My heart began to beat rapidly once more. Tea with the Lady would surely be a great deal less amusing than out perusing the shops with my aunt had been.
Nonetheless, I followed Aunt Patience up the stairs to the drawing room on the first floor, right to the room where we had tea the afternoon before.
Lady Voss was already there, sitting elegantly upon one of the settees, a teacup lightly held in her hand. She turned to regard us at the door, her stoic expression firmly in place. “Ah, Lady Hayward and Miss Amelia. Do come in and join me for tea.”
“Why, certainly, my Lady,” Aunt Patience said, moving swiftly into the room. She took a seat on the fainting couch directly across from the one Lady Voss sat upon, and I followed her to it.
Lady Voss snapped her fingers, and one of the maids standing back along the wall stepped up to her as if she had flown.
“Bring us some more teacups,” Lady Voss said. “And make sure you bring us some fresh tea, as well.”
“Right away, your Ladyship,” the maid said, curtsying and scurrying away.
I watched her go, feeling inadequate where I sat, knowing that it would be far more appropriate for me to be in the same role as she.
“Well, now, Lady Hayward. Were your ventures successful today?” Lady Voss asked, setting her teacup down on the small, polished table between us all.
“Oh, yes, indeed, Lady Voss,” Aunt Patience said, sitting up straight, her face bright. “Lady Michaels recommended to me a wonderful seamstress, and we are having some new pieces made for Miss Amelia.”
Lady Voss’s eyes narrowed as they fell on me. “How kind of you to spoil your niece so.”
“Oh, dear Amelia is like a daughter to me,” Aunt Patience said, reaching over and taking my hand in her own. “As you know, I had no daughters of my own, though I had dearly wished for some.”
“Indeed,” Lady Voss said. “Though daughters are far more difficult, in my opinion. They require more meticulous care, especially when they are young. It takes them a great deal longer to mature, and they must be pruned in such a way as to find a suitable husband when they are older. Wouldn’t you agree, Miss Amelia?”
I blanched, not expecting her to turn her opinions onto me. “Oh… yes, my Lady. Though I must admit, I only have experience with sisters, all of whom were quite mature before they were very old.”
“Indeed they were,” Aunt Patience said. “All four of them were properly accomplished in their early years, thanks to their mother’s and my diligence. Their father was incredibly busy, you see, and why would they need a governess when I was as close as I was?”
Lady Voss arched a brow. “You undertook their education? All alone?”
“Well, not alone, of course,” Aunt Patience said. “I would often have the help of proper instructors and tutors who would come and give help whenever we would require it. But each of these girls received an education that would be comparable to that of the royal family.”
“I see…” Lady Voss said.
Silence fell over the room, the slow, methodic tick, tock of the clock the only sound aside from what we could hear through the open windows of the streets below.
“And what of your accomplishments, Miss Amelia?” Lady Voss asked, turning her attention back to me. “Tell me of the education that you and your sisters received.”
“That is quite simple,” Aunt Patience said. “She and her sisters were taught a wide range of all manner of subjects that all elegant young ladies should study. First and foremost, we—”
“I believe I asked Miss Amelia, Lady Hayward, not you,” Lady Voss said, her eyes narrowing as she looked at my aunt.
Aunt Patience, whose mouth hung open, looked over at me before snapping her jaw shut. She nodded encouragingly at me to continue.
My heart was racing so fast that it was beginning to make me feel dizzy. How was it that my aunt ever enjoyed spending time with this woman, who seemed so hard and cold? And why was she so insistent about asking me these questions? Who was I?
Was she suspicious of who I was? Had she somehow discerned through my actions or my mannerisms that I was not as prestigious as we were all attempting to make those around us believe? Would she somehow know I was nothing more than the daughter of a vicar?
“As my aunt was saying, Lady Voss,” I said, beginning slowly. “My sisters and I did certainly receive a wide range of education. We learned everything from literature to music, as well as etiquette and some very basic arithmetic.”
Lady Voss studied my face, as if she believed me to be fibbing. “What of music did you learn?” she asked. “Do you play the pianoforte?”
“I do, yes, but rather poorly compared to my eldest sister,” I said. “She is so accomplished that people have sought her special tutelage so they may learn, including her adoptive daughter.”
Aunt Patience nodded proudly, smiling at me. It seemed I was doing a fine job painting my history rather ideally, though nothing I said was untrue.
“One might say she is so talented that she could play in London for a full theater,” Aunt Patience said.
Lady Voss arched a brow. “Is she a self-proclaimed pianist?” she asked.
“Oh, no, my Lady,” I said. “She is quite humble. Even to this day, she believes herself no better than any others who play.”
“Hmph,” Lady Voss said, somewhat bristled. “And you said you play as well?”
“Indeed, but far more average than my sister, as I said,” I said. “She is the superior player, and as I grew older, I learned to play the harp, but much preferred to give my sister the chance to play so she could entertain us all with her talent.”
“I see,” Lady Voss said. “What of literature? Are you accomplished in that subject?”
“Oh, yes, I read a great deal as a child,” I said. “My mother would even have me read to the family in the evenings. She said the cadence of my voice was soothing.”
“You speak of your mother in the past,” she said.
I looked away. “Yes, my Lady. My mother passed away last year from a rather difficult illness.”
“Well… I am sorry to hear that, child,” Lady Voss said. “It is never easy for a young lady to grow up without her mother.”
“No,” I said. “Though my aunt has been a great comfort to my sisters and me.”
“I am pleased to hear it,” Lady Voss said, some of her stoicism returning.
“But Miss Amelia was very well rounded,” Aunt Patience said, stepping in for me for a moment. “She was quite fortunate to have grown up in the country where she had plenty of fresh air and places to stretch her legs.”
“And you were given plenty of opportunities to socialize?” Lady Voss asked. This seemed like a vital question.
Aunt Patience nodded, though did not speak.
“Oh, yes, certainly,” I said. “Almost every week we had ample opportunities for engaging with those in our community.”
Lady Voss nodded, though I could not be sure if she was pleased with my answer or not. “As to your accomplishments, certainly there had to be something that you are more skilled at then your sisters.”
Back to this? “Well… I suppose that I am rather fond of art,” I said. “I have taken up painting more as I have gotten older as well.”
Lady Voss’s eyes widened. “Art?” she asked. She seemed to be swelling, laying her hand over her heart.
“Art is one of Lady Voss’s great passions as well,” Aunt Patience said.
For the next hour, Lady Voss regaled us with information about all of the artwork that she and Lord Voss had chosen for their estate. She gave us, in great detail, descriptions of each piece, as well as the artists’ names who had painted them. Many, she claimed, were originals, and I could not be certain if she wished to impress me or to draw envy from me. Either way, I sat and listened, rather fascinated, as she spoke.
I was also rather pleased that the attention had moved away from me.
Tea was finished at half past four, when Lady Voss sa
id she would be retiring to her rooms before dinner to dress and had Mrs. Bower take her away.
As soon as she was out of the room, Aunt Patience seemed to sag under some great weight.
“Aunt Patience, whatever is the matter?” I asked.
She sat herself down on the fainting sofa once more, shaking her head. “Oh, dear… I suppose I should have seen this coming.”
“Seen what coming?” I asked, taking the seat beside her.
She looked up at me, rather forlorn. “My dear, I suppose I should have said something earlier, but Colonel Strickland is Lady Voss’s nephew.”
The weight of her words settled over me, and suddenly her behavior seemed to make sense.
“She is quite protective of him. Colonel Strickland was a sick child, and it seemed to be that he was her favorite. I suppose I should have suspected that she might act this way if she were to discover that someone was attempting to catch his eye,” Aunt Patience said.
“But we were not speaking for more than a few moments,” I said. “How could she know that anything might have been considered?”
“Perhaps it was not your speaking that concerned her, but his reactions to it,” Aunt Patience said. “One cannot be certain that he has not sent a letter asking after you. If Lady Voss believes him to be interested, she would certainly be far more scrutinizing of you than she might have originally been.”
My heart was in my throat. Was it possible that Colonel Strickland had been interested in me as I was in him? How could such a brief moment be so revealing to the both of us?
“You believe that she was attempting to learn of my character?” I asked.
“Yes,” Aunt Patience said.
“And what if I have not measured up?” I asked nervously.
“Do not fret too much, my dear,” she said. “I am certain we can still find a way for this to work. Perhaps she was simply fatigued after her the dinner last night.”
“Perhaps,” I said, though I was certainly doubtful.
“Come, let us rest for some time before dinner,” Aunt Patience said. “Your uncle will surely be pleased to hear of our success in town today.”
“Indeed,” I said, far less excited about the dresses than I had once been.
8
Several days had passed, and I was finally starting to grow used to life at number eleven.
Mornings were long and lazy, which suited me just fine. I was able to rise early and spend some time reading and writing letters home. I had received letters both from Father and from Juliana, all asking after our exciting time in Bath. I wished I had more bountiful news to tell them, as I knew they all wondered if some young man had yet caught my eye. I was not prepared to tell them of Colonel Strickland, as we had only met the one evening at the dinner party.
Since then, we had attended a small luncheon at Lord and Lady Michaels’ residence, as well as a stroll through the promenade with Lady Voss, yet I had not seen the colonel again. Aunt Patience had been certain he would have been at Lord Michaels’, but there was no such chance, it seemed.
It was an afternoon almost a week after our arrival in Bath, and it was far warmer than any of the days we had been there. The windows had all been thrown open and the fresh air was filtering in, but even so, it was rather stifling being stuck indoors.
Aunt Patience was sitting in the drawing room with a book in hand. Uncle Charles and Lord Voss were now on their third game of chess. Lady Voss seemed entirely content to sit in her chair and use her ornately decorated fan to cool herself.
The silence was irritating as opposed to relaxing. As I sat beside the window, staring down at the passing carriages and couples arm in arm, I found myself unable to sit still or comfortably.
It had been a long time since I had been out of doors on my own, enjoying the breeze and the quiet of my own mind. I longed for some space. The room I was sitting in felt rather stiff.
That, and the occasional glances from Lady Voss were causing me to feel unsettled.
“I think I shall go take a walk,” I said eventually, when several minutes without another word had been spoken in the room. “I believe some exercise will do me well.”
“Very well, dear,” Aunt Patience said, looking up from her book. “Do not be gone long, though, as we are to leave for dinner at Sir Yate’s before six.”
“Of course,” I said, curtsying to all those in the room. “Enjoy your afternoon.”
It was hard for me to keep my steps slow and steady until I was out of the room.
I made my way up to my room where I pulled out the satchel with my art supplies from the inside of my suitcase. It was the first time I had looked at them since arriving here, and it gave me great excitement and comfort to hold them in my hands once more.
Tucking the satchel beneath my arm, I hurried from my room, eager to feel the sunshine on my face.
The street was busy as I stepped out the front door, Mr. Trent bowing to me as I went. I took a deep breath of the fresh air and headed down along the street toward the center of town.
The air was quite warm but not unpleasant now that I was out of doors. Everything seemed much brighter, as well. I was grateful for the shade that my hat provided.
I took a few turns through the promenade, listening for the sound of the river, wishing to be closer to a more natural landscape as opposed to that of the tall buildings and stone roads. As lovely as they were, I missed my countryside with the rolling hills and wildflowers and trees.
The river came into view after a short time, and my heart skipped. It was backdropped by the other half of the city, and even though it was by no means the lush grasses I longed for, the rushing of the water and the sound of it all was enough to calm my soul and help me to feel less trapped.
I found a walkway along the river that had some small patches of grass, along with some trees for shade. I carried my satchel to one of these trees and settled myself beneath its branches, content to finally be truly alone for the first time in a fortnight.
I pulled my paints out and set them all on the ground in front of me. I had also brought a small easel I had fashioned for myself some years ago, something small enough to travel with. A fresh, clean canvas was tucked inside as well, ready to be adorned in any way I saw fit.
I ran the bristles of the brush between my fingers, as familiar as a friend.
The anticipation of a new painting was always so great just before I began, as the inspiration coursed through me like a physical thread.
My eyes moved across my surroundings, searching for the perfect spot to capture and put on the canvas. There were so many vantages that would look lovely on a canvas.
As I uncorked the jar of blue paint, I thought of my sisters and of the painting I could bring home for them to see, a representation of the city.
I wanted to capture the city’s warmth, its promise of things to come. Everyone always seemed so excited here, as if the most wonderful day were just around the corner. I was not sure if it was the dinner parties or the balls or the exquisitely dressed people, but there was always something to look forward to.
Not for the first time, I wished they could have been here with me. Perhaps it would have been easier me to face Lady Voss and her scrutiny if I didn’t feel as if I was entirely alone. I wouldn’t want for them to worry about me, though, so I had not said anything about Lady Voss or her character.
The painting came easily to me, and I suspected it was because it had been such a long time since I had done anything artistic. It was like waking from a dream, and I felt all the stress I had been carrying around start to melt away.
This was the most content I had been in days, and I knew that it was doing my heart well.
The landscape was taking shape on the canvas. I didn’t waste any of the sunlight I had, knowing that the lower it dipped toward the horizon, the more golden the light would become, glinting off the windows and bathing the streets in warm light.
“Miss Amelia? Is that you?”
The
paintbrush tumbled from my hand, striking the grass, splattering the yellow paint.
I looked up and saw Colonel Strickland standing a short distance away, further along the path in the garden I had found, and he was hurrying toward me.
My heart began to race. “Colonel Strickland,” I said.
He was dressed handsomely, with a silk top hat and a coat of warm ivory. His voice was even lovelier than I had remembered and his face more handsome than I had been dreaming of.
“Please, don’t get up for me,” he said, stretching out his hand as I made to get to my feet. “May I join you?”
I nodded, suddenly at a loss for words.
I had wanted to see him, wanted to talk with him again, and here he was, completely catching me off guard.
He settled down on the grass beside me, and I became very aware of his nearness. He smiled genteelly at me, and it was as if my heart within my chest melted.
“How are you this fine day?” the colonel asked, pulling his hat from his head and setting it down on the grass between us.
“I am quite well,” I said. “And you?”
“Very well,” he said, his smile growing.
I felt his eyes shift toward the painting in front of me, and my nerves began to sing.
“My heavens, Miss Amelia. Your painting is wonderful. Look how you have captured the riverside, and my word, the light… You have quite the keen eye,” he said. “Not only do you have exquisite taste in art, but you also are able to paint as skillfully as the artist we admired at my aunt’s dinner party together.”
Together. So he had remembered our conversations from that night.
“It is nothing special,” I said, reaching toward the painting to take it down from the easel, but he tried to stop me.
“It is quite special,” he said. “I have spent a great deal of my life here in Bath, and I have yet to see someone capture the heart of this town that I love so dearly.” He pointed to one of the spires of the cathedral on the other side of the river. “See this feature? You have done it such justice by drawing the eye there. Many would have focused on the southern side of the river, and yet you have chosen the eastern side as being the more prominent. And it is so lovely.”
A Perilous Secret Page 6
