“Lucy! You shouldn’t say things like that. A well-bred young lady can wait until after she’s engaged to express her love that way,” Edith huffed.
“I suppose that is my biggest flaw.” Lucy grinned. “I’m absolutely improper, for I want to be swept away in a tide of romantic feeling to the point where it hurts to even think of parting with my beloved. I wouldn’t even care if he was a tradesman or a rake, as long as I was his whole world.”
Edith stepped around a sharp stone in the path and playfully nudged her incorrigible sister. “I never should have introduced you to Ann Radcliffe.”
An orange leaf fell off of the maple tree next to the pond and gently floated down until it landed on the surface of the water. The apple trees in the backfield were missing more than half their leaves and the few remaining were a riot of yellows, oranges, and browns. Fall was winding down and the season was only a few weeks away. Would Papa be able to convince Mama in time, or would snow make traveling impossible, pushing back her trip for weeks?
They were just crossing the part of the path next to the stand of cattails when Edith heard Mama shouting inside the house. “How could you do this to me? You promised to never mention that again, it was years ago.” Papa’s voice was soft and soothing but too quiet for Edith to understand. Mama yelled, “You’re impossible.” Her words were followed by a crash of breaking glass or pottery.
Lucy turned to Edith and whispered, “Should we go see what is going on or give them some time?”
“I don’t want to be in Mama’s way right now. I say we walk a little farther from the house and spend some time out in the horse pasture admiring Thor and Athena.”
Lucy agreed. It would be better to spend time with their horses than listen to their parents argue. She felt slightly guilty, being the cause of their disagreement, but not enough to ruin her future over it. Her parents would make up eventually. They always did, because they genuinely cared for one another despite how different they were.
The two sisters fed fallen apples to their favorite horses and wandered the orchards behind their home. These places had no path, and Edith’s soft shoes filled with weeds both sharp and irritating. After an hour of walking, they were both thirsty and hungry.
Edith headed back to her home with trepidation. She entered through the servants’ door to keep away from Mama and led her sister to the kitchen where they found some leftover food to snack on. From there the sisters parted as they both headed back to their own rooms where they had books waiting for them.
Early the next morning Papa came to her room with a sealed letter addressed to Lady Margaret Thackeray. “It is done, Edee. Your mother has given her permission and you will be off to London.”
“Thank you, Papa. I don’t know how you convinced her but I am grateful, truly grateful, for your aid,” Edith said.
“Then come give your father a kiss and make sure to thank your mother as well. This has been very hard on her.”
Edith kissed him twice on each cheek and ran off to find Mama. She finally found Mrs. Wilson in the green salon, furiously doing needlepoint. Mama didn’t even notice her enter the room, she was so focused on the embroidery in her lap. “Thank you, Mama.”
“Ow!” Mama winced as the needle pierced her finger, “That’s the third time today I’ve drawn blood. I shouldn’t be allowed sharp instruments when I’m upset.”
“Are you still mad? I really want to go to London and enjoy myself, but if you are miserable, how can I be happy?”
“Silly child, if you’d listened to me, you’d be married to an earl within the year. Now you’ll be gallivanting around with my half-sister breaking your heart. Mark my words: by this time next year, you’ll either end up with some nobody with a giant nose and missing teeth or you’ll be back here at home completely on the shelf. At least consider leaving London for Christmas with the Earl of Camden.”
Mama’s expectant eyes bored into her. Leaving London during winter would be difficult, and if she went to the Earl of Camden’s party, Mama would surely find another way to force her into marriage. “If that is what you want, Mama. Then I suppose I must find a way to make it happen.” Her shoulders drooped and all her earlier excitement vanished.
“Edith.” Papa’s voice boomed from behind. “You need to learn to say no at some point. I have made plans for you to have a full season and your mother has agreed, haven’t you Minerva.”
“Yes. Fine. Go to London and have fun with my half-sister and ignore the handsome earl I found for you. I give you permission to make your own mistakes,” Mama grumbled. Edith wrapped her arms around Mama’s shoulders and gave her a bracing hug and three kisses.
“Thank you, Mama,” she said. “You are the best.” To her father standing in the doorway, she mouthed thank you so that Mama wouldn’t see. Papa had saved her once again.
Chapter 4
Lucy ran up to her and gave her a giant hug. Edith held onto her tight until Gretchen tugged on her sleeve saying, “Come on now, Miss Wilson. The coach is waiting and the passengers are starting to get upset by the delay.”
Edith released her sister and waved goodbye to her family. It was hard, but she turned away from them and stepped inside the public conveyance with her maid. Gretchen’s younger sister had kindly stepped up to help around the cottage for the season so that Edith could have a friendly face with her while she was gone from home. The coach was half full already with an elderly woman, a middle-aged man with bulging eyes, and a young lad of thirteen or fourteen years. There was no space by the woman, so the only seats available were either by the lad or the big-eyed man. The boy’s side of the carriage had more space, so Edith sat down next to him and said hello.
“Hello, miss,” the boy replied. “You off to Lunnon?”
“Yes, I am traveling to London,” Edith replied, hopeful that she interpreted his thick accent correctly. “Where are you headed?”
“Me uncle has work for me to do in Lunnon, and me Ma has too many mouths to feed as is. So I says to her to send me away.”
“That was very generous of you,” Edith replied. Gretchen sat down next to her and the coach started moving. Edith chatted with the other passengers for a while, but soon ran out of conversation, and so she spent most of the long ride staring out the window and contemplating her unknown future.
Once the coach arrived in London Edith was supposed to find Aunt Margaret, but it had been over ten years since the last time they’d met, and she couldn’t quite remember what she looked like. Luckily there were only a few carriages waiting at the station, and a tall woman wearing purple muslin came towards her saying, “My dear Edith, how you’ve grown.”
“Aunt Margaret? Is that you?” she asked.
“Yes, dearheart. It has been far too long since I’ve seen you. I think the last time we met was for Lucy’s christening.” Margaret was nothing at all like Mama. Her hair was thin and brown, but stylishly done with curls and braids. Her nose was on the large side and she had a small mole above her right eyebrow. She was an average looking woman, and if she resembled anyone in the family it was Edith, for they had similar eyes and complexion.
Edith curtsied and smiled at her aunt, Lady Thackeray. Her husband, the late Baron Thackeray, had left her with a good sum of money while the title went to his nephew due to their lack of living offspring. Papa had once let slip they’d had a son that died of scarlet fever at the age of six. “It is my pleasure to be under your wing for the next few months, Lady Thackeray.”
“There’s no need to be so formal, Edith. Call me Margaret or Aunt Margaret. We are family, and I look forward to spoiling you. I have lost all of my closest relations, and I have lived alone in my London house ever since sweet Edward died three years ago. I am very pleased to have you here with me. Now, let’s get out of this chill air so that we can spend some quality time getting acquainted over some tea and hot chocolate.”
“That sounds lovely,” Edith said. A footman helped her into her aunt's phaeton where Margaret had m
uffs and blankets waiting to keep them warm. As they drove through the city, Edith was amazed by the sheer number of people walking the streets and by the soot and strange smell in the air. London was as foreign to her as Paris or Madrid, for she had never been to such a large city before, and no description or drawing was able to capture the size and bustle of the place.
Children ran through the streets, some playing, others working and selling everything from newspapers to flowers. Carts on the side of the street sold food of various kinds, and some had long lines of people waiting for a meal. The phaeton moved from one street to another and each was different. Smaller streets had less movement and different smells; several were unpleasant. One street they passed smelled distinctly of urine and fresh feces. Luckily the phaeton moved through quickly, and they were once again on the main thoroughfare.
Unfortunately, once they neared Aunt Margaret’s home on Harvey Street the roads became blocked with traffic. The phaeton slowed to a crawl. “Is it always this crowded?” Edith asked.
“Oh no, today is a slow day. Usually, we come to a full stop near here. You’ll get used to it, dear. Why at Lady Winslow’s ball last season I had to wait three hours in line outside of her house just to get in. It was quite the crush.”
“Why didn’t you just get out and walk if you were so close?” Edith asked.
“That just isn’t done, not here in London anyway. We avoid walking here almost as much as we avoid the plague and the poor.”
Edith wanted to ask why they avoided the poor so much, but didn’t want to sound like more of a country bumpkin than she already did. A few minutes later the phaeton pulled up to a beautiful townhouse with red bricks and white shutters.
The inside of Margaret’s house was even finer than the outside, with mirrors lining the entryway. Edith was promptly escorted to her room where she found her luggage already waiting for her. As soon as she closed the door to her room, Gretchen let out a sigh.
“Now this is luxury, Miss Wilson. Have you ever seen so many fine furnishings? And every wall has paintings, why even here,” she said pointing to the landscape beside the bed, “there’s a lovely scenic piece of art.”
“Yes, I feel very out of place,” Edith admitted.
“Surely not, she’s your aunt and you are a gentlewoman of good breeding. I, on the other hand, will have to work hard to get along with the staff here. I’ve heard they can be very cruel to new folks like me. At least that’s how it was years ago when my ma worked in London.”
Gretchen chatted about her mother’s trials in London while unpacking Edith’s things and helping her into a dust-free dress that hadn’t gotten too wrinkled from the trip. After washing her face and refreshing her hair, Edith left her room to find her aunt and to get a better look at the place where she would be staying over the next few months.
She brushed her fingers along the walls and popped into every room she passed. Each was uniquely styled with different drapes, chandeliers, paintings, and tapestries. One salon was orientally themed while the next was decorated with so much green that the carpet and the wallpaper blurred in her vision. She turned down the corridor and opened the third door on the right, but instead of her aunt there were hundreds of books. Ten times more books than she’d ever seen before in one place, and while she couldn’t wait to take time wandering the shelves and getting acquainted with new authors, she didn’t want to be rude to her aunt. Therefore, she continued with only a glance at the wondrous room.
A maid found her a few minutes later and showed her to the sitting room where knick-knacks covered the shelves, and a large painting of a man she assumed to be her uncle hung over a large fireplace. Her aunt was working on a piece of embroidery. “I thought that I wouldn't be seeing you again any time soon, dear. Aren't you tired from your journey?”
“Yes, but not so tired that I cannot spend some time talking with my aunt. What are you working on?” Edith asked.
“A blanket for my godson’s daughter. She’s just about to turn one, and I wanted to give them something with a personal touch. What do you think?” Margaret asked, turning the material around so that Edith could see the roses and tulips she was bringing to life one stitch at a time.
“It is absolutely breathtaking. I’m sure it will be appreciated and loved. I especially like the way you’ve arranged the flowers so that they look like they are in a vase.”
“Nicely said. In fact, I am planning on adding a vase here at the bottom.” Margaret pointed.
“I wish I’d brought down my supplies,” Edith said, “then we could talk as we work.”
“Open the top left drawer over there, I always have plenty of material and thread. Pick whatever you’d like and we can have a good long enjoyable chat.” Edith found an abundant supply of needles, thread, and linen. She chose a square of blue silk, red and purple thread for flowers, and green for leaves. Edith enjoyed making roses. She settled down on the couch adjacent to her aunt and started methodically stabbing and pulling colored lines into a distinct pattern.
They talked for hours as their hands moved swiftly and surely around their material. Edith was happily surprised to hear that their first stop tomorrow would be shopping for new clothes and fripperies. “Now don’t worry about the cost, dear. I’ll spend as much as I want and won’t take no for an answer. I can’t take you around dressed like a country girl. Plus, I just can’t wait to see what colors Madam Poullard will find suitable for you. She has a knack for finding just the right shade to bring out a lady’s best features. We shall have ever so much fun.”
“You couldn’t possibly mean Madam Poullard, the French seamstress that is all the talk of England? Why even in Sherborn I’ve heard of her. Isn’t she expensive?”
“Quality costs and I can afford quality. Yes, Genavieve Poullard is very à courant and fashionable. That’s why I booked your appointment with her the moment I knew you were coming to London. It usually takes months to secure a visit, but she was able to find a cancellation for me. She is a dear woman and I’m sure you’ll love her. Afterwards, we’ll need to cut your hair a little in the front and buy some toilet water. We need to engage every sense to attract a man. And smell is as powerful a tool as a heaving bosom to some gentlemen.”
“Aunt! I’m surprised at you, mentioning such things.”
“Well, it's not like they don’t exist, and if I’m being quite frank, you lack significantly in that department. Which is precisely why we must advertise other features. Like your eyes and your pretty lips. Yes, a touch of color will bring your face to life.”
All night Edith was filled with excited energy, and when she finally arrived at the beautiful little shop next to Cavendish Square, she followed her aunt inside a world of wonders. Beads, glass, and material of every color lined the walls. Dresses clung suggestively to cotton forms and a petite brunette greeted her aunt with a kiss on both cheeks and a stream of french.
“Madam Poullard, this is my niece, Edith. She needs something to dazzle and amaze. Something to help her feel like a woman.”
“But of course, Lady Thackeray,” Madam Poullard purred with her lovely French accent. The tiny woman looked Edith up and down, her hat tilting precariously with each movement of her head. The blue striped chapeau covered in poppies, pinecones, and peacock feathers was large enough to make Madam Poullard seem a full foot taller than she actually was. “I can work with this, I can make the outside shine—cependant, elle aura besoin d’un changement interne. You, my dear,” she said reaching for Edith’s shoulders and pulling them back, “must add the, how do you say, confidence. Yes. Be sure of yourself, and everyone else will believe.”
Edith smiled at the overly flamboyant seamstress. How could someone with so much personality understand how difficult it was to stand out in a crowd? Even if she could, she wouldn’t want to. She smiled at the woman and vowed to try and be a little more comfortable in her own skin.
Madam put several colors up to Edith’s face and made a few recommendations of which ones
best suited her complexion. Then Aunt Margaret and Poullard started choosing material as one of Madam’s assistants began measuring Edith. They left the shop with an obscenely expensive order of dresses.
“And now we get to shop for fripperies. Oh, I haven’t had this much fun in years. When you get to be my age, spending money is one of the few delights left. I can’t wait to see you all put together at the Westchester’s ball.”
Edith followed her aunt to six different shops before they stopped for tea and cakes on their way back to the townhouse. She’d never realized how exhausting shopping could be, though to be fair, she’d never bought a whole new wardrobe in one day before.
Miles Stirling was having a hard time falling asleep. After what seemed like several hours of attempting to slip into slumber, he got out of bed, lit a candle, and went to his den. He never should have invited Sir Archibald to his home.
The man was due to arrive tomorrow, two days before the rest of his mother’s guests were coming. However, just because he’d been invited didn’t mean he had to follow through on George’s suggestion of gambling with Miss Wilson’s heart. It was reprehensible, completely un-gentleman like behavior, and yet at the same time, the thought of a forced marriage gave him such a violent aversion that his stomach felt sour and empty even when full. One wedding was enough for him.
Louisa’s clear blue eyes and perfect face flashed before his mind’s eye. His first wife had been a diamond of the first water; petite, curvaceous with cornflower blue eyes, pale skin, and almost black hair that curled naturally. She was as perfect and fragile as a china doll, or so he’d thought before they married. Before he knew her true self.
He would never forget her words to him on their wedding night. Her voice trembled, and yet there was a fire in her blue eyes as she said, “I will do my wifely duty, as I promised my mother I would bear you a son. After that, I shall expect my freedom from you. I never lied to you and said I loved you; I didn’t say it for it would have been a lie. I married you for your money and for my father’s gambling debts, but I shall not be bound to you forever, and I will see whomever I wish once you have a son.”
An Earl for Edith Page 4
