by Joyce Alec
Except, she considered, as the maid put the finishing touches to her hair, there still came these notes.
She had received one every day since the very first one had arrived—and on some occasions, had received one in the morning and one in the evening. They all said much the same thing and Alice had tried her best to steel herself against the pain that would come when she finally read the note, but it always sliced through her heart regardless of how strong she strived to be. She could not tell who was writing the letters, of course, but her heart and mind still turned toward Lord Allerton. It was not the sort of thing a gentleman such as he would do, surely, but the notes were so very specific and so very dark in their sentiments that she did not know where else to lay blame.
This was made all the more difficult by the fact that she could not help but feel a good deal for Lord Allerton. Her regard for him was growing steadily and her affections for him becoming so strong that they were beginning to turn into something new. Something much more profound and something that she was not sure she wanted to explore further until she could be quite certain about where these notes were coming from. She had not spoken to him of them as yet, fearing that it might bring a wide chasm between them that they would then be unable to cross. She was to be married in only a few days’ time, and yet there was still so much that needed to be spoken of.
“I shall have to do so this evening,” she murmured to herself, startling her maid who thought that she had some complaint over her hair. After reassuring the girl that all was quite wonderful, Alice regarded her reflection in the mirror and prayed that Lord Allerton would consider her well presented enough for this evening. She would have to find a moment to speak to him about the notes and, given that he had not yet answered her question, about whether or not there was an arrangement between himself and her father, should she choose to return home. That question had still dogged her mind the last few days but, again, she had not wanted to ruin what was between them by speaking of it to him. Then again, she thought, getting to her feet and smoothing down her gown of light blue, she could not marry the gentleman without knowing the truth. It had to be discovered, had to be known, before she could give her heart to him fully.
Will you tell him of your affection for him? Of your love?
The thought sent a spiral of heat up through her and into her face. She did not want to admit, even to herself, that she cared so deeply for Lord Allerton, but the truth could not be hidden. Perhaps if the matter of the notes and the arrangements came to light, then she would feel that she had the freedom to speak of such things. Otherwise, she decided, with a slight toss of her head, she would not.
“You have a note.”
The sharp, unwelcoming voice of Lady Fossett screeched through Alice’s bedchamber, and Alice had to bite back a retort about the lady coming into her rooms without even so much as knocking.
“Thank you,” she murmured, as graciously as she could, taking the note from Lady Fossett as the older lady looked Alice up and down. Turning it over, she saw that the note was, as the others had been, sealed with wax but held no other mark. Sighing inwardly, she broke it open and quickly scanned the words, not wanting Lady Fossett to see any reaction on her face whatsoever.
‘Your passage has been booked for the day before Christmas. You are to return to America. This family does not want you. Make sure you are ready.’
Her breath caught and she turned away from Lady Fossett, trying hard to keep her face impassive. Her passage? Had Lord Allerton already ensured that she was to return to America, even though they were to be married the day after Christmas? Surely it could not be!
“Is something the matter?”
Lady Fossett’s voice was as hard and as cold as ever, but Alice fancied that she could hear a slight note of triumph in the lady’s voice. Anger began to burn through her, chasing away the coldness that caught at her heart.
“Did you do this?” she asked, spinning around suddenly and waving the note in Lady Fossett’s face. “Is it you who has been sending me these notes?”
Lady Fossett looked startled, only for an icy coldness to sweep over her expression. “I do not know what you are speaking of, Miss Jones.”
“These notes!” Alice cried, giving no consideration to the way she spoke or acted. “The notes I have received almost every day since I have arrived. The notes that tell me that I am unwanted, that I ought to return to America! Tell me, Lady Fossett, whether or not the notes are from you.” Breathing hard, she stared at Lady Fossett, tears burning in her eyes and her hands shaking as she held out the note.
Lady Fossett said nothing for some minutes. Then, with a small sniff, she lifted her chin and lifted her shoulders in a small shrug. “If these notes state the truth, then what does it matter who wrote them?” she asked in a quiet voice. “You must know by now, Miss Jones, that we think you a most unsuitable match for Lord Allerton. You are aware, of course, that he has only sought you out because of the money you bring with you—and because no sensible young woman would marry a gentleman with so little funds.” She sniffed disdainfully. “I am surprised you have not taken heed of what is contained within.”
Alice’s breathing became ragged and she began to shake violently, her anger beginning to fade away but being replaced with a deep, mournful sorrow and despair. “Then you did write them.”
“I did not,” Lady Fossett answered with a small smile that bit down hard on Alice’s heart. “But I agree with what is written within.” Reaching out, she snatched the note from Alice’s hand and turned away, reading each word before Alice had the chance to react. Knowing she could not easily grab the note back, given that Lady Fossett would claim to be injured in some way, Alice was forced to remain exactly where she was, hating that tears were beginning to streak down her face.
“Interesting,” Lady Fossett murmured, glancing back at Alice before throwing the letter onto a nearby chair. “Very interesting indeed. If that is true, then that should tell you precisely what my nephew thinks of your presence here, Miss Jones.”
“It is not from Lord Allerton,” Alice breathed, refusing to let herself believe it. “It cannot be.”
Lady Fossett laughed cruelly, as though Alice were being nothing but a fool. “You think a gentleman cannot pretend affection when he wishes it?”
“I do not believe Lord Allerton to be a liar,” Alice replied, as firmly as she could. “I cannot.” She looked steadily back at Lady Fossett, her tears drying on her cheeks. “We have shared too much for him to have arranged such a thing.”
Lady Fossett arched one eyebrow, her voice quiet but seeming to fill the room. “Then who else would have done such a thing, Miss Jones? There is obviously a reason for him to have done so and whilst he might be willing to marry you, it is, perhaps, not his preference.” She shrugged, turning toward the door. “He is to gain from your departure, of course. So who would blame him if he sought to free himself from you?”
Alice stared at the door, breathing hard as Lady Fossett walked through it. It felt as though her world was beginning to crumble around her, as though the hope she had begun to feel was now being broken into tiny pieces. Lady Fossett had thrown so many things at her that she now began to doubt everything she had thought and felt and hoped for. Lady Fossett had said, quite clearly, that Lord Allerton would gain something if she were to leave for America. Lord Allerton himself had refused to answer such a question—mayhap because he did not want her to discover the truth. Perhaps Lord Allerton had made such an arrangement. Perhaps he did feel as Lady Fossett said—desperate to find a way to keep some of her money but without marrying her.
“But why, then, would he show me such affection?” she whispered, suddenly feeling very weary as she sank back down into a chair. “Why would he share such intimate conversations, such smiles and laughter with me, if he meant none of it?” Her head began to ache as she dabbed at her cheeks, her thoughts swirling about her and filling her with such confusion that she wanted to scream aloud. Nothing made
sense. Nothing Lord Allerton had said or done helped her to know the truth of his feelings.
Your passage to America.
Her breath caught and she rose quickly, ringing the bell at once. Her hands trembled as she clenched them in front of her, waiting with agonized anticipation for the arrival of the maid.
“Yes, Miss Jones?”
“Have someone sent to the docks,” Alice said quickly, ignoring the astonished look on the maid’s face. “Tell them to find out all they can about my passage back to America. And then they are to come to the Duke of Sussex’s townhouse and ensure I receive the information required.” This evening was the duke and duchess’ Christmas ball, and up until some minutes ago, Alice had been eagerly anticipating the wonderful evening ahead. Now she felt nothing but dread.
“At once, Miss Jones,” the maid mumbled, giving Alice another slightly concerned yet surprised look, before melting back into the shadows of the hallway. Alice sniffed and made her way back to the dressing table, looking at her reflection again and seeing that the calmness that had been there before was now gone completely. Wiping at her cheeks, she sniffed indelicately and tried to lift her chin. Her eyes were red-rimmed, her cheeks pale, and her mouth turning down. She could not hide her sadness or her confusion, it seemed. And perhaps, that was for the best.
“You are very quiet this evening, Miss Jones.”
Alice looked up at Lord Allerton, her heart aching painfully as she did so. Beside him, Lady Fossett regarded her with a supercilious look, which Alice did her utmost to ignore.
“There are some matters that weigh heavily on my mind, Lord Allerton,” she told him, refusing to so much as glance at Lady Fossett. “That is all.”
“But there is so much to be glad for,” he answered, sounding concerned as his eyes searched her face. “Christmas is but two days away, and thereafter, we are to be wed.” He smiled at her but Alice could not return it. “Your trousseau is prepared, the townhouse is ready for your arrival, and I myself am greatly looking forward to welcoming you into what will then be your estate.” His hand reached out toward hers and she gave it to him willingly, as the other guests moved around them. “You will be a countess and I will be the happiest man in all of England.”
I want to believe you, Alice thought to herself, hearing Lady Fossett’s snort of evident disapproval. But I cannot.
“Good evening, Lord Allerton. Miss Jones.”
It was with relief that Alice turned to greet the Duke and Duchess of Sussex. The duke smiled warmly at them all, welcomed each one in turn, and then asked Lord Allerton if he might wish to make a toast later in the evening. Lady Fossett was pulled away by another of her acquaintances, and Alice was then drawn into the duchess’ company.
“You look pale this evening, Alice,” the duchess murmured as the two men continued to talk. “Is something wrong?”
Alice swallowed hard, forcing her tears back. “I do not wish to make a scene,” she answered miserably, “but there is a good deal troubling me and I…” She broke off, feeling a lump beginning to form in her throat and forcing it down. “I wait for news, that is all.”
The duchess frowned, her gaze one of concern. “What news, might I ask?” she enquired softly, so that Lord Allerton would not hear. “Of Lord Allerton, mayhap? Or has Lady Fossett made you feel unwelcome again?”
Not quite sure whether she had the strength or the fortitude to speak of all that she knew, Alice drew in a long breath and, in halting tones, told the duchess all that she could. Lord Allerton did not hear a word, still laughing and conversing with the duke, whilst the duchess continued to listen carefully, hanging onto Alice’s every word.
“That is grave indeed,” the duchess murmured, putting one hand on Alice’s arm in what was a comforting gesture. “But surely you cannot think it is Lord Allerton himself who has arranged this?”
Alice shook her head, her voice hoarse. “Who else could it be, Susanna?”
The duchess said nothing for a moment or two, her eyes filled with worry and confusion, glancing from the duke to Lord Allerton and then to Alice.
“It cannot be Lord Allerton,” she insisted, drawing Alice away from the two gentlemen and beginning to walk with her through the crowded ballroom. The guests parted so that they might walk without interruption, evidence of the duchess’ high standing. “He cares for you, Alice, I am sure of it.”
Alice shook her head, sorrowfully. “I want to believe it,” she said hoarsely. “But if news comes that my passage has, in fact, been booked, then I will have no other choice but to reconsider my future here.”
The duchess shook her head, frowning hard. “There is more at play here,” she murmured, looking back at Alice with a sharp gaze. “Lady Fossett has made it quite clear that she does not want your company here nor does she think you suitable for her nephew.”
“But she says she did not write the notes,” Alice protested weakly, aware that such an argument was foolish indeed. “And she did look surprised at the mention of my passage to America being arranged.”
The duchess’ frown only deepened. “That does not mean that she is, in any way, free of any responsibility,” she answered firmly. “I would not think that—”
“Miss Jones?”
The sound of Lord Allerton’s voice reached Alice’s ears as she turned around, seeing him near her, his face concerned.
“You did not forget we are due to dance the first dance together, I hope?” he continued as the duchess smiled quickly and dropped Alice’s arm. “They are about to begin.”
Alice took in a long breath, opened her mouth to speak—only for something to catch her eye. It was a footman, who was heading directly toward her with a firm look in his eyes.
She knew at once what his intention was.
“Yes?” she said, ignoring Lord Allerton completely and moving toward the footman. “You have a message for me, I think?”
“Miss Jones?” Lord Allerton queried, coming after her. “What is it?”
She silenced him with a look before returning her attention to the footman. “What message is it?”
The footman inclined his head, his gaze a little to one side. “I have received a message from one of Lady Fossett’s staff,” he said in a low voice. “The message is to tell you that all is as you expected. Your passage to America is set for tomorrow and has already been fully paid.” Bowing quickly, he looked at her as though he expected her to ask him more questions, but she could say nothing. With a slight wave of her hand, she sent the footman away, before turning to face Lord Allerton.
He was looking at her with such an expression of confusion that she wanted to applaud him for his excellent playacting. This was all as he had intended, she was sure of it. Not everything made sense as yet, but one thing was quite clear: Lord Allerton did not want her to stay.
“Your passage to America?” Lord Allerton repeated as the duchess came to stand by Alice’s side. “What do you mean, Alice?”
She shook her head in disbelief. “You cannot pretend any longer, Lord Allerton. The truth is out.”
“Truth?” he echoed, looking startled. “I speak honestly when I say I have no understanding of what you are talking about, Alice!”
Holding his gaze and feeling her heart tear asunder, Alice let herself speak with more honesty than ever before.
“I came here reluctantly, not certain of what I would find. Now, I find myself standing before the man I have come to love, only to find that he has been nothing but a deceiver and I nothing but a fool.”
“Alice,” Lord Allerton whispered, his eyes rounding. “Please, I—”
“You gain something from my return to America,” she stated, interrupting him. “What is it?” Her throat was aching painfully, but she forced herself to stand stock-still, looking at him without blinking and seeing the strain on his features. “You have not wanted to tell me, but I insist that you do so now.”
Lord Allerton shook his head, sorrowfully. “I—I will be given a small amount shou
ld you decide to return,” he answered, lowering his gaze. “I did not want to tell you for fear that you would think I wanted you to go.”
She did not believe him. “And it would be enough to help you regain some financial standing, I am sure,” she said tightly. “And what if you decided that we would not suit and sent me away? Would you be given any recompense then?” Seeing him shake his head, Alice felt her heart twist with agony. “Then the notes are from you. The passage to America was paid for by you. All along, you have been trying to pretend that you care for me, whilst secretly hoping I will depart from England and leave you alone. Then you will have some financial gain, as well as the hope of marrying an English rose instead of an American who does not fully understand society and all its rules.” Tears began to pool in the corners of her eyes, but Alice forced them away. “You have not wanted me as your wife since the day you first saw me, but you have needed my money. This, then, is how you have gone about it. You have chased me away whilst pretending you care for me. And fool that I am, I have been taken in.”
Making to turn away from him, Alice was astonished when Lord Allerton caught her arm, pulling her back toward him.
“I have done nothing,” he said firmly, looking down into her eyes with such steadiness that she wanted to believe him. “I do not know what you are speaking of, Alice.” His hand gentled on her arm, his other hand reaching up to brush against her cheek. “I care for you. If you were to leave England, then I do not know what I would do.”
Her heart twisted again, longing to believe him, longing to trust him, but the memory of how Lady Fossett had looked when she had read the note forced her to consider things again.
“I promise that I have done nothing to push you away,” he said softly as the noise of the crowd and the music of the orchestra seemed to fade. “I want you to stay here. I want to marry you, Alice.”
