The Beauty

by Connolly, Rebecca

  Will raised a brow. “Keep that up and you’ll find yourself all alone with your sister and your aunt.”

  Sheffield cleared his throat and straightened. “Right, sensible bets are wise, especially while you try to gauge the other players at the table…”

  Chapter 3

  Within a week, Caroline had mastered the rhythm of Ashby House, and was just as comfortable in her new role as she could have hoped.

  It helped that the staff was small, and that Lady Ashby had no qualms in telling her how she felt, what she wished, and how things ought to be. Adjustment was really quite simple under those circumstances, and Caroline could adapt accordingly.

  She had written to her friends in her journal every day, which seemed far and away better than writing any of them letters. They knew of her being sponsored, of course, but she was afraid of admitting her fears to them. How she would almost rather return to the class of her birth than pretend at the anticipated heights her sponsorship could give her. She could not reveal that, and she would not burden them with those things. And being as she was, her days were not filled with any sort of excitement, only the day-to-day busy activity of a fine house, though without any of the social engagements that one might have expected.

  No one called on Lady Ashby, and Caroline, naturally, had no one on whom to call. Or to receive, for that matter. And that suited her just as well.

  She would prefer not having anyone call on her presently, or to call on anyone herself.

  Much better to live the quiet life she hoped to have in future now while she had responsibilities that were the perfect excuse to avoid going out in society. She needed to make a marriage for herself, that was true, but there was no reason a poor girl from the docks needed such a fuss to find one.

  And yet, Lady Ashby had surprised Caroline with tutors almost from the first moment of her arrival at Ashby House.

  Tutors. Despite having successfully complete her education at Miss Bell’s, she had tutors.

  Caroline had made an attempt at protesting the action, but Lady Ashby had insisted that all fine ladies furthered their societal accomplishment education even after finishing with school and governesses. That hardly seemed a thing of truth, but one ought not to make a habit of contradicting one’s sponsor, particularly when she was a lady of station.

  If she were to be perfectly honest, Caroline was thrilled with the opportunity that training in all the areas of accomplishment would bring her, and that Lady Ashby was giving her such attentions, despite her already generous sponsorship.

  Caroline’s entire life, up until being sent to Miss Bell’s, had been spent at the docks. The house she had grown up in could be seen by any ship entering the London docks from the east. She was, or had been, at one time, more accustomed to the rough behaviors of her neighbors and associates than with anything resembling politeness.

  But for Miss Bell’s and her friends, she might have been there still, and a girl of her quiet nature would never last long there.

  She was determined to take this opportunity to change her fortunes, as it were, or she would never surpass them.

  Presently, she had finished her daily instruction in the pianoforte, which was not particularly needed, given it had been one of her few true accomplishments from Miss Bell’s. Mr. Timmons came regularly and assisted her in her technique, recommended new music, and his instruction proved to be more of a discussion than anything else.

  It was one of her favorite parts of the day.

  “Miss Perkins?” Margot, one of the senior housemaids, stood at the door to the music room with a fond smile. “Lady Ashby is asking for you.”

  Caroline nodded, unsurprised. A week in or not, Lady Ashby had no qualms about calling upon her as though she had been at Ashby House for months rather than days. It had the strangest way of setting Caroline completely at ease in her new role and kept her from being terrified about the future before her.

  She followed Margot to Lady Ashby’s parlor, which was where her ladyship opted to rest while Caroline was at her lessons. It provided her solitude while keeping her close enough to hear Caroline’s music, which she claimed brought her peace. It also happened to allow her to call out her instruction for any other topic upon which Caroline was being educated, should she have felt the need to do so.

  There had not been a lesson yet where she had remained entirely silent.

  Lady Ashby sat in her usual wingback chair, three cushions visible about her, and her head was laid back, eyes closed. Her lace cap was perfectly placed, as always, though her thick shawl was askew on one side.

  Caroline smiled as she curtseyed before the woman, though she wouldn’t see it. “My lady.”

  Lady Ashby’s eyes did not so much as flutter, but she did exhale audibly. “Miss Perkins. Today we will receive my dear nephew and niece. They will be coming to stay for the duration of the Season, and I trust that you will behave yourself with the decorum expected of my companion.”

  Guests? No one had mentioned this to her. The idea of guests joining them gave her pause. It was one thing to be companion to Lady Ashby; it could be quite another to be among her kin.

  “I trust I may expect you to welcome them?” Lady Ashby prodded.

  “Of course, my lady,” Caroline replied dutifully, managing a smile.

  Lady Ashby had the ability to sound perfectly haughty and full of condescension while keeping an air of mischief and good humor that seemed a perfect contradiction to the words she spoke. Caroline was not one to cower before intimidation, though she would never call herself bold, so from the beginning, Lady Ashby’s quirks had not perturbed her. Finding the light of mischief had brightened everything considerably, and now Caroline found herself amused every time Lady Ashby opted for a stern demeanor.

  One of Lady Ashby’s eyes opened, no hint of fatigue within it, and she smiled. “I have no doubt of that, Miss Perkins. You are nothing if not perfect in your decorum.”

  Caroline bit her lip carefully, now fighting a broader smile. “I fear I must contradict you there, my lady…”

  “Don’t,” came the snappish reply. “That is not behavior becoming of my companion.” Lady Ashby smiled and opened her other eye, taking in Caroline. “With my niece being about, Miss Perkins, we shall have to have some new gowns made for you. I greatly admire your simple elegance and it suits your great beauty with rather becoming taste, but it will not do for association with Miss Sheffield.”

  “Association?” Caroline repeated before her good sense could prevent her. “Will that be necessary?”

  Lady Ashby raised a brow. “I should say so. Remember, my dear, that you are not only my companion, but in my charge. So, too, will she be. I bear responsibility for the both of you this Season, and though you have differing ideas as to your particular aims within it, I cannot have you appearing unequal in any respect. Association will be inevitable, I fear. You far outstrip her in beauty, as will not be a surprise, but she does have the benefit of great accomplishment. It ought to put you both on a same level when taken on the whole, your birth aside. If I can assist you both, it would be a delight to do so.”

  Caroline did not like the idea of comparison, and she never had. She knew full well where her position was in life according to station, and her time with her friends at Miss Bell’s had rid her of the more disastrous flaws in her upbringing. It hadn’t made a difference to many of her classmates, who took no pains to use comparison as a weapon, but to her friends, it had only meant Caroline had a unique perspective on the world.

  Since coming to Ashby House, even, Caroline had made strides in her improvement. Her tutors assured her that while she may not be considered truly accomplished, she had accomplishment enough to suit some. Her once harsh accent had become now quite diminished at school, and even more polished, filled with finer manners and airs, when she spoke at all.

  Most of the time, Caroline found her thoughts were much better suited to staying in her head than coming out of her mouth, where they became jum
bled and practically incoherent with her poor talent for speaking. She was not merely reserved due to her quiet nature, but also out of necessity. She was not intelligent in conversation, nor was she politely ignorant, as all fine young ladies were expected to be. Caroline’s opinions, which were many, kept to the vaults of her mind, as she had learned from a rather young age that her opinions were simply unwanted.

  Best not to expound upon that with her ladyship.

  “Miss Perkins,” Lady Ashby said in the kindest voice Caroline had heard from her yet.

  Caroline looked at her, bringing her attention back to present, smiling politely.

  Lady Ashby dipped her chin ever so slightly. “I can assure you that your situation is not so bad, and some extraordinary and rather favorable matches have been made with far worse. In my mind, there is no reason why you should not benefit from my patronage quite well.”

  Pleased that her thoughts had been so in line with Lady Ashby’s, and that the answer she received was exactly what she would have wished, Caroline nodded without speaking, her throat constricting in an almost painful manner.

  “And as for your father being in trade,” Lady Ashby went on, fiddling with the edges of her shawl, “I do not mind that at all. I believe it is a sign of a keen mind and financial intelligence, which is a right sight better than most of the gentility can say.”

  That was surprising in the extreme, and Caroline knew her expression showed it.

  Lady Ashby chuckled to herself. “Does that sentiment so shock you? Miss Perkins, I am not so set in the ways of Society that I feel it should be restricted to those of a particular birth. I admire ambition and hard work, though I’ve never quite had to possess either. Your father has managed to rise from his situation and contribute to your dowry enough to be an excellent candidate in Society, and while your mother certainly sank herself with the connection, it is clear she saw potential where no other could.”

  Oh, this was unbearable. Much more of this kindness, and Caroline would grow too emotional for being presentable, and she had spent a lifetime avoiding such things. Her emotions were to always stay contained until she had the privacy to do them justice. No other person in the world had seen her emotions get the better of her, saving for Annabelle, Penelope, and Johanna, and even they had only seen it once or twice.

  She could not let her patroness see her emotions rise in such a way, and she could not confide in her what this all meant.

  And as for the potential in her father… Well, it would be best if Lady Ashby did not know how things truly stood with him. It was undoubtedly true that Caroline’s mother had seen potential in him that others had not, but it was not nearly the potential it should have been. Her uncle Paul had been the one to secure her fortune as it was, as much as her father had amassed it.

  But her uncle would never have been able to do so had he not had a keen mind and intelligence, and her mother’s connection with that family had proven effective, though not in the obvious ways.

  Family secrets were a tricky business.

  Caroline swallowed with difficulty, and only nodded. “Thank you, my lady.”

  “Such a simple reply,” Lady Ashby mused, her lips curving. “No excesses, no demures, no elaboration. You are quite the enigma, Miss Perkins, and I like that very much. Mr. and Miss Sheffield will be here this afternoon. Might I trouble you to read to me before luncheon? You do the thing so well, and your voice alterations for each character are so engaging.”

  “Of course.” Caroline moved to the end table and picked up the novel there, then moved a chair nearby and situated herself there. This had become the routine for them, and the usual activity in which they were engaged. Lady Ashby could not read for long herself, as it pained her eyes, which would then pain her head, but she could listen for an age and enjoy every moment of it.

  Books had ever been an escape for Caroline, and she was only too grateful that her mother had taught her to read from a very young age, even while they lived in cramped and poor apartments on the docks. There had always been books at hand, somehow, and because of that, Caroline had never felt shame or despair about the state in which they lived.

  She hadn’t known any different, of course, but she had been well aware even then that she could only rise so far in life.

  That thought had never quite rid itself.

  Miss Bell hadn’t seen it as a hindrance, and it was clear Lady Ashby did not.

  Miss Bell was a romantic, and Lady Ashby was kind.

  Time would tell if either of them were correct.

  Caroline read for what felt an age, pausing only to make tea when Margot had brought it in, and sipping that tea when her throat began to dry. Every laugh or smile Lady Ashby shared during the reading encouraged Caroline to continue, and when her breathing slowed and deepened, Caroline dipped the volume of her voice in an attempt to lull the woman into her rest.

  If their guests were to arrive shortly, it would require a good amount of strength and energy, which Lady Ashby did not have much of. As Caroline understood it, shortly before her arrival, Lady Ashby had suffered a debilitating illness that had rendered her bedridden for weeks, and, having a sickly constitution on her best days, she was struggling in her recovery. Her strength, which had never been good, was slow to return, and her energy was easily depleted.

  Being rather inclined to rest and solitude herself, Caroline was ever more convinced that this was the perfect situation for her.

  When Lady Ashby had indeed drifted off, Caroline set the book aside and rested her own eyes, letting her body relax from its proper posture and slump into the chair. Even after years of training, the deportment required of a lady of society was not quite natural for her.

  The faintest clearing of a throat brought Caroline’s attention the door of the room, where Margot again stood, her smile an apologetic one this time. “Begging your pardon, Miss Perkins. There is a letter for you.”

  Caroline stilled at that. Who knew she was here? And, beyond that, who knew her well enough to write to her after her being here so short a time?

  She swallowed and nodded, taking the letter from the tray when Margot approached. “Thank you, Margot.”

  Only when the girl left did Caroline break the seal, the handwriting within bringing with it a faint feeling of discouragement.

  Not from her friends, then. But from her father.

  So, it would begin, then.

  Chickee-

  I hope you have settled in with your fine lady and are making a good connection. Anything to bring the name of Perkins higher.

  Have you begun to receive funds for your trouble with the lady? Is it enough to send a bit home for your poor father? I’ve run a little short of late and would appreciate anything my Chickee girl can send on.

  Your father

  Caroline shook her head and folded the letter in agitation. She received regular updates from Mr. Hardcastle, her father and uncle’s man of business, and the man who saw to her own finances, such as they were. She knew the business was sound, and her father would have no need of her pin money, such as it would be. She was not employed by Lady Ashby in truth and would have no salary as such.

  Pin money, yes, as had been agreed upon and as was befitting a young lady in Society, which Caroline was purported to be, for the time.

  If her father thought she would spare that sum, meager to the finer station and precious to her, he was vastly mistaken.

  He could do nothing good with it, of that she was quite sure.

  And why would he have any need of it, if his business was sound?

  The bell of the front door rang, and Caroline looked at the clock on the mantle.

  It was early in the afternoon, even before luncheon, but hardly premature, if it happened to be Mr. and Miss Sheffield. If it were callers, there would be quite the rush to prepare Lady Ashby for receiving them.

  Caroline moved to the door of the room, listening closely. The voices were unclear, but as there were more than one, she could only
assume it was their guests.

  She quickly went to the window, glancing into the street. They arrived in a simple enough coach, rather like any hack to be found on the street, and their trunks were being unloaded. She could not see the Sheffields themselves, but they were undoubtedly in the foyer by now.

  Glancing at Lady Ashby, who was still quite asleep, Caroline slipped from the room to descend below and greet them on behalf of their aunt. Millie was on her way up the stairs and smiled at Caroline as she passed her.

  “Would you wake her ladyship, Millie?” Caroline asked in a low voice. “She will wish to greet her guests. I will delay as much as I can with Mrs. Ramsay and see them settled.”

  “Yes, Miss Perkins,” Millie replied as she continued up.

  Caroline smoothed her simple gray day dress and moved to the foyer where Margot, Mrs. Ramsay, and Fellows, the butler, were assembling around two fair haired and finely dressed guests.

  Terror coiled in her stomach, but she managed to keep her feet moving.

  The young woman saw Caroline coming and her eyes widened, her mouth pinching. The young man did not see her, chatting as he was with Fellows, who did not chat very well at all.

  Caroline curtseyed perfectly and smiled with all the warmth she bore. “Miss Sheffield, welcome to Ashby House.”

  “Thank you,” came the crimped, too fine tone. Miss Sheffield’s bright blue eyes flashed with something Caroline did not understand, and she removed her bonnet and wrap, revealing bright, golden, perfectly pinned curls. She draped her wrap over Caroline’s arms and forced the bonnet into her hand. “Mrs. Ramsay, will you show me where I am to stay? And then I desire to see my aunt, of course.”

  Caroline bit the inside of her lip but kept resolutely still. Steady, she told herself. Steady.

  Mrs. Ramsay’s mouth pinched in the selfsame way that Miss Sheffield’s had, lines forming from her lips and extending into her cheeks. Her eyes flicked to Caroline, and she exhaled silently, her chin dipping ever so slightly. “Very well, Miss Sheffield,” she replied in the coldest tone Caroline had ever heard the warm woman use. “This way, if you will follow me.”