by Lora Thomas
“Bea!” Elena said, returning her sister’s embrace.
“How was Eden?” Beatrice asked, holding her sister at arm's length.
Elena stepped back and clasped her hands together. “Wonderful! Simply wonderful!”
A knowing smile pulled Beatrice’s lips. “So I heard.”
A gasp left Elena. “What did you hear?”
Beatrice looked around. “Where are Mary and Constance?”
“Upstairs. But who cares. What did you hear?” Elena inquired again.
“Not here. Let us go to the gardens.” Beatrice took hold of Elena’s arm.
Elena squealed and clapped her hands. “Come along, Catrina.”
“Catrina?” Beatrice said, turning to face Catrina. A twinkle akin to mischief lit up Bea’s brown eyes. “So…you are her.”
“I am who?”
“Outside,” Bea said.
The trio exited the back of the house and entered the gardens. They were quite lovely this time of year. The blooming red and white roses caused a sweet smell to filter around them. The thick foliage upon the trees shaded a good portion of the gardens. In the center were several small iron tables.
“Let us sit in the sun,” Beatrice said, approaching a stone bench beside the tables.
Once seated, Elena said, “Well, get on with it. What did you hear?”
Beatrice adjusted her skirt. “Only that Lord Hawke has taken a fancy to you.”
An excited sound left Elena. “What else?”
“Well, a few days ago, I received a visit from Lord Hawke. He asked me to give you this.” Beatrice placed her hand in her reticule and removed a letter.
“Why did he not send it here?”
“Lord Hawke said he believes that Momma and Poppa do not care for him. He was afraid that if he sent it by post you would never receive it.”
Elena clutched the letter to her chest. Bringing the correspondence down, her fingers tore through the seal. A dreamy smile came to her lips as she read the letter.
“What does he say?” Beatrice asked.
“He says how he cannot wait to see me again, how the radiance of the sun is no comparison to my beauty, how I make even the darkest of days bright.”
“What else?”
“He will be attending the Hamlin’s luncheon. He also said he will call upon me this week and ask Father’s permission to escort me to the Hamilton’s ball.”
“Wait. I thought we were having tea with the Hamiltons?” Catrina asked.
“No. We are having tea at the Hamlins. We are going to a ball at the Hamiltons.”
“That is confusing.”
“It is easy,” Bea said. “Lord and Lady Hamilton resemble camels. Hamil the camel.”
Catrina snickered. “That is so unkind. But funny.”
“I know,” Bea tried to sound ashamed but couldn’t as she laughed. “When you meet them, you will see. They are a sweet couple, though, despite looking like camels.”
“Can you believe it?” Elena said, clutching the letter to her chest. “Lord Hawke wants to call upon me. Me!”
“That is wonderful.” Beatrice smiled. “You have changed Lord Hawke, Elle.”
“In what way?”
“Well, let me see.” Beatrice placed her finger to her chin. “Oh! It is said that since he has returned to London he has dismissed his mistress, stopped visiting those dreadful gaming hells, and”—Beatrice fixed her gaze upon Catrina—“has been spending a lot of time with Lord Huntsley.”
“Lord Huntsley,” Elena said. “Interesting.”
Catrina finally spoke, “Earlier, you said to me, ‘so you are her.’ What did that mean?”
“Oh, that. Well, you have become the mortal enemy of Lady Iris.”
“Me? I have done nothing to that viper.”
“Viper? I always called her a rat,” Beatrice said.
“She is a viper, Bea,” Elena added. “She tried to drown Catrina.”
“Well, from what I heard, she would like to do more than that.”
“Would you get on with it?” Elena snapped. “And quit torturing us with only snippets.”
“Fine. Let me see. Since returning to London, Lord Huntsley visited Lady Iris’s father and asked for her hand. Lady Iris arrived three days later, irate at a Catrina Wilcox. She has taken great delight in spreading gossip about you. You, my dear Catrina, are the talk of London.”
“Me?” Catrina squeaked. “Why?”
“For doing what most have tried but have been unsuccessful in doing.”
“Which is?”
“You have rattled Lady Iris. Upon her return, she told of how Lord Huntsley placed an extravagant bid to dance with you. Lady Iris claimed that he only did so because he felt sorry for you since no one would dance with you. She has touted to all that would listen about how hideous your appearance is. That you are covered in warts and ramble on like a madwoman. She has taken great delight in telling everyone how you have attacked Lord Huntsley on more than one occasion, without cause. At every opportunity, she has been shredding your name. But we all know why.”
“Why?” Elena asked.
“Jealousy.”
“Why would she be jealous of me?” Catrina asked.
“Well, I heard from Lord Hawke that Lord Huntsley was taken with you.”
“Wait,” Elena said. “If Lord Huntsley was so taken with Catrina, why did he ask for Lady Iris’s hand?”
“Well, she has told Lord Huntsley that she is carrying his child.”
Catrina gasped in shock. Woodenly, she repeated, “His child?”
Beatrice looked around the courtyard. Leaning in, she whispered, “She might be expecting but not by Lord Huntsley. That is what she told Huntsley. She knew he would never ask for her hand, so she lied.”
“You know this how?” Catrina asked, a slight waver in her voice.
“You see, Mother has always told us to be kind to everyone but to know our places. We are from the upper levels, the servants from the lower. We are to be nice to the help but not socialize with them. However, I have learned that those from the lower levels can be valuable sources of information.”
“The servants like to gossip,” Elena clarified. “How do you think she knows all the juicy tidbits?”
“Exactly.” Beatrice looked around. “Anyway, the late Lord Huntsley.” She drew her brow together. “This will get confusing by calling everyone by their titles. For the story, I will call everyone by their given names. Anyway, the Summers’ family has a ring that the wives wear. It is a beautiful sapphire. The late Lord Huntsley, Timothy, had given it to Josephine upon their marriage. But when Miriam’s husband died—”
“Who is Miriam?” Catrina asked.
“Miriam James, the Dowager Duchess of Whitmore. She became Timothy’s mistress.”
“Oh.”
“As I was saying. When Miriam’s husband died, Timothy had her move into his home as a nanny and then governess for Thomas. However, he got the ring back from Josephine and gave it to Miriam. It was quite a scandal.”
“Bea,” Elena complained. “What does this have to do with Lady Iris?”
“Patience. I am getting there. Lady Iris is furious because Lady Miriam no longer has the ring, but neither does she.”
“You mean Thomas has not given it to her?” Elena leaned forward.
Beatrice shook her head. “No.”
“How do you know this? And do not give me that poppycock of servants.”
“I saw Miriam a few days before Thomas’s return, and she was wearing the ring. The day after he returned, she was no longer wearing it. And I saw Lady Iris just this morning, and she was not wearing the ring either.”
“Interesting,” Elena mumbled. “So, Thomas has not given Iris the family ring.” She looked at Catrina. “There is hope for you yet.”
“No, there is not,” Bea said. She leaned forward. “Not until you tell me every tiny detail of Catrina’s relationship with Huntsley.”
“What makes you think I ha
ve a relationship with Lord Huntsley?” Catrina asked, trying to hide her guilt.
“Just a feeling. He seems different.”
“It could be because he is engaged to wed Lady Iris,” Catrina retorted with bitterness.
Beatrice shook her head. “No. He only travels to his office or his mistress—whom he has visited frequently. More so than Lady Iris. He has only visited Lady Iris twice. The only visitor he has accepted is Lord Hawke or Lady Whitmore.”
“So frequenting his mistress is an indication that Lord Huntsley and I have a relationship?” Confusion was written upon Catrina’s face…along with a spark of anger. How dare Thomas visit another woman!
“Men are complicated, my dear. He might have visited his mistress, but most were social calls.” Beatrice cleared her throat. “A few recreational.”
“How could you possibly know all of this?”
“Servants, Catrina. Have you forgotten what I just told you? Now, spill.”
Catrina looked at Elena for help.
Elena shrugged. “She will badger you until you give in, so you might as well tell her what you have told me.”
Catrina sighed and told Beatrice of her encounters with Thomas, leaving out their last visit to the cave. Even she knew not to speak of that transgression. Elena and Bea might be her friends, but even they would shun her fall from grace. Sex without the confines of marriage wasn’t done—unless you wanted a shredded reputation or to become a mistress. Well, granted, she had implied to Elena what happened, but since Elena never mentioned it, Catrina assumed Elena either didn’t believe anything happened or wasn’t paying attention when Catrina told her. It was most likely the latter of the two.
After the rendition, Beatrice leaned back and crossed her arms over her chest. “Interesting. Very interesting.”
“Is that all this family can say?” Catrina mocked, “Interesting.”
“Well, it is. So Thomas kissed you.”
“And they danced and laughed the entire evening at the ball,” Elena added.
“I see.” Beatrice drew her brows together. “We will have to make Thomas realize that you are a better choice than Lady Iris.”
Catrina closed her eyes and shook her head with sadness. “It would not matter. My brother is my guardian. I cannot marry anyone without his permission. And Branson and Thomas hate each other. Branson would never allow me to marry Thomas. He wants my inheritance.”
“But Catrina,” Elena protested.
“No, Elle. I have thought over this since he left Eden. There is not a future for Thomas and me. And if Lady Iris’s lies so easily fool him, then they deserve each other.”
“Wait,” Elena said. “Bea, you said that the child she is carrying is not Thomas’s. How do you know?”
“Well, you see, when a woman is with child, she no longer has her monthly flux. She had hers shortly after Thomas left London for Swindon. Only once. He has not returned to see her during that time. However, Lady Iris has had several male callers during that time.” Bea fixed her eyes upon Catrina. “A Wilcox from Swindon was one. Any relation?”
“Branson?!” Catrina asked, her eyes widening in shock.
“Catrina’s brother!” Elena exclaimed.
“I do not know. Are there many Wilcoxes in Swindon?”
Catrina shook her head rapidly. “Just my brother and me.”
“I see.” Bea pressed her mouth together. “I know that must be hard to hear. But I am afraid I have more news regarding his visit.”
Catrina groaned. “Do I even want to know?”
“Yes. She has not had her flux since your brother’s visit.”
“You discuss that?” Catrina asked with disgust. She then covered her ears. “Wait, I do not want to know of the carnal relationship between that viper and my brother.”
Elena pulled Catrina’s hands down. “Stop it.” Elena looked at her sister. “Do you always discuss a woman’s monthly issues?”
Beatrice shrugged. “When the gossip deems it necessary.”
“So, if you know this, do you think that means Thomas does as well?” Elena inquired. “I mean, it would be important information for Thomas to know. And if you know this information, wouldn’t others?”
A smug smile came to Beatrice as she fixed her gaze upon her sister. “I do not know, but I do know who can get that information to him.”
“Who?” Elena asked.
“You.”
“Me?!”
“Of course. Through your beloved baron,” Bea said. “Catrina loves Lord Huntsley.”
“I do not love Lord Huntsley,” Catrina defended.
“Yes, you do,” Beatrice said matter-of-factly.
“I do not.”
“Do you not smile when you hear his name?”
“I—”
“Do you feel all excited and giddy when you are near him?”
“I—”
“When you think of him with another woman, does it cause a crushing pain in the center of your chest as if your heart is being ripped from your body?”
“I—”
“See? You love him,” Beatrice said smugly.
“You did not even give me a chance to answer,” Catrina said.
“You have an opportunity now. Deny it.”
Catrina stared, wide-eyed at Beatrice. Every word she spoke was correct. Catrina did have those emotions flowing through her every time she saw or thought of Thomas.
“Deny it,” Beatrice demanded again.
“I cannot,” Catrina whispered.
“I cannot either,” Elena said.
Beatrice rolled her eyes. “Oh, Elle. Could you have not kept your mouth shut for one second?”
“What did I do?” Elena snapped.
“I was trying to help Catrina see that she needs to fight for Thomas.”
Elena cringed. “Oh. Sorry.”
“It is all right.” Catrina sighed. “These feelings I have towards Thomas will be a pleasant memory for me to hold onto in a loveless marriage to a vile old man. A man I know nothing of—a total stranger who I will be forced to wed and bear children for. I will have Thomas’s memory to make it more bearable. Because I will be miserable. I am miserable. Miserable because I know Lady Iris does not deserve Thomas. Miserable because I know I will be miserable.” Catrina stood. “Just miserable. I will be miserable until I die.” She left the garden.
Beatrice watched her with confusion. “Does she frequently repeat the same statement?”
Elena furrowed her brow and shook her head. “No. That is new for her.”
Catrina stumbled over a brick paver. Righting herself, she stomped the stone and turned, only to have her dress snag on a rose bush. She pulled her dress from the thorns and stumbled again.
“Blast it all!” Catrina growled, storming into the house
“Then, she must truly love Thomas Summers.” Beatrice readjusted her position upon the bench.
“The question is, how can we help them be together?”
A disheartened sigh left Beatrice. “I am afraid there are some things out of our control.”
Chapter Fifteen
Thomas could feel knots in the deepest pit of his stomach. He detested the Hamlins, yet he was being forced to attend their luncheon. He wasn’t certain if he should pummel Lord Hawke or shoot him for suggesting to Iris they should attend. It wasn’t the idea of the tea so much but whom he was taking. Lady Iris. Ever since he’d asked for her hand, he had regretted it. But what other choice did he have? She claimed she was carrying his child, and Hawke had yet to get a servant in place to verify if that were true.
“I am so glad you changed your mind about coming today, Thomas,” Iris purred, tightening her grip on his arm as they strolled up the walk to the Hamlins’ home.
“Well, we are to be married. Public appearances need to be made,” Thomas replied with disinterest.
“Yes,” Iris responded with coolness. She lengthened her neck and looked at him. “You know, Thomas. People are speculating when you wil
l give me the Summers sapphire.”
“Let them.”
“I need that ring, Thomas.”
Thomas gave her an unyielding stare. “For what reason?”
“We are engaged to be wed, Thomas. It is expected.”
“Why? A ring does not signify anything.”
“It signifies that we are to be wed.”
“A ring is only a symbol.”
“An important one, Thomas,” Iris seethed. “I want that ring. It is my right. I am your fiancée.”
Thomas clenched his jaw in anger. A malevolent expression crossed his face. What did he ever see in this woman? Ever since he’d asked for her hand, her true nature was slowly creeping out. The façade of grace and civility she had displayed upon their first meeting was replaced by a pestilent female. “I will give you my sapphire when I want you to have the bloody thing. Not when you demand. And if you keep this up, it will never grace your finger.”
The door opened. “Lord Huntsley. Lady Iris. What a pleasure it is to have you today,” Mrs. Hamlin said.
Thomas turned to the door, smiled, and bowed. Mrs. Rebecca Hamlin was an unremarkable woman. Nothing about her stood out. Nothing. She possessed dull brown hair with matching eyes. Her figure matched her husband’s…portly. Yet, she was wealthy and courted by countless investors.
“The pleasure is all mine, Mrs. Hamlin.” Thomas bowed.
The hostess opened the door. “Please come in.”
Thomas and Iris entered the home.
Iris leaned into Thomas and whispered with haughtiness. “She opens her own doors. How absurd.”
“She is rich, Iris. And when you are rich, it is called being eccentric.” Thomas’s words were laced with irritation.
“I did not know you felt so strongly about being eccentric.”
His tone was stiffly indignant as he replied, “There is much about me that you do not know.”
The couple entered the music room and stopped in their tracks. At the pianoforte sat Lord Hawke, strumming the keys. Elena sat beside him. The pair were both playing the pianoforte, each a different tune. Catrina stood beside the pianoforte, laughing. Catrina’s beauty outshone everybody in the room. Her hand came to her abdomen as she laughed harder. If this was the last thing Thomas’s ever saw, he would be happy.
