Chapter Five
"It is from Lady Smith."
Lillian looked up from her embroidery, a pastime she did not particularly enjoy but which gave her hands something to do during quiet moments, and found Rosanne standing in the doorway of the morning room, a letter clutched in her fingers like a death warrant.
"Lady Smith?" Lillian repeated, setting aside her needle. "The Lady Smith? The one whose house Gatherings are legendary for their..."
"For their ruthless social maneuvering and exacting standards, yes." Rosanne's voice was thin. "She was a friend of my mother's. She has invited me to her gathering. Daniel has already accepted on my behalf."
"I see."
Lillian kept her voice carefully neutral, though she could see the tension in every line of Rosanne's body; the white-knuckled grip on the letter, the slight tremor in her hands, the pallor that had crept into her cheeks.
"It is in two months," Rosanne continued, moving into the room with the mechanical steps of someone walking toward an execution.
"A full week of entertainment. Dinners, picnics, musical evenings, a ball on the final night.
All of the most prominent families in the county will be there.
Lady Smith has already hinted, rather pointedly, that she expects me to make a favourable impression. "
"And by favourable impression, she means...?"
"She means I should attract the attention of an eligible gentleman and not embarrass myself or my family in the process.
" Rosanne sank into the chair opposite Lillian, the letter crumpling in her lap.
"She has particularly mentioned Lord Blackwood's son, who will be among the guests.
He is five and twenty, possessed of good teeth and a respectable fortune, and Lady Smith appears to have decided that we would be well suited. "
"Have you met him?"
"Once. Briefly. He seemed pleasant enough, in the vague way that young men of good family always seem pleasant. We discussed the weather for approximately four minutes before he excused himself to join a card game."
"A rousing endorsement."
"Lillian." Rosanne's voice cracked slightly on the name. "I cannot do this. I cannot spend a week at Lady Smith's house, surrounded by people who are watching for any sign of weakness, pretending to be the sort of person I am not. The last time I attended one of her gatherings, I..."
She stopped, color flooding her pale cheeks.
"You...?" Lillian prompted gently.
"I spilled wine on Viscount Hartley's daughter. During the final ball, on her white gown and in front of everyone."
"Ah."
"She had been making pointed comments about my dancing all evening—comments that I suspect were designed to unsettle me—and when I finally worked up the courage to stand up for myself, I gestured too emphatically and knocked the glass from a passing footman's tray directly onto her skirts.
" Rosanne's voice had gone flat, recounting the incident with the weary detachment of someone who had relived it many times.
"She screamed. Her mother fainted. Lady Smith looked at me as though I had personally insulted her ancestors.
I spent the remainder of the evening hiding in the library, and I have not attended a house gathering since. "
Lillian was quiet for a moment, absorbing the image of Rosanne, already anxious, already desperate to avoid notice, accidentally creating the kind of social catastrophe that would follow her for years.
"That sounds awful," she said simply.
"It was." Rosanne laughed, a hollow sound.
"And now Lady Smith has summoned me back, presumably to assess whether I have become less disastrous in the intervening time.
The answer, I fear, is that I have not. If anything, I have become more anxious, more convinced that I will make a fool of myself, more certain that everyone is watching and waiting for me to fail. "
"Do you truly believe that everyone is watching you?"
"I know they are not. Logically, I understand that most people are far too occupied with their own concerns to pay much attention to mine.
But the moment I enter a ballroom, the moment I feel those eyes on me, even imagined eyes, my heart begins to race and my hands begin to shake and my mind goes utterly, completely blank. "
Rosanne's breathing had quickened as she spoke, her chest rising and falling with increasing rapidity. Lillian recognized the signs of approaching panic and leaned forward, keeping her voice calm and steady.
"Rosanne, look at me."
Rosanne's gaze, which had been fixed on some middle distance, snapped to Lillian's face.
"May I ask you something?"
"Yes."
"What is the worst that could happen? At Lady Smith's gathering. The very worst outcome you can imagine."
Rosanne blinked, thrown by the question. "I…...I suppose I could make a fool of myself. Again. Spill something, or say something foolish, or freeze in the middle of a conversation and be unable to speak."
"And then?"
"And then….... People would talk. They would whisper about what an embarrassment I am. Lady Smith would be disappointed. Daniel would be..." Rosanne's voice caught. "Daniel would not say anything, because he never says anything, but he would be disappointed too. In his quiet, controlled way."
"And then?"
Rosanne stared at her. "What do you mean, and then?"
"After all of that, the embarrassment, the whispers, the disappointment, what happens next? Do you die?"
"Do I die?"
"Do you cease to exist? Does your life end?"
"Well, no. Obviously not."
"Then what happens?"
Rosanne was silent for a long moment, her brow furrowed in thought. Lillian waited, letting the question sit between them like a pebble dropped into still water.
"I suppose," Rosanne said slowly, "I would come home. I would feel terrible for a while. And then life would go on."
"Yes."
"But the embarrassment..."
"It would fade. As all embarrassments do. You survived the wine incident, did you not? It was dreadful at the time, but you are still here. You are still breathing. You are still capable of joy and laughter and friendship."
Rosanne's eyes had gone wide and slightly damp. "That is…… That is a rather different way of looking at things."
"It is the only way, I think, that makes survival possible.
" Lillian reached out and took Rosanne's hands in her own, feeling the tremor that still ran through them.
"You cannot prevent bad things from happening.
You cannot guarantee that every social encounter will go smoothly, that you will never stumble or stammer or make a mistake.
What you can do is remind yourself that you have survived mistakes before and you will survive them again. "
"You make it sound simple."
"It is not simple. But it is true." Lillian squeezed gently.
"And for what it is worth, the people whose opinions actually matter, the people who truly know you and care for you, they would not think less of you for being human.
For having nerves. For occasionally knocking wine onto someone who probably deserved it. "
Rosanne laughed; a watery sound, but genuine. "She did deserve it. She had spent the entire evening making thinly veiled comments about my dancing and about my mother's reputation."
"Then your aim was impeccable, even if your timing was unfortunate."
"Lillian!" But Rosanne was smiling now, the color returning to her cheeks. "You are terrible. You are absolutely terrible, and I adore you."
"I am merely practical. There is a difference."
"There is not." Rosanne lifted one hand to wipe at her eyes, then took a deep breath. "Thank you. I do not know why that helped, but it did. The idea that I could survive the worst, that life would continue even if I made an utter spectacle of myself, it is strangely comforting."
"Strangely is better than not at all."
Rosanne squeezed Lillian's hands once more, then released them and sat back in her chair. She looked calmer now, the tension in her shoulders easing, her breathing returning to its normal rhythm.
"Will you help me?" she asked. "To prepare, I mean. Lady Smith's gathering is in two months. If I must attend, I would like to do so with some semblance of composure."
"Of course. We can practise conversations, if you like. Role-play various scenarios. Develop strategies for managing the anxiety when it arises."
"You would do that?"
"I would be honoured to do that." Lillian smiled. "Besides, it will give me an excuse to spend even more time at Wynthorpe Hall. Your brother will be thrilled."
Rosanne's laugh was brighter this time, less burdened. "He will be enraged. Which is almost the same thing, for Daniel."
"I had suspected as much."
They sat in companionable silence for a moment, the afternoon sun slanting through the windows and casting warm patterns across the floor.
The letter from Lady Smith lay crumpled on the table between them, its power diminished somehow; reduced from a death warrant to merely an inconvenient invitation.
"Lillian?" Rosanne said quietly.
"Yes?"
"I am very glad you are my friend."
Lillian felt her throat tighten unexpectedly. It had been a long time since anyone had said those words to her, a long time since she had allowed anyone close enough to mean them.
"I am very glad as well," she said.
And she truly was.
***
Daniel had not meant to eavesdrop.
He had been walking past the morning room, on his way to the library, a perfectly legitimate destination, when he had heard Rosanne's voice through the partially open door. Her tone had been high and strained, trembling on the edge of tears, and he had stopped without thinking.
His first instinct had been to enter. To fix whatever was wrong, to manage the crisis, to deploy the cold efficiency that had served him well through every challenge of his life. Rosanne was distressed; therefore, he would address the source of her distress and restore order.