Chapter Six
September 9, 1818
Caroline trembled as she gazed at herself in the cheval glass. She’d chosen a gown of pale pink. The overskirt of extremely sheer white tulle shimmered with her every movement due to the tiny clear glass beads and bits of silver spangles sewn into it. The same beadwork lined the bodice that showed too much of her bosom, but her sister Isobel assured her the cut was the height of fashion these days. Even Sarah had proclaimed it elegant and quite the thing for a wedding. The twinkle of small diamonds in the tiara nestled into her upswept dark hair kept pulling her attention, for the countess had given her the piece as a wedding gift.
“It’s part of the Storme family jewels, so it’s only right that it should be yours, dear,” Sarah whispered as she fussed with the tulle puffs over her shoulders. “I thought you might appreciate it more than the tarnished silver one you had at Christmastide.”
“So pretty.” Caroline touched it with a fingertip. “I’m princess storybook like a.” For once she didn’t care that her words were twisted, for today she would leave this house and start an adventure with John. She would be able to do what she wanted, go where she wished, and no one would tell her nay.
Isobel snorted. “A princess who will need to toil for the rest of her life. Mr. Butler isn’t exactly the wealthy type.”
“Isobel!” The reprimand in Sarah’s voice was all too clear. “Just because you married a man who happens to be a doctor as well as the Earl of Worchester doesn’t mean that sort of life is appropriate for everyone.” The countess adjusted the fall of a sheer veil that had been attached to the tiara. Fine lacework lined the edges of the tulle, for Caroline had insisted she have one. It sounded so romantic and dreamy, and she liked how it flowed down her back. “Caroline has an affinity for and a friendship with Mr. Butler. Perhaps that’s all they’ll need.”
“Life doesn’t work that way, and you know it.” Obviously, her sister wasn’t convinced. She peered into Caroline’s face. “However, as poor as the man is, he’s easy on the eyes, and is quite impressive in his form. I’d say you’re a fortunate woman when it comes to the wedding night.”
“For the love of God, Isobel, do hush!” This time the countess was quite scandalized. “That is a private matter between Caroline and Mr. Butler.”
Warmth invaded her cheeks. She stopped touching the filmy gauze veil in order to concentrate on her next words. “Why fortunate?”
Isobel’s grin was this side of naughty. “They say the bigger the man, the larger his, ah, appendage is, and that promises good things for you.”
“I don’t know what that means.” Why was her sister talking about that?
“Well, I do, and I’m a bit envious.” Isobel grinned. “But I’m happy with Royce, and I hope you’ll be pleasantly surprised with John.”
“Enough of such talk.” Sarah took Caroline’s left hand in hers. “He gave you a pretty ring, so I’d say he is not quite with pockets to let as we fear.”
Caroline frowned. Did they not think him good enough to wed her? “John is…” How exactly did she feel about him? “He is a friend, and he listens to me.” She glanced at her reflection again. Her eyes sparkled. Was that… happiness there? “He makes me feel safe.” They didn’t need to know that when he grinned at her in a certain way, her insides felt tingly and hot, and she refused to share how much she adored when he laughed, for that made her wish to laugh too. Those were her memories, and like treasures.
“I wish you good luck if that’s all you have to go on.” Isobel shook her head. “And with how your mind is, you’ll probably never know what you’re missing. You will have the better deal than he.” She shrugged. “After all, you spent the bulk of your life in that asylum. You know nothing of life, men, flirting, or anything else that makes one’s existence deliciously fun or wicked. I can’t imagine Mr. Butler has enough patience for that.”
“Enough, Isobel.” Annoyance rang in Sarah’s voice.
“But it’s the truth!”
“I don’t care.” Sarah took her by the arm and escorted her to the door. Her eyes behind her spectacle lenses held exasperation and a touch of concern. “Why don’t you go downstairs and make sure the rest of the family has assembled? It’s almost time.”
But the damage had been done. Caroline turned away from the cheval glass. Some of the joy that the dress and veil had given her had vanished. Finally, she understood what her sister had meant. John was fine for her, but she wasn’t good enough for him. She was too damaged to be of value and with the fractures in her mind, she’d hold him back, perhaps disappoint him.
Why is he marrying me, making such a sacrifice, when he can do so much better?
“Don’t pay attention to her.” Sarah returned and linked her arm through Caroline’s. “Isobel has always been a wild one, according to Andrew. I’d hoped her marriage would have settled her a bit, but I think Royce encourages her behavior.” She smiled at her. “You are doing just fine.”
“I don’t know.” Perhaps marrying John was a horrible idea after all.
“Nonsense. You and John will have a marvelous life together.” She led Caroline toward the door. “There might be small obstacles you’ll need to overcome, but in the end, everything will work out as it should.”
“What if it doesn’t?” The future she’d looked forward to since John had told her of his plan suddenly dimmed.
“Then you’ll need to decide what you most want for your life.” She glanced at Caroline. Pity lingered in her expression. “It’s the only thing any of us can do.”
There wasn’t time for anything else, for they’d reached the drawing room. A quick glance about the space didn’t reveal John. Panic twisted up her spine. Had he changed his mind? Cousin Andrew spoke quietly with two men dressed in black—presumably from the church. Isobel sat on a low sofa with her head close to her husband’s. Finn and Brand both watched her as she came further into the room.
“I’ll just go and tell Andrew you’re ready.” Sarah patted her hand. “I wouldn’t worry about things before they happen. Enjoy each moment as it comes.”
Then she was alone, standing in the middle of the room while her family stared with varying degrees of speculation. She wanted to run and keep running until she found a safe place to hide. Beyond that, the urge to scream at the heavens and relieve some of the anger that always simmered below the surface grew strong. Did no one believe that she could do all the things any woman could do? Why couldn’t they understand there was nothing wrong with her except for the fact her mind worked differently than theirs? It didn’t mean she was insane or an imbecile.
As a ball of tears rose in her throat, her cousins approached.