by Liz Botts
With that I was released into the wilds of London society, with Grandmother right at my side. I truly did not know what to do with myself, which direction to walk, or even where to look. Grandmother took my elbow and maneuvered me around the room. We stopped while she chatted with an old friend. I wandered a few feet away to watch the couples dancing.
My dress felt unnaturally smooth, almost to the point where I could imagine it melting off of me. Such an odd image to hold in my mind, but there it was as I wove my way through the thick crowd along the edges of the room. My slippered feet made no sound, though of course I would not have been able to hear even if they had. I was chiding myself for being silly when I nearly crashed into another woman.
“Pardon me,” I said, biting back the sound of fear in my voice. I longed to squeeze my eyes shut to block out the tirade I was sure would follow. I knew how silly that thought was, as well. I didn’t hear with my eyes, after all, but I did not want to have to look into this woman’s eyes as she berated me.
“You’re doing fine.”
I peeked up at the other woman and saw she was smiling at me.
“Thank you.” As I exhaled, I realized how much tension I had stored up. The woman gazing down at me was tall and thin with a long, elegant neck and lovely green eyes that put me at ease. Her brown hair curled beautifully around the sides of her face. As she smiled wider, I could see a gap between her two front teeth.
“This is your first ball, isn’t it?”
I bit my lip, and then told myself to stop. Such behavior was unbecoming of a lady. That had to be my mantra. “How could you tell?”
“You look like a lamb being led to slaughter. Certainly it can’t be that bad?”
I hesitated. Grandmother had cautioned me not to get too detailed in my responses, because the ladies of London liked good gossip. And apparently I was delicious gossip. “I just joined my grandparents here in London, so yes this is my first ball. Honestly, I had no idea what to expect.”
“Oh? Who are your grandparents?” The woman glanced around the room as if she could identify them on sight.
I swallowed against the dryness in my throat. “Lord and Lady Marwick?” My voice twisted up into a question, which made me feel stupid.
“You are Lady Felicity?”
“Um, yes?” How did she know who I was? Grandmother had warned me that London society liked to gossip, but I had hardly thought it would have started so soon. My stomach quivered as nerves flared again.
“My brother told me all about you. I had hoped you would be here this evening.” The woman beamed at me, showing off her tooth gap once more.
I shifted my weight from one foot to the other as a sense of unease descended upon me. The familiarity with which this woman spoke made me nervous. If her brother had told her about me, then the gossip must have spread far and wide. Did that mean all of London society knew of my circumstances? Was this woman being sincere or was she talking to me out of curiosity? Or worse, pity?
“Your brother?”
With a laugh, the woman reached out and linked her arm through mine. “I am so sorry. How rude of me. I am Lady Penelope Blessington, but you may call me Penny, if you wish.”
My jaw unhinged itself, and no amount of trying would make me shut it. This had to be Graham’s sister, but I couldn’t remember if he had ever mentioned a sibling. In fact, he had only barely told me about his daughter. No wonder her eyes looked familiar. They were the mirror image of Graham’s. I could see that now.
“I-I didn’t know Gra-Lord Blessington had a sister. My apologies.” I stammered as I spoke, my words falling over each other in my astonishment.
Penelope laughed again. She seemed utterly delighted that she was with me, or perhaps she was gleeful because her brother had given her the scandalous information on me before the rest of society. Either way, I could feel heat rising in my cheeks. The more attention that was turned on me, the more I felt like sinking into the floor. I did not want to relive the tragic circumstances that had led me to be in London for this Season, and even Grandmother had cautioned me against sharing too much.
“Oh, my, it really is so good to meet you,” Penelope said. She paused and glanced around the crowded room. Then she lowered her voice and continued, “My brother has spoken of you daily since he returned home. I had begun to think him quite insufferable, but now that I see you I wonder…”
As she trailed off, the meaning of her words sank in, and my heart began to beat double time. Was she saying Graham might actually be missing me? Was that at all possible? Not in my wildest daydreams had I allowed myself the shred of hope that he might feel for me what I felt for him.
“I don’t know what to say.” I spoke softly, but honestly, and hoped she would not hear all that was loaded in those words.
“He would have been here tonight, but he decided to go visit Kate out at his country estate instead.” Penelope waved a dismissive hand in the air. “Perhaps he will be at the next ball.”
She tugged me through the crowd to a set of French doors which had been propped open. “Ah, that’s better. This room is so hot.” She fixed her smile on me. “Now, tell me all about your trip with my brother. Don’t worry. I promise not to repeat a word of it to him.”
Chapter Twelve
The days after the ball passed in a Graham-induced haze. Penelope’s mere suggestion that he missed me had sent me into a tizzy of different scenarios. It was all Grandmother could do to rouse me from bed. All I wanted to do was lie on the goose down comfort of my bed and dream of a reunion with Graham. By the fifth morning, both of my grandparents were more than worried about me.
“Darling, you need to get out of this room, get some fresh air. Please, come have breakfast in the garden with me. We have so few lovely days left before the dreariness of winter sets in.” Grandmother stood at my door, clenching her hands together and giving me a plaintive gaze.
I sighed languidly. Every muscle in my body felt overly relaxed. That was what thoughts of Graham did to me. Pushing back the quilt, I swung my legs over the side of the bed. As my feet hit the floor, the room wobbled. I pressed a hand to my forehead, and I waited for things to stop spinning. They didn’t.
“Oh. Grandmother, I don’t feel so well.” My stomach quivered. I had not eaten since a light supper the night before, but every morsel threatened to rise up my throat.
Immediately she crossed the room and put her hand to my forehead. “You’re burning up. We need to get you right back to bed, young lady.”
With a weak laugh, I acquiesced. I had not been sick in such a long time that I felt like a child again. Grandmother smoothed my hair away from my face and pulled the covers up over me. She couldn’t hide the worried look that crossed her face. I wanted to tell her I really felt fine now that I was lying down. The room had stopped spinning and my stomach had settled down, but the words didn’t quite reach my lips. I mumbled something incoherent as sleep pulled on me. My head felt heavy, but thoughts of Graham made their way to the forefront of my mind. If I had to stay in bed, at least my dreams would be sweet.
****
My illness got worse before I got better. Fortunately I only remembered bits and pieces of my convalescence. Grandmother told me I had burned with fever, drifted in and out of consciousness, and cried out for Mama.
The first day I was alert, Grandmother and her maid propped me up in bed with pillows, made me drink weak tea, and spent the entirety of the day taking turns sitting with me. I learned that the maid’s name was Freya, and that she came from the Scottish Shetland Islands. She spoke with a heavy accent so I only understood perhaps every fifth word, but she described a life so similar to mine that I felt as if I had found a kindred spirit.
“But how did you end up here?” I asked as she finished a tale about fishing on a rocky sea with her father and brothers.
Freya set her knitting in her lap with a sigh. Despite the fact that she was not much older than me, I felt a worldliness emanating from her that made me
feel like a little girl. She got a faraway look in her eyes as she answered me. “Truthfully, I do not know. After my mother died, well, my father needed all the help he could get raising up the young ones, so he took a new wife. I did not get along with the lady, to be sure, so I left. Foolishly, I suppose.
“I made my way to London and was lucky enough to meet your sainted grandmother while I was searching for food. She took me in. Hired me on right away. She told me she had a granddaughter about my age. Perhaps she felt a bit nostalgic when she met me. I can’t rightly say, but I will forever be grateful. I’m able to send money home to my father, and I have a comfortable life here.”
I nodded, wondering at the similarities and differences in our lives. Freya seemed brave to me, and in my own weakened state, I only felt smaller, insignificant, and more inconsequential than I had before. Certainly Mama and Father would have been disappointed in my self-pity, but I couldn’t help how I felt. The feelings snuck up on me when I least expected them. Same as the feelings I had for Graham. Another pang of longing filled my chest, and I closed my eyes as memories flooded my mind.
“I’ll leave you to rest now, my lady.”
When I opened my eyes, she was already standing and gathering her things. Before I could beg her not to leave me alone, she had slid out the door. Logically I knew she had other things to do, and sitting with me was just one of her many tasks. Still, a feeling of desolation settled over me as the sound of her footfalls retreated down the hallway. The longing for Mama, which had finally abated ever so slightly since being under my grandmother’s care, flared.
I settled back against my pillow and shut my eyes again. Picturing Mama had become harder and harder these last few weeks, and before my illness I would sit in the parlor gazing at a painting Grandmother had commissioned of Mama right before she married Father. We had not heard a word from him since I had arrived, and I feared the worst. Tears leaked out of my closed eyes, running in rivulets into my ears. First I had lost Mama and James in one horrific day. Then Father had gone looking for my brother, and in all certainty had fallen victim to those vile Americans, as well. I counted Graham as a loss, as well, for even if we traveled in the same society circles, I felt certain I would never see him again.
A soft tapping on the door drew me out of my gloomy thoughts and back to the present. I pushed myself onto my elbows. “Come in.”
The door eased open, and Grandfather poked his head around. I was surprised to see him. Though he was a kind man, I generally only saw and spoke with him at supper time. He had been in to visit me while I was ill, but Grandmother had said he felt I needed my privacy.
“Are you feeling better?” His question, while direct and without greeting, carried a tone of warmth with it that made me smile.
“Quite,” I replied. With much effort, I struggled to a sitting position, pulling the quilt around me as a chill raced along my spine.
Grandfather chuckled and shook his head. The tiny white hairs of his mustache fluttered as he laughed. Such an odd thing, I thought, facial hair on men. Father, James, and even Graham had remained clean shaven.
“I can see that your spirit is strong, my dear, but your body is still weak. You need more time to recover.” He put his hands into the pockets of his jacket and gazed around my room. I wondered what he was looking for. Finally, he continued, “Your grandmother and I wanted to take you to our country home, but she has obligations here in London even though the society season is ending. She and the other patronesses, well… never you mind. I’m just a silly old man sometimes.”
Try as I might, I had trouble following Grandfather’s thoughts. I couldn’t see how wanting to take me to their country home had anything to do with my recovery or Grandmother’s obligations in London. Perhaps I had assumed incorrectly that I would resume going to balls and other events once I was well enough.
“I’m sorry,” I said. All other sane thoughts had left me, and I was left with an overwhelming fear that Grandfather was upset with me for getting sick, for being a burden. I didn’t know where the idea had come from, but once it took root it was all I could focus on.
Grandfather frowned. “Sorry for what, my dear girl? No, no, you have nothing to be sorry for. I do. As you can see, your grandmother and I are failing at our duty to keep you well. We want very much for you to be able to recuperate in the countryside, away from the smog of this city.”
Tears pricked my eyes again. “Oh, Grandfather. You aren’t failing.” I choked on my words as emotion threatened to overwhelm me again. The flash of fear left as quickly as it came. I blamed it on my lingering malaise. Obviously my illness had made me melancholy. How silly of me to doubt my grandparents’ affection for me.
“I had a very interesting encounter today,” Grandfather said as he cleared his throat. “I ran into Lord Blessington this morning at the Club.”
At the mention of Graham my heart began to pound, making me light-headed. I tried to feign little interest, but surely failed. “Oh? How is he? I haven’t seen him since our voyage.”
“He asked after you, naturally, and he was alarmed to hear that you had been ill. I thought that was quite nice of him, and we got to talking about the very predicament I just explained to you. He agreed that the country air, especially the hearty autumnal air, would do wonders for your recovery.” Grandfather paused, took his hands out of his pockets, and locked them together over his slightly rotund stomach. Blood pounded in my ears, and I really did think I might faint. He began to pace toward the window. “We had a nice long chat, and do you know? The young man offered to let you recuperate at his country estate.”
My jaw came unhinged and I sagged back against my pillow. Certainly I could not have heard Grandfather correctly. Graham had invited me to stay with him while I got better?
“How would you feel about that?”
Grandfather’s question shook me. He wanted my opinion. Growing up, I had always done what Mama and Father had said, and even the decision to send me to England had been made without my wishes in mind. Tears threatened again as I felt a wave of love for my grandfather crash over me.
“I think… I think that would be lovely,” I whispered.
“Good, good. We — your grandmother and I — had hoped you would feel that way. It really is the best choice for your health, my dear. I have heard that Lord Blessington’s estate is lovely. You shall be well taken care of by his staff, and you needn’t worry about your reputation. Lord Blessington assured me his daughter’s nurse would be more than willing to chaperone your stay.”
My head swam as Grandfather continued to talk. He outlined the plan for my visit, the projected length of my stay, and a whole slew of details that became a jumble as soon as they entered my mind. The only pertinent fact I seemed able to retain was that I was going to be staying with Graham, and I was to leave as soon as I was able.
Chapter Thirteen
The beat of the horses’ hooves on the hard-packed ground became the rhythm of my thoughts. I was still weakened from my illness, and my mind felt foggy as I tried to reason out the ball of nervous energy in the pit of my stomach. Leaving my grandparents had been far harder than I had envisioned, though they both promised me they would visit me soon. Part of my heart had been torn out when the door to the carriage shut, and I swore I had seen tears in Grandmother’s eyes. I knew my emotions were raw because of my ever-present grief, and the fact that my illness had left me vulnerable.
A thin ribbon of excitement wove through all my other emotions, complicating things further. Despite my best efforts to tell myself that Graham had offered his country estate as a gesture of friendship, my traitorous heart longed for it to mean more. Grandmother and Grandfather had made me promise repeatedly not to expect Graham — or Lord Blessington, as they referred to him — to be in residence. Somehow they had both seen my joy through my carefully crafted indifference. I supposed they didn’t want me to be disappointed.
With a sigh, I leaned my head against the side of the carriage
. The jolting, bumping ride made it difficult to get comfortable, but in a way I found it comforting.
“It reminds me of the ocean,” I whispered to myself. Then I felt heat rise on my cheeks because even if the driver couldn’t hear me, I felt absurd talking to myself, and glanced at my maid to see if she had heard me.
We left the crowded streets of London quickly, and soon the countryside began to flash past. I saw a country church with a graveyard, and felt a pang of sadness bloom in my chest. Everything still seemed to remind me of Mama, though each time my grief threatened to overwhelm me it was caused by a different event.
Quickly I tried to refocus my mind on something — anything — else. The first thing my gaze landed on was a shepherd, guiding his sheep through a narrow gate toward a stream where I assumed they would stop for water. A light rain had begun to fall, and the man pulled his thin cloak closer around his shoulders. I wondered if he had anything warmer, and for a moment I contemplated having the driver stop so I could ask him.
Grandmother would have done as much, but what could I do in the moment? Mama would have tried to help the young man. The feeling seized me in a flash, clamping down on my heart with such ferocity that it made me gasp for lack of breath.
“Driver? Stop, please.” My voice broke slightly, but I pushed the sound out loud enough to be heard.
The carriage halted, and I lurched forward. Before the footman could descend to help me, I flung open the door. The rain misted on my cheeks as I stumbled across the hard-packed dirt road. Would I ever get used to the clothing here in England? Not for the first time in recent weeks, I longed for my deerskin moccasins that allowed me to move as freely as the creature from which they’d come.
When I arrived at the low stone wall dividing the road from the pasture, I pressed my hands against the wet rock and leaned forward. “Shepherd?” My voice disappeared into the wind. The young shepherd would never hear me at this rate. Despite the cold and the spitting rain, the decision was clear to me. I loosened the laces of my shoes, cursing the layers of material in my skirts. With much effort, I managed to tug the boots off, and I left them slumped in the grass.
