by Cecilia Gray
His words echoed in her mind, as did his observation that if she wanted to be married, she would be married. She had to admit there was truth in it.
Alice did not know how to fail.
Therefore her failure was deliberate. Perhaps her father knew that, too.
Could she succeed now in what she wanted?
A shuffle of feet sounded across the floor. Alice looked up to see Dinah, who took her seat at the table without greeting them, a faraway expression in her eyes.
“Are you all right?” Alice asked.
“Hmm? What?” Dinah glanced up sharply, as if just seeing Alice for the first time.
“Are you all right?” Alice repeated.
“Yes, yes, quite all right.” Dinah picked up her fork and stabbed at her empty plate, then upon realizing there was no food on it, went to fill it from the sideboard.
“Whatever is the matter with her?” their father mumbled. It appeared that if anything could distract her father from the suitor problem, it would be Dinah behaving much like Bridget, as if her head were in the clouds.
Before they could discuss it further, though, others began to arrive, and soon the table was filled with Belles, as well as Abernathys, and they dined until the sideboard was empty.
“I shall have it refilled,” Alice said. “The other guests will want their breakfasts, too.”
“The other guests have all left,” Tom said. He dabbed at the crumbs that dotted his fuzzy moustache. “I was informed they departed early this morning at sunrise.”
There was a clattering of plates as the Belles all dropped their cutlery.
Alice’s heart dropped into her stomach. “All of them?” she asked. “Lord Savage, Mr. Hughes, and Mr. Crawford?”
“Yes, all,” Tom said.
Her father grunted his approval. “Business is always at hand. Good men. Not the sort to fritter away. I’ve let the day get too far ahead of me, too. Much to be done. Alice, would you attend me on a tour of Woodbury residents?”
She nodded, his voice sounding far away. Robert had left? Without a word? What did it mean? It was unlike him—it was unlike all the gentlemen, in fact—and the possible reason for it preoccupied her as she readied for town. Her lady’s maid had to dress her like a child, slipping her arms into their sleeves and buttoning her up to the chin when Alice was usually more than likely to slap her hand away to finish it herself.
It was this distanced demeanor that carried her through the carriage ride to town and her father’s visit with a farmer whose irrigation system was of interest. Her father was toying with the idea of growing food aboard his ships to decrease the number of supply stops required.
Alice took notes of their conversation. It was a good task, one that required that she focus solely on their words and not her wandering mind. Yet, how frustrating it was to find her future once again not in her hands. She must rely on her father, on Robert. If it were up to her . . .
But it wasn’t, was it?
“I fancy refreshment,” her father said when they piled back into the carriage. “There’s the establishment in town where we stayed our first visit to the Duke. I’ll have us stop there. Now don’t fuss about it, Alice. I know I had plenty yesterday, but I need a bit of hair of the dog.”
She’d been so in her head, she hadn’t even thought to admonish him as she usually did when he indulged before dinner. Instead, they discussed the visit with the farmer as they settled at an empty table in the back corner of the inn’s dining room. The lamps weren’t lit this far in and they were hidden, both of which were saving graces as a headache was blooming at her father’s temples from yesterday’s excess. Though, he was not the only one suffering the delights of the Belle birthday crush.
They could easily overhear the conversations in the din around them, and most of the inn’s guests, invited to the Belle bash or not, spoke of the party.
“Not one, but two harpists! Two!”
“I must have won twenty pounds at cards.”
“I lost. Fleeced by the Blasé one, you know.”
“That girl . . .”
“All the girls!”
“If not for the Abernathys . . .”
“A fine connection . . .”
“If not for their association with that family . . . Well, money can’t buy everything, you know. Clothes and education do not make a lady.”
Alice gripped her glass so hard it slipped from her fingers and shot across the table. Her father’s expression hardened. He stared at his drink, the stern slash of brows looming over the frames of his spectacles. A deep ragged breath hissed from his lips.
The sound shook a memory loose, and suddenly Alice could feel her mother’s hand clutching her fingers and pulling her along the cobblestone sidewalks as well-dressed ladies parted like the Red Sea around them. She had tripped and fallen into a woman who shrieked and belted her away. Alice had been sweaty when they arrived home, and her father had asked why they had rushed. Her mother hadn’t answered, and her father’s face had twisted into the very same expression currently on his face.
Only now she recognized it for what it was: shame.
“Their words don’t mean anything,” Alice said. “Not to me.”
Her father sighed. “I thought I raised you smarter, Alice. Society’s words mean everything. To you. To your sisters.”
And to her mother. That was the unspoken truth, always.
“You’re thinking about her,” her father said, his voice sad. He pushed aside the drink, forgotten. His figure shrunk into his chair. “Do share. So few of us have stories of her it seems a shame not to share them.”
She wasn’t sure what had brought on his melancholy mood. She didn’t want to share the memory of Society shunning them, so she plucked another memory, a good one. “Do you remember the year your father was ill? You wanted to take all us to visit, but Mother took sick.”
Alice had been three and a half years old and found herself home alone with her mother for the first time in her life. She had spent all her years sharing her mother with her father, or her mother’s friends, or the help, or her sisters, but on this one bright joyous day, with her father and sisters traveling to visit grandfather, she and her mother had been alone.
Her father smiled at the memory. “She said you were so worried that you followed behind her, telling her to take care down the stairs, take care not to eat too fast. She felt she received more mothering from you than she would have had if she’d joined me on the trip.”
“When she recovered, she suggested we picnic outside,” Alice remembered. “And I remember thinking that we never ate outside. We had never picnicked before. But the kitchen made us a lovely spread. Put extra butter on our sandwiches.”
They had gone to a picnic spot in Hyde Park. Her mother had winked at her as she tucked the straw basket under her arm. The walk to the park had been an easy one and should have taken only ten minutes, but her mother had let her stop to pick up rocks, to watch caterpillars cross in front of them, to catch butterflies. It was nearly an hour before they sat upon a red-and-white cloth beneath the boughs of a linden tree. There had been so much food one would have thought the entire family was present, and for the first time, she did not need to share. She had taken two handfuls of sandwiches, alternating bites between the left and the right.
“Mother warned me not to eat too fast. That I would give myself a stomachache. Of course she was gulping down chocolate-smeared bread as she said it.”
Her father let out a wrenching laugh.
“She said to me, ‘Don’t tell Papa. The picnic, the chocolate bread, will be our little secret.’”
He wiped at his eyes as she continued.
“I didn’t understand how we could even keep a secret from you. You were so smart that strangers would stop you on the street to tell you how smart you were. So smart that the livelihoods of thousands depended on you. How could we possibly keep anything from you?”
“You must have been in a tizzy.”
&nb
sp; “I was. I asked Mother if she had any other secrets from you, if there were other things she didn’t tell you.”
He eyed her curiously, and she realized she never told him this story before, precisely because of her mother’s request. It had felt like a private thing.
He leaned forward, perched on the edge of his seat. “What did your mother say?”
“She said that there were things she didn’t tell you, but it wasn’t the same as keeping a secret. She didn’t have to tell you everything for you to know what she wanted or felt or needed because you already knew.”
He smiled, silent, but there was more to the story that Alice felt compelled to share.
“I asked mother how you knew everything. And she said love was how you knew. That thanks to love, you didn’t have to tell each other everything.”
* * *
A.,
I’m sorry I had to leave so suddenly. I received a message that my niece had taken ill and I had to return to my family immediately. I sincerely would like to continue the discussions we began prior to my departure.
Your servant in every way,
R.
* * *
R.,
I’m sorry to hear of your niece’s illness and hope she recovers speedily. We will soon return to London. Sera and Bridget have not been home since their departure last year for the Continent, and they are eager to return to the city, despite its being an unfashionable time of year. I will happily continue our discussion, if you are still inclined.
Your eager correspondent,
A.
* * *
A.,
My inclinations are stronger than ever.
R.
Chapter Seven
October 20, 1819
London, England
Alice could hardly remember a time when each of her sisters, her father, and her aunt were all in residence. Her father was often away on business. Aunt Margaret was usually in the midst of one seafaring bug or another. Now that Sera was married, she spent most of her time at Woodbury, or Tom’s flat, or engaged in travels of her own, and Bridget and Charlotte had always been in high demand to accompany other families to weekend retreats. So while most of Alice’s memories were filled with familial bonding, it was still quite rare for each and every member of that family to be together, as they were today.
And as always, the much valuable time had digressed to gossip.
They were seated in the parlor upon settees and armchairs and sofas. The tea had long gone cold in their cups, and crumbs dotted the three-tiered pastry tower.
Aunt Margaret stood among them offering her best impression of Lord Savage. She pursed her lips until they were in a ridiculous pout and attempted his infamous insouciant pose. “‘My dear,’ Lord Savage then said to this pompous woman, ‘do not trouble yourself with attempting to communicate the location of your room with winks. I’ve never been one for secret code, and should I decide you are of interest, a bed and a door will not be necessary amenities.’”
“Oh heavens, no,” Sera murmured as she bit back a wicked grin.
Screeching with laughter, Aunt Margaret slapped her thigh and collapsed on the couch. “That man, I swear. He was put on this earth so my life would be less boring.”
“I’m sure a great many women agree,” Bridget said.
Dinah clucked her tongue. “What nonsense. It is completely illogical to assume one would be put on earth for any meager purpose. It seems an inefficient way to ensure anything gets done.”
Her father was struggling not to laugh, but he failed as his shoulders shook with mirth. His glasses slipped off as he chuckled deeply, and he pushed them back up his nose. “Capital chap, that Lord Savage. A shame to see someone of his position unmarried so long.”
And like that, all eyes turned to Alice.
And she smiled.
And she saw that it puzzled them. For it was not like Alice to smile when she was again reminded of her unmarried state. It was not like Alice to sit quiet and content while her state of near spinsterhood was under attack.
But it was also not like Alice to know she was soon to be engaged to Mr. Crawford.
In fact, Robert was due to visit this very afternoon. His niece’s recovery was nearly complete, and he had hinted that he would arrive to call and would also have news of a surprising nature.
So she smiled her mysterious smile, and Dinah cocked an assessing brow.
“Tell me,” Dinah said, “what is your impression of Lord Savage, Alice? I read the account I believe attributable to you in the papers. Unmemorable, if I recall?”
“That was Charlotte’s assessment of my impression,” she defended lightly. “My impression is that he is a very good friend to our Abernathys.”
“It is quite a motley crew, isn’t it?” Her father muttered. “The two middle brothers are close enough chaps and their association with Lord Savage’s family is long and respectable. But Mr. Hughes and Mr. Crawford hardly seem to be in their sphere.”
Dinah sighed in that way she did when something was so obviously simple yet she was forced to point it out. “The Abernathys are at the very top of the social sphere, so it makes sense that their acquaintances would be beneath them in that regard. It is hard to find friends of the same esteem when you have the most respected title in the land.”
“Save for the king,” Aunt Margaret added.
“You were saying, Father,” Alice pressed.
“Hmm?” He knit his brow.
She cleared her throat. “About the Abernathys’ friends?”
“Oh yes. Mr. Crawford, as I was saying . . . Is he an anybody?”
“Everybody’s someone,” Dinah said.
“You know what I mean.”
Alice’s nails dug indentations into her palm. “He is quite decorated from his service.”
“He has a phaeton and the most beautiful horses the staff have ever seen,” Aunt Margaret said. “And pretty manners.”
“What would you know of his manners?” Father asked.
“He dropped off gifts from the wedding a few years back.”
“I believe that was Lord Savage’s phaeton.” Charlotte pressed her finger against her plate to lift up the crumbs and bring them to her mouth. She sucked on her finger thoughtfully. “I’m not sure whether Mr. Crawford holds anything in his own name.”
“More tea?” Alice asked, rising up and bumping her knees against the table as she did so. Cups shifted off their saucers and clinked against one another and the tray.
Dinah righted the cups. “How unlike you to be clumsy.”
To Alice’s dismay, as she left the room to call for tea, Dinah followed right after her.
“I’m quite capable of calling for tea by myself.”
“I’m quite capable of seeing a ruse for distraction.” Dinah forced Alice to come to a stop in the hall and crossed her arms over her chest. “Is there an agreement between you and Mr. Crawford?”
Alice swore. Dinah was too smart for her own good. “I suppose it depends on how one would define an agreement. There is an understanding, and he is due this week to speak to Father.” She braced herself for Dinah’s retort. Perhaps something about the ill-advised social status of Mr. Crawford. Or marriage, in general.
Instead, Dinah took her hands. Her expression softened. “I wish you nothing but happiness. There, no need to wince. I mean it.” Dinah reached up to run her fingers across Alice’s brow. “Perhaps in the past I would have told you of the folly of such an arrangement but no longer.”
“Truly?” Alice clasped Dinah tight. “Do you think Mother would have approved? I know it isn’t a fair question to you. You were so young. I think she would have liked him, but am I merely hoping for the outcome I want? Am I being selfish?”
“As someone who is an expert on the act of being selfish, I promise you that is not the case.”
* * *
While the morning had been uncharacteristically sunny, a heavy mist, like omnipresent rain, shrouded the city by
the time Robert arrived in London from Leeds. He had transferred from his traveling coach to a hired hackney, getting his coat and luggage wet in the process. Although he wanted to attend straight to business at the Belle home, he knew it would not serve his cause if he arrived damp and disheveled.
It was with great patience that he directed the driver to his newly rented flat. By the time he addressed his appearance, sent out notice of his intent to call, and set out on the road to Bayswater, it was late afternoon, so he was surprised when the entire Belle household was in attendance to greet him.
“Robert!” This and a hug from Sera, who had taken to treating him as if he were her younger brother, despite his seniority. “I’m desperate for news of your niece. Is Roberta improved?”
“Much, although she is not fully recovered yet. She was sly enough to request a promise from me to return next week to check on her.”
“You’re only in London for a few weeks, though, yes? Do you have plans to visit with any friends in town?” Bridget asked.
“Yes,” Dinah prodded. “Perhaps the Abernathys?”
He felt spun between them as he was led to a seat in the parlor, which was being discreetly cleared of tea service and reset anew. It wasn’t until he was seated that he finally saw Alice.
She wore a white dress with paisley print and stood with her fingers clasped behind her father’s armchair. Her ebony hair was twisted into a bun at the nape of her neck. She seemed nervous but flashed him a quick smile.
Dominic Belle, on the other hand, assessed him from behind his now-infamous rimless spectacles. They’d become a fashion item for any London set determined to appear intelligent. “We were just speaking of you, Mr. Crawford.”
“Is that so?” He glanced around the room, but the varying reactions did not allow him to determine whether the content of their conversation was favorable. “I’m flattered to be topic enough to hold the interest of all the Belles. Might I inquire the subject matter?”
“Your friendship with my husband’s family,” Sera said. “You’re practically family yourself, to hear Benjamin and Graham tell it.”
