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CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
May, 1858
England
To Her Majesty the Queen, Justine,
Dearest, I apologize for not responding to your recent letters before today, but nothing of note has happened since the ball and it would have been a very short letter. But today, Lord I’s sister, Lady Caroline, and her husband Prince Leopold of Alucia, arrived for the weekend. The girls were so stirred by their arrival that they turned into little whirling dervishes like the ones we saw a few years ago when the sultan visited Rohalan. Unfortunately, all the shrieking prompted Birdie to cry, and then there was such a commotion that it was fifteen minutes before the pair were properly introduced to me.
Lady Caroline is beautiful and quite charming, and she spoke to me as if we were acquainted. She said that we had met at her brother’s house in Mayfair many years ago, which alas, I do not recall. Her husband, Prince Leopold, claimed to have made my acquaintance when I was still in swaddling, at the Kestrotov Summit. He said Papa was proudly showing me to all who had gathered. Isn’t that the summit where our father and the Alucian king could not come to terms over that spit of land and departed in anger? I believe that was the start of the Brezlin War, was it not?
I told the prince that while I would not recall that meeting, I felt as if I knew him because his reputation lived long in the halls of St. Edys. I meant only that everyone remembered him, but Lady I very nearly fainted. His Highness laughed and asked if his reported reputation was good or bad, and I told him it depended on who one asked. He laughed again, but Lady I muttered something to Lila and I don’t think it was very kind. I truly don’t understand her nerves, on my word.
We went in for tea, and Lord I joined us then, his neck cloth undone. He said he was in the bath, and that Lady C had said they would arrive late. She countered that she’d meant they’d arrive late morning. She was wearing a bonnet, and this she took off and tossed onto a chair, and when she did, one of the footmen who had accompanied her stepped in to pick it up. As he was directly in front of me, I smiled at him, and he smiled back. He was tall and handsome, and his uniform fit him very well. Isn’t it a pity that all men are not made to wear uniforms of some sort? I particularly like the uniforms of the Weslorian soldiers. Remember the one who stood outside Papa’s chambers? You made me pretend to be him so that you could pretend to marry him. I laugh as I write this. I know you’d not want anyone to know of our silly games when we were girls.
I should have liked to have looked at the footman a bit longer, but who should appear as if by magic but Lady A. She stood just between me and the footman and exchanged many pleasantries with the prince and Lady C, and then someone asked about her husband, and she said he wasn’t coming for a few weeks because of some elections in Denmark, and then rattled on quite long, all because she wanted to stand between me and the footman. She is determined that I will not flirt with another servant. She’s a killjoy, and I swear, Jussie, I think you’ve put her up to it.
After she finished her soliloquy on Danish elections, everything seemed to descend into chaos. The girls were bouncing around, demanding attention, and Lady I was in her usual state of panic that there was so much to be done for the supper party this weekend, but then Donovan arrived to quell all anxiety and announced that tomorrow’s supper was well in hand. It seems that all he must do is say it, and everyone believes it is true, whether it is or isn’t.
He greeted Lady Caroline and her husband warmly, and she threw her arms around his neck and hugged him. She asked if Peter had come, who is Donovan’s valet, but he’s not really a valet. He told her he’d heard from the Tricklebanks, and they had sent their warmest regards and hoped that Lady Caroline would come to visit again.
Then Lady Caroline inquired as to what I’ve been about since my arrival in England, and I dutifully reported that I had walked quite a lot and helped some at the girls’ school. Lady I said she thought it wasn’t good for my skin to be so often in the sun, but I said I had quite a lot of bonnets, and then asked what else I ought to do, as everyone else was well occupied, and if one more person suggested I read a book, I might scream, as I had read so many in the last two years that surely I ought to be deemed a scholar of something.
Prince Leopold said he’d done the same when he’d come to England, all that reading, but that he rather liked reading, and had just finished a tome about the fall of the Roman Empire, and had anyone else read it?
That was when it was collectively decided that everyone would retreat and rest up for the evening meal.
Naturally, Lila followed me to my suite with her journal. You should see it, Jussie—it’s quite fat, stuffed with vellum and paper, and bits of ribbon and old quill feathers marking various pages. Who knows what she’s really written there? She wanted to tell me of the special guest who would come to dine this weekend, and I suppose I yawned, and she said pretending that it was all tiresome would not keep her from her duty. She said of particular note was Mr. Swann. I asked why and she said that he was handsome, and his mother was an Indian princess, and his father a wealthy landowner from the Lake District. She said he is a scientific man and, at his leisure, he developed an improved method by which kerosene is distilled from coal. Lila was quite pleased with this fact.
I said I couldn’t imagine what that had to do with me. Lila said it had made Mr. S a very rich man and that she thought I would like him very much, and I said probably so, as I happen to likeallgentlemen, but had yet to find one to esteem for more than an evening. That made me think of Lady C’s footman. Why do I always think of men who are so wrong for me? Perhaps because it is more exciting than kerosene.
I hadn’t wanted to say this, because I had pinned such high hopes on it, but the ball has left me disillusioned. I feel as if I am spinning like a top here. Is it possible I am destined to be alone all my life with only you and William to care for me? Or perhaps I was meant to do something more meaningful than to love someone and bear children. Perhaps I should study things like distilling kerosene from coal or some such that everyone would appreciate. Something helpful to mankind. Hopefully something more interesting than kerosene.
By the grace of God, Lila finally left my room, and when she did, I reread a letter I received at the school. It was written by an old woman, and she said our high expectations are the cause of our disappointments. It makes sense, doesn’t it? I think I am so impatient to meet someone who would be with me for life, and I expect it as I am a princess, and therefore, I am constantly disappointed because he hasn’t come along yet.
Really, I think it may be too late for me, Jussie. I’m six and twenty, well past the age most ladies are married. I’ve met some lovely gentlemen here, as lovely as all the gentlemen in Wesloria. But not one of them has incited even the slightest bit of feeling in me. Not a single spark or rainbow or bolt of lightning. I’ve not been breathless or eager in ages, and in fact, the only time I’ve been breathless since arriving at Iddesleigh was...well, once when I was almost run over on the road and my heart very nearly quit with shock. And for a few moments when Marley took me in his arms on the dance floor and spun me around. That felt exhilarating.And then on the bal
Stupid man, why must he be so morose? I seem to think of him instead of the gentlemen who have come to make my acquaintance. I can’t imagine why that is, other than he vexes me.
If he is in attendance at the supper party this weekend, it will ruin everything. I can hardly think about some rich kerosene man with the duke’s gloomy presence draping over the room. But you mustn’t worry—as long as he is not seated next to me, I will survive.
My regard to Mama and William. You will soon be presiding over the flower festival! It is my favorite thing in the spring. I miss Wesloria and the dogs.
Your sister, A
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
AMELIAWASNOTseated next to Marley as she feared, but worse—she was seated directly across from him.
She’d almost convinced herself he wouldn’t come at all, that he would refuse the invitation as he liked to do, and she would escape his oppressive presence, and thereby also her prurient curiosity about him. That’s all it was—she liked to be kissed, and she hadn’t been kissed in quite a long time, and his kiss had only stirred up all those things she liked to feel.
It couldn’t possibly be more than that, as he was clearly another one who was all wrong for her. She sincerely hoped he wouldn’t come so she might turn her full attention to Mr. Swann and his kerosene—heaven save her—but then at the last possible moment it felt as if a bad gust of wind swept him and Lord Clarendon into the house and settled his dark mien over the drawing room.
She was certain that Lila had worked her sorcery and brought him here—there was something about the little smile on her face when the two men entered the room that made Amelia immediately suspect her. She tried to stare more daggers in Lila’s direction, but Lila was a master at avoiding her gaze when she wanted to.
The guests gathered in the drawing room for wine before supper, and Marley stood apart, his back to the wall, his clean-shaven, impossibly strong jaw clenched. Clarendon had deserted him to speak with Miss Carhill, a tiny thing who had come in the company of her tiny little parents. How did small people survive a cruel world? Amelia hoped Miss Carhill was never caught outside in a storm, because she would be washed away like an ant.
She didn’t give voice to her thought. Blythe could breathe a sigh of relief.
