Once Upon a Wallflower

by Wendy Lyn Watson

  She nodded.

  “Mira-mine, your cousin…” Nicholas stopped, unsure how best to express himself.

  Squeezing her eyes even tighter, Mira rushed to fill the silence. “Yes, I know. She is quite beautiful. Stunning, really. And she knows her way about Society. She would make you a wonderful viscountess. It is difficult to fathom that we are even related.”

  “On that point you speak the truth.” Nicholas regretted the words as soon as they were spoken, as he felt Mira tense even further, wincing away from him as though she were in physical pain.

  “Mira, open your eyes and look at me.”

  He was surprised that she did as he asked.

  “Mira, your cousin is dreadful.”

  She frowned in confusion.

  “I was trying to think of a diplomatic way to say it,” Nicholas continued, “but there really is no way around it. The girl is dreadful. I suppose one might say she is pretty, if one had a penchant for girls with all the complexity and color of a cup of warm milk. But she does not appear to have one whit of sense. She never ceases to squeal and squawk about every meaningless bit of drivel. It is quite maddening.”

  Nicholas paused for breath. “I am sorry to be so blunt, but Bella Fitzhenry is possibly the most horrid creature I have ever met.”

  Mira’s eyes were wide with alarm. She looked at him as though he had gone mad.

  “Mira,” Nicholas said, softening his voice, “your aunt and uncle may think they have cheated my family in some way. In fact, it may be that my father does feel cheated. But I assure you that I do not. I think your aunt and uncle did me a great service by bringing you to that ball in place of your cousin. For that alone, I am forever in their debt.”

  Mira shook her head slowly. “No,” she stated emphatically, “no, I would not have lies between us.”

  Nicholas released an impatient sigh. “Mira, you are a clever girl. Cease being so mulish about this. You must realize that I am being perfectly honest.”

  “But how can that be?”

  Mira sounded genuinely distressed. Nicholas could not grasp why she seemed so desperate to believe that he was disappointed, so reluctant to accept that he preferred her to her cousin.

  “It simply is,” he finally answered.

  “But she is so beautiful.”

  Nicholas narrowed his eyes, trying to pin down the frustrating woman before him. “Do you really think me so shallow, that I should only be interested in a woman’s appearance?”

  “No,” Mira responded, puzzlement slowing her words, “no, of course not, but…”

  “Mira-mine,” he questioned softly, “what do you see when you look in the mirror?”

  She frowned, suspicious. “I see myself.”

  “Yes, in a way. But seeing is not an objective exercise. Think of my paintings. They reveal how I see the world, colored with my own emotion. When you look in the mirror, you see the actual image of yourself there, but you also see what you expect to see. You see every unkind word your aunt and uncle and cousin have said about you. You see every feature that does not meet Society’s standards of what is beautiful.”

  “Oh.” Mira’s voice was quiet, still uncertain.

  “Would you do me a favor?” He waited for her to nod in agreement. “Tonight, look in the mirror and try to see what I see when I look at you. Try to see a woman with hair the decadent color of Chinese poppies. Try to see a woman with skin as rich as Devon cream, and eyes the startling blue of lapis lazuli. And, more importantly, try to see the fire and the intelligence and the good, true heart that make you the person you are. Because,” he added, his voice rough with the vehemence of his words, “I think that if you look in the mirror and see what I see, you will understand why I am glad to be marrying you rather than Bella.”

  With that, he pulled her close, kissed her hard on her still-trembling lips, and then stalked out of the room.

  As he made his way back to his tower room, his leg throbbing from overuse, he licked the salt of Mira’s silent tears from his lips. There was no doubt that her arrival in his life had heralded the end of his solitary existence. For better or worse, his life would never be the same. The only question that remained was whether the upheaval of his life was for the better. Or for the worse.

  Chapter Thirteen

  The next day, Mira hid.

  The fickle Cornish weather had once again turned brutal, with wind and rain lashing the walls of Blackwell Hall. Mira could not bring herself to face the Ellerbys or her own family after the debacle at dinner.

  Nor could she yet face Nicholas.

  She sat for hours before the mirror, trying to strip away the years of criticism and the tarnish of unmet social expectations. Trying to banish the tinkling voice of a six-year-old Bella, on the day Mira first came to live with her aunt and uncle, declaring that her cousin looked like a red-haired sausage. Trying to forget Aunt Kitty’s incessant refrain: plump, pale, graceless Mira. Trying to see only herself, through new eyes. Nicholas’s eyes.

  Late in the day, just as Mira was beginning to consider the need to dress for dinner, a timid knock at her door interrupted her brooding.

  She was stunned to discover that her visitor was Bella, and that she looked positively contrite.

  “Mira, may I come in?”

  The temptation to say “no” flitted through Mira’s mind, but instead she held the door open wider and allowed Bella to pass.

  “Mira,” Bella said, her eyes on the carpet, “I…I suppose you must have gathered that I told Lord Jeremy about Maman and Papa deciding to fob you off as the Miss Mirabelle Fitzhenry to whom Lord Ashfield is engaged. But I think he already knew. He did not seem surprised. And, well, I also told him that you had never had a suitor before.”

  Bella paused and flashed a quick glance at Mira. Her lovely eyes, the color of a cloudless spring sky, were puddled with tears.

  “But, Mira,” she continued, a catch in her voice, “I swear to you that I did not mean to be unkind. I never mean to be unkind.” She looked up again, and her brow wrinkled in confusion. “It is only that I open my mouth, and unkind words rush out. I cannot seem to help myself. Honestly, no matter how hard I try.”

  Mira doubted Bella tried very hard at all. But neither could she entirely blame Bella for her many thoughtless cruelties. After all, Bella had been weaned on Kitty Fitzhenry’s venom and tempered in the cold fire of Society’s brutality.

  With Bella standing before her, looking so lost, so young, so distraught, the tension drained from Mira’s shoulders. “It is all right, Bella,” she said with a faint smile, “you only told the truth. And there should never be any shame in that.”

  A flurry of emotions crossed Bella’s face, a rush of profound relief chased immediately by a look of desolation. She sank down onto the settee, buried her face in her hands, and began to sob.

  Mira was alarmed. Bella sulked and yelled and pouted. She might even muster a delicate tear or two. She did not sob.

  Quickly crossing to sit next to her cousin, Mira began making soothing sounds. “Here, now, dear-heart. Do not cry. Please, do not cry. Everything will be fine, I promise you.”

  Without raising her face, Bella shook her head in vehement denial. “No,” she moaned, her words muffled by tears and her own hands. “No, everything will not be fine. Everything is a disaster!”

  Mira patted Bella’s knee awkwardly. “Oh, Bella, whatever could be so horrible?”

  Bella raised her head then, her face swollen and red from crying, her hair in disarray, her eyes blue wounds. “Mira,” she said, “I am in love.”

  “Oh, dear,” Mira sighed. “Did you receive a letter from Mr. Penrose?”

  “No, no, no. I am not in love with Mr. Penrose.”

  “You are not?”

  “No. I thought I was, but I did not even know what love was!” Bella’s voice rang with the fervor of her conviction. “Oh, Mira, I am in love with Mr. Jeremy Ellerby! And,” Bella smiled shyly, “and he is in love with me.”

&nb
sp; Mira’s heart sank. “Bella, dear,” she said gently, “you cannot be in love with Mr. Ellerby, nor he with you. You have only just met.”

  “So? You and Lord Ashfield have scarcely known each other longer than I have known Jeremy, and you two seem quite taken with each other.”

  “Really?” Mira’s heart fluttered in her chest at the thought, but she forced her attention to Bella’s predicament. Mira took Bella’s hand in her own. “Bella, even if that is true, Lord Ashfield and I are much older than you and Mr. Ellerby. We have the advantages of maturity, we know our minds perhaps a bit better than you do.” She did not add that Jeremy was rumored to be turning into a rake to rival his father, or that his affections were fickle at best.

  Bella pursed her lips. “Nonsense,” she said. “Jeremy is the same age as you. And I may be younger than you are, but I have certainly been out more in Society and I know more about men.”

  Mira was struck dumb. Bella was correct. She had neatly turned Mira’s own logic against her. Mira had not realized that her cousin was capable of such rational argument.

  “Well, then,” Mira said slowly, “let us assume that you and Mr. Ellerby are in love. What, pray tell, is the problem with that?”

  Bella’s face crumpled again. “He does not have any money! Ashfield stands to inherit. Lord Blackwell is completely indifferent to Jeremy and has made no offer to establish some sort of livelihood for him. And Lady Beatrix does not have a great deal of money to pass on to Jeremy. He will only have an allowance, and even that will depend entirely upon Ashfield’s generosity. And Ashfield hates him.”

  Bella grasped Mira’s hands tightly, desperately. “Maman has told me to stay away from Jeremy, that he is not a suitable husband at all. Maman and Papa rely upon me marrying well. If I do not, they might end up in debtor’s prison.”

  Mira frowned, skeptical.

  “Truly,” Bella said, “Maman told me so. She said that I must marry a wealthy man, even if he has no title. If I do not, whatever happens to Maman and Papa will be all my fault, and she will never speak to me again.”

  Poor Bella, the whole family’s fortunes resting on her delicate shoulders. Mira had never considered that Bella was as constrained by Society’s expectations as she herself was. Life offered them each so few real choices.

  Extricating one hand from Bella’s grasp and using it to gently cup her flushed cheek, Mira tried again to sooth Bella’s nerves. “You only need to give this some time. Perhaps with a bit of persuasion, Aunt Kitty might be brought around. Or, perhaps Mr. Ellerby and Ashfield will manage to work out their differences—after Mr. Ellerby is made to realize that Ashfield did not kill Olivia Linworth. If they settle their differences, then Mr. Ellerby’s financial future will be more secure.

  “Or,” she continued, more cautiously, “perhaps in a month or two either you or Mr. Ellerby will have realized that your love was only a temporary infatuation.”

  Bella’s eyes welled again with tears. “But I do not have a month or two to sort everything out. I only have a few days!”

  “Why is that? I know you will be returning to London soon. But Blackwell keeps a townhouse there, and, if he is serious in his intentions, Mr. Ellerby could come to town to court you.”

  “Oh, Mira, it is more complicated than that. I need your help, but you must swear yourself to secrecy.” Bella’s eyes blazed with an intensity Mira had never seen there before.

  With some reluctance, Mira agreed. “I promise you I will keep your confidence. Whatever you say to me now, I will not tell a soul. But,” she added, raising a cautioning hand, “I cannot swear to help you until I know what you plan.”

  Bella’s voice dropped to an urgent whisper. “Jeremy has asked me to elope with him. This Friday. Everyone will be attending the Midsummer festivities in Upper Bidwell, and Jeremy assures me that it is a wild affair. We will slip away, and no one should notice we are missing until we are miles and miles away.

  “We have everything figured out,” Bella continued in a conspiratorial whisper. “Jeremy will stay behind that night, and, after everyone leaves for the festival, he will go into town to get a coach from the livery. That way we will be harder to track. I will go to the festival, so that no one suspects anything, but then will sneak back in the midst of the evening. We do not need much help. But I am afraid to leave my luggage in my room, for fear that Maman or Lady Beatrix will get suspicious or will see me leave and will look for me there. I need someplace to hide my bags and myself until Jeremy gets the coach. You could let me hide them here, couldn’t you?”

  Despite the note of giddy terror in Bella’s tone, a tiny smile toyed with the corners of her lips. Mira knew that she stood little chance of talking Bella out of this hare-brained scheme. Still, as the closest thing Bella had to an older sister, Mira felt an obligation at least to point out the pitfalls of Bella’s plan.

  “Bella,” Mira began slowly, holding her cousin’s eyes with her own and hoping Bella could see her sincerity. “I know that the prospect of an elopement must seem like a grand adventure. And I know you and Mr. Ellerby are in love, but I do not think you should rush into anything. First, as you said, you risk upsetting your mother. And I know you would not wish to do that. But you should also give your relationship with Mr. Ellerby an opportunity to develop, to be certain that your passion for one another does not burn hot, but short. Believe me, if I had a choice, I would prefer to get to know Ashfield better before I wed him. I simply do not think it wise to wed without the benefit of time or your mother’s counsel.”

  Bella’s expression turned dark, her gaze sharply calculating. “Are you going to tell Maman?”

  Mira sighed. “No, Bella, I promised you I would not tell anyone.”

  “But you will not help me.”

  “No, in good conscience, I cannot.”

  Bella’s temper broke, and she leapt from the settee. “I should have known you would not help me, even though I hardly asked you to do a thing. You have always been envious of me. Always. Because I have a mother and because I am beautiful and because I have prospects while you only have your books. And now I have a dashing man, who is handsome and witty and wonderful, and you are stuck with a scarred, crippled…loutish…murderer!”

  Her face scarlet and her hands clenched at her sides, Bella continued in a voice seething with anger. “Well, you have left me with no choice. I shall marry Jeremy with or without your help. And if Ashfield will not provide Jeremy with a generous allowance, I will simply have to see that Ashfield is finally arrested and tried in the House of Lords…and then he will hang, and Jeremy will inherit.”

  Mira grew chilled as the blood drained from her face. But Bella was not done.

  “You think I am just a silly twit, but I know how the world goes on, and I have friends. If I have to, I will see Lord Ashfield swing. If I do not have any money to give to Maman and Papa, I am sure I can convince one of them to swear out an information against Ashfield. Better to risk Blackwell’s wrath than go to debtor’s prison. And then you will once again be the poor relation, the penniless widow. And you will be at my mercy!”

  Bella turned on her dainty heel and dashed from the room.

  Mira was stunned.

  There was little likelihood that Bella could make good on her threats, succeed in having Nicholas arrested and tried when Blackwell seemed bent on protecting him. Though perhaps when Blackwell died… If the memory of the murders had not faded too much. If Jeremy, out of anger over Olivia’s death and desire for the title, assisted Bella’s cause. Still, the prospect was remote, and Mira was sure that Bella would forget her threat as soon as she calmed down.

  Bella’s fury was reason enough for alarm, though. She might now be so set in her decision to marry Jeremy that pride alone would force her to go through with the elopement, and, as troublesome as Bella had been, Mira had no desire to see her cousin make a foolish mistake with her life.

  Olivia Linworth had thought it a great lark to elope at Midsummer, and look what had beco
me of her.

  With renewed resolve, Mira stood and began the process of dressing for dinner. She now had yet another reason to solve the murders posthaste, and she did not have the luxury of hiding in her bedchamber, sulking. For all she knew, Jeremy was the murderer, and Bella was planning to disappear with him.

  If any progress was to be made with the investigation, Mira would have to brave another dinner with the Ellerbys.

  Mira’s gaze settled on the empty chair across from her, the place set for Nicholas. He had not made an appearance yet. He probably would not. It made sense that he should stay away from Jeremy until the younger man’s temper had cooled, but Mira could not help feeling a bit abandoned.

  Trying to ignore the Reverend’s latest bawdy tale, Mira turned to study her cousin. Bella sat across from Jeremy, gazing at him as though he were the most fascinating creature on earth. But every now and then, she would interrupt her mooning to shoot a narrow-eyed look of simmering fury at her mother. Mira wondered if there had perhaps been another confrontation over the suitability of Jeremy Ellerby as a husband. Whatever the reason, Bella’s emotions were obviously still running hot.

  “Miss Fitzhenry.”

  Lady Beatrix’s voice, though not overly loud, seemed to explode across the table, instantly silencing the Reverend.

  Oh, please, not again, Mira thought.

  Bracing herself for another scene, Mira leaned forward in an attitude of respectful attention. “Yes, my lady?”

  “No, dear, the other Miss Fitzhenry.”

  “Oh,” Mira said, leaning back in puzzlement and admitted relief.

  With one final quick glance at Lord Jeremy, Bella turned to the woman she would have as mother-in-law.

  “Miss Fitzhenry, your mother tells me that your first Season has been a rousing success. That you have secured several suitors.”

  Bella flushed with obvious pride. “I could not say whether I have been a success, my lady,” she said, her tone clearly indicating that she both could and would say she was a success if only modesty permitted. “But I have very much enjoyed myself.”