by Regina Darcy
“Will you not sing for us?” Madeline asked, now looking quite desperate. “I know that you would capture the room if you did so. It is your own true talent.”
This was not meant as an insult, but still Jemima felt it so. She did not have her sister’s beauty, being dark-haired to her sister’s fair locks, and hazel-eyed in comparison to Madeline’s startling blue eyes. Her sister was tall and slender, almost willowy in her appearance, whereas Jemima was, for her trouble, not particularly tall and certainly nowhere near as slender as her sister.
However, the one thing she could do was sing, and in that respect, Madeline was quite correct to state that she would be able to command the room with a single song. It would, most likely, please her sister as well as her father if she did so.
“Very well,” she sighed, rising from where she had been sitting in a quiet corner of the drawing room and walking towards Madeline. “But only for one or two songs, Madeline, no more.”
Her sister clapped her hands in delight, her eyes brightening at once as a broad smile crossed her face. “Thank you, Jemima,” she whispered, linking arms with her as they walked towards the pianoforte. “I shall play for you, of course.” Jemima watched as Madeline gestured to their father, who nodded immediately and began to draw the attention of his guests to alert them to Jemima’s imminent performance.
Growing steadily more nervous, Jemima pressed one hand to her stomach as Madeline sat down at the pianoforte. They had often sung and played together, so it would not be any trouble for them to do so now, although Jemima could still not quite eradicate the anxiety that radiated from her insecurity.
“My daughters will sing and play for us,” she heard her father say, looking over at him to see him sending her a warm smile. “Jemima, my elder daughter, has the voice of an angel. I am quite sure you will agree. Please, take your seats.”
Jemima drew in a long, calming breath as the guests all sat down, aware that each and every eye was now on her. Madeline did not appear to be put out in any way, smiling brightly up at Jemima to indicate that she was quite ready to begin.
“Shall we sing ‘The Hazel Dell?” Madeline asked in a clear voice. “And then, mayhap, ‘It was Naught but a Dream?’”
From the murmurs of appreciation from the guests, Jemima could only nod and turn to face them, her stomach churning with nerves.
And yet, the moment she started to sing, all of her anxiety began to fade away. She closed her eyes and let the music spill from within her, her voice never faltering, the tune never once slipping from her mind. She sang each and every note with clear perfection, her sister accompanying her beautifully. Singing the first and then the second, Jemima let out a sigh of relief as the guests applauded her, a few gentlemen murmuring to one another as they glanced in her direction. A faint hope stirred in her soul as Madeline pressed her hand. Perhaps her sister was quite right. Mayhap this was the way to capture a gentleman’s attention.
Less than half an hour later, Jemima found herself quite alone once more. Whilst there had certainly been a good many congratulatory comments from some of the guests, none of the eligible gentlemen had come to linger by her side for more than a few minutes. It was her sister who had the crowd of gentlemen around her, her sister who was laughing and smiling up at each one of her admirers.
Her heart sank to the floor as she saw her father’s kind smile in her direction. She did not want his sympathy, hating that she was always so overlooked and yet unable to change her character simply to find herself a suitable husband. That, to her mind, would be foolishness indeed, for she would know herself not to be the person her husband believed her to be and would struggle with that burden continuously. Besides which, she was not about to deceive someone. That was not in her at all.
Sighing heavily, Jemima wandered away from the drawing room, silently slipping out the door and into the chilly hallway. Christmas Day was only a few weeks away, and they would be spending it at home, on her father’s estate. Walking along the hallway towards her bedchamber, she allowed herself to think of what Christmas would bring. They would have to find the yule log for the fire, which she always particularly enjoyed. There would be the singing of carols by the fire, the service at the church, which would, thereafter, be followed by a wonderful dinner. The Christmas boxes for the servants would be given the day after Christmas. It was her responsibility ever since her mother had passed away almost eight years ago now.
Madeline would insist on decorating the house, as she always did every year. There would be holly berries, garlands of rosemary and ivy, as well as a good many other plants and leaves that would find their way onto their father’s estate. Of course, most likely, Madeline would wish to play snapdragon even though it was something of a childish game. Jemima allowed a smile to cross her lips, remembering how she and Madeline had so often played that game as children, and how she had oft times burned her fingers in doing so!
“I say!”
Coming to a dead stop, Jemima frowned as she slowly began to descend the staircase, wondering where the noise had come from.
“I’m afraid you are not invited, sir,” she could hear the butler say, his voice firm and authoritative. “I cannot allow you entry.”
“But I must greet the beautiful Miss… Miss… what did you say her name was again, Heber?”
Another mumble came from somewhere, making Jemima roll her eyes as she realised that the gentleman, whoever he was, appeared to be deep in his cups.
“Miss – I mean, Lady Madeline Hastings, yes,” the gentleman replied in a loud voice, his glazed eyes catching sight of Jemima as she began to walk towards the front door. “Look, there she is!”
Jemima held back a sharp laugh, seeing the butler and two footmen standing guard in front of the gentleman and his friend. She had never been mistaken for Madeline and certainly never would be. This gentleman, whoever he was, had evidently never met her sister.
“That is not her name,” she stated firmly, taking in the gentleman’s dark eyes that seemed to linger on her for a little too long before he turned his head away. “I am not she, sir. Although might I ask why you are here if you have never been acquainted with her?”
Her question seemed to unnerve him, making him stand up tall, his arms folded across his chest. “Is there anything wrong with wanting to greet a young lady whom I have heard so much about?” he asked, looking at her with a touch of disdain. “That is my only reason, I assure you.”
She wanted to laugh, seeing the way that his dark hair flopped about his forehead, evidently having been less than well taken care of these last few hours. This fellow was clearly quite unaware of just how ridiculous he both looked and sounded, for she would never even consider allowing a gentleman into her father’s party when he had never once met any of them before.
“You need to go home,” she said with as much sternness as she could. “You shall not be allowed entry here tonight.” She made to turn away, only for the fellow to reach out and grab at her hand, making her stumble with shock.
“Please.”
She gasped and tried to pull away, far too aware of the tingling that shot up her arm at such a simple touch. The gentleman was, she realised, quite handsome, and given how he was looking at her, she suspected that he too was fully aware of it and was using it to attempt to cajole her into doing as he asked.
As the butler cleared his throat loudly, the gentleman let go of her hand, and she stepped back, rubbing her hand with the other as though to clean it.
“I cannot help you, sir,” she stated, her words a little hoarse, such was the fervency of her reaction to him. “Good evening.” Turning to the butler, she gave a small shake of her head. “He is obviously quite foxed,” she said quietly. “Remove him as best you can, please.”
The butler nodded. “Of course, Lady Jemima,” he said quietly. “Please, do not trouble yourself anymore.”
Jemima smiled and hurried back towards the staircase, thinking to herself that she had endured more than enou
gh this evening. Even this drunken gentleman, whoever he was, had been seeking her sister’s company over her own! It did not seem to matter what she did, she was never the one to catch any gentleman’s eye. Her sister, simply by the way of how she looked, was always the one who was surrounded by admirers. It was hard, Jemima had to admit, not to be jealous of Madeline, even though she knew that Madeline was not cruel or mocking about Jemima’s lack of success in any way. She felt as though God himself had smiled down on Madeline and blessed her with beauty, elegance and grace, whilst turning His face directly away from Jemima.
Climbing the stairs, Jemima made her way towards her bedchamber, feeling as though there was very little point in returning to her father’s soiree. She would be forgotten and ignored, just as she had been before. Madeline would be the centre of attention, whilst she would melt into the shadows. Jemima was quite certain that not a single gentleman would even notice she was gone.
Her heart heavy, Jemima walked into her bedchamber and turned the key in the lock, ensuring that no-one would disturb her. Changing without the help of her maid, Jemima chose to sit by the fire for a time, her eyes on the flickering flames in the grate. She would not allow her tears to fall, not now. She had already cried over her lack of success more than once, to the point that she felt that she might not have any more tears to cry. She was simply going to have to endure, accepting the fact that not all young ladies, no matter how well-bred, would ever be able to find a suitable match.
She was nothing like her sister, who was bright and vivacious, able to converse with ease and delight with almost everyone who knew her. Madeline could dance beautifully, sing, play the pianoforte, draw, and read poetry aloud in the most wonderful way. The only thing that Jemima did better than her was sing, which was, as Madeline had put it, her only true talent.
Jemima knew full well that she could not converse as easily as her sister. Nor could she recite poetry, draw, or even dance with the lightness and grace her sister did. Whilst Madeline delighted in the latest fashions, or in adorning a bonnet with new ribbons and the like, Jemima found her solace in reading whatever she could or, if her father allowed it, going to the theatre for some performance or another. Even there, Madeline spent most of her time looking to see who else from the ton might be there, whereas Jemima was always lost in the story or the music.
She was not exactly a diamond of the first water. Of course, if she wished it, Jemima knew she could find a gentleman in need of a dowry and marry him, but she knew that such a marriage would not go well for her. Besides which, her father would not allow it either. She sighed at the disturbing thought. Her slender fingers slowly undid her braided chestnut brown hair, and she proceeded to hand comb the unruly locks that cascaded down her back.
Her thoughts raced back to how the current disastrous evening had proceeded. It seemed she was going to have to become resigned to being an old maid.
She would live with her father until the time came for her to find another position. Mayhap by then, Madeline would require a nursemaid or a companion for her children. Either that or she would have to find a small cottage and live alone, or with an elderly relative for company. It was not a future that filled her with hope or excitement.
Her eyes burned as she recalled how her skin had tingled as the strange gentleman had grasped her hand, how her heart had quickened its pace just a little. She had never truly experienced anything like that before. She bit her lower lip. Given that the gentleman had come to call upon her sister, Jemima knew that such a reaction had been quite foolish. She was not likely to see the fellow again either, of course, since he was not the sort of man her father would ever permit his daughters to be acquainted with. And yet, for whatever reason, she felt the urge to know his name, to speak to him again, and see if she could have such a wondrous feeling back again, even for just a moment.
“Foolishness, Jemima,” she chided herself aloud whilst blinking furiously to push her tears back. “You are nothing more than a foolish child. Enough of this. It is time to accept things as they are. Nothing will change for you. Not even at Christmas.”
THREE
Alexander was not quite sure where he was.
A loud noise was ringing in his ears, making him groan aloud as his head began to ache. For whatever reason, his limbs appeared to be rather heavier than before, for he struggled to lift his hands to his ears to shut out the noise.
Then, something struck him hard on the shoulder.
Forcing his eyes open, Alexander looked all about him with bleary eyes, one hand rubbing absently at his shoulder. He had no idea what it was that had hit him and certainly no understanding as to why that loud, ringing noise was not abating in the slightest.
“Who are you?”
Blinking again, Alexander rubbed one hand over his eyes before trying to make out the face that was peering into his. “What are you doing, girl?” he asked, his voice rasping as the maid leaned closer. “Get back to your duties.”
“I hardly think so,” came another voice, sounding a good deal more strained than the maid’s. “Given that you are not in your own home, sir, you ought not to be directing my maid about the place.”
Not in my own home?
Alexander frowned, his vision clearing as he suddenly realised that he was now looking at a young lady who appeared to be swathed in a large, voluminous dressing gown that pooled at her feet whilst also being buttoned up to the neck. Despite this, there was no mistaking the jutting breast and narrow waist. Not to a connoisseur of women. Sharp hazel eyes pierced his. His eyes narrowed as he noted how pale she was.
“I’m sorry,” he muttered shaking his head. “Have I not paid you? I thought –”
“Good gracious!” The maid, horrified, drew back in alarm before slapping him soundly across the face. “You will not insult my mistress in such a way!”
“Ouch!” Alexander rubbed his face crossly, growing more and more exasperated. “Will you stop attempting to injure me when I have done nothing wrong? I did not mean to fall asleep, but I shall ensure you are paid almost as soon as I –”
“Sir,” the young lady interrupted loudly. “You are not at a bawdy house.”
Alexander stopped his speech at once, his stomach tightening. “Then where am I?” he asked a little uncomfortably, as he attempted to push himself up in his chair. “I…” Trailing off, he slowly began to realise that he was within someone’s bedchamber. A bedchamber he presumed belonged to the young lady standing just to his left.
“You are in the Marquess of Parkham’s home,” she said clearly. “And I am one of his daughters.”
Swallowing hard, Alexander leaned forward and felt his head begin to swim, his anxiety rising all the higher. He had no recollection of what he was doing in a young lady’s bedchamber, nor how he had come here in the first place.
“You were at the front door last evening,” the young lady continued, in a deceptively calm voice. “Attempting to be granted an introduction to my sister, I believe.” She tipped her head as he glanced up at her. “Am I to understand that you sought her bedchamber, sir?”
“I do not know,” Alexander groaned, suddenly realising the impact of his actions. “The last thing I remember is being refused entry to the Marquess’s soiree, and my good friend, Lord Heber, encouraging me not to give up.”
The young lady sighed. “And so you attempted to ascend into my bedchamber, it seems,” she stated, resigned. “That is understandable, given that it is fairly easy to climb into from the gardens. Although, if you truly were as foxed as you appeared, then I should congratulate you on your safe ascent, I suppose.”
Alexander groaned again, shoving his head into his hands as though he might blank out the young lady before him, as though in a few minutes he would lift his head to see that he was back in his own home. Slowly, everything began to come back to him, as though he were remembering a dream piece by piece. The young lady was right. He had attempted to climb into a room, although he did not know who was within. He had
been determined not to be defeated, not when so many of the gentlemen with him were watching and waiting to see what he would do next. He had to prove to them, as much to himself, that he was able to do as he had promised.
Quite how he had managed to get up into this room, he could not remember, although there were a few aching bruises on his shins. What he could remember was seeing the warm fire and being glad of it. He had sunk down into the chair to warm his hands, thinking that he would only linger here for a few minutes before going in search of the soiree and the diamond of the first water, whatever her name was. Obviously, he had fallen asleep and, therefore, had sealed his fate.
“What shall we do, my lady?” murmured the maid.
Alexander started violently, looking up at the lady who was still looking down at him with, to his surprise, an expression like frustration on her face. This was the moment when, most likely, she would call her father and, thereafter, the banns would have to be called. What on earth had he done?
“I think,” the lady said slowly, “that the gentleman here does not wish to be with us at this present moment, Sarah. Might you be able to take him below stairs?”
He could not quite believe it and stared at her in shock. This was not at all what he had expected! Was she truly trying to find a way to remove him from the house without another eye seeing him?
“You are not welcome here,” she said firmly, turning away from him. “I do not wish to ever see you again, sir. You are not to call upon my sister, either.”
“No,” he wheezed, hardly able to catch his breath such was the shock of his reprieve. “No indeed, my lady. I will not do so.”
“Lady Jemima,” she said tartly, throwing him a disdainful look over her shoulder. “You were, of course, attempting to meet my sister, Lady Madeline, given that she is the incomparable beauty in this family.” There was a sharpness to her words that left a bitter taste in his mouth. “Luckily for us all, I think it is early enough for you to remove yourself without being seen, sir.”
