Chapter Two
Caroline stood in her room and surveyed the chaos.
It looked as though a haberdasher's shop had exploded.
Trunks stood open, while gowns, gloves, reticules and every manner of accessory lay in untidy piles on every available surface.
Her lady's maid, Martha, stood in the centre of it all, directing one of the lower housemaids as they carefully packed everything Caroline would need for her first London Season.
"Martha, surely I do not need quite so many gowns," Caroline said hopefully.
Her maid looked at her and shook her head.
"Miss Caroline, this is your first Season.
There will be suppers and recitals, theatre trips and balls, God willing Almack's and Lord knows what else.
This is but a small portion of what you will need for your come-out.
Much of the rest cannot be had in Scarborough and will have to be attended to in Bond Street.
Forgive me, miss, but you are not the first young lady I have seen through this, and I know my business.
Now, why do you not ring for some tea? I can get on much better without you underfoot. "
Caroline sighed and left the room. Martha was a no-nonsense woman in her late thirties who had been with Caroline since she was thirteen.
She did indeed know what she was about, and no amount of arguing, would persuade her otherwise.
Beneath her firmness lay a warmth and kindness that had kept Caroline whole during the long months after her mama's passing, when her father had retreated into himself and Louisa had simply carried on as though nothing at all were amiss.
Louisa was two years older than Caroline but, like their brother Charles, possessed an open sweetness that seemed to protect her from the sometimes cruel realities of life.
Martha had held Caroline while she cried and encouraged her to speak of her dear mama as much or as little as she wished. How she wished her mama were here now. She would understand Caroline's heart better than Caroline knew it herself.
Part of her wanted to scream. She did not wish for a London Season.
She did not want to be dressed up like a show pony and paraded from event to event.
She had no need to meet an eligible gentleman, for she had already given herself, in every way that truly mattered, to the man she loved. Thomas. Dear, sweet Thomas.
For the past week, she had resolved each day that she would speak to her father, explain the futility of the journey to London and confess that she already knew her future.
She wished only to remain at home until Thomas had completed his training.
He was to leave for Edinburgh in the autumn to begin his medical studies, Dr Lawson having been impressed by his application and knowledge.
Thomas might not be a gentleman, but he was the best of men, and he was working tirelessly towards one of the most respectable professions in the kingdom.
Surely her father would understand that.
He was a man who valued hard work above almost everything else.
More than a year had passed since the morning they met upon the beach, and in that time he had become as necessary to her as air itself.
They had spent the spring and summer walking together whenever they could, holding hands and talking until the light faded and the tide drove them back towards the town.
Through the winter, they had found fewer opportunities to meet, but their affection had deepened.
She knew the way his eyes brightened when he spoke of medicine, the impatient sweep of his hand when he became absorbed in an argument and the crooked smile that appeared whenever he was attempting not to laugh at her.
He knew every one of her fears and ambitions, even those she had never found the courage to confess to her own family.
She thought of their last meeting upon the beach two days earlier.
They had returned to the sheltered rock where he had first taken her hand, and for a little while neither of them had spoken of her departure.
Then Thomas bent and plucked something from the wet sand.
It was a small piece of green sea glass, pale and perfectly smooth, which caught the weak sunlight as he held it out upon his palm.
"Keep this while you are in London," he had said in a low voice, pressing the glass into her palm, curling her fingers around it and covering her hand with his own.
Caroline had closed her eyes, revelling in the warmth of his hand over hers. "By the time I return, you will already be in Edinburgh."
"I know. That is why I want you to have it." His thumb had moved softly across her knuckles. "When you look at it, remember this place and remember that, wherever I am, I shall still be thinking of you."
The thought of leaving him had made her throat ache. "It will be months, perhaps a year or more, before we see one another again."
"Then we must trust that the months will pass, as they always do, and that neither London nor Edinburgh will alter what we have promised each other."
???
Caroline took a deep breath. They were due to leave for London tomorrow.
It was now or never. Her father was in his study, seated behind the broad mahogany desk he had commissioned when they first moved into the house when she was a small girl.
Papers lay in ordered stacks before him, and he was reading a letter with a frown of concentration when Caroline entered.
He looked up at once. "There tha' is. I thought Martha would have thee buried beneath gowns by now."
Caroline managed a faint smile. "She very nearly has."
"Best let her have her way. Woman knows her business." He placed the letter aside and leaned back in his chair. "What is it, lass? "Tha’ looks as though tha’ has come to ask me for money. Or has tha’ quarrelled with thy sister?"
"I have not argued with Louisa, and I do not need money." She hesitated, then crossed the room and lowered herself into the chair before his desk. "I have come because there is something I ought to have told you before now."
His amusement faded. "Go on."
Caroline clasped her hands tightly in her lap. She had rehearsed the words so many times that she ought to have been able to deliver them without difficulty, yet now that the moment had come, they seemed lodged somewhere behind her ribs.
"I do not wish to go to London tomorrow. It is not merely that I am nervous about the journey or afraid of my first Season. I have no desire to be presented or taken from ball to ball in the hope of attracting a gentleman, because I already know whom I wish to marry."
For several seconds, he said nothing. The ticking of the clock upon the mantel seemed suddenly very loud. At last, he leaned forward. "Who is he?"
"His name is Thomas Parodi. His father is a cabinetmaker here in Scarborough, and Thomas works beside him while studying under Dr Lawson. He means to become a physician and is to leave for Edinburgh in September. Dr Lawson has been so impressed by him that he has offered to sponsor his studies."
Her father's brow furrowed, and then recognition dawned. "Parodi. The lad from the workshop near Castle Road."
"Yes."
He stared at her as though he had misheard. "And how long has this been going on?"
"We met on the beach more than a year ago and have seen one another regularly ever since. Almost every day, whenever it was possible."
He pushed himself slowly to his feet. "For more than a year, and all without my knowledge."
"We were always in the open, Papa, and there was nothing improper in it. I know I should have told you sooner, but I was afraid you would judge him before you knew anything of his character. That is why I am telling you now. I do not want there to be any more secrecy between us."
Her father came around the desk, his expression darkening. "Tha' has been meeting a young man alone for months and keeping it from thy family. Whatever else it may be, Caro, it is already more serious than tha' has any right to pretend."
"I am not pretending anything, Papa. I love him."
The words seemed to strike him. He went still, then turned away and walked towards the window.
"Tha' may have known him for more than a year, but tha' has known him in secret, in stolen hours.
That is not the same as knowing what sort of husband he would make or what life with him would truly ask of thee.
Tha' may think him kind and clever and full of promise, but promise is an easy thing for a young man to offer when he has neither money nor position to support it. "
"He has more than promise. He has worked for everything he knows, and Dr Lawson would not sponsor him if he did not believe in his ability.
Thomas may not be a gentleman now, but he is making his way towards a respectable profession, and surely that must count for something with you.
You have always taught us that hard work and determination matter more than idle privilege. "
Her father turned back to her. "Do not use my own words against me as though I have forgotten them. I know the value of work better than most men, and that is precisely why I will not see thee cast aside everything mine has bought for thee."
"I would not be casting anything aside."
"Tha' would marry into trade."
"We are already in trade." Caroline felt the colour drain from her face.
"Papa, I did not mean to wound you. I only meant that Thomas is not beneath us in the way you seem to think.
His mother is the daughter of a clergyman and he has received a respectable education.
Yes, his father works with his hands, but so did you once, and there is no shame in honest work. "
"No," he said quietly. "There is no shame in it. But there is shame in secret meetings and pretending not to understand what I have spent thirty years trying to build for this family."
He looked suddenly older as he crossed to the window once more, his broad shoulders bowed beneath the weight of thoughts she could not see.
"Every hour in those mills, every bargain made, every journey taken in winter when the roads were near impassable, I did it so that none of you would have to begin where I began.
Charles has had Eton and Cambridge. Louisa has every comfort.
And thee..." He turned back to her. "Thee was to have a Season finer than any gentleman's daughter in Yorkshire.
Tha' was to enter rooms where men like me are tolerated only because they have money and be welcomed there as though tha' had always belonged.
I wanted thee to have choices I never had. "
"I do have a choice," Caroline said, her voice trembling now. "I choose Thomas."
"Tha' chooses a daydream, a will-o'-the-wisp.
A handsome lad with no fortune, no profession and years of study before him.
Even if he succeeds, tha' may wait until five-and-twenty only to find him struggling to establish himself, keeping house in rented rooms while he is called out at every hour.
And if he does not succeed, what then? Will love feed thee?
Will it protect thee when children come or sickness enters the house? "
"I would rather have Thomas in rented rooms than a gentleman I do not love in the finest house in England," she said, her chin tilted upwards but her hands trembling in her lap.
Her father's expression hardened. "Tha' is eighteen. Tha' cannot yet know what such a life would ask of thee."
"I know what a life without him would cost."
For a moment, neither of them spoke. Then he drew a slow breath.
"That is enough. Tha' will not see him again, and there will be no correspondence between you.
If he writes, the letters will be returned unopened.
Tomorrow tha' will go to London with Louisa and make thy come-out as planned.
In time, when this feeling has passed, tha' will understand why I have done it. "
"It will not pass."
"Then for thy own sake, pray that it does."
Caroline's eyes burned, but she refused to let the tears fall before him. "I thought you wanted me to be happy."
"I want more for thee than happiness. I want security for thee and for any children tha' may have. I grew up never knowing where my next meal was coming from while my ma and pa worked themselves into early graves. And now tha' would throw everything I have achieved back in my face."
The answer was so earnest that it hurt more than cruelty or dismissal might have done.
Her father reached for her, but Caroline stepped back before he could touch her.
"I will go to London," she said. Her voice sounded strange to her own ears, thin and cold.
"You need not fear that I shall embarrass you further. "
"Caro, lass, please."
She turned and walked from the room before he could see her begin to cry.