“I apologize for snapping, Mother,” Felicity said, trying to ease the tension. “I am not used to all the attention we have been getting. Entertaining so many guests has been quite the challenge for me.”
Her mother’s stare morphed into one of understanding then.
“There has been an impressive number of callers. I didn't even receive this many during my season. But this is what life as a noblewoman is like. You must grow accustomed to hosting and entertaining a guest at any given moment. You never know who might come for tea one day. That is why it is so important that you always look your best.”
Felicity’s shoulders sagged a bit at the idea of living a life that way.
“Oh, do not worry, my dear. I will teach you everything there is to know about how to be successful at running your own home,” her mother said, patting her on the cheek. “Now, put that book away and come downstairs. I will not allow you to waste any more time up here.”
Felicity stood there watching as her mother breezed through the door again, more than a little shocked that she could claim to be the example to follow for running a home. Had her mother been more prudent in her need to keep up with high society, Felicity wouldn’t be under the pressure of having to marry well.
Swallowing her frustration, Felicity placed the book back on her nightstand before she bent to retrieve the letter. As much as she wanted to read every word right at that moment, Felicity knew that if she didn’t follow her mother promptly, it would only take a minute or two before her mother stomped back in there and dragged her down the stairs. Instead, Felicity settled on tucking the paper in between her mattress with the promise to read it tonight.
* * *
My dear friend,
I couldn't agree more that you and I will get along well. I hope you don’t find it overly eager of me to send you my response the same day I receive your letters, but I find I cannot wait to pen my reply, nor can I make myself wait an entire day before sending it.
I have never considered the origins of being titled as the Diamond of the Season. It sounds like a situation that is eerily familiar to having a noble title. I am sure the titles that are passed from heir to heir were once benevolent gifts intended to make life easier for the recipient. While I cannot deny that a nobleman’s life is easier than a servant’s life in many ways, the weight of responsibility is not easily carried. Depending on the size of the estate a titled man might have, he could have hundreds of people depending on him for their survival. That is a unique kind of pressure, don’t you think?
As for the pressure I myself have faced, I struggle to find only one example. I do not wish to complain or bore you with my burdens, but I will tell you that the responsibility I felt as a captain for ensuring the safe return of my men was the most pressure I could ever face. I failed at my job, many times. I think my punishment for not being able to keep them safe was watching them die. It still haunts me every night in my sleep. Am I allowed to say that to a lady? Please forgive me if it is too much for you. I have never told anyone that before. A part of me thinks I should burn this letter and write another version that doesn’t include those details, but any other response would not be honest.
You are an intelligent person. I will not insult you by pretending to be anything other than a socially inept man, merely trying to adjust to being back in society after four years abroad. The culture in France is so much more lax than it is here, not to mention how little you care about manners and titles when your life is on the line. So, yes, I am much like my brother. It is difficult for me to feel like I fit in with the circles of the ton. I find it rather hypocritical that a person can be ostracized for using the wrong greeting or forgetting someone’s title, but they are allowed to point and stare at my scar without regard to how that might influence the person they are staring at. I have had this scar for two years and have still not grown used to people being unable to look me in the eye during conversation.
I find your points about the ambiance surrounding a ball very compelling. You are right; there is something inherently wooing about a dance. My mother shared your sentiments about the importance of men learning how to dance. She enrolled my brother and I in lessons every summer when we were home. Elijah would make a game of stepping on the teacher’s toe repeatedly, so she spent more time with me. If I was forced to, I guess I would admit that I enjoy dancing. I trust my secret is safe with you? The only way to be sure is if you share a secret with me. I look forward to reading whichever secret you chose to share.
If you had asked me two weeks ago if I believed one could judge a person’s character in only one conversation, I would have given you a thousand reasons why that was impractical and untrue. My opinion has recently changed.
I am curious, you have mentioned that an eldest sister’s success in marrying influences her younger sister’s prospects. Does this not put tension on your relationship with your sisters? How much younger are they? How many do you have? I want to hear all about what your childhood was like.
Your friend,
Benjamin
* * *
Dear Benjamin,
I do not find your quick reply anything but diverting. It does sound a bit preposterous to wait to write back only for the sake of waiting. Please do not feel you have to respond to me immediately every time. I know how busy one can be with a job. What are you doing now that you are home?
Yes! I think any form of title adds pressure to perform well whether it be a noble title or a military rank.
I cannot imagine the things that you have seen and endured in France. I am honored that you would share with me even just a little glimpse of your time there. Words will never be enough, but I am sorry all the same for your men who were lost. I appreciate your honesty.
There is a strange hypocrisy to the ton. We all preserve the decorum of high society down to the smallest detail in formal settings, yet I have seen some of the most dignified ladies say the most cruel things over someone’s appearance. I do not understand it, and the longer I am around these people, the less sure I am that I want to be a part of a society that treats people so harshly. Let me be frank, your scar does not detract from how handsome you are. I didn’t notice it was even there for several minutes. I hesitate to make excuses for those who treat you so horribly, but I have to think that they stare only because they are not used to seeing a scarred man who is still so very handsome. It provides you an intriguing air of mystery, making people wonder how you managed to get such a scar.
It is such a relief to hear that your mother encouraged you to learn how to dance. I look forward to getting the chance to experience your skills firsthand. We will see if her lessons paid off. Your brother sounds fun — are you two close?
I have decided to answer your last question and give you my secret in one answer. I am the eldest of four daughters. Delilah is two years younger than me, Laurel is five years younger than her, and Candance is the youngest at only ten years old. I fear I am not as close to Laurel and Candance, but I feel that is mostly due to our age difference. Delilah, while the exact opposite of me in almost every way, is one of my very best friends. I could not imagine going through this season without her. I think our closeness helps to dissipate any tension that might have arisen between us had I entered into society first. My family chose to wait another year so that Delilah and I could enter into the same season. The long and short of it is that we are without the financial means to support the family for another year. That is my secret.
My father is no longer a young man and has grown weary and slow in his old age. There is simply not as much money coming in as there used to be. Regardless of this, my mother insists that the latest dresses and hairstyles and the biggest townhouse are necessary for our reputation among the ton. Had she tapered her spending, we would not be in this situation.
The tension I feel is not jealousy or competition between my sisters and me. It is because I must marry an affluent man to help support my family. If it were left up to my mother, she would pawn me off on the highest bidder with the best title and not think twice about the kind of man she married me to. I can hardly stand the idea of a lifetime among those in high society, but having to endure that with a man who does not love me is unbearable. The night we met, I had fled the dance floor, overwhelmed by the thought of being married to my dance partner. I abhor the idea of marrying a man only for his money and title. It is more pressure than I can bear most days. I am already grieving the loss of the little freedom I have now.
Enough about me, tell me about your childhood. What is your mother like? What was it like growing up with a duke for a father?
I await your reply. Your friend,