After a long pause, Harriet forced herself to smile. She bowed her head, putting on a false voice. “Well, you know, Zelda, that I approve of William above anyone else for you. Always since we were girls, I thought he was a marvellous match. I don’t know why you would seek my approval about this, of course. It seems well understood throughout all our family, as well as his…”
As Harriet spoke, Zelda’s face scrunched tighter. She let out a little bark of a laugh. “You misunderstand me, Harriet,” she said.
“How so?” Harriet asked.
“Darling, I always forget. You never had a teenage crush, did you? No sort of lust for anyone when you were younger,” Zelda said. She tilted her head.
“I suppose not,” Harriet murmured. Her cheeks felt flushed.
“Then it’s difficult for me to describe this fully,” Zelda continued. “But suffice it to say, what William and I had was lost to another time. He was gone for far too long. We’ve both become very different humans.”
Harriet’s eyebrows met. A woman in the midst of a tense conversation burst against her, forcing her to rumble into her cousin. Zelda’s feet scrambled beneath her, hardly holding both of them up. The woman who’d created the incident didn’t even turn to apologise. Harriet and Zelda looked on, with Harriet’s stomach clenching with rage.
“Never mind her.” Zelda sighed.
“I just. I can’t understand,” Harriet sputtered. “Why did you bring William up if you haven’t a wish to marry him?”
Zelda’s eyelashes fluttered. “Just because I haven’t the will to marry him, doesn’t mean my parents have lost sight of it. They’ve made it their mission to bring up the issue at nearly every dinner gathering. I must say, I’m absolutely wild with anxiety about it. I’ve become an ageing woman, and I understand that. But to sit next to your mother before a roast turkey, only to hear the non-stop assumption that you’ll never be happy … unless you settle with Lord Abernale …”
Zelda’s voice took on a mocking tone, yet her eyes glowed with sadness. “I don’t know how much pressure your parents are putting on you. I suppose the pressure never really stops once you’re 18, 19 years old. And meanwhile, William Abernale has been allowed to spend the majority of his 20s up in Scotland, actually pursuing a career. A life bigger than whatever love he might bring to the table.”
Harriet paused for a long moment, listening only to the scuffing of their feet along the cobblestones. When she opened her lips to speak, however, Zelda surged forward, seemingly drumming up the energy to say what was truly on her mind.
“I was curious, Harriet. It’s clear that William feels something for you. And I was curious if you felt the same,” she continued.
Harriet gaped at Zelda. She wondered if perhaps she’d misheard. She swallowed hard, shaking her head, and then whispered, “What are you talking about?”
“I’ve never seen him looking at anyone the way he looks at you,” Zelda said. “And darling, if you haven’t noticed, then your head is far deeper in the clouds that I initially assumed. You should really be aware of your surroundings. Especially when it comes to matters of the heart.”
Harriet cast her eyes back in a slight roll. “Here comes the lecture, I suppose?”
“No, no. Darling, no. I’m terribly sorry.” Zelda bit down on her tongue for a moment, seemingly understanding how she'd come off. “It’s only that … my head is a bit of a chaotic haze these days. You see, I’ve met someone. Someone I could fall deeply for. In fact, perhaps I already have.”
Harriet had a flashing image of an older man at the Marquess’ ball: handsome, staggeringly so, yet a bit rugged around the edges, with a beard that seemed oddly untamed in a sea of such staggering aristocrats.
“I don’t suppose it was the man I spotted you with at the …” Harriet began.
But Zelda closed her eyes, halting Harriet’s words. “He’s not rich, Harriet. Certainly not as rich as William Abernale. All this time, my parents have counted on that marriage—one they felt sure would keep me safe and well. But there’s simply no reason this other man wouldn’t keep me well—and above all, happy. But the only issue is, of course, that my parents will never approve of this other man whilst they still believe William to be on the market. They believe he’s waiting for me all the time. My mother and sister both give me subtle—and not so subtle—hints that I should invite William round for dinner. That if I don’t, he’ll find another woman.”
“Do you know if he’s found another woman?” Harriet heard herself ask, shocking even herself.
At this, Zelda lent her a strange smirk. “Ah. But there it is. That fear in your voice about him having any sort of affection for someone else. That’s it, isn’t it?”
“Absolutely not …” Harriet murmured, marvelling at how childlike she sounded in her own ears.
“Well, Harriet. Whatever it is that’s brimming in that heart of yours, I need to know,” Zelda said, shrugging her bony bird-like shoulders. “Because if you do have affection for William—and if he does have this affection for you—then linking the pair of you together would surely assist me on my quest to happiness.”
“You want me in on your scheme, do you, Zelda?” Harriet asked. She put on a silly smile, all the while feeling her stomach churning with fear, excitement, and a strange level of power. She hadn’t expected such revelations from Zelda. Certainly, she’d expected Zelda to inform her that she and William had struck up their old romance.
But now, she felt Zelda placing William out on a sort of platter for her. Hers to take.
Harriet slipped her tongue over her teeth. Again, she had an urge to tell Zelda everything. She yearned to tell her that yes—in a better world, she might have accepted this offer. Gone after William. But as it stood, she and William had to remain apart, as she’d committed her entire existence to bridging the divide between the wealthy and the poor.
“Zelda, the thing is …” Harriet began, turning her eyes to the ground.
But in the midst of this admittance, her mother’s voice rang out across the crowd. “HARRIET! ZELDA!”
Harriet and Zelda turned their heads quickly, searching for their mothers. They approached ladened with bags, still in the midst of whatever swirling gossip they’d latched onto.
“Doesn’t it sometimes feel we’re still 12 years old?” Zelda sighed.
“I suppose until we marry, they’ll think of us that way,” Harriet returned.
Zelda’s voice remained soft, tentative. “Promise that we can carry this conversation on another time.”
“Of course,” Harriet agreed.
“You know I trust you more than anyone in the world. Even more than Renata,” Zelda whispered. “I owe you everything.”
Chapter 19
Renata and Zelda traditionally held a small dinner party gathering at the end of June every year. This party was to be particularly dramatic, as Renata had drummed up the courage to invite Hayward, which meant he would interact with all her friends, along with her mother and father in a way that felt far more formal.
For this reason, Renata was a whirlwind of terror for the days leading up to the party, ensuring that everything was set in its proper place, that the dinner preparations upheld Hayward’s apparently rather sophisticated palate, and that everyone promised they would be on their best behaviour while Hayward was about.
In secret, Harriet and Zelda told ridiculous jokes about Hayward and Renata’s growing love for him—but in Harriet’s mind’s eye, she was pleased for Renata, glad that she had such grand and beautiful dreams for her future—ones that could actually be realised. There were few people in the world she could possibly love more than Renata and Zelda. Sometimes that love felt oddly painful, too enormous for her body and heart.
Harriet dressed in a light green frock for the dinner party, reaching past the black cape to retrieve the dress in the back of the closet. She’d been out the previous night and the one immediately before it, as well, spending the first evening stealing from an olde
r gentleman who’d once wronged her father, and passing out his jewels in the next.
Jewels were becoming a strange thing for Harriet, as she’d found so many dusty ones, unused ones throughout so many mansions. It was increasingly difficult for her to imagine all these nearly-priceless items, just collecting dust across London and the greater world while people like Oliver starved.
When Harriet arrived at her cousins’ estate, Renata rushed up to her, her cheeks hollowed out and her eyes glittering.
“What’s happened to you, Harriet?” she demanded, her voice tart. “You look absolutely exhausted.”
Harriet clucked her tongue. “And why do I get the feeling that you’re only angry that I’m looking this way because it might muck up your perfect dinner party, hmm?”
Zelda joined their triangle in the foyer, crossing her arms over her chest. “You aren’t ill, are you, Harriet?”
“No,” Harriet returned. “I only slept poorly …”
But already, Renata tore over her, beginning a diatribe of complaints regarding the dinner preparations, the wine. “I told them over and over again that Hayward likes French wines exclusively, and it seems as though they’ve decided to simply ignore me! Can you imagine it? Your entire job is to do as I say, and you …”
“Renata, calm down.” Zelda sighed.
Harriet hadn’t the energy to respond. Her eyes swept across the foyer and towards the back garden. The door had been left open and was wafting a bit in the wind. Directly in the centre of the doorway, as though he’d been framed with it perfectly by an artist, was William Abernale. The summer breeze caught in his black curls. He seemed to be gazing at something in the distance, his enormous hands on his waist.
“Look at me,” Harriet’s mind screamed. Her heart pumped wildly. She pressed her hands against her stomach, trying to instill some level of balance back to her body.
Still, Renata rattled on. But Zelda’s eyes burned into Harriet, seemingly deducing what she was thinking. Zelda slipped her fingers across Harriet’s wrist, squeezing it. Harriet’s eyes flashed towards her as Zelda mouthed, “Go to him. He’s waiting for you.”
Harriet had every reason to hang back. Another wave of exhaustion fell over her. She didn’t wish to do anything just because her cousin thought it was a “good idea.” And yet—the strength of his allure outside forced one foot forward, then another one. She felt she was a puppet, operated by an outside force. As she approached the open door, she felt increasingly that he knew she was coming, that he could sense her. Perhaps this was why he hadn’t yet turned around. Was he operating like a puppet, as well?
Harriet tapped a delicate foot on the first stone step of the garden. Perhaps because of the recent rainfall, the stone was rather slippery, and she was nearly cast forward. Her legs turned to jelly, and her skirts became like a kind of parachute, whirling out behind her as she fell.
William acted quickly. He bounced back, aligning his large hand with her elbow and lifting her back into the air. Her smile grew electric, surprised. He balanced her back on the ground, where her feet found the sponginess of the grass. She blinked up at him, aghast, grateful.
“Such reflexes you have, William,” she said, sweeping one of her curls behind her ear. She felt so clumsy and childlike, completely unlike her ordinary persona.
“I nearly tumbled myself on those steps,” he said. His voice boomed out, sure and powerful.
“I should pay better attention. I might have ruined Renata’s grand dinner party,” Harriet said, adding just a slight bit of sarcasm to her voice.
William was endlessly perceptive. His teeth cut over his lips as he guffawed, turning his eyes back towards the foyer to ensure that they weren’t heard. “She’s been a bit of a jittery fool since I arrived. Something about some imbecile named Hayward.”
“Didn’t you meet him at the ball?” Harriet asked. She hated that she couldn’t calm her smile. Her cheeks constantly bulged.
“I suppose so? Although who can be sure. I meet a lot of nobodies,” William said.
“Nobodies, hmm? I suppose you must think of me that way,” Harriet said. “Just another nobody you danced with. And now, yet another nobody at another menial dinner party. That must be how you think of this world, in the wake of all you did up north.”
William’s eyes glittered with their banter. He leaned closer, murmuring, “I didn’t want to say anything. But I swear, if another person in London fishes to me for compliments about their tea biscuits, I will probably throw the tea table out the window.”
“I feel precisely the same.”
Harriet laughed and turned her eyes to the ground. She still felt William’s eyes upon her, studying her. Speaking with William certainly felt different than speaking to anyone else she’d met in her adult life. In comparison, every other conversation felt like a shadow, burdened and boring. Ordinarily, she was pressed with the belief that she should be anywhere else, preparing for the next robbery and the next neighbourhood outreach.
Yet with William, she yearned for nothing else than what she had.
Zelda, Renata, Tatiana, Thomas, Ursula, Hayward, and their mothers and fathers appeared in the garden after that, each of them holding glasses of wine. Tatiana, Thomas, Hayward, and Renata struck up a game of croquet, with Renata’s voice ringing out across the garden, instructing Tatiana that she was holding the croquet mallet incorrectly. Again, Harriet and William made heavy eye contact, both simmering with the same idea: Renata was ridiculous, but they loved her.
As Renata and Zelda gathered everyone for dinner, however, William approached Harriet from the side, murmuring in her ear. His breath was hot, casting a shiver down Harriet’s spine.
“I’ve been meaning to ask you, Harriet …” he began.
Immediately, Harriet froze, like an animal on the brink of capture in the forest. She turned her eyes towards him, waiting. Was this when he would reveal his “true feelings,” the ones Zelda had informed her about? His hand cupped her elbow. Harriet was grateful that everyone had already passed them; no one was privy to the closeness of their bodies just now.
Secrets had become her currency.
“I was wondering if your health is all right,” he continued. His thick eyebrows furrowed. “It’s only that you’re looking quite pale again. I hope you’re getting enough sleep.”
While Harriet had been annoyed at this question when her cousins had asked it, it had a level of tenderness with William that she hadn’t expected. She found herself nodding quickly, hoping to ensure him just how right she was. But as she opened her lips to respond, a strange thought occurred to her.
There was something about William’s expression that was different from her cousins’—and not simply because of its romance.
Rather, Harriet had the strangest feeling that he suspected her of something.
“Why would you think I’m not getting enough sleep?” Harriet asked, her voice small.
William shrugged. He allowed his hand to fall from her elbow. “It can be difficult to sleep in the summer, perhaps,” he continued. “So much excitement. You never know what will happen next.”
“I suppose. But no, I can assure you. I’m absolutely vibrant. Perhaps I’m just growing old.”
“That’s very funny,” William offered. “But we both know that’s not true.”
Harriet felt her heart thumping in her throat. She turned swiftly towards the house, slipping into the side room near the dining area. William disappeared for a moment before reappearing, his eyes burning towards hers. Her cheeks remained flushed. Perhaps they would always be.
“Come along, everyone!” Renata chirped from the doorway, gesturing for them all to enter the dining room. Hayward stood beside her, beaming down at her. His cheeks were also ruby red, as though he’d already drunk too much berry wine, despite the earliness of the hour. Anxiety, a sense of brewing love: perhaps that’s all it did to a person.
A Ravishing Beauty in Disguise: A Historical Regency Romance Book Page 16
