As the man of the house, he was to protect his family as well as lead them. He had the right to do as he pleased, as well as the responsibility – they should go hand-in-hand. Papa had not a sense of responsibility within him whenever there was gambling involved, for he never stopped to think of the repercussions. Now he sat within his study, drinking his whiskey as though a solution could be found in the bottle.
Would Henry have been the same had she married him? She recalled that he had enjoyed a game of cards with low stakes, but had that merely been a front to a hidden addiction? Alice could consider everything now as she was no longer under the spell of love. Rather, she had received an awakening that had opened her eyes to the role of women and men in society.
Disappointment and heartache seemed to have been a recipe for greater awareness, one that she was glad to have received so early on in life.
To tell the truth, she had been better off not knowing that there was an exaggeration of a man's elevated role in society, because it was too much of a burden, really. Blissful ignorance was preferred to painful awareness. After all, what could she, a mere woman, do in the light of all that she knew and had seen? As it was, her future did not look like the independence she would have fought for, but further loss of freedom if she did indeed get married.
Her thoughts put tension into her body, so much so that she did not pay attention to her painting until she had slashed pink across her clear blue sky.
“Goodness, what have I done? Mama wanted an English garden, not a sunset!” she said out loud.
Alice paused. Yes, her mother had said an English garden, but she had not specified the time of day. She decided that she could actually make her mistake work to her advantage. Soon, her previous thoughts gave way to the work before her, bringing her the relief she desperately needed from her family problems. Alice was in her element as she mixed colours, artfully applying them to her canvas in skilful strokes. The room around her disappeared as her painting consumed her, her brow puckered in deep concentration. This is what she loved. This was what she could spend the rest of her life doing.
Painting had not been a natural talent, for it had not come easily to her. It was during a trip to her aunt's house many years ago when she had come across an artist painting a portrait of her dog. Alice recalled sitting there unmoving as the artist had created a startling likeness out of nothing. It had all been a blob of colour until he started to add definition that brought everything to life. It was then that Alice fell in love with painting and endeavoured to create the same kind of magic with her own hands. Frustration had been her daily friend as she had worked to perfect her method, first by copying other paintings or trying to draw various things such as flowers, animals, even people. As her talent continued to grow, it was no longer a matter of trying, but of putting her own personal touch on whatever she painted.
As her English garden came to life beneath her brush, she decided that one or two tropical flowers could not hurt the overall painting. She had seen such flowers in her aunt's extensive collection of books about foreign countries and their flora and fauna. Aunt Tally was the only one of the family with much imagination and an open-minded outlook of life, always looking beyond the four corners of England. Alice enjoyed visiting her and intended to do so now that she was in London, as Aunt Tally lived in the town all year round. Her delight grew as a magnificent flower in full bloom came to life, adding a je ne sais quoi to the painting.
But why stop at a flower? Why not a parrot or a toucan?
Her English garden was not going to be any old regular garden, but one that reflected her bright mind. The bird was placed in the sky, a vivid contrast to the soft sunset she had created. A pat on the shoulder sent her paintbrush to the floor as Alice jumped and turned around.
“Violet! Why do you enjoy frightening me so?”
Her sister, eyes alight with mischief, only grinned as she picked up Alice's paintbrush and placed it on the easel.
“You looked ever so engrossed in what you were doing that I could not pass on the chance.” She looked at the painting. “That is marvellous, Alice, particularly that beautiful bird. Surely we do not get them here?”
“No, we do not, but I thought the garden needed something exotic to take away from the safe beauty of it all.”
“Is this for Mama?”
“Yes.”
Violet raised her eyebrows. “Mama is a safe, typical and predictable English woman. Will these extra touches be acceptable to her?”
“I shall convince her that she needs some colour to her life – you know that Mama listens to what I say.”
“That is true. However, I have not come here to talk about Mama or your painting, but of the ball.”
Alice rolled her eyes. “Oh Vi, do not spoil my mood. I only just put aside thoughts of Papa's gambling debt. I do not wish to think about this ridiculous ball.”
“Oh, Alice. It is not ridiculous! Why must you hate these events so much? Can we not enjoy them for once?”
Alice walked away from her painting to drop into a nearby chair. She needed to be comfortable to have this conversation because her sister was relentless. Violet followed and, unlike her, settled into her chair with grace. That was one of the many glaring differences between Violet and her. Her sister was the epitome of grace, elegance, beauty, poise and gentleness, while Alice struggled to remain lady-like in company. It was a sore point for her mother, but Alice could not change her nature any more than her mother could change hers. Or perhaps she merely did not wish to change.
“I cannot say that I necessarily hate these events, Vi. They do serve delicious food at times.”
Violet covered her eyes. “Goodness, Alice, you are a strange sort.”
“You sound surprised.”
Her sister lowered her hands, a tiny smile forming at the corners of her lips. “I do not know why I should be when I know you well. But you do have a habit of saying the strangest of things. We do not go to balls for the food, but for the social nature of them.”
“I am not a sociable person, Vi. You should know that better than anyone.” The one time that she had put herself out there and given a man a chance, he had broken her heart.
Violet seemed to be thinking about the same thing as her eyes took on a look of understanding. “One man cannot represent the entire male population, Alice.”
“That may be, but there is no knowing the character of each man, is there? Besides, I have greater things to worry about than being sociable. We came to London for the season, but I was not expected to participate. However, it seems that things have changed.”
“Is that why you have seemed worried these past days? A frown has rarely left your face for some time. I have longed to ask you about it, but I have been helping Mama with errands.”
“I see that you have not heard of Papa's activities?”
“Do you speak of the gambling debt?”
Alice's brow creased. “You know of it?”
"The whole of London has heard of it. I attended an outing with Beatrice Shufflebottom four days ago, and she informed me of it. Truly, I was not surprised as I had seen Papa's state that night. But as he was not the only father bringing shame to his family, I did not fret."
Her sister certainly had an odd way of looking at things. Things did not bother her as they did Alice and she did not know if that was a blessing or a curse.
“But it is this problem that has forced me to participate, Vi. Mama and Papa have hinted at finding a wealthy suitor to help with the debt, and while I find their solution to be utterly ridiculous, I feel compelled to do what I can to help them.”
“Alice, my advice to you is to not focus on why you are at the ball, but the ball itself. Open yourself to all that a ball of its kind has to offer, and you may just enjoy it.”
“That is highly unlikely, Vi.”
"Oh, dear sister of mine, you fret too much. Beatrice says that you will develop unsightly lines upon your face if you look at life too seriously.
”
“Laughing and smiling does the same thing.”
Her sister's smile immediately fell, prompting a laugh from Alice. “I hardly see what is so funny, Alice. Lines upon your face does not bring about the fresh-faced look so highly desired by many.”
"Neither do men and yet I may be forced to marry one."
“Think of it in this way. Whatever is meant to happen will happen. It is up to you to make the best out of the situation and enjoy yourself. Surely that cannot be a hard thing to do?”
“So says Miss Sunshine,” Alice muttered.
“I beg your pardon?”
“I said that I would try.”
“Splendid!” said Violet clapping her hands. “Do promise me one thing, Alice.”
“I think that I have promised quite enough already.”
“Yes, yes. But I would like for you to put your past to rest. It has tainted your life, Alice, terribly so. I wish for you to promise that you will no longer allow it to affect your future.”
“I no longer care for Henry.”
“That may be, but his actions have caused you to become a cynical woman. You are too young to take on such a view of the world.”
It was her cynicism that would protect her from being hurt once again, but Violet's innocent heart would not be able to understand that. So Alice said what would make her sister happy. “I shall certainly try.”
“I suppose that is better than a no. On a lighter note, may I help you with choosing a gown for the ball? I cannot trust you to select appropriately.”
Alice smiled. “Do you have such little faith in my capabilities?”
“Yes,” Violet simply said.
“If I allow you to do this, do you promise not to pester me with talk of the ball? I have heard enough to last me two lifetimes.”
Violet sighed. “Fine, agreed.”
Alice and her sister continued to talk about Violet's day out in Hyde Park, and who she had seen. This direction of conversation was not stimulating in the least, but it made her sister happy.
“The Marquess of Shore was in attendance with his sisters, which caused a bit of a flurry amongst the women, who could not keep their eyes off him.”
“I do not think that I know of him.”
Violet rolled her eyes dramatically. “Who do you know? He is the son of the man who cleaned our father's coffers.”
“The Duke of Richley?”
“The one and only. His son is most handsome, the kind of man that looks like a gentleman on the surface but is probably quite a rogue beneath it all.”
“Violet!” Alice had never heard her sister speak of any man in such a way. Their mother would likely faint from the shock of it.
“Alice, I am twenty. Many women my age are married and have their first child already. It should not surprise you that I know something of the world.”
“Do not let Mama hear you speak in such a manner. She will not be as openminded as I.”
“Mama would think the same as I had she seen him. Alice, do you that he will be at the ball?”
“I do not see why not. Lord Hunstanton is said to be great friends with the Duke of Richley.”
“Oh, goodness!” Violet gushed. “We must look our best. Alice, I shall dress you for the ball, the matter has been decided.”
“Oh, how wonderful.”
“Your sarcasm is not needed.”
Alice laughed. "Then I shall not say anything further."
Violet's animated chatter about her gown and hairstyle took over the rest of the conversation, but it was not quite powerful enough to drown out the anxious thoughts in Alice's head. What could she expect at the ball? Would her mother try to push certain suitors in her direction? Goodness, she certainly hoped that would not be the case. The knot in her stomach that had formed the night of her parent's quarrel began to grow, reminding her that her future was no longer hers.
***
They had scarcely greeted the host and hostess before the duke disappeared. Suzannah was clearly not worried as she was already in her element, but Luke had promised himself that he would keep an eye on his father.
“Luke, would you please stay with me?” Hannah asked.
His sister was a soft-spoken young woman, one who became nervous quite easily. Luke looked to the stairs knowing that his father was somewhere up there in one of the rooms. He was on his way to being drunk and gambling, but Luke could not leave Hannah until she was comfortable with her surroundings. Suzannah was no help at all. She was only concerned about herself. Had his sister been a social butterfly like her mother, she would have had her undivided attention.
Luke laid a gentle hand on his sister's shoulder. “Of course, Hannah. I shall stay with you until you feel ready to converse with the other guests.”
“Ooh, I do not know if that will happen, Luke.”
“Come, let me get you something to drink.”
She put her hand in the crook of his arm, dipping her head slightly so as to not have any eye contact with the guests. The further they walked into the crowd, the more he could feel her tense up.
She abruptly stopped, making him take a hurried step back. “Hannah, is there something wrong?”
“There are far too many people here, Luke. I think that I might go home.”
Was she so frightened that she was willing to incur the wrath of her mother? Should Suzannah hear that her daughter had left the ball before it had truly begun, Hannah would never hear the end of it. Luke did not want that for his sister. He needed to convince her to stay.
“Where are the young women you spoke with the other day? You seemed to get along with them rather well.” Indeed, she had spent quite some time with them, speaking of whatever young women talk about. Likely men and dresses.
Hannah straightened up, looking over the heads of the crowd. “Beatrice Shufflebottom and Violet Campbell? I do not see them anywhere.”
Campbell? As in the Baron of Leeds’ daughter? What a small world we live in. "Let us look for them, then you may have some friends to keep you company rather than a tiresome older brother."
Hannah looked up at him with wide eyes. "You could never be tiresome to me, Luke, never."
He smiled, patting her cheek. “Never change, Hannah. Always remain as sweet as you are.”
Her face fell. “Do you not mean dull?”
Luke's heart tightened. Suzannah had done much damage to her daughter, and his father had allowed her to. If he could, Luke would take his sisters and brother to live with him, but Suzannah would never allow it. He lifted his sister's chin. “You are about as dull as a sunrise, Hannah. No one as sweet as you can be dull.”
Her smile was quick and radiant, showing the dimples that rarely made an appearance in the young girl's life. “Let us find Violet and Beatrice, I should like to spend further time with them.”
***
Alice longed for her room and paintbrush, imagining herself holding the brush in her hand and painting strokes of colour on a blank canvas. The ball was as terrible as she thought it would be, and she had had enough. Violet had vanished with Beatrice almost as soon as they had arrived an hour ago, and Alice had been left to nurse the same drink she had been given ever since. She felt like one of her sister's dolls in her pink dress with gold embroidery and a manteau to match. The simple yet effective updo on her head would have been acceptable if Violet had not insisted on the wisps of hair about her face. Alice could not count the number of times she had tucked the strands behind her ears or pulled the bodice of her dress up further. While her gown was nowhere near as revealing as some of the fair maidens in the room, it was undoubtedly lower cut than what she was accustomed to. Already, some men had glanced appreciatively in her direction, but she had stopped them from approaching her with a stare. Her chaperone, Mrs Jersey, a close friend of the family, was no help at all as she was only too happy to gossip about the guests.
The Way to Capture a Marquess's Heart: A Historical Regency Romance Book Page 3
