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Epilogue
ThreeDaysLater
Lady Augusta chose to sit in a small chair beside the fire instead of the settee, which would normally have been the first place she would have wished to sit. The benefit to picking the settee was simply that it allowed another person—a gentleman if she were lucky—to sit beside her.
But tonight, she far preferred sitting alone.
In one corner of the parlor, Grace and Lord Weston sat close to one another, deep in a hushed conversation. Grace had explained everything to Augusta regarding the correspondence she’d believed she was sharing with Lady Frances, only to learn it was actually Lord Weston she’d been writing to all this time. Though Augusta didn’t know of what they spoke, she caught their smiles and their soft laughter and was happy for them. At least one engagement had come from this holiday house party. Her gaze caught on Lady Katherine and Lady Frances sitting together in another corner, casting angry scowls at anyone who neared them. The irony there was that Lady Katherine had wanted Lord Brown so long as he had been bent on pursuing Grace. But when Grace and Lord Weston had announced their engagement the day after the Twelfth Night ball, a littleness in both Lady Katherine and Lady Frances had been made quite well known to everyone present. The gentlemen had been steering clear of either lady since.
Augusta shook her head sadly and turned back toward the fire. It never ended well when one belittled another. It was a lesson her mother had instilled in her as a young girl—one that was proving far harder to follow now than Augusta had ever imagined. What her elder sister chose did not sit well with Augusta, yet she was trying to be a supportive sister all the same. Never mind that it had shamed the family and ended Augusta’s first London Season early.
But the more and more she found herself pushed slightly to the outskirts of society, the harder and harder it was becoming for her to keep her head up and stay loving toward her sister and optimistic regarding her own future.
Her mind drifted back to Mother’s words that morning. Now, more ruin was besetting them. First, her sister’s scandalous elopement with an undergardener, and now Father’s most recent speculation was rumored to have been fully lost.
Grace would be leaving this house party with hope and a brilliant future, sure to be full of love and joy.
But Augusta—she would be leaving worse off than when she’d first arrived.
So much for Christmas cheer.
Augusta stood and slowly moved toward the door. Since they would be leaving first thing in the morning, she might as well get a good night’s sleep first.
A hand on her arm stopped her just before she walked out of the parlor completely.
“Are you well?” Grace asked her.
Tears at her new friend’s gentle question blurred Augusta’s sight. “Just tired. It’s been a rather exciting Christmas, hasn’t it?”
Grace nodded, and though she was clearly trying to contain herself, Augusta didn’t miss the way her eyes danced or the loving glance she cast over her shoulder toward Lord Weston.
Augusta patted Grace’s arm. “You two are perfect for one another.”
“We are,” she agreed. “I never would have guessed it had we met in London earlier this year. But I am so glad to have found him now.”
“Promise me,” Augusta said, “that you will appreciate what you two have. That you won’t risk it for anything.”
Grace’s smile dropped. “Now I am truly concerned.”
Augusta shook her head. She’d spoken too forcibly. “Forgive me. Only, I know not every woman is granted the Christmas gift you got this year.”
Herself, for example. Only earlier that year, Augusta had been a much sought-after debutante. Young, but highly desirable when seen through a prudential light. Now, her family name was tainted by scandal, and her father’s wealth was hanging in the balance. What once had been a sure thing—marriage to a man of her own choosing, a life of comfort and love—was no longer a guarantee.
“I am truly blessed,” Grace agreed, but her worry for Augusta was still evident.
Augusta spread her arms and wrapped her friend in a hug. “Do not worry about me. All will be well, I promise.” Augusta only said those words to buoy herself up. She had no promise at all that things would be well. But neither could she fix them.
So where did that leave her?
Focused on being happy for her friend, and focused on making the most of her situation, whatever that might look like in another few months.
She felt utterly lost, but she wasn’t going to let that drive her into despair.
“I leave in the morning,” Augusta said, pulling back once more. “Promise me you shall write?” Life was easier with good friends.
Grace nodded. “I have become quite good at making friends through letters this year.”
Augusta laughed. If only she had a secret correspondence she could turn to now. At least she could count on Grace, and she had other friends who would not leave her side.
“I shall miss you.” Augusta gave Grace another quick hug and then bid her good night and hurried toward the door.
She peaked over her shoulder briefly before leaving the parlor, catching one last look at a smitten Lord Weston and a joyfully happy Grace Stewart.
Christmas could indeed be a time of miracles.
She could only hope that someday, it would prove to be the same for her.
The End
