Inspired by Grace

by Jeanna Ellsworth

  *****

  Gavin could not believe his good luck. There she was, sitting on the sofa in the library. He had assumed Grace had disappeared for the night.

  What was she feeling? What did she think of the kiss? Did she understand now that he had loved her all these years? Did she know how vital she was to his happiness? There was only one way to find out.

  “Grace, can we talk about what happened in the music room?”

  She opened her eyes and looked up at him. They were steel blue in the candlelight. She sat up straighter, closed her book, and set it aside.

  “Yes, about that. I just had a very interesting conversation with Winston. I believe he was trying to warn me about you.”

  The firmness of her eyes was reflected in her manners. But a small playfulness and ease was there as well. He could not be sure, but he thought she was teasing him.

  “Really?” he said with a laugh. “Well, valets do not know their masters as well as they sometimes think,” Gavin asserted. In response, she raised her eyebrow and grinned silently back at him. “Let me guess,” he said, slightly more nervous now, “Winston told you that I have decided to never marry? That I have heartlessly crushed the hopes of young debutantes all over London?”

  This time both eyebrows rose in surprise. Hmmm . . . I might have just revealed more than Winston did. She smiled at him mischievously. What on earth did Winston tell her? Reading Grace had never been this difficult.

  Gavin continued cautiously, “I see that was not what he told you. Might I enquire as to what new information my servant disclosed to you?”

  “Oh, I did not say the information was new. Part of me has always known. He just reminded me of some of your traits.” A teasing look flashed in her eyes.

  “Come on, Grace, tell me. You are killing me.”

  “Let us just say it is no secret that you have more dance experience than I do. He also let me borrow your book,” she said, picking up Persuasion again. “I hear it is rather good.”

  He smiled cautiously. “Yes, it is rather entertaining. You will like Anne Elliot. Her heart is always loyal to Captain Wentworth, even refusing other offers that came her way. She always held out hope for him to return.”

  “So, this Captain Wentworth, he returned to ask for her hand?”

  “No. It was a chance meeting that brought them together again.”

  “I think I would very much like to read this story. What drew you to it?”

  He couldn’t help but smile. “Hmm . . . perhaps it was the sea captain who had lost his first love. Or maybe it was Anne’s quiet strength in spite of the fact that she had lost her home, her mother, and even her social standing and was nearly on the shelf when she finally learned to follow her heart.”

  Just as expected, color infused her cheeks. She seemed to falter just for a moment. Then she stood up straight and said, “Well, I look forward to reading it if it is as good as you say. I bid you goodnight. Thank you, Gavin, for adding a bit of entertainment to this evening. It was . . . something else.” She stood and curtsied. He stood and bowed and watched her leave with the book in hand.

  Well, that did not go as badly as it could have. Knowing Grace, that was as close as they would come today to discussing the kiss. But he had already discovered the answer to one question this evening. There would be time enough for more detailed research in the future.

  CHAPTER 8

  Now that the ankle was healed, the duchess swooped into action, commandeering Grace’s every waking moment. The next two days were a whirlwind of shopping adventures and social calls. Lady Anaheim was amiable, as were Mrs. Kensington and her daughters, but the Tremontons were very inquisitive and nearly rude, especially the daughter, Sylvia.

  The dresses Grace had ordered two weeks ago with her sister were now ready for the final fitting. The duchess approved of Grace’s selection and commissioned more gowns of varying styles, some more revealing than others. Several of them were made as rush orders, especially the ball gown. Her Grace insisted on paying, which meant she had the final say on every detail. Knowing how stubborn the duchess was, Grace wisely chose not to fight a battle she knew she wouldn’t win.

  All in all, the duchess commissioned three additional ball gowns, four day dresses, and five evening dresses. They spent an entire afternoon in milliners’ shops, purchasing accessories for eighteen new dresses. It was a staggering number; never in her entire life had Grace owned so many clothes. It took the footman five trips just to transport everything from the carriage up to Charlotte for final approval.

  Charlotte was invaluable. She had discreetly added lace to the décolletage of two gowns to make Grace more comfortable, making a special trip to the lace shops on Market Street to find the perfect piece. She even dyed the delicate fabric a pale peach color to match the dress Grace was wearing to tonight’s dinner.

  Now, as Charlotte finished her hair, Grace found herself thinking about the kiss in the music room two days ago. She remembered how Gavin had guided her effortlessly around the room in silence as if the music had never stopped. Perhaps the music hadn’t stopped, she thought. Lord knows my heart was beating loudly enough to create an audible beat. She ruminated a bit longer on it and felt her cheeks grow warm again. She couldn’t help herself; it happened every time she thought about him.

  Charlotte looked at her in the mirror and asked, “Now, Miss Iverson, what has gotten you to glow so brightly? I know your radiance tonight has nothing to do with my skill.”

  “Of course it is. Look at this dress! When I picked it out two weeks ago, it was plain as day. But the pearls and lace you added have made it so beautiful! I do not remember a time when I felt so lovely.”

  “Well, we could not have your first dinner back into society be anything less than breathtaking.” She patted Grace’s curls once or twice before announcing, “Finished. I do declare not a single bachelor in sight of you will fail to seek an introduction.”

  “Thank you, Charlotte. You are a miracle worker. A master at everything.”

  “No need to thank me. ‘Tis easy when I have perfect material to begin with. But I do enjoy hearing all the details. You can repay me by telling me all about dinner later. Now go. The duchess will have my hide if you are late.”

  Grace stood and looked in the mirror one last time at her pale peach dress. She had never felt more beautiful. As she reached the spiral staircase, she could hear a number of voices coming from the parlor. The butler, Mr. Robison, bowed respectfully and directed her in.

  Grace faltered for a moment upon seeing the crowd. The duchess must have invited twenty people! Just as she caught sight of Gavin, the duchess gracefully glided over to her and cried, “There you are!” She took Grace’s arm and started to guide her from group to group. The Tremontons were there, with Sylvia clinging possessively to Gavin. He smiled and winked imperceptibly when they caught sight of each other. She colored, thinking about the music room again.

  Heathen’s milk! Why do I have to blush every time I see him? She smiled back at him, hoping that the color in her cheeks and her fluttering heart were not obvious to everyone. Sylvia Tremonton pulled on his arm and led him away.

  The duchess began the introductions. William Ellis was handsome and made good conversation. Abigail Woods looked to be younger than Grace. Her brother, Mr. Fredrick Woods, wore a black dress coat with silver threads subtly woven into the fabric to create an elegant sheen. His fob was a bit over the top as well, with three dramatic loops. Each button was decorated with tiny white gems. He must think very highly of his tailor, Grace mused with a smile. When he finally stopped talking about himself and his country estate in Kent, the duchess continued presenting her to the others in the room.

  The faces and names began to blur after the first dozen introductions, but she brightened at being introduced to a Mr. Harrison, who had a distinct smell of worn, aged leather and spoke with a stutter. She knew at once that this was Gavin’s friend who raised horses. They talked easily enough, and he even asked
if he could escort her to dinner when the time came. Grace consented.

  The door opened, and a familiar face walked into the room. Grace followed the duchess to greet Gavin’s sister, Eliza, whom Grace had not seen for ten years. She was dressed in the latest fashion and paraded in with a proud air of confidence. Not a single curl was out of place.

  “Eliza, dear!” the duchess called out, “I am so glad you were able to join us tonight. You remember Grace Iverson. Grace, this is my daughter, Lady Eliza Jones.”

  Eliza said, “Of course I remember Grace! How good it is to see you again! Forgive me for being nearly late, Mother, but the children were not easily settled tonight. Alexander has been having nightmares and is far more work than my nursery maid can handle.”

  The duchess smiled and replied, “Of course, dear. A mother’s touch is always the key. No doubt he was privy to a song or two as well.”

  Eliza smiled and confessed, “Yes, perhaps more than a few. I may not be able to sing tonight.”

  “Nonsense! You will be the finale. So, drink plenty of lemonade during dinner. Would you be so kind as to occupy Grace for a minute? I see Mrs. Bearl waiting for me. I do hope it is not another problem with the meal.”

  Eliza turned to Grace and took her arm. “Come, take a turn with me. I am quite familiar with most of the guests tonight. And let me say, I was so sorry to hear of your mother’s death. You poor thing!”

  Eliza was only a year younger than Grace, but she and Grace had never been very close. Eliza was more feminine and careful in playtime than Grace, and her only competitive streak was to look better than anyone else in the room. She enjoyed the spotlight and society. Her birthday parties had always been extravagant and themed, and the entire neighborhood always hoped to be invited. It was no surprise to learn that she had found a spectacular match in her first season at eighteen and already had two children at the age of three-and-twenty.

  Grace did not particularly wish to discuss the death of her mother and father at a dinner party, so she quickly changed the subject. Picking a person at random, she asked, “Eliza, who is the dark-haired gentleman speaking with Mr. Silence?”

  “Ah, yes, good eye. I shall introduce you. Let us head in that direction.”

  As they approached, Silence called out, “Miss Iverson, you are looking quite fetching tonight in that peach gown. It complements your ivory skin tones very handsomely. But I am quite disappointed that my lovely partner in crime has not sent me any covert communication tonight on how we shall embarrass Kingston. Fifteen minutes together in the same room and not even one wink!”

  Grace smiled but was quick with her reply. “I have never known a man who needed less help to embarrass himself than the Duke of Huntsman.” It felt odd to refer to her best friend by his formal name.

  The dark-haired gentleman to the side of Silence chuckled and replied, “I see you know His Grace well.”

  Eliza interrupted them and said, “Mr. Lewis, allow me to introduce Miss Grace Iverson. She is a dear friend of the family and could probably burn your ears with stories of us, but I understand that she will be sentenced to dancing with Gavin’s two left feet if she discloses anything of real value to the gossip magazines.” Although Eliza seemed to be joking, there was also an undercurrent of warning as well. It seemed that Lady Eliza had inherited more than just her golden locks from her father.

  “I know nothing save that Lady Eliza can eat more strawberry Italian ice on a hot summer day than both myself and the duke combined,” Grace replied. “It is a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Lewis.”

  “The pleasure is all mine. I understand that there will be music and singing after dinner. Will we have the pleasure of hearing from both of you ladies?” Grace was only partly listening, because she was busy glancing over Silence’s shoulder to see Gavin. She hadn’t had much time to take in how handsome he looked. It wasn’t until Mr. Lewis repeated his question that she realized Silence had caught her watching Gavin. He was grinning knowingly at her.

  Mr. Lewis asked again, “I asked, will we have the chance to hear both of you sing tonight?”

  Eliza quickly answered for both of them. “Of course! My mother would not allow me to decline, and Miss Iverson is quite accomplished.”

  Grace tried not to flinch. She hadn’t been asked to sing anything by the duchess. She suddenly felt quite ill. “Pardon me, Mr. Lewis, Mr. Silence, Lady Eliza, but I see that I am being hailed by His Grace.” She hadn’t really been summoned, but it was the first excuse that came to her mind.

  Gavin was watching her approach and excused himself from the conversation that he had been participating in. He met her halfway and could tell she was distressed. “What is it, Gigi? If Lewis said anything––”

  “No, he was very nice.”

  “Was it Silence?”

  “No, nothing like that. I believe your mother might be under the impression that I will be singing tonight. I have not prepared anything to perform.”

  “What about Red Is the Color of My True Love’s Hair?”

  She rolled her eyes at his dismissal of her concerns. “The song is called Black Is the Color of My True Love’s Hair.”

  Gavin was grinning from ear to ear. “Is it now? You might be right. I could have sworn that red was the color of my true love’s hair.”

  “I shall not argue with you, because this is a ridiculous thing to debate. Of course the color is black. I am being serious; what will I sing?”

  He took her hand and casually wrapped it around his arm. It was the first time he had touched her since their kiss in the music room. She had successfully avoided him for the last two days, although not entirely on purpose; his mother had kept her quite preoccupied. Feeling his touch again excited her and calmed her at the same time. His presence reminded her to breathe. He counseled her in a quiet, reassuring voice, “We used to sing all the time growing up. Surely there are a few songs you know.”

  She hesitated. “Well, there is one song that I sing when I am feeling lonely. Do you still play the pianoforte, Gavin?”

  “Yes. My mother insisted I continue lessons. Do you need me to play something?”

  “How much time do we have before dinner?”

  “Based on my mother’s consultation with Mrs. Bearl in the dining room, not much longer. Ten at the most.”

  “Can you meet me in the music room?”

  “Right now?”

  “Please?”

  “Of course. You go ahead, and I shall follow shortly. Silence is eyeing me suspiciously. I will have him delay Mother if she tries to escort everyone in before we return.”

  “I must retrieve the music from my room. I will hurry.”

  *****

  Gavin arrived in the music room first, but Grace was right behind him. “That music book looks rather thick. We are not practicing an entire opera, are we?”

  She laughed. He was glad that he could get her to smile. “No, just one song. A rather old folk song.”

  He took the book from her and sat at the pianoforte bench. “Which song?”

  When she didn’t answer right away, he looked up to her and gave her a puzzled look. “Grace? Which song? We only have a few minutes.”

  She took a deep breath and answered, “The True Lover’s Farewell. It is the third song.”

  “I have never heard of it.”

  “Like I said, it is rather old.”

  He flipped to the third song and saw that it was fairly easy to play. He put his hands on the keys and started. It was a sweet melody. He finished the introduction and waited for Grace to begin, but nothing happened. He stopped playing and looked up at her. “What is wrong?”

  “I do not know if I can do this.”

  He saw how flushed she was. He knew she struggled with performing in front of strangers. He scooted over and patted the seat next to him, and she appeared to welcome the opportunity to sit beside him.

  “Grace, you can do this. I believe in you. Let us remember that it is highly unlikely that you will stutte
r or miss a note. You should be more worried about the likelihood that I will trip on my way to the pianoforte.” A tiny smile crept across her face. “Right now the only person you are performing for is me. Just me. Your best friend. That is all. And when it comes time to perform, you just keep imagining that you are just singing for me. Let us try again, all right?” He put his arm around her shoulders and gave her a gentle squeeze. She nodded and sat up straighter.

  He returned to the music and played the introduction again, and this time she started singing.

  Her voice was like watching liquid silver being poured into elegant chandelier molds; it was so smooth that he wanted to reach out and touch it. It was no longer the voice of a fourteen-year-old, and she certainly was not singing playground rhymes.

  O fare you well, I must be gone

  And leave you for a while;

  But wherever I go, I will return,

  If I go ten thousand mile, my dear,

  If I go ten thousand mile.

  Her voice filled his heart with purpose, and he played to complement the variations she made to the melody. He noticed she liked to crescendo a bit in the middle of the verse and then trail off and hold the note longer than the music dictated, so he made the adjustments for the next verse.

  Ten thousand miles it is so far

  To leave me here alone,

  Whilst I may lie, lament, and cry,

  And you will not hear my moan, my dear,

  And you will not hear my moan.

  It wasn’t hard to see why she was so moved by these particular lyrics. It reminded him of her tears in the music room and how she had thought he had forgotten her. All these years she had held out hope of meeting him again someday. It nearly broke his heart to think of it. No wonder she sang it when she felt lonely. He could only imagine the pain she had gone through.

  The crow that is so black, my dear,