs to the main entrance. Gwen tried to take in the spectacle, to savor this unique opportunity, but all the while, her mind was whirling.

Lewis! It was Lewis whose smile she wanted to see above everyone else’s outside the chapel, whose touch on the way home from the St. John’s Day dance had filled her stomach with butterflies, and in whose arms she’d wanted to stay in the clearing on the mountain. She squeezed her eyes closed. Surely she was the most dim-witted girl to ever walk the Welsh hills. Why, oh, why had she not recognized her feelings for him sooner? Before she’d left for school or before he’d left for Pen-y-Bont Fawr?

The carriage rolled to a stop, and Thomas opened the door. After stepping out, he helped Cecilia down and then offered Gwen his hand. “You’re sure you’re feeling well?” he asked softly.

After the revelations of the last couple of hours, Gwen could only imagine how pale she must appear. She didn’t think her fragile composure could handle much more, but for Thomas’s sake, she was determined to be a cheerful companion for the remainder of the evening. “Yes,” she said. “I’m sorry if I’ve been quiet.” She pointed to the theatre. “This is all very new to me.”

“It’s been a day full of new things, hasn’t it?” he said.

“Yes,” she said again. “It’s been rather dizzying.”

Thomas laughed. “Well, let’s see if you can manage one more.”

Gwen had been exposed to music and singing from birth, but she’d never seen anything quite like Gilbert and Sullivan’s The Mikado. The Oriental theme manifest in the costumes, makeup, and wigs, along with the humor-laced lyrics, combined to be disconcerting and mesmerizing at the same time. When the intermission arrived, she, Thomas, and Cecilia rose from their seats and gathered in the lobby, where Gwen was introduced to Thomas and Cecilia’s friends. The group included three young men and two young women, but the only one who paid her any attention after the initial introductions was a blonde woman named Edith.

Edith’s dress was similar in style to Cecilia’s, but it was a deep purple. Her hair was piled prettily on her head, and her pale blue eyes sparkled as she talked. Compared to Edith, Gwen felt plain in both appearance and personality, but to her surprise, the juxtaposition didn’t leave her feeling inadequate. Edith seemed to have a gift for making all those around her feel important, and Gwen noticed she was particularly adept at including Thomas. At that moment, Thomas was laughing at something Edith had said.

Cecilia leaned over to whisper in Gwen’s ear. “She’s been sweet on Thomas since they were children.”

Gwen looked at her wide-eyed. “Does he know?”

Cecilia shook her head. “I think he might be the only person who doesn’t.”

As Gwen turned back around, Thomas was talking to Edith, who was listening with rapt attention. There was something in Edith’s eyes that Gwen had rarely seen before. She didn’t know how to define it—it fell somewhere between sincere longing and deep caring, but she knew that as close as she and Thomas had become, she’d never felt an emotion that intense for him and that he deserved to be with someone who did.

It was even more difficult to concentrate during the second half of the production than it had been during the first. Gwen’s recent epiphany had helped her make a difficult decision, but it had not lessened the risk of hurting Thomas. More than anything, she wished to spare him that. She knew she needed to talk to him soon, before he moved forward with his plans. She could only hope the opportunity would arise in a timely manner and that she could do what she needed to do without damaging the heart of a very good man.

When the production was over, they returned to Thomas’s home, and as the three of them entered the main hall, Thomas pulled her aside. “Could I have a word with you before you go to your room, Gwen?” he asked.

Cecilia glanced at her brother with raised eyebrows but started up the stairs without comment.

Gwen nodded. “Yes. I’ve been hoping to speak to you,” she said.

He pointed to the sitting room, and Gwen followed him there. The fire had died down, but the coals still glowed, and the room was warm. Thomas lit a lamp and placed it on a small table between a couple of armchairs, then indicated that she take a seat.

“What did you wish to speak to me about?” he asked curiously.

Gwen clasped her hands tightly and offered a silent, fervent prayer that the right words would come. “I can’t thank you enough for bringing me to Liverpool, for inviting me to your home, showing me the city, and taking me to the docks and the theatre. It’s been an incredible, eye-opening experience that I couldn’t have had any other way.” She gave him a tremulous smile. “But I think that I’ve stayed as long as I should, and it would be best if I returned home as soon as possible.”

Thomas’s surprise showed on his face. “Have you been unhappy here?” he asked.

“No,” Gwen said. “A little homesick, perhaps, but not unhappy. You’ve been too good to me to allow that to happen. But I do feel my presence here is stressful for your mother, and I don’t want that.”

“I told you to pay no heed to my mother,” Thomas said.

“Yes, you did, but it’s not just that, Thomas,” she said, hoping she could make him understand. “Being here has helped me realize what different worlds we come from. While you were in Llanwddyn, you did a remarkable job of fitting in with the locals, but all the while, you knew the situation was temporary, that you’d eventually return to your work and your life here.”

She spread her arms to encompass the beautiful furnishings in the elegant room. “This is where you belong, Thomas, and you thrive here. Through your work and social standing, you’ll make a difference in the lives of others in a way that I could never dream of doing.

“My path is different. I know that now. I’m not completely sure where it will take me, but I hope it will be as fulfilling to me as your path will be to you.”

Thomas leaned forward, and she could see the anguish in his eyes. “You’re right about me leaving Llanwddyn,” he said. “Mr. Wainwright has asked me to return to the office in Liverpool, but I was hoping I could persuade you to join me here.”

Gwen reached out and took his hand. “You and I are good friends, and if I were to agree, we would probably muddle along for a while, but at some point you would start to resent my inexperience. I would be a hopeless hostess, I would dress too simply, my conversation would be sadly lacking, and . . .” She gave a small smile. “My Welsh accent would only make things worse.”

“Those things would change with time,” Thomas said. “I could help you.”

“I know you could—and you would,” she said. “But at what price? At every high-society function, you would be anxiously hoping that I not make a terrible mistake, and I would be desperately wishing I were somewhere else. Somewhere outside in the fresh air, climbing the hills or picking the wildflowers.”

Thomas searched her face, looking for any hint of hesitation. When he found none, he jumped to his feet and paced over to the fireplace before turning to face her again. “Is there anything I can say or do to make you change your mind?” he asked.

She shook her head. “No. I believe this is the right course for both of us. I’d like to think that you’ve benefited in some small measure from your time in Llanwddyn, and I will never forget what I’ve learned from you and from my experiences in Liverpool, but the time has come for each of us to return to our rightful places.”

Thomas rubbed his hand across his face as if doing so would erase the regret etched there. “I care about you too much to force my wishes upon you, Gwen. If that’s really what you want, I’ll take you home.”

Gwen rose from the chair and clasped her trembling hands together. She had a fairly good idea of how much this was costing him. “Thomas Henley, you are by far the finest Englishman I have ever met,” she said.

Thomas gave her a ghost of a smile. “If only that were enough,” he said softly.