Marianne watched their mother blink in surprise. Her mouth hung open for a moment like a dead fish.
“Well if both the girls are keen on the idea, my love, why shouldn’t we let her go?” Their father said between slow chews. He looked between Marianne and Eliza. When he looked at Marianne again, he flashed her a subtle wink.
It made her smile. Her father always did his best to back her endeavors. In a household with her mother and sister, it was difficult to hold onto any shred of agency or liberty. So they stuck together.
“Splendid then,” her father resolved, before her mother could quite gather her words. “Don’t you think, my dear?”
Her mother looked at him, before nodding at last. “Well, I suppose it would be useful to have a house free of distraction.”
Marianne tried not to let that sting. She had gotten her wish and the happiness of that outweighed all else.
She beamed throughout dinner. And thought of Bath.
***
Their departure for Bath could not come soon enough. They decided that Marianne’s father would escort her and Becky to the country cottage.
He would stay the night and leave them to their own devices the following morning. There was something exciting about that notion.
Marianne had never been left to her own devices. Not ever. It was always Eliza making the decisions, or their mother. As the youngest, her wishes meant very little.
Except for her father.
Her father, Lord Norman Purcell, Baron of Westlake was an extremely gentle man. He was easy-going and needed very little to nurture his happiness, besides the happiness of the three women in his life.
But that was tricky to navigate. His wife and eldest daughter could be demanding at the best of times.
So being the easy woman in the household was Marianne’s duty. She wouldn’t be another problem for her father to manage. And for that reason, she knew that he had an especially soft spot for her.
He would often smile at her like she’d just thrown him a lifeline. Usually when she took a hit to please her mother and sister.
They were in this together, her father and her. And she liked it that way. Marianne was much too joyful a character to feel downtrodden for long.
When they bid their family goodbye, her father kissed her mother and Eliza on their cheeks and told them that he would be back in the morning.
Her mother wasn’t happy. Marianne could see it in her stiff posture. She looked like a slab of slate stood upright. “Goodbye mother,” she said, with a hopeful intonation.
“Goodbye,” she answered.
Marianne hesitated, but turned towards the door. She stopped there and looked back at her mother. “Are you quite sure you are alright with me leaving, mother?”
“Quite sure,” she answered, quickly, but in an equally tight voice. “It will be a great deal easier to manage the season without you here. I only hope that you will use your sense.”
“What little you have,” Eliza muttered into her hand, but Marianne heard it.
Their mother pretended she didn’t.
“What trouble could I find?” Marianne said, with a smile. But her mother didn’t smile back. She only shook her head, as though she was disappointed.
“Plenty,” she said, in a bleak voice.
Marianne lost her smile.
“Come, my dear,” her father said and touched her elbow. As he led her through the door, with Marianne still looking back over her shoulder, he murmured into her ear, “Don’t let them frighten you, my darling. You will have a grand adventure.”
“I think that is what concerns them,” Marianne mumbled as she turned her face away. But as she looked towards the carriage, some of her enthusiasm was revived. “They do not want me to have an adventure. Adventures involve risk.”
“Do you want to have an adventure?” Her father asked, as they stepped up into the carriage. Becky was waiting for them beside it and stepped in after them, taking her seat.
She smiled to herself as she settled, looking out the window at the trees and the thousands of shades of green on the grounds. “I think I do. Gentlemen have adventures all the time, don’t they?”
She saw that her father was smiling. “They do indeed.”
“And are they not happy?”
He thought for a moment. “Some are.”
Marianne would have pressed the subject further had the carriage not rolled into motion. Her heart gave a wild thump of excitement.
She leapt in her seat and leaned against the door with her arms crossed over the edge of the window. She rested her chin on them and watched the world roll by.
If Eliza had the London season and gentleman hunting to keep her entertained, then Marianne had her daydreams. Sometimes she would smile dazedly, looking a bit drunk, forgetting that her father and Becky were sat opposite her. No doubt watching her face closely.
How she loved long carriage rides. It gave her time to think. To indulge in all her hopes and dreams. That was something Eliza and Marianne shared in common, but it seemed to manifest differently in Eliza.
While Marianne enjoyed the experience of hoping and wanting, Eliza seemed to hate it. It embittered her. For Eliza, gratification was the only reprieve.
And once the want was gratified, she moved onto the next thing. It kept her in an endless state of bitter wanting.
Marianne enjoyed the experience of wanting. It made her life a living dream. As though she were asleep, but choosing what she wanted to see.
Sometimes she thought that her imagination was so powerful that she could live entirely in the world her mind created. Any world she wanted.
In her mind’s eye, as the trees and roads rolled by, she saw a gentleman.
He was tall with a strong build.
And he was looking at her.
She imagined that they’d met at a ball. He’d asked her to dance.
Oh, how she wanted to be kissed by him.
“Marianne,” he would say. His voice was like syrup. “Marianne. Are you asleep?”
Her brows furrowed a little. It was a queer thing for him to say. Perhaps she was falling asleep and she was losing her conscious grip on the dream. “Wake up,” the gentleman said.
At that, she opened her eyes. Her father was standing in front of her, touching her shoulder. “Wake up,” he said again. Marianne blinked her eyes quickly.
The carriage had stopped moving.
“You seemed to be having a good dream,” he remarked.
Marianne blushed. “It was okay,” she remarked, her voice croaky from sleep and from the influence of the gentleman in her dream.
“Why have we stopped?”
“We’re here,” he answered.
That snapped the sleepiness from her. She bolted upright, her spine like a whip, and launched herself at the carriage door.
She pushed it open and stepped outside. The sun was so bright it made her squint. For a moment, she couldn’t see through the sunlight.
But then the cottage came into focus.
“Oh father, it’s perfect! Becky, isn’t it perfect?”
Becky stepped out of the carriage and stood beside Marianne. “Quite perfect, my Lady.”
“Shall we go inside?” Her father said. He was smiling. He enjoyed nothing more than pleasing his youngest daughter.
A fact that Marianne did her utmost not to take advantage of. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d asked her father for anything.
But she’d wanted this more than anything. Being in that house with Eliza and her mother for another London season had been torture. The more seasons that passed, the more insufferable they became.
As they stepped into the cottage, she gazed up at the dark beams and the stone brick. She looked at her father, who was standing beside her, still smiling.
He would have to go back to them. To that insufferable household.
“Perhaps you could stay here?” She suggested. “Until the end of the London season?”
His s
mile turned softer, but he shook his head. “I do not think your mother would cope well with that.”
“But, father you seem under such strain.” She didn’t say what she wished she could. That mother and Eliza sometimes treated him like a bottomless bank.
They could be impatient with him too. Marianne had seen him treated poorly more often than she’d seen him treated with love.
But she knew that her sister and mother must love him. And her too. They only didn’t know how to show it.
He touched her hand and squeezed it. “You mustn’t worry for me, my dear. Just enjoy your time here. What do you think of the cottage?”
She squeezed his hand back and took the bait. “I am delighted by it.”
Marianne spent the rest of the evening exploring every nook and cranny of the cottage. It was bigger than she’d expected and the grounds around it were stunning. So many wild flowers that she couldn’t have counted them even if she’d tried.
When she went to bed that night, she felt this queer, wonderful feeling in the lower part of her belly.
This would be an adventure, she thought to herself. The grandest adventure.
Do you want to know how the story continues? Click here to find out!
http://lucindanelson.com/AmB003
About Lucinda Nelson
Lucinda Nelson has grown up and now lives in Concord, New Hampshire.
She has studied and worked as a librarian and her meticulous research in History inspired an everlasting love for Historical Romance.
She discovered Bronte Sisters at her early teens and she has been fond of heroines like Jane Eyre, ever since.
She finally got the guts to participate on a writing contest on 2017. From right then she decided that plotting romances with rakish men and smart, feisty women, was an excitement she couldn’t stay away from. Except the times she is chasing down her two young boys.
Other than writing, Lucinda delights in watching theatrical plays, reading mystery novels and her latest discovery is cake decoration, something that she owes to her sons and her weakness for sweets.
A Short Note About Starfall Publications
Starfall Publications has helped me, like so many other successful Romance writers to extend my writing to you.
Quality is the company’s main focus and I’m honored to be able to publish my books under their name.
With that said, I would like to thank Starfall Publications for giving me the opportunity to work with them, making it possible for me to make my dream come true.
Also By Lucinda Nelson
Book 1: The Roguish Ways of a Hopeless Duke
Book 2: An Earl for the Broken- Hearted Duchess
Book 3: A Marquess’ Forbidden Desire
A Wicked Scandal For The Bluestocking (Steamy Historical Regency) Page 30
