Good God, had the world gone mad? He wasn’t interested in Melanie Merton in that way. She’d tolerated his questions today because her guard had been lowered by other events, but things would return to normal. Tomorrow she would ignore his existence. There was nothing of which he was more certain.
Four
Melanie slept beyond her usual rising hour the next day. She felt drained of all feeling but strangely better about her life. She hadn’t dreamed; not one nightmare about Andy to wake her in a cold sweat while others slept peacefully.
She had told her brother everything that she remembered about the day their governess had died. The coldness of Andy’s skin, the scent and stillness of her quarters, her anguish over the loss of the servant who had mothered her every day of her life.
Her heart had grown lighter as they’d spoken and when she glanced across her room to the marks on the old wood-framed door, notations of how tall she’d grown each summer, the longing for Andy had faded to regret.
Like so many small comforts, the marking of her height each summer had stopped with Andy’s death.
Mother and Father had immediately replaced Andy with a stern spinster who’d never shown her any affection. Melanie had been forced to smile even with her broken heart, and soon enough she’d learned not to react to the pain of Andy’s loss.
But she had never forgotten the love she’d had wrenched away so suddenly.
After Andy’s death, her parents had insisted her toys be packed away and, at Mother’s insistence, Melanie had concentrated on learning how to run a home from then till now. She’d been thirteen when she’d played hostess at her first dinner party for the chancellor of Oxford in the place of her absent mother. She’d been so anxious about the seating arrangements she’d made herself ill.
Valentine had wept over what she’d endured in Andy’s room and made her promise not to tease him about it later.
She would never tease him. Not when he held her future in his hands. He alone had the final say on when and if she had to return to their parents’ cold home. When she was there, her nightmares, memories of Andy’s passing, were strongest and worst.
She uncurled herself from her bed and began to dress, knowing the maid would most likely be with Julia at this hour. When she was presentable, she stepped out into the hall in search of her breakfast.
She paused at the top of the stairs when she heard Julia groan. Since Julia had married her brother, Melanie had discovered sounds of that nature could occur for any number of reasons. She just hoped Julia wasn’t stuck half in, half out of a window again.
After determining the sound had indeed come from her brother’s bedchamber, a room the newlywed pair now shared, she reconsidered investigating. At this time of day, her brother should already be out at his shop, but it never hurt to be cautious. The pair often enjoyed a leisurely affectionate farewell most mornings, or a test of strength that involved a great deal of huffing and puffing. She’d peeked into their bedchamber once to her own peril, to find Julia pinning her brother down, and then she’d kissed him so passionately that Melanie had been embarrassed and fled silently all the way outside the house. After that, she’d done her best to give them every chance for privacy.
However, given the doorway was open wide, Melanie considered it safe enough to take a chance. She tapped on the wall as she moved along the hall, just loud enough to give warning of her approach.
“Come in, Melanie dearest, and good morning,” Julia sang out.
She took a few steps in and glanced around, relieved not to find her brother lurking about the bed. That bed was covered in Julia’s gowns and several had been tossed aside very carelessly. Julia herself was sitting at her dressing table twisting her head this way and that to see herself in the mirror, but her hair…
Melanie moved toward her new sister. “What have you done to yourself?”
“I wanted to try something new.” Julia had at last tamed every strand of her bright-red hair, forcing it back into the tightest of styles that could be managed. “Do you like it?”
The style was very similar to the way Melanie wore her own straight hair but it didn’t suit Julia one bit. It was too severe and, with her fair complexion, she appeared so much older than her actual years. It was simply awful. She could not be seen like this.
Julia had always been sensitive about her appearance though, even more so since the scandal, so she chose her words carefully. “What made you change styles?”
Julia glanced up quickly and caught her hand in a quick squeeze. “I was thinking of the bargain we made with your parents. They expect me to be as ladylike as you, an asset to the family, and I thought I should make an effort.”
The gown she wore was very plain and if memory served, was a gown rarely worn. It was a dowdy gown and all wrong for the vivacious Julia. Melanie had to stop this before the girl had no pride in herself left.
Melanie smiled softly. “Ladylike behavior is what they expect, but how you style your hair and clothes are a completely personal matter, in my opinion. The way you’ve always worn your hair and dressed suits you better. Might I change you back?”
Julia’s gaze dropped, but she eventually nodded. “That is very kind of you.”
No doubt Julia was disappointed that her decisions had been unsupported, but in the long-term it would be for the best.
Melanie made short work of releasing Julia’s hair from confinement then spent some time brushing the snarls created by her earlier treatment. Her sister-in-law had hair as independent as its owner, and the curls soon bounced back into place with a bit of effort. Then she twisted and pinned Julia’s hair into a loose chignon, noticing the immediate improvement to her beauty.
When she was satisfied with her work, she lightly pressed her hands on Julia’s shoulders. “There. Back to your usual pretty self, the way my brother loves you best. Are you headed for the shop today?”
“No.” A tinge of color swept over Julia’s cheeks at the mention of Valentine and his obvious affection, so Melanie rang the bell and then made a fuss of straightening her dresser into order again until the moment passed. “Mr. Faraday is expected to visit so Valentine suggested I could stay at home and allow them to talk freely.”
“Stand up and let me help you out of that rag then.” She ran her gaze over the bed and picked out a pretty gown accented in pink ribbon and delicate lace. She would look very fine in that for morning calls.