Chapter 10
Chapter Ten
Dahlia burrowed deeper in her bed. Although the bedwarmer had long since grown cool, she was still comfortably warm. She opened her eyes to a still darkened room. Curious as to what time it was, Dahlia sat up. She rarely woke up on her own, Biddy usually woke her.
Where is Biddy?
And then Dahlia remembered.
She thinks I am waking up from my wedding night.
Dahlia sighed. She reached for the bell to summon her lady’s maid.
Pushing the bed covers and counterpane off, she swung her legs down on the floor—and yelped from the cold.
Gritting her teeth, she walked as quickly as she could to the windows and pulled at the drapes to open them.
She wanted light in the room. When that was done, she rushed back to the bed to chase what remaining warmth there was.
Dahlia studied her chambers again. Flooded in morning light, they looked softer and even more feminine compared to her first sight of them last night.
Last night.
She put her hands over her face and groaned loudly.
“Infuriating man!” She punched her pillow. “A brute of a man!”
When she had dressed for the day, Dahlia was escorted to the breakfast room by Mrs. Baker.
She remembered the bit of information that Biddy had told her last night and took the opportunity to tell the housekeeper that she had been rummaging in the kitchens the previous night, lest she suspect another of stealing food from the pantries.
At the beginning, breakfast was a mostly a quiet affair with Mary and Claire.
Dahlia observed how reserved they were, but as the meal progressed, they asked her questions about her and life in London.
She would, by no means, call them talkative, but Dahlia considered their part in the conversation a good start to forming a friendship with them.
“Mrs. Baker said that you would like to see the hothouse,” Claire ventured.
“Why, yes. I had hoped to visit it. I have always longed for one since my cousins had one built in their country estate.”
“Would you like us to accompany you?” Mary asked.
“That would be wonderful, thank you.” Dahlia smiled a genuine smile. “But only if your schedule permits it, of course. I would not want to take up your time.”
“It isn’t as if our schedule ever gets full here. We sometimes have family dinners with our closest neighbors, or we go to the shops with our friends,” Claire observed.
“What about your lessons?”
“In truth, we feel that we’ve outgrown the schoolroom already,” Mary stated in quite a mature voice. “We have dance lessons and riding lessons but not during winter for the latter.”
“Oh. You both do seem such mature ladies compared to me when I was your age.” Dahlia chuckled.
“We can go to the hothouse right after luncheon if you’d like, Dahlia,” Mary said, still trying to convince her. “We have no prior engagements either with our friends today.”
“Are you sure you are not needed anywhere else?”
“Quite sure. Come, let us go now.” Claire held out her hand.
“Now?” Dahlia chuckled.
When they left the breakfast room, they walked as a trio, arms linked, a twin on each side of her.
By midday, Dahlia had still seen neither hide nor hair of her husband. She sat alone in the sitting room, attending to her embroidery.
My husband. How strange that seems.
Not that she wanted to see him, for she was still vexed at him.
How dare he tease me!
Her anger getting the better of her, Dahlia yelped as she poked her finger accidentally.
At that moment, Mary and Claire entered the sitting room and greeted her. Dahlia quickly hid the slightly injured finger, not wanting them to fuss over her.
“Hello, ladies,” Dahlia greeted. “And how has your day been faring?”
She saw as Mary gave her sister an encouraging look. Claire, in turn, shook her head and returned Mary’s look.
What was this? Dahlia thought amused. Fortunately, she had vast experience in dealing with young ladies, thanks to her numerous cousins, and so, she waited patiently.
Finally, Mary stepped forward and addressed her.
“Dahlia…”
“Yes, Mary?”
Mary turned to Claire who urged her on with another look.
With a slight grimace, the young lady moved closer to Dahlia.
“Is it—is it true that you are Penelope Lovelace?”
Mary took a step back, as if expecting Dahlia’s anger at her impertinence. When Dahlia’s quiet but firm yes came, Mary and Claire gushed. They sat her down between them and barraged her with questions, excitement and something like envy in their eyes.
This was the last thing that Dahlia expected. Knowing how their brother loathed her novels, she had assumed that he would not tolerate them in his home. She had thought that Mary and Claire would reflect his sentiments or perhaps criticize her on her writing but certainly not this!
“We truly love your books!”
“We adore a good tale, and they’re so—adventurous!”
Dahlia felt warm inside, a gratified smile tugging at her lips. Here were readers who really appreciated her work. She had never had the chance to admit her real identity to anyone but her family and friends, and although some of them appreciated her work, they were not what one would call fans.
Mary and Claire spoke over one another in their excitement of their new discovery.
“When will the next book come out?”
“Are you still working it?”
“Will you allow us a glimpse of it?”
The grin that had stayed on her face slowly faltered at the last questions. How was she to tell them of her arrangement with their brother?
Oh, well. Best be simple and straightforward.
She smiled apologetically at the twins and sighed.
“I am sorry, my dears, but I must admit that there will probably not be a next book. Peter has forbidden me from publishing another.” She shrugged her shoulders to pass off its importance from them.
“There will be no next book?” Claire asked, her face cast in disappointment.
“No, that cannot be!” Mary took Dahlia’s hands in hers, as if asking her to reconsider.
“I am sorry, but that is how it must be.”
For now.
Mary and Claire shared a look of sorrow. They rose from their positions and looked downcast when Claire suddenly exclaimed.
“I have it!”
Dahlia and Mary both looked at her with no little surprise.
“What have you got, Claire?” Dahlia asked.
But she ignored her and instead turned to her twin sister.
“Mary, we need The Garden of Hesperides once again!”
The Garden of Hesperides?
Dahlia wracked her brain. Was that not Hera’s secret garden? The one with the golden grapes? Or was it apples? Apples, it was apples.
Mary’s face lit up. She smiled in excitement.
“Claire, for once you have shown that you are cleverer than me!”
Claire ignored this comment and went on.
“It has been so long. The same place?”
“Yes. Oh, but it is winter. We cannot possibly have it there.”
Both girls fell silent, deep in thought; they completely forgot that Dahlia sat in front of them, still confused.
It must be some secret twin code.
“The hothouse!” they both said in triumph.
They hugged each other in their perceived victory.
“Er, will someone please explain to me what is going on?” Dahlia waved at them.
Realizing their lapse, both spoke at the same time.
“A secret reading club.”
Dahlia opened her mouth to speak, but before she could, the twins launched into speech, one after the other.
“We had a secret storytelling club when we were younger—well the members were just us two really.”
“We called it The Garden of Hesperides because, well, because it was a secret and because we held it in the garden.”
“And then we discovered romance novels. But Peter was not very keen on them, so we had to hide them from him.”
“And so, we turned our storytelling club into a secret reading club.”
“Please don’t tell Peter.”
“We read your books in our club, all of them.”
Dahlia was both charmed and tickled at the image of Mary and Claire as young girls conjuring stories among the roses and the lilies. And then of them smuggling novels and secretly reading them under the summer sun.
“What a lovely thing to have,” Dahlia said sincerely. “And what a lucky thing to have a sister—a twin sister at that.”
Mary went to sit next to her again, and Claire followed.
“But what about the hothouse?” Dahlia asked.
“Since it is winter, we cannot possibly have the meetings in the gardens, so the hothouse will work perfectly.”
“No one ever goes there anymore except Joshua.”
“You must say yes, please Dahlia.”
“Be a member of our secret reading club; you must, for we are your sisters now as well.”
Dahlia’s heart suddenly stirred at their words. To the earnest request, she was not immune either. Before she could really think it through, she found herself agreeing.
“Shall I bring out my collection of books, so you can choose the ones you have not yet read?”
“No,” they replied in unison.
“You must continue your writing.”
“The Duke and the Young Ladies of the Castle.”
Dahlia laughed at this, but she watched as each face displayed hope and excitement.
How can I say no? Besides, if I am not to have my love story, perhaps I can live vicariously through my characters!
Her mind was working fast. Dahlia felt inspiration run through her, much like the story of a book taking shape.
I shall turn it into a useful lesson for Mary and Claire. To equip them for their entrance into society. Yes, it shall be a manual of sorts! It shall help them navigate the season and teach them about the benefits and dangers of falling in love.
Dahliah clasped her hands together as the ideas formed. The twins feeling her excitement rising, sat at the edge of their seats.
It shall help in warning them about liars and the seducers within the ton! And it will all be in the form of a romantic novel, so they will not feel that I am trying to be their governess!
She looked at Mary and Claire.
“Yes.”