Ella
“Beatrice! Do you think I should wear an old gown that is faded and worn and perhaps pull my hair into a simple bun at the nape of my neck? That would make the point clear, don’t you think?” I ask, wishing I wasn’t about to have tea with a stranger that I have seen without clothes.
“No, I don’t,” she replies curtly. “For one, you don’t own a faded gown, and two, it is beneath your station to present yourself with such ill regard. Now stop fussing so much about this. My suggestion is that you look better than you’ve ever looked before and intimidate Lord Stewart with your magnificence.”
“I’m not trying to impress him, Beatrice. I’m trying to get rid of him!”
“That simply isn’t going to happen, dearie, so you might as well make the best of it,” she says, making me wonder if she’s temporarily lost her mind.
“Make the best of it? I don’t think that’s helpful advice. I am dreading this more than anything, ever! How am I going to look at him? What am I supposed to say?” Dropping down onto the stool at my dressing table so she can style my hair, my shoulders sag. “Oh, Beatrice. This is awful. How ever am I to get through it?”
Coming over to me, she begins brushing my long waves, bringing out their glossy shine. “You will do splendidly, my dear. I know you and your wit, plus you’ve got the spine of a Seymour. I’m sure the thought of how itmightbe is far worse than how it will be. Once the proper introductions have been made, it will be like any other time a gentleman has come to call.”
“A gentleman. Hmph. If he were a gentleman, he would have stayed away just as I told him to.”
My mind goes back to the poem and the book he gave me. I am admittedly torn. I love them both so much it’s hard for my pride to accept who gave them to me. The words he wrote are so thoughtful and beautifully composed, and though they may be bold, they compliment me in such a way that makes me feel powerful, alluring, and even somewhat sensual. But then I remember how he toyed with me outside the ballroom like he enjoyed watching me become flustered by how he talked to me and how he touched me.
I grab a handkerchief from my dressing table and pat my forehead and throat. I hate what happens to my body when I think about him. His spicy, masculine scent made me lightheaded and weak. The way his deep accented voice commanded my attention, whether I wanted to offer it or not. His turquoise eyes complement his handsome face. It’s hard not to think he must have been touched by God.His uncommon looks are not the only thing that was touched by God. A small laugh escapes at that thought.
“What’s so funny? For a moment, I thought you might start weeping, but instead, you are full of mischief.”
“Truthfully? I was contemplating the confusion Lord Stewart has created in my mind. There is a distinct difference between the debaucher that seemed to enjoy playing sport with my innocence and the charming gentleman that wrote me poetry and presented me with a gift of exceptional value and meaning. But unfortunately, whenever I think about him, I think aboutallof him, and, well, this time, I managed to find a bit of humor in it and not the shame or regret I’ve been living with for days.”
“There’s your answer then,” she states enthusiastically. “When Lord Stewart arrives, just have a little humor about yourself. It is sure to give you strength and if nothing else, a bit of entertainment.”
“Considering I cannot avoid this event altogether, I suppose you’re right. If I approach the situation with humor, I am less likely to panic.” I toss the handkerchief back onto the table.
“I don’t think you are capable of panicking, young lady. You and I both know that. Now, let’s finish up here and make you so dazzling that Lord Stewart will be the one that is unable to compose himself.” Beatrice finishes my hair, then helps me into a gown of pale blue.
Entering the sitting room overlooking the gardens, I find Mother and Father standing by the massive picture windows in a glow of sunshine. It is quite a beautiful scene as he gently touches her face and leans in to kiss her softly on the lips. I do sincerely hope I find that kind of love one day. Yet, a part of me fears that I may not, as it is not as common as it should be, especially amongst the upper class.
Realizing they are not alone, my mother quickly turns away from my father’s affection. “Hello, darling! Oh, look at you! What a lovely choice. You brighten the room with your beauty.” She pauses in front of me, as she always does, and places her hands on my upper arms, holding me in place while she admires me with a tender look. I wonder if my coming of age has been somewhat difficult for her to accept. As her only child, I suppose it would make sense. I know she longed to have more children, but it never came to be. “Come over here, my sweet.” She guides me over to the sofa. “Are you nervous at all?”
“I was, but I am fine now. Just looking forward to it being over,” I say truthfully.
“Try not to make it obvious, Ella. Captain Stewart is very well-respected, according to your father. And let us not forget, he stands to inherit an important title and a very substantial estate. I’ve done some research. The Galloway holdings are quite extensive indeed.”
A slight sense of dread comes over me as I see how impressed my mother has become. She was already trying to push Lord Percy on me; now, she is likely to do the same with Lord Stewart.
“Yes, I know, Mother. You wouldn’t have invited him for tea, were it not.”
“That is true. You shall have a respectable title when you marry, and it is important your children are left a legacy that will carry far into the future.”
“And what about love? I thought you and Father decided long ago that you will not choose my husband for me.”
“You are correct. However, that doesn’t mean you will love him before marrying. You will make a choice that meets the proper criteria and has thepotentialfor love. I’ve told you many times, my dear, that kind of affection grows with time. It is unrealistic to think you will marry for love. That is a thing of poetry and theater. You must be realistic, not foolish and naive.”
“Foolish and naive? I have no intention of being either. However, I request that you no longer push Lord Percy as a potential suitor. He may have theproper criteria, but there is absolutelynopotential for love,” I state confidently now that she has given me the opening.
“Ella, don’t be so harsh.”
“I’m not being harsh. I’m being honest.”
I’m not able to argue my point any further as our butler, Donovan, announces that Lord Stewart has arrived. My mother is filled with excitement to meet the future Earl of Galloway with his extensive holdings and vast estates. I laugh to myself as I picture the look on her face when she lays eyes upon him. He is handsome in a way that makes you lose track of your thoughts and leaves you staring, wondering if he is truly as pleasing to the eye as your mind is telling you he is. Looking down at my nervous hands clasped tightly together in my lap, I smile and focus my humor on her and not the fear creeping up my spine.
We both stand as Donovan announces the captain’s entrance. Staying focused on Mother and the charming smile that lights up her face, I sense the moment he walks into the room. Everything shifts as an invisible force slams into me, causing my breath to catch in my throat and my skin to chill like it did the last time he was near. Mother’s smile disappears as her eyes widen, and I have no choice but to turn to him.
Dear Lord!It’s more than I remembered. Far more. I do not know how it is possible, but he is so striking as he walks toward us, the man I recall from four nights ago almost pales in comparison. He’s more polished, somehow more refined in his deep blue captain’s formal jacket trimmed in gold embroidery and polished gold buttons, all of which contrasts against a pale gold waistcoat and the pure white of his breeches, shirt, and cravat.