The Lady's Blessing

by Liz Botts

  With a quick curtsy, I rushed from Graham’s office and hurried up to my room, where I began to open cupboards and drawers in an attempt to find my belongings. I knew my maid would pack for me, but I had to do something to keep myself busy. The few items I had brought with me were still safely tucked at the bottom of the mammoth wardrobe that dominated one wall. I knew I should go say goodbye to Kate, but my heart ached at the very thought. The little girl had become such an important part of my world in such a very short period of time.

  I knew I would never love another man as I did Graham. Back home the thought of marriage had seemed like a fairy tale that happened to other people, not to myself. Certainly I had known I would find someone to settle down and have children with. The shortage of eligible men in our area had allowed me space not to think about the reality of being a grown woman. Now that my grandparents were my guardians, I knew my life had changed enough that I would have to accept my new reality.

  The weight of my situation pressed upon me, making it hard to breathe. I sank down onto the edge of the bed, pressing my hand against my abdomen. Did my grandparents really expect me to marry a man I had never even met? A flicker of morbid curiosity made me momentarily forget my despair, as I wondered how this sort of thing worked. A betrothal. When Mama had read me stories in which the girl was betrothed, I remembered thinking the word sounded romantic. Now that it was happening to me, the word sounded stark and bare.

  “Oh, Mama, what am I going to do?” I whispered the words, hoping they would catch on the air to my mother’s ears. She had to be an angel. Perhaps she could intervene on my behalf, just as she had when she was alive.

  Nothing happened, of course, and my feeling of desperation increased. The already dim light filtering through the window became fainter the longer I sat there, and by the time I shook myself to action, dusk had fallen. My heart pattered faster as I realized that, due to my dawdling tardiness, I would be staying here one more night. Was a mere twelve hours enough time to change Graham’s mind about… all of it? Would one more dinner make him see that the three of us were meant to be a family?

  Hurrying to my wardrobe, I threw open the doors with new determination. “I have to pick the perfect dress,” I murmured aloud, feeling a blush of silliness at talking to myself. “When Graham sees me tonight, he has to realize what a fool he has been.

  ****

  “I must admit, my dear, I am glad you did not rush off this afternoon. The roads are not safe at night. Your safety should be of the utmost concern for all involved. I’m sure your grandparents will understand the delay.” Mrs. Saunders fussed with a tray of roast while she chatted with me.

  With as big a smile as I could manage, I said, “I’m certainly glad to stay longer.”

  One of the maids had helped me twist my hair into an elaborate but tight crown of curls on the top of my head. I feared that one raucous laugh or wide smile would tear the follicles from my scalp. Every breath felt stunted from the stays that had been pulled tighter than I had ever allowed. My scarlet dress made my skin glow. If Graham didn’t look twice at me, the situation was certainly hopeless.

  I hovered in the entryway to the dining room, trying to look nonchalant. Just as I thought my patience would give out, I heard the sound of footsteps advancing down the hallway. One second passed as an eternity. The moment Graham caught sight of me, a light flared in his eyes, and he stopped in mid-stride. His mouth opened and closed as if he wanted to say something to me, but no words came out.

  With a bobbing curtsy, I said, “Good evening, Lord Blessington. I appreciate your hospitality for another night.”

  Graham froze; his jaw dropped as his gaze swept over me. A hot flush rose on my neck, and a thrill of hope raced along my spine.

  “Oh. Of course.” His words came out as a splutter, and I had to drop my gaze to the floor to hide my smile. “Won’t you, I mean, might I escort you in to dinner?”

  “I would be much obliged, Lord Blessington.” I accepted his arm.

  When we entered the dining room, Graham pulled out my chair. I sat down just as Kate bounded into the room. She stopped and gawked at me.

  “Oh, Fliss, you look beautiful.” Her eyes shone in the candlelight as she clambered up into her chair, which Graham held out for her.

  “Katherine, we address a lady properly. You mustn’t speak out of turn, darling, but I agree with you. Lady Felicity does look beautiful.” Graham took his seat at the head of the table.

  After a brief blessing, the first course was served. The three of us settled in to eating, and before too long Graham gave Kate permission to speak freely. While the little girl prattled on about the ramble in the woods she had taken earlier, I used the time to watch Graham from the corner of my eye. Despite his obvious interest in his daughter, he seemed distracted. My breath caught whenever his eyes strayed toward me.

  When supper finished, I waited while he pulled out my chair. Then I hovered, hoping he would offer to escort me to my room, but instead he bowed when we stood in the hall.

  “My lady,” he said, “I bid you goodnight, and, I’m afraid, goodbye. When you wake in the morning to begin your journey, I shall already be gone.”

  Before I had a chance to say anything, Graham turned and hurried off in the opposite direction. Right then and there, my heart turned from hope to despair. I ran as fast as my constricting clothing would allow me, so I could be alone when I melted into a puddle of tears.

  Chapter Seventeen

  “Here we are, Lady Felicity.” The driver’s voice jarred me from my thoughts of Graham and Kate.

  I peered out the window to see the brick façade of my grandparents’ London home. With a sigh, I adjusted my wool shawl around me. Despite the relative snugness of the carriage, the chill of the wintry air seemed to seep through every crack and crevice. Bone-deep cold. That’s what Mama had always called it, though back home that referred to weather in January with drifts of snow taller than our windows.

  The door creaked on its hinges as the footman pulled it open. A shudder twitched along my shoulders at the sound. When I stepped onto the rain-slickened cobblestones, all I could think about were the dirt paths winding their way through Graham’s woods. The rain made me long for the cozy afternoons spent beside the fire with Kate.

  “I will bring your bags along in a moment, my lady. Your grandparents are expecting you.” I noticed that the footman smiled at me then, for the first time the entire trip. That was a pleasant change. The dreary weather seemed to make everyone crotchety.

  There were more steps leading to the entryway than I remembered. I nearly laughed at the absurdity of my thought, but contained myself even as mirth sat on my lips. Stalling would do no good. I chided myself for wasting time.

  As I stepped up to the door, it swung open. A man I didn’t recognize ushered me inside. Was he the new butler? He took my shawl before I could protest, and then he disappeared down the hall. Despite having spent some months there, I felt out of place. Anxiety gripped me, but instead of letting it overwhelm me, I squared my shoulders and walked toward the parlor. I rapped once on the door.

  “You may enter,” Grandmother called. She sounded distracted, and curiosity got the best of me as I went inside. I couldn’t tell what she was doing as she hunched over a small table before her chair. When she noticed me, her hand flew to her heart and a smile lit up her face. “Felicity! I’m so relieved to have you home.”

  She folded me into an embrace before I could even formulate a response. From the manner in which she was acting, one would think I had been away for ages, not just one month. “We have missed you so much, my dear girl.”

  When she released me, I dragged up a smile that I hoped conveyed my shock that Graham had not spent more time delivering messages of my condition to them in London. Of course I would never tell Grandmother that. Instead I leaned around her to see what she had been so busily working on and screwed up my nose in confusion.

  Seeing this, Grandmother laughed softly. I ha
d missed the richness of her voice, the mirthfulness that made me feel like I had a home. “I have been sewing like a mad woman for your trousseau, my dear.”

  “My… trousseau?” Despite my happiness at seeing my grandmother, her words rained down on me like daggers.

  A hand flew to her chest, and her eyes opened wide. “Oh, my dear girl, did Lord Blessington not tell you that we found a match for you while you were away? I’m sure he’ll be exactly what you’ve always wished for. I do hope you’ll choose him.”

  Darkness impeded my vision. I squinted hard at Grandmother to bring her into focus. “H-he may have mentioned something about it.”

  “Darling, it is just as your mother would have wanted.” Grandmother looked so happy, it radiated from her skin, giving her a soft glow. How could I disrupt her dreams?

  Instead, I produced a wan smile and said, “I am very tired from the trip. May I adjourn to my room until supper?”

  “Of course you may. Someone will be up with your things shortly.” Then she hugged me again. In the circle of her arms, I felt so secure; whispers of Mama still clung to my grandmother.

  My feet felt leaden as I dragged myself up the stairs to my room. Odd, I mused, how I had barely lived here before going to Graham’s, but I had come to think of this house as my home. Our cabin in the woods truly was a world away. In that moment, I felt a part of my grief slide away and be replaced by something that resembled warmth. Mama had perished in the most horrific way possible, but she had given me peace from beyond. That’s what a mother did, of course, sacrificed for the sake of her children.

  With Father and James all right, things should have been perfect in the world, but without Graham and Kate I could not envision my future. Alone at last, I collapsed onto my bed, enjoying the plush feeling of goose down beneath my cheek. Exhaustion overwhelmed me, and I closed my eyes. How could I explain to Grandmother and Grandfather that whomever they had selected for me to marry was not my choice? How could I make them see that I needed a choice? The questions haunted me as I pressed my face further into the bed.

  Though I knew I had choices, I didn’t feel like I did. Without Mama and Father to support my decisions, I felt as if I had to obey my grandparents. They barely knew me, and what they thought best for me did not match what I wanted as best for myself. That seemed to be the crux of my current problems. I sincerely believed that if Graham could kiss me the way he had, then he had to feel something for me that extended beyond friendly concern. I had failed to show Graham that we belonged together, though, and now I found myself in a predicament. If only Father were here. Perhaps he would see things my way.

  Sighing, I rolled onto my back, staring up at the ceiling. As glad as I was to be home, my stomach puckered to the point that I felt sick, and not the way I had felt during my earlier convalescence. Lovesickness was not a feeling I had any experience with, and I still had no desire to gain in-depth knowledge of the affliction.

  A light knock on my door drew me from my thoughts, and I hurried to stand. After tucking a few errant strands of hair back into place, I called, “Come in.”

  “My lady? Your grandmother would like you to be ready for dinner at half past the hour. She wants you to wear your best dress. There will be important guests arriving soon.” A footman carried my bag upstairs as a maid chattered away to me. I felt a rush of exhaustion, and wondered if I could ask if I had time to lie down for a bit.

  The clock on the fireplace mantel seemed to be broken as the minute hand ticked along with interminable slowness. I pondered who the guests might be, but I had a sinking feeling it must be my intended. Grandmother would not put so much importance on my appearance otherwise. Restless, I paced to my window. Late afternoon shadows lengthened along the back garden. At the Blessington estate, Kate might be out running in the woods right now, as she liked so much to do. How I wished I could be there with her.

  I ran my hands over the bodice of my dress, smoothing out any wrinkles from my little lie-a-bed. “Well, I don’t suppose moping about will do me any good.” Just being able to hear my own voice centered me. I opened the still fully-stocked wardrobe, and wondered if perhaps Grandmother had commissioned a few more pieces for me in my absence. There was a lovely blue gown that seemed both understated and elegant, perfect for a dinner with my betrothed.

  A shudder rolled through my body. I paced back to the window and paused. If I could just find a way to confess my feelings to Graham… the thought trailed off as the futility of it all washed over me. He’d had his chance, and he had rejected the opportunity, along with me. I could not continue to pursue a path that would only cause me grief. I pressed the heels of my hands into my eyes to stem the flow of tears. So much loss. Loving people caused pain, but I could not imagine life without them, even if they only lived in my memory.

  At least Grandmother’s and Grandfather’s match for me would distract me from the depth and breadth of my loss. I would never have to love this man if I did not choose to, and I had great hope that I would become fond of him, whoever he was. If I lied to myself long enough, would it become my truth?

  The realization that I had a choice about the nature of my relationship with my future husband helped to speed me along in getting dressed. I had myself nearly ready by the time the maid entered to help me. With her help, by the time I had finished, a glance in the mirror told me I looked quite nice.

  At the appropriate time, I joined my grandparents in the parlor to await our guests’ arrival. Despite my self-assurance that I had a choice in how the relationship progressed, my stomach knotted with each passing minute.

  I was staring out the window when they entered, but I couldn’t catch a glimpse of them from my angle. Instead, my attention was drawn when my grandfather said, “Chesterfield, old boy, how have you been? Let me introduce you to my granddaughter, Lady Felicity.” I stepped forward and bobbed a curtsy. There was a moment when I thought my feet might take flight to carry me away from the situation, but I stayed firmly rooted in place. I knew I couldn’t embarrass my grandparents like that. My grandfather drew his arm around my back and propelled me to where the young man I was supposed to meet and adore immediately stood. “George, my lad, let me make the introductions. This is my granddaughter, Lady Felicity.”

  My first impression was not generous. Viscount George Chesterfield stood two or three inches shorter than me, while his rotund belly strained the front of his jacket. To be fair, he did look quite jolly. That seemed like a good omen that I would indeed be able to grow fond of him. Cheerful people were always so much easier to be around. Perhaps I should strive to be happier.

  “Felicity?” Grandfather’s voice startled me, and I realized I had been introduced.

  I dropped into a curtsy and said, “I am pleased to make your acquaintance.”

  Viscount Chesterfield — I couldn’t think of him as George, he was too stiff for that — bowed slightly, and in spite of the serious air in the room, the corners of his mouth lifted in a small smile. I found that I liked this man, though I did not know him. Sadness marred the corners of my soul, but I found a measure of hope.

  That feeling ebbed as we ate our meal, though, as Viscount Chesterfield said not one word to me the entire evening. As a matter of fact, he barely spoke at all. Uneasiness settled over me instead. No matter how nice the man was, how could I spend my life with a man who did not speak?

  I knew that nothing I had to say was of interest to our guests. Other than their relationship to my grandparents, we had nothing in common. I had grown up in the wilderness, not London society. I tried to answer their questions politely, but when Countess Chesterfield asked me about my mother, I choked on a lump of unshed tears lodged in my throat and could not speak. Thankfully Grandmother moved the discussion in another direction.

  As the conversation flowed around me, I lost myself in memories of my family. Mama had described the thrill of running away with Father, and I had never understood why she would leave the safety of her family and everything she
knew simply to be with a man. Romantic love had meant nothing to me then. Now I understood. Running away with Graham was clearly the only thing that occupied my mind. I chastised myself for continuing to be weak in my resolve about letting go of Graham.

  “Lady Felicity? Don’t you agree?”

  Startled, I looked up. I realized everyone at the table was looking at me. “I-I, yes?” I angled a gaze at Grandmother to see her reaction to my answer. Relieved, I saw she was nodding her approval. I could feel the urgency in my chest, like I wanted to get up from the table and start running. I would continue going until I reached the Blessington estate, and once there I would make Graham see that we belonged together.

  I knew the foolishness of my idea, but I also knew I needed to start paying attention. Otherwise all the choices I did have would be gone before I knew it.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Sun slanted through the window as I stretched in my bed several days later. The evening with the viscount had ended amicably enough, and in the ensuing days Grandmother had been quiet on the marriage front. I still didn’t have a solid plan going forward, even though I understood my obligations. My emotions swung wildly back and forth between hopefulness and despair.

  I watched the shadows dance across my ceiling as I pondered what to do with my day. The chill that nipped at my nose made me snuggle deeper under the pillowy down blanket. If I squeezed my eyes shut tight enough, I could pretend I was still back in the woods in our cabin. The desire to do so had lessened over the past few months, and I knew that was healthy, bittersweet though it was.

  A commotion downstairs, followed by a banging at the door, sent a wave of fear through me as memories poured into my head of another calamitous day. I drew a deep breath to steady myself and calm my racing heart. The circumstances were not the same. I decided with the firmest resolve I could muster that I would not let the cavalcade of memories sweep over me. When the noise increased, however, the tiniest pinch of horror came back.