Chapter 2 #2
Juliet’s stomach soured. Suddenly, she didn’t want to leave Briar House.
She didn’t want to marry Charles. His hands were so tiny and entirely too soft, and he smelled like…
She couldn't recall his scent, but it was not mouthwatering oranges. Maybe she could live with Emily. Betty could go with her. Then they could send for Maria. Now that Emily’s evil stepmother was locked away at The West End Hospital and Asylum for Wayward Women, surely, they could live at Chesterhill Manor.
While there, they could watch the sunrise together, have picnics, and take long walks.
Maybe they would even encounter handsome pirates and masked guardian angels.
Juliet blinked, then shook herself. What in the blazes was wrong with her? Of course, she wanted to marry Charles. She must be having a panic attack. According to Mother, brides often suffered from the jitters.
She stood and smoothed her skirt. “Betty, I shall require your assistance around seven of the clock to dress for the theatre.”
Betty withdrew a handkerchief from her pocket and blew her nose. “Of course, Miss. Please forgive me for being so sentimental.” Her gaze bypassed Juliet and settled on a heap of blue fabric on the floor.
Blast! Juliet had forgotten to hang up her dress.
“I don’t remember you wearing this.” Betty picked up the garment and held it out in front of her. “My heavens, what happened to it?”
Mud covered the hem, and the skirt was torn. Juliet winced. Stupid loose cobblestones.
“I’ll have this fixed in no time,” Betty said as she inspected the damage. “You go on to the morning parlor.”
Luckily, Betty was a master seamstress. She was also so sweet that she was more concerned about fixing the dress than probing into how it had been damaged. For some inexplicable reason, Juliet was overcome by emotion. She pressed a kiss to Betty’s cheek.
“Oh, my, Miss.” Betty’s face pinkened, and her smile was so broad that it consumed her face.
Since it wouldn’t do to carry all of these strange emotions to breakfast, Juliet tucked her thoughts and feelings away. She would unpack and examine them after coffee. Plastering on a smile, she left Betty to attend to her wardrobe.
Juliet breezily strolled into the morning parlor, still wearing her smile. “Good morning,” she said in her sunshiny voice.
Mother tsked. “’Tis about time you joined us. When we are in London, we meet for our morning meal. You should know this by now.”
Juliet ignored the reprimand and pecked her on the cheek. She glided to her father and kissed the top of his head. “Good morning, Papa.”
He kept his gaze on the newspaper as he mumbled, “Good morning, Princess.”
Juliet chose bread, butter, jam, coffee, and a scoop of eggs from the sideboard. She had no sooner sat when her mother launched into her morning lecture.
“Tonight is critical. The pink of the ton will be in attendance. Your hair and gown must be spectacular. You are the daughter of an influential baron, after all, and you will someday be a wealthy countess.”
Since Mother was in the middle of one of her tangents, there seemed no point in explaining that it might be a while before Juliet’s robust father-in-law-to-be took up residence at the grand castle in the sky, so instead she silently sipped her coffee.
“Your cheeks are flushed,” Mother said. “I hope you weren’t outside watching the sunrise without a chaperone?”
Blast!
“You cannot fail our family,” Mother rambled on.
“All eyes will be on you. Of course, I don’t fret over you like I do Emily and Maria.
Emily and her bookish nonsense and Maria with her scandalous ideas about female autonomy.
” Mother harrumphed. “At least I have one daughter with acceptable priorities.”
Her sisters did not deserve such a put-down. Too horrified to take a bite, Juliet’s fork hovered. Her eggs slid off the prongs, splatting on her plate.
“Juliet Coldpepper,” her mother reprimanded.
Shifting in his seat, her father continued to stare at his paper.
Juliet put down her fork and sipped her coffee, considering a response that wouldn’t result in a family feud. Since clothing was always an acceptable topic around her mother, she changed the subject. “I chose my dress for tonight. The red silk with the jeweled bodice.”
“Oh, that dress is lovely. Splendid. Splendid, indeed.” Mother smiled.
Although she had made her mother happy, Juliet felt less than victorious. Only a coward wouldn’t defend such amazing sisters. Gathering her courage, she took another sip, pulled her shoulders back, and then spoke her mind.
“I dare say, Mother, Emily is brilliant, and she married quite well, and Maria is simply wonderful. I have not a single doubt, someday my baby sister will change the world for the better.” Juliet, on the other hand, would spend her life being renowned as a great beauty who wore fashionable dresses and discussed frivolous things.
Then, alas, someday her beauty would fade like the flowers in front of the Andersons’ townhouse. Juliet schooled a moan of despair.
“I think I should chaperone this evening,” Mother announced.
Julier gasped. “No! You can’t.”
Mother huffed indignantly. “And why is that?”
Because her mother would take all the fun out of going to Drury Lane.
“Because his grandmother, the Dowager Countess Riley is chaperoning. She might see it as a slight if you insist on going. It will seem as though you do not trust her. Besides, we are sitting in her box. What if there isn’t room for you? ”
Before Mother had time to respond, Calvin entered carrying the silver salver. Mother turned her imperious glare on their grandfatherly butler. “What is it, Calvin?” she asked, her tone snippy.
“A letter just arrived for Miss Juliet,” he said. “’Tis from Lady Emily, so I thought I should deliver it immediately.”
Juliet sent Mother a pleading look she hoped was worthy of Drury Lane.
“Very well,” Mother said.
Father stopped perusing the newspaper to watch Juliet silently read.
Dearest Juliet,
As happy as I am, I miss you with all my heart.
Will you please visit? Please? Alexander will send a carriage for you on the afternoon of the tenth of January.
Pack for a fortnight. Bring your walking boots and your warmest coat.
You shall love the sunrise, and even in the winter, the countryside is beautiful.
Please bring Betty. She shall have a lovely room all to herself.
Mother, I know you are reading this, too. Please, please allow Juliet to travel. We shall take excellent care of her.
Papa, Lord Chesterhill says he would be most appreciative if you allow her to visit. Since the marchioness is no longer here, there is no drama. Lord Chesterhill promises Juliet will be safe and well cared for.
Juliet, I purposely kept this letter short because I want to stay up all night talking in person, just like we did when we were girls.
Forever your loving sister,
Emily
It took all of Juliet’s discipline not to leap out of her seat and twirl around the parlor.
“Well, what does she say?” Mother asked.
Juliet cleared her throat and read her precious letter aloud. Once she finished, she met Mother’s skeptical gaze. “May I go?”
Unfortunately, Mother would never agree to the visit since she thought the Marquess of Chesterhill to be scandalous, fretting constantly that Emily had married his son. Papa would be easier to convince since he considered Lord Chesterhill his oldest and dearest friend.
“Please, Papa,” Juliet pleaded.
“I don’t see how we can say no to the Marquess,” he said.
Juliet sprang from her seat and threw her arms around him. “Oh, thank you, Papa.”
“What about Lord Riley and planning your wedding?” Mother asked.
“I am certain he won’t mind if I visit my sister for a fortnight,” Juliet said as she took her seat. “We can plan the wedding as soon as I return.”
Mother exhaled dramatically.
“For God’s sake, Theodosia. Let the girl visit her sister,” Father said. “She should have one last sojourn before she marries and has an estate full of babies.”
An estate full of babies sounded like a lot of tiny humans to care for. Juliet rubbed at the burn in her esophagus.
“Very well,” Mother conceded. “But as soon as you return, we must finish planning the wedding breakfast. The Rileys will expect nothing less than the best.”
Father winked at Juliet, then returned to his newspaper.
Mother loudly cleared her throat. “Dudley, what has you so consumed this morning? What could be more important than your wife and daughter?”
Father raised his brow and glared at Mother. She glared back. Sighing, he folded the paper and set it aside.
“Apparently, there is some chap running amuck in Whitechapel wearing a mask, tying up people and leaving them in front of the magistrate’s office,” he said.
“Initially, people thought he was single-handedly trying to rid the area of crime. But last night, he was seen in Mayfair. Tied up Lord Stanley and left him on Bow Street. Naked. Can you imagine? Stripping and tying up a member of the peerage. Now the magistrate is calling for his capture. Apparently, working class blokes are singing his praises as if he is some sort of hero for the people. Even calling him Knight Roamer. Fools, every last one of them.”
“How horrible,” Mother said. “I hope they find him and send him to Newgate.”
For the second time that morning, Emily’s eggs tumbled from her fork. Unfortunately, this time, the greasy mess landed on her lap.