Cursed Love
Kate Robbins
Chapter One
Highgate, London, 1860
Though out insociety a full month, Evelyn Bramston had yet to receive an invitation to join the ladies at afternoon tea. She was excited because today she had the honor to join them at the terrace above the catacombs at Highgate Cemetery. Oh, she’d been to the place before, but not like this. Their townhouse was not far away, just up aways on Swain’s Lane so she’d taken more than one stroll beneath the cover of the tall trees and through the shaded pathways connecting the various sections of the cemetery.
Afternoon tea was a wonderful time to glean all the best gossip and this particular gathering was said to be a rose in Lady Fry’s bonnet every July. Evelyn couldn’t wait. She understood one must be a preferred friend of the lady to secure an invitation and so when her mother shared the invitation with her, they both became quite excited. So much so, her father rolled his eyes and left the sitting room. His gesture might look non-supportive to the untrained eye, but Evelyn knew better. He wished her success in society as much as her mother.
Now in her room and putting the finishing touches on her perfectly parted hair, she clipped golden-drop earrings on and stood to smooth the crisp folds of her lavender taffeta gown. She gave her skirts and crinoline a shake and donned her gloves.Snatching a shawl, she left her room to go in search of her mother.
As a chaperone, she could have done much worse than her mother at these events. Her aunt had claimed that her mother would be too soft and not particular enough with her acquaintances and thus she would be a better guide. Only her father could fend off his sister in the end, and for that Evelyn would be forever grateful. The woman was a menace with her strict views of perfect poise and conduct. While it was important to Evelyn to display ladylike behavior, she would not be so stiff as to be restricted to engage with suitors.
She tied the ribbon on her bonnet under her chin and linked arms with her mother as they left their house. It was a beautifully sunny day with not a cloud in the sky as they strolled up the lane toward Highgate. Other ladies walked in the same direction, some in groups of three or more, but Evelyn preferred that this gathering was just for the ladies. A moment to breathe without the ever-watchful eye of the gentlemen. She was not opposed to the attention, but most of the young men appeared more particular than the ladies!
“Do you sew, Miss Evelyn? How steady is your artist brush? How many instruments do you play?”
As if she were there solely to impress them and not the other way around. Thus far, there was only one man who’d caught her eye as she was leaving the Thompson ball four evenings past. She still did not know his name and would not dare ask her mother who he was, lest she be deemed overly bold. Her best hope was that he would attend tomorrow evening’s gathering at the Clintons’.
There was something about the way he’d paused while bringing his drink to his lips when their gazes met that set butterflies loose in her belly. His hair was light brown and curly and his eyes were bright, though she could not tell their colorfrom the distance between them. She’d thought of him every night since as she lay in her bed staring up at the ceiling. At that time she was free to think any thoughts she wished and they were all of him.
She and her mother passed through the tall columned entranceway to the cemetery. Though macabre because of the nature of the place, the designer and builders had created an environment that was serene, and every tree and flowering bush was perfectly positioned to portray peace and beauty. Even the monuments and mausoleums added to a distinct atmosphere Evelyn enjoyed each time she walked through.
Their destination was ahead of them as they climbed the stairs to the terrace above the catacombs. Lady Fry had left no detail to chance as she had ensured the decorations and tables were covered with umbrellas to protect them from either an unexpected shower or the heat of the afternoon sun.
The tables were a delight to the eyes. Covered in brightly embroidered cloths, each sat four guests and was already set with cups and saucers, covered tiered platters, and beautifully colored roses.
“Your invitation, my lady?” a tall man servant asked as he reached out his hand.
Her mother passed it to him and he then turned to the side sweeping his hand toward the tables. “This way, Madam Bramston, Miss Bramston. Lady Fry has seated you with Lady Clinton and her daughter Lady Daphne.”
This pleased Evelyn very much. She and Daphne had been acquainted for years and got on quite well. Once seated she noticed they had been placed near the railing allowing them to look out over the cemetery and the city beyond. The view was spectacular! Shadowy paths with headstones dotted along the way canopied by lush oak trees opening to a gorgeous blue sky and the tall buildings of London that lay beyond. She wonderedwhy this was not a popular inspiration for artists. It was positively breathtaking.
From the corner of her eye she could see someone walking toward them below. When she turned her head a woman wearing a white gown that looked old and tattered approached. She supposed the cemetery was not closed off to the public, but it was rather unusual to find someone who appeared dishevelled as she had out and about like that.
The woman walked directly toward Evelyn without breaking her gaze and when she was just beneath mouthed something then turned to walk around the side of the catacombs. Evelyn leaned over to see where she’d gone, but the building obstructed her view. At that moment, their tea mates arrived and Evelyn put the woman out of her mind as she turned her attention to the decadence before her.
A maid servant lifted the cover from the tiered platter to reveal the usual suspects; however, there was a running theme of black crows in some form on each tier. Lady Fry took her setting seriously. On one tier, the top of each velvet cake was a black cutout of a crow; on another tier, the sandwiches were in the shape of a crow’s tail feathers; and on the bottom tier, the serving dishes for the clotted cream and jam were in the shape of a black crow. Lady Fry had outdone herself.
“Daphne, did you not tell me not five minutes ago how hungry you were?”
“Yes, Mama, but crows frighten me. You know that.”
“It is only food, Lady Daphne,” Evelyn said. She was careful to remain formal with their mothers present. “Look,” she said as she popped the crow from the velvet cake into her mouth. She chewed a little then put her hand over her mouth as she swallowed the delightful bite. “It’s licorice!”
“I don’t like licorice, Miss Bramston; you know that.”
Evelyn did know that. Lady Daphne, while a fun-loving person to be around, could be rather picky at times.
Her mother, who had always doted on her, took the containers of cream and jam and scooped some out onto her plate. “There, now you can eat your scone and not worry about the crows.”
Daphne’s cheeks pinked at the gesture. She remained quiet throughout the remainder of the tea despite Evelyn’s attempts to draw her out. So Evelyn listened to Lady Clinton talk about the preparations for the ball.
“Truly you are fortunate to not have such a large house, Mrs. Bramston. Preparing parties for a large house is exhausting.”
Her mother had told her a long time ago that hierarchy and condescension went hand in hand and that to challenge it was fruitless. And so her mother smiled and nodded at the lady’s comment. It was an honor to attend and she would do her duty to see her daughter’s future. Evelyn was sure she could read her mother’s thoughts some days. Today was one of them.
