Amelia nodded in acknowledgement once more before turning back to the mirror.Should I add another hair adornment? Tiredly, she thought it was best not to, for if she added too many baubles then it would clearly be seen as the attempt to distract from her personality, which it was. So she left it. She did not desire to be regarded as a mere beacon, rather, she longed to be appreciated for her tranquil demeanour and to be cherished for it.
“This is your third Season, dearest,” her mother gently reminded her, as if she needed it. Amelia tensed, nodding again. “You are my eldest daughter, and I am proud of you, no matter what. However, you must try a little harder to secure a husband this time around. Men are not as scary as you think.”
It wasn’t fear that kept her from speaking with gentlemen, though. Amelia merely did notwishto. A husband was required but when all they wanted was to look at the other women who were more forward, more daring with their gestures and movements, Amelia paled horrifically in comparison.
Her throat tightened as she nodded, wishing her mother would stop.
“We shall not let this Season pass like the others,” Bernadette said cheerfully, and although the words were likely meant to comfort Amelia, they sounded somewhat like a threat. However, her focus was quickly thwarted by her sisters entering in a flurry of movement.
“Sister!” Clara Hawthorne cried, her grin wide as she ran to Amelia’s side, hands already reaching to brush over her dress. “Oh, your gown is positively beautiful! I am sure any man in attendance tonight will be most admiring of you in it!” Her eyes sparkled with romantic notion, as theyalways did. Clara, it seemed, was impervious to Amelia’s disappointment each year, her faith in Amelia’s prospects never, ever wavering.
She still believed in romantic fairy tales, at only ten and five, and Amelia wished fiercely that she had retained such young innocence.
In comparison, her even younger sister, Elizabeth, merely looked over Amelia with a tiny smile. “People notice wallflowers for their quietness, not for their beauty.”
“Elizabeth!” Clara admonished. “Do not say something so blunt!”
“She is right,” Bernadette sighed, as Amelia flushed in embarrassment. “Elizabeth, you should not say such things, whether they are true or not.”
With a cool look that did not belong on the face of a ten and two year old girl, Elizabeth lifted up the latest scandal sheet. “It says right here, though. I am merely quoting.”
“Whatever gossipers wish to say about our sister should not matter to you,” Clara told her, putting her hands on her hips. “We must wish her well, for next it shall be our turn.”
“And let us hope we do not follow by example,” Elizabeth muttered, lifting the sheet once more to indicate that the gossip mentioned as much. Amelia’s heart fell as she smiled at her sisters. Elizabeth did not mean anything nasty by her comments. Over the years, her search for endless knowledge—from a love of books, led by Amelia’s own love of them—had turned her into quite a remarkably smart young girl who saw a lot of things. She had not reached the age, however, of learning that not everything needed an honest commentary.
“You shall be the center of every gossipping circle,” Clara huffed. “And I shall be the diamond of my own Season.”
“I have no doubt,” Amelia said, grateful for the distraction her sisters provided. If anything, it also took her mother’s attention off her for a moment. “You shall both do excellently and far better than I have done so far.”
At that, Bernadette turned back to her. “You merely need to have confidence in yourself, Amelia. You are beautiful.”
“Truly so!” Clara sighed. “I wonder if Lord Kingsley shall ask you for a dance tonight. I have heard he shall be in attendance!”
“Mayhap,” Amelia said, trying to sound enthusiastic.
“Perchanceyoushould strike up conversation,” Bernadette told her.
“Mayhap.”
“There shall also be the Duke of Blackthorn,” Clara added, her cheeks flushing. “At least, I am sure there is hope of him attending.”
“He never does,” Elizabeth pointed out. “He is a reclusive man, terribly so.”
“Perhaps he and Amelia should go into a room together and see who speaks first,” Clara suggested, her words innocent but bringing another flush of shame to Amelia’s face.
“Ladies, you must retire to your studies,” Bernadette fussed, shaking her head. “Let Amelia and me depart for the ball. If your require anything, your governess is at your service.”
“As always,” Clara groaned. “She never lets us read in peace! She is always insisting we must be practicing our languages. I do not know how many more times I can assure her thatje parle suffisamment bien le français. She must let me read!”
“Can you tell her that in at least two other languages?” Elizabeth grinned in jest.
“All right, you two,” Amelia laughed, “listen to Mama and return to your studies.”
“You must tell me later how your ball goes!” Clara insisted as they went to leave.
Before they did, Elizabeth came over to Amelia and took her hand, squeezing it. “I do hope you know that I believe in you, sister. I see that you are nervous. I am sorry if my comments were unsightly.”
“They were truthful,” Amelia answered, mustering a smile.
