Chapter One
“Iam considering joining a nunnery,” Lady Matilda Sterlington announced, as though she were declaring that the tea had grown cold.
Her companions did not receive the words with similar composure. Lady Evelyn Firming, her younger sister, sputtered and spilled tea down the front of her gown.
Lady Cordelia Abernathy gave a most ungraceful choke upon her currant scone, and Lady Hazel Thorne was obliged to thump her heartily on the back until she wheezed herself into composure.
At last, Hazel straightened, her expression a mixture of disbelief and censure. “Surely you are joking, Matilda. Where on earth has this notion come from?”
Matilda set her cup back upon its saucer with deliberate calm. “It is not a joke. I have given it much thought. The new Viscount and Viscountess of Forth have been most kind inallowing me to remain at Forth House these past months, but they are beginning their own family. I cannot impose upon them forever.”
“That is utter nonsense.” Evelyn dabbed furiously at her gown, cheeks still pink with the effort of her earlier cough. “Robert and I both told you?—”
“Yes, yes, you told me I was welcome.” Matilda’s grey eyes fixed upon her sister with a patience that was half resignation, half defiance. “They tell me the same. But kindness does not erase truth. They have their own lives to build, and I have no place in them. I have been a burden long enough.”
Cordelia, still gasping faintly, declared. “A nun! Good heavens, Matilda. I adore you, but I cannot picture you in a convent. You do not even rise early!”
Matilda allowed herself a thin smile. “Perhaps I might learn.”
“Learn?” Hazel’s brow arched. “You do not choose a nunnery as one chooses embroidery or Italian lessons. And what is this talk of being a burden? To your sister? To us? Have you lost your sense?”
Matilda’s hands tightened around her cup, though her voice remained soft. “I have not lost it, Hazel. I have found it. Look at me. I am six and twenty, widowed, childless, and utterly dependent on others for my bread and roof. My parents have endured enough shame on my account, my friends have their own households and marriages, and Evelyn—” Her voice falteredas she glanced at her sister, whose green eyes glistened with too much tenderness. “You have a child now, a family of your own. You do not need me lingering about, forever in the way.”
Evelyn reached across the table, seizing her sister’s hand with surprising firmness. “Matilda, you shall never be in the way. Not for me and not for Robert, not for anyone who loves you. Do not think for one moment that because I have a baby, my heart has less room for you.”
Matilda looked down at their joined hands. Her pale cheeks colored faintly, as though the warmth of Evelyn’s affection were too strong a flame for her to endure.
“You are very good, dearest. But you cannot see what I do. Everywhere I turn, I am reminded of how much better it would have been if I had simply vanished after… after it all.”
Evelyn frowned. “You speak as if any of it was your own fault.”
“Whose was it if not mine?” Matilda asked cautiously, feeling the familiar sting of old mistakes. “I was naïve to believe the lies of a man?—”
“A scoundrel, you mean,” Hazel cut her off. “There was not a single, human trait about that man. He was pure calculation and misery, therefore: a scoundrel.”
Cordelia chuckled. “She’s right, you know.”
“You all know what I mean,” Matilda replied, grateful for her friends’ efforts at lifting her spirits.
“Of course we do,” Evelyn nodded slowly. “And again, none of it was your fault. You believed a snake charmer, and you were not the only one. Why I almost married him myself!” she added with a look of disgust on her face.
“Well, all’s well that ends well,” Hazel concluded. “And by that I do mean that karma knows how to make things even.”
Matilda inhaled deeply. “It would be wrong to consider anyone’s death a blessing, Hazel.”
“I do considerhisone,” Hazel replied stubbornly. “You should, too. And yet, here you are, talking of vanishing into a nunnery when you are still at the threshold of your life. Preposterous!”
Cordelia gave a dramatic sigh and threw herself back in her chair. “If you vanish into a convent, I shall march after you and demand the abbess send you home at once. Think of it: me, knocking upon the convent door in the middle of the night, begging them to surrender their newest sister! How very scandalous.”
Despite herself, Matilda let out a soft laugh. “You, Cordelia, would find a way to scandalize even the saints.”
“Exactly so,” Cordelia said brightly, brushing crumbs from her sleeve. “So if you wish for peace and piety, do not imagine you shall have them for long. I would not allow it.”
Hazel, though less dramatic, spoke with equal conviction. “You must put this idea from your mind. You mistake pride for prudence. There is no shame in being loved, and less shame in accepting it.”
Evelyn, still holding her sister’s hand, gave it an affectionate squeeze. “You talk of vanishing, of convents and burdens. But I say this, you are still young, Matilda. Six and twenty is hardly the end of life. You might remarry, if you wished it. You might have a home of your own again.”
Cordelia’s eyes widened with delight. “Yes! Imagine it, Matilda. A proper courtship, with all of us watching like hawks so no one takes advantage. Think how amusing it would be, we could frighten away all the unsuitable suitors at once!”
