Chapter 17
Chapter Seventeen
The Grand Knightswood Ball; French Lace and Moorland Hair
Two weeks later
‘I honestly cannot believe that all three of you sold your souls in such a way!’ Matilda exclaimed heatedly.
‘You spent years telling me how modern and independent you are, and then willingly incarcerated yourselves in one of these? A literal cage!’ She huffed at the looking glass as one of the housemaids pulled her new corset even tighter.
‘It’s just a corset, Matilda,’ Sophie chastised, closing her eyes. ‘You’ve worn one before, and this is one of the newer designs Madame Montmartre sent from Paris – at no small expense too, I can tell you!’
‘Yes, but mine are comfortable! I don’t cinch them in so I can’t even sit down, and I always have ribs left at the end of a day… Indeed, that’s it! Let me out! It’s bad enough that I have to go through with this charade, let alone be tied into the underbelly of a whale.’
All three of her older sisters, who were sprawled across her bed, began to laugh.
‘Matilda, I swear you are the most dramatic of all of us,’ Phoebe chuckled.
‘I’ve never heard such a fuss about a coming-out gown!
Just wait until you get to The Queen Charlotte’s Ball, which involves more pomp and ceremony than any girl can reasonably bear; you just have to keep telling yourself you can tear the wretched thing off as soon as you get back to your bedchamber. ’
‘I don’t think that’s quite the right attitude either!
’ Sophie exclaimed, heaving herself on the bed cushions and staring down at her considerable bump.
‘And, quite honestly, I miss having a waist. There’s no allowance in any of the new Romantic fashions, so I would make the most of yours while you still can, dearest sister. ’
‘Pooh! If you think I am in any way subjecting myself to your present condition, you can think again, especially after Phoebe’s considerable, attention-seeking experience…’
Josephine raised her eyebrows at her outspoken younger sister, who trailed off sheepishly. She and Matilda had made up almost the moment she’d returned to Knightswood, but she was also conscious Lord Huntingly hadn’t yet come up in conversation.
‘Oh Jo, if you think I’m going to be mawkish about my impending confinement because Phoebe ran into a spot of bother, think again!
’ Sophie exclaimed. ‘This one will be no trouble, just like all the rest.’ She patted her stomach affectionately.
‘The midwife believes it a boy from the way he’s challenging my dress fastenings, and I know that would delight Dominic, but I’m so very weepy I think it must be another girl.
Anyway, it’ll be your turn next!’ She smiled mischievously.
‘And I do hope you take baby Huntingly to the park a few times before you start them on the entire works of William Shakespeare!’
‘It’s never too soon,’ Josephine retorted, pulling a face as they all laughed.
She gazed around at their animated faces, wishing she could bottle the afternoon before the weekend celebrations were upon them.
Her return to Knightswood had been beset with failure – both to persuade Thomas to delay the betrothal announcement, or to discover any evidence in George Pellham’s letters.
They made frequent references to the unfortunate or regrettable circumstances that had led to his situation, but nothing more – though she was still slowly making her way through her second read.
All of which had left her with an approaching betrothal ball and an impending sense of doom.
‘You expect me to throw away the first decent offer you’ve had in three years, a match you yourself secured, because of a suspicion?’
Thomas’s words echoed in her ears as she watched her sisters chat. None of them knew how much she suspected, and now the rumours about Huntingly had somehow been lost amid talk of betrothal gowns and coming-out announcements.
‘I told Thomas I’d suffer through this whole affair if he would but reinstate the steeplechase,’ Matilda interjected sulkily, ‘but he was just … churlish.’
‘Dearest, you know Thomas will only spend where he deems entirely necessary,’ Phoebe placated. ‘As it is, Sophie was lucky to obtain a dress allowance for you both which must have been like—’
‘Getting blood from a stone,’ Sophie muttered, rolling her eyes.
She pushed herself onto her feet before treading across to the armoire.
‘But this Parisian lace will be so worth it! Madame Montmartre worked through the night on yours, Jo,’ she added wistfully, letting the fine material run through her fingers.
‘It really is the loveliest betrothal dress I’ve seen, with sleeves worthy of any romantic heroine! ’
‘Well, I need all the help I can get,’ Josephine laughed, ‘unlike our dear, lovely Matilda who could wear riding breeches and a shirt, and still have a dozen suitors fighting over her first dance.’
‘Don’t tempt me!’ Matilda growled, making them all laugh.
‘You’re perfect just as you are, Josephine Fairfax,’ Phoebe chastised in her old way, ‘and Lord Huntingly is extraordinarily fortunate to share a future with you. The stars don’t always shine clearly but that doesn’t mean they aren’t there, and I pray your union brings you every blessing, for the Lord knows you deserve them. ’
‘Hear, hear!’ Sophie applauded admiringly. ‘You haven’t delivered a speech like that since we produced Frankenstein’s Monster with an all-female cast.’
‘The peak of my career,’ Phoebe laughed.
‘When you all told me being the monster was the best part,’ Matilda grumbled.
‘Well, you’re no monster today, dearest,’ Sophie chuckled, taking over from Betsy, who was attempting to fasten a row of tiny silk buttons on Matilda’s dress.
‘There!’ she exclaimed as her experienced fingers made light work of the fastenings. ‘Now you look like the most sophisticated debutante of the season!’
Josephine smiled at Matilda’s scowling reflection, all ivory silk, French lace, gigot sleeves and wild moorland hair – some things would never change.
‘Which means you must be the most sophisticated bride!’ Sophie smiled, turning back to Jo.
* * *
3rd April 1825
My dearest Eliza,
Thank you for your letter and news of our grandmother, which I read with a truly heavy heart.
Life with the regiment is far from easy, but it is nothing compared with the pain and worry you must have endured over these past few weeks.
Indeed, my only solace is that you were with our grandmother throughout her fever, and at her passing.
There is so much I wish I could say to her, but instead all I ask is that you mark her resting place with a bunch of spring buttercups.
They were her favourite, and when she looks down, she will know I am thinking of her now and always.
I pray the typhoid sweeping the village spares the lives of any more friends and family, and that the angels bless you and Mother with strong, good health.
Trust me when I say that I cannot imagine how I would live without you, Eliza.
You have always been my guide and strength, even through the darkest times, and I know that, like me, you regret it all.
I beseech you take care until such time that I can return.
Your fondest brother,
George.
Josephine sat bolt upright in bed as she reread one of George’s last few remaining letters to Eliza.
Her first rapid read had elicited nothing consequential at all, indeed most had read along very similar lines, enquiring about the health of his sister and family before sharing a little about life in the regiment.
She certainly hadn’t noticed any mention of Eliza’s culpability, until now.
‘Trust me when I say that I cannot imagine how I would live without you, Eliza. You have always been my guide and strength, even through the darkest times, and I know that, like me, you regret it all,’ she repeated to herself, her chest suddenly tight.
She looked up at her betrothal gown, hung with care on the front of her armoire by Sophie.
The Knightswood Ball weekend had arrived faster than anyone expected, and most of the guests were arriving today, including the rest of the family, Sir Francis, the Carlisles, the Hamptons and Lord Huntingly.
She scowled: she’d heard nothing from him since Ebcott, despite sending two letters requesting he call off the engagement, and now … this.
She cast her mind back to the day she’d first heard about the duel, and snatches of conversation with Fred, Williams and Captain Damerel reached through her whirling thoughts.
‘As far as I know, it was some dispute over old man Huntingly’s will…
Pellham’s father was as thick as coves with old man Huntingly…
Old man Huntingly died in a hunting accident with only Pellham there, and afterwards, when the will was read, the young lord discovered Pellham was to inherit part of the estate…
Huntingly’s weapon backfired, and they were Pellham’s Flintlock pistols… ’
Josephine’s chest began to pound – what exactly did George mean when he wrote of Eliza’s ‘regret for it all’?
‘Aren’t you dressed yet?’ Matilda exclaimed, bursting in and running to the window. ‘We’re losing enough of this weekend being paraded like peahens, so I thought we might sneak in a ride before breakfast?’
Josephine smiled as she stuffed the letter beneath her pillow. ‘How about a walk instead?’ she asked hopefully, knowing her younger sister too well to try to dissuade her.
‘Pooh! Who wants to walk the grounds when the whole moor is so very near? And besides, Misty needs exercise and fresh air!’
Josephine was certain it was Matilda who needed the exercise and fresh air, but refrained from saying so.
All week, Knightswood Manor had been slowly transforming from the faded country home they all knew into the polished seat of a respectable family of the ton.
Thomas really was as good as his word, and ensuring Knightswood shone at the prospect of getting rid of the last of his sisters.
‘Is that more food supplies?’ Matilda asked, pressing her nose up against the window.
‘It’s not quite six, the pre-Ball supper isn’t until eight, and have you seen the flowers?
Seriously, Jo, I think Thomas thinks he is actually marrying us off from this event and he’ll never have to spend a groat on us again! ’
‘Groat?’ Josephine gurgled with laughter. ‘Don’t let Thomas hear you saying that.’
Matilda grinned. ‘I like words that say so much more than the ones we’re supposed to use … like isn’t it a top of the trees morning, and I really am feeling quite corky and I’d love to kick up a lark rather than—’
‘Enough!’ Josephine conceded, groaning. ‘Let me get dressed and we’ll go for a short ride, there’s only so much Bertie Briggs I can take before breakfast.’
Half an hour later, Josephine had to concede that Matilda was right. The fresh air was like a tonic, clearing her head and brightening her mood, though her chest still felt unusually tight.
‘How are you feeling about the weekend, Matty?’ Josephine asked as they slowed to a trot along their favourite trail. It was framed with moorland heather and wild, flowering gorse, and briefly she recalled their last breakfast picnic, when life had seemed so much lighter.
‘Oh … fine.’ Matilda shrugged colourlessly. ‘I mean, it’s not a formal presentation, just Thomas’s notice of my coming out. And Henry and Edward will be there, so I can always rely on them to rescue me should anyone get too boring – like Sir Francis.’
‘Is he really so very boring?’ Josephine raised her eyebrows, mostly to cover her rise of mixed feelings.
‘Sir Francis is boring before he even arrives!’ Matilda retorted with a grin.
‘Hmm,’ Josephine murmured, recalling Miss Amelia’s secret plans for the weekend. ‘He may surprise you.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘Oh, just that we shouldn’t assume we ever really know people,’ Josephine shrugged knowing Matilda was hardly likely to be reliable when it came to confidences involving gentlemen to whom she’d taken a vehement dislike.
‘And what about you, Jo?’ Matilda returned after a beat. ‘I take it you resolved any differences with Lord Huntingly when you went to Ebcott?’
Josephine shot Matilda a sidelong glance, wondering whether to tell her fieriest sister that, far from resolving anything, their differences were a hundred times worse.
That, in fact, she was increasingly suspecting him of murder, of a secret attachment to Pellham’s sister, and perhaps even of dishonouring Pellham’s mother too.
Yet, what good would it do except encourage Matilda’s fire over a weekend that was already beset with challenges?
‘I have given Lord Huntingly the option to withdraw from the betrothal,’ Josephine replied tersely, ‘and he hasn’t so … here we are.’ Her tangled thoughts suddenly conjured his passionate kiss on the trail around Ebcott, and she looked away so Matilda wouldn’t see her blush.
‘You really are the oddest creature, Jo,’ Matilda mused. ‘You spend an entire lifetime dreaming about wild, impossible heroes who only appear in wild, impossible novels – and then the moment one appears, you refuse to wake. You could be happy, I think, if you just … allowed it.’
Josephine stared out at the summer moorland, wishing she could tell Matilda everything. Instead, she drew a deep breath. ‘Do you ever imagine yourself in my place, Matty?’ she asked gently. ‘Because I’m sure that, if you were, you might wish yourself elsewhere entirely.’
‘Lord, no, whatever makes you think that!’ Matilda snorted decisively.
‘I’m more than content, and intend to turn down every suitor Thomas presents until he washes his hands of me!
’ She chuckled before glancing at her sister.
‘It’s your decision, anyway,’ she added with a faint shrug.
‘Only you know if you want to take a chance.’