Chapter 1
One
I concentrated on putting the finishing touch of red paint on the paper soldier I was making for Matthew. I’d already pasted on the paper hat and jacket, and I waved it in the air to dry.
Matthew ran into the bedroom I shared with two of my sisters. He held up the little sword and the horse I’d made for him earlier. He grabbed the finished soldier out of my hand. “Now my soldier can cut his enemies to ribbons!”
Nathaniel, who was ten, ran into the room holding up a similar horse and rider. “No, you won’t! I shall cut you to ribbons!”
“Attack!” Matthew cried.
They crashed their paper soldiers into each other, with many battle noises supplied verbally as they each claimed victory over the other.
“’Melia.” Diana, who was two years old and always left off the first syllable of my name, toddled into my room with tears on her cheeks.
“What is it, darling?”
I could barely hear myself speak with the ruckus our brothers were making. I picked Diana up and carried her outside. “What’s the matter?”
But before she could say another word, little Diana laid her blond head on my shoulder and closed her eyes.
My heart melted at the warm body lying so trustingly against my chest. I lightly kissed her forehead and sank down in the hammock that Father had strung between two trees.
I settled my little sister more comfortably in the crook of my arm, then I gazed up through the leaves of the trees, enjoying the way the sunlight filtered and flickered its way through.
Our newborn baby brother had kept me awake for what seemed like hours the night before. I must have been tired, because when I heard someone calling, “Amelia!” I opened my eyes and realized I’d fallen asleep.
Diana was heavy on my arm, sleeping peacefully and drooling, creating a wet spot on my dress.
I raised my available arm and waved to my sister, Lavinia.
“Amelia, there you are. Mama wants you inside,” she said, stopping and putting her hands on her hips.
I carefully stood up, trying not to jostle Diana too much, then handed her off to Lavinia, who accepted her very casually, letting her head loll around as if she didn’t care if she woke up. But Diana slept on.
“A letter arrived from Aunt Kendall, and Mama wants you inside.”
Eight years younger, Lavie was the sister closest in age to me, but our personalities were very different.
Sometimes I envied my sister’s ability to always seem so sure of herself and never get upset.
I was the oldest, and I should be the self-assured one.
But I seemed to possess all of Mama’s feeling and sensitivity and very little of my sister’s calm reason.
It was a bit demoralizing.
“There you are, Amelia.” Mother’s wide eyes and smile told me it was good news as she shook the letter at me.
“Your aunt and uncle have invited you to London for the Season! What do you think of that? I had begun to think that they never would, as you are two-and-twenty now, but thankfully you are still as pretty as you were at sixteen.” Her eyes seemed happy and wistful.
She began to speak of new dresses once I reached London while I read the letter, the principle point of which was
We will be at Woodbank on the sixth of March, as Mr. Kendall must be back for the continuing session of Parliament, and shall take dear Amelia with us, if you can spare her.
Mrs. Kendall was my mother’s sister, who had married very well indeed, outdoing both of her sisters when she wed a landed gentleman who’d won a seat in the House of Commons.
I had to admit, my uncle frightened me a bit.
When I was a child, it was because he was always so serious and gruff.
As I grew older, I understood more about what it meant to be a member of Parliament.
I also realized that I was only a country girl from Buckinghamshire, and though my father was a gentleman, he had twelve children to provide for, and therefore my dowry would be quite small.
“You are a lovely girl, and there are many young men who will fall in love with you,” Mother was saying, interrupting my reading of the letter, which did not mention me again anyway.
“Are you sure you can spare me? I am needed here. Who will help with the children?”
“Oh, don’t worry about that. I can hire another servant. And Lavinia can help more. We shall do very well, though you are my best helper.”
I hated to think of baby Diana crying and wondering where I was, for I knew Lavinia would not pay as much attention to her as I did; she would not hold her when she was fretful nor rock her to sleep.
Mother clasped her hands, her eyes darting about the room as she seemed to be thinking about several things at once. “You must flirt, but do it discreetly, and never offend anyone. Protect your reputation at all costs; don’t go anywhere alone with a man.”
“Of course, Mother. I would never—”
“And take your aunt’s advice about who to flirt with and the gentlemen who would be the best catches.”
“Very well.” I smiled to myself at the thought of flirting with someone just because my aunt told me I should.
I wanted to ask her if it was all right to marry someone who was not so wealthy, and whether I could marry for love, but I stopped myself.
After all, I cared about my siblings too much not to at least consider the fact that they would have a much better chance of marrying well if I first married well myself.
Nevertheless, it remained to be seen whether I would sacrifice love in favor of a large fortune.
I wasn’t sure I could sell myself in that way.
Oh, I knew my mother would be horrified, as would every other member of Good Society, if I were to characterize marriage in terms of “selling myself.” After all, a lady was expected to marry as well as she could manage, to make the best match in terms of fortune and rank.
But I wanted a marriage of love and mutual respect, of romantic attachment and affection.
That was what I dreamed of, and I wasn’t sure I could pretend to love and respect someone who didn’t love and respect me.
Certainly I didn’t wish to saddle myself with someone who would cause me shame and embarrassment, such as a man who would keep a paramour, or who would say unkind things about me in public, or worst of all, ignore me.
I wasn’t supposed to even know about paramours and the immoral behavior of gentlemen, but I read the newspapers, including the gossip columns that I’m sure Mother wouldn’t approve of me reading.
In truth, sometimes I’d feel a little sick after I read about the goings-on in London among what were supposed to be the best families.
But if being knowledgeable about such things kept me from being ignorant and therefore prevented me from making a poor choice, then how could it be wrong?
Leastways, I didn’t wish to be na?ve. Even the Bible told the truth about people’s wicked behavior.
And now I was about to be in London, where so many wicked things happened. But I would be under the protection of my aunt and uncle, so I needn’t fear anything worse than a broken heart. I hoped.
“Algernon returned to town a week ago, so you will see him right away,” Mrs. Kendall said as we traveled in their carriage toward London.
I smiled to show I was listening.
“You two were good friends as children, were you not?”
Mr. Kendall looked up from his paper. The way he kept his head down and let his eyes look over his spectacles made him appear skeptical, although I wasn’t sure if that was his intention.
“We were very close in age,” I said.
“Yes, close as a brother and sister.”
I didn’t contradict her, but Algie had been often cross as a child.
We did play together sometimes, but more often we quarreled, and Algie ended up sulking and demanding to go home, while I preferred to play with my siblings.
As we grew older, we saw each other less frequently, and we became the better friends for it.
I secretly pitied him, as he was an only child, his mother having had several stillbirths, which seemed to put the burden of the family name—and his mother’s happiness—squarely on his shoulders.
We arrived in London exhausted but happy—or my aunt and I were. I rarely could sense what Mr. Kendall was thinking or feeling, as he said very little and his expression rarely changed.
I was to have my own room at their London townhouse.
I was thrilled at the thought of so much privacy and freedom, but whether from loneliness or the noises in the streets outside my window, I hardly slept at all that first night.
How strange to be alone in a room without the heavy breathing of my sisters to lull me to sleep.
I’d been to London twice before, but I’d forgotten just how noisy the nights could be.
As I lay awake, I wondered if Diana had been able to fall asleep without me there to rub her back. Would she cry and wonder why I’d abandoned her? Was my baby brother sleeping better tonight, or had he kept everyone awake again with his crying?
These next three or four months were supposed to be filled with pleasant parties, dancing, flirting, and meeting new people. Instead of enjoying it, was I destined to be sad, missing my family and my home?
“This dress will do until the seamstress can finish your new one.”
Mrs. Kendall drew out my best dress and held it up to my chin.
“Yes, you’ll look very well in this if I lend you my cross necklace.
I’ll send the servant to dress your hair in an hour.
In the meantime, I want you to memorize these names—young gentlemen to whom you should pay special attention if you are introduced to them.
I will do my best to arrange a meeting.”
“Yes, Aunt.”
She was looking at me with a mixture of sober intensity and gleeful imagination, as if she were picturing each person as she mentioned them.
“First is Thomas Trowbridge. His family has an enormous estate in Westchester, and he seems eager to find a bride. He’d be an excellent catch, as he is the oldest and only son and so will inherit everything, including his father’s title of viscount.”
Mrs. Kendall rummaged through my ribbons as she talked, holding up various colors against my hair and the dress.
“And there is the Duke of Pennington, who is not the most handsome, but what of it? He is a duke and has multiple estates, and if you can distract him from the gaming tables, he might be able to keep all of them. In truth, he’s already lost a small fortune and can’t seem to help himself, but some of the other lords have been trying to prevent him from losing any more of his inheritance.
After all, his is a very old family, and one needs to preserve the stability of the lands and inheritances.
Mr. Kendall and I both feel that if he had a wife—both his parents are dead, you see—then he’d stop spending all his time at the club. ”
Thank you, Aunt Kendall, for thinking I might save a man from his gambling habit and therefore do my part to save England’s nobility. But being foisted off on a man who couldn’t control himself was not an ambition of mine. I was thankful she told me about his character flaw.
I smiled and nodded, encouraging her to go on.
“There is Lord Ogden’s son, Cornelius Fortescue.
He is the oldest and is quite charming. He only has one sister, who is married, and his mother has already passed away and so you’d have no competition, if you know what I mean.
I like him very much for you, and I’ve heard he will be at the ball tonight. ”
Cornelius Fortescue. I’d try to remember him as a favorable possibility.
“There are a few others—Walter Barnstable, Lord Sandringham, and Morgan Elkins. But the one that everyone will be after is Jeremy Beaumont. Remember that name, Beaumont.”
“What is so special about Jeremy Beaumont?”
“You will see.” Aunt Kendall had a knowing smirk as she closed my box of ribbons and jewelry, having chosen what she wanted out of it.
“Is he handsome?”
“Young and very handsome, good manners, and a charming smile. He is as wealthy as the Duke of Pennington, and best of all, he is not fond of the gaming clubs or of drinking and carousing. Rather, he is known for his high morals and his fondness for his sisters. He has no parents—they have both passed on—so he has no one to interfere and may marry as he pleases. He seems to have become the favorite not only of all the marriageable young ladies, but also of their mothers. He will be difficult to catch, but . . .”
Mrs. Kendall lifted my chin with her finger and stared at my face, as if taking in each of my features one at a time. It was all I could do not to squirm.
“You could catch Jeremy Beaumont, I think, with your sweet, innocent looks and pretty features.” She dropped her hand and stepped away from me, saying cheerfully, “It doesn’t hurt to try. Someone will get him, and it may as well be you.”