Chapter 11
Tears seemed to always be filling Hester’s eyes these days, even when good things occurred. She could make no sense of it. All her life, she’d had to repress her emotions. Her parents had certainly hated to see her cry. They hadn’t even liked it when she’d laughed.
Smiling was said to increase face lines, and so she had not been encouraged to smile, which she had always thought quite odd. Most girls were told to smile, to make themselves look pleasing, but she had not been.
She was supposed to look aloof and serene.
But not today! Oh, not today! This most glorious of remarkable, unexpected days. A day she never ever could have envisioned, nor dared to even dream about.
She had not tried to look aloof or serene in years, and she certainly could not do so surrounded by a bevy of Briarwood ladies.
The beautiful, loving women bustled about her, happy, joyful, drinking tea, passing little bouquets of flowers back and forth, and fussing with Hester’s and each other’s gowns.
They were all so at ease with each other, often finishing each other’s sentences and selecting chocolates for each other to enjoy!
They quoted poetry and Shakespeare and hummed opera.
Ellen sat happily in the corner, near a window spilling warm light into the room, in a gown of lavender silk. Her hair was curled perfectly atop her head and Phoebe carefully administered small flowers into the coils.
“You look marvelous, Ellen,” Phoebe enthused, dressed in a lace-covered apricot silk gown that flattered her coloring and frame.
“Thank you, Lady Phoebe,” Ellen returned, quite pleased. “It is only because of your miraculous abilities.”
Phoebe tsked and patted Ellen’s hand. “I shall not hear a word of that, for it is not true! You have the loveliest kind face, and nothing can replace kindness. Beauty can be hard and cold, but kindness is eternal.”
Ellen blushed at that. “Oh, Lady Phoebe,” she said, “you do know how to say all the right things.”
“Do I?” Phoebe asked, pursing her lips as she considered this. Then she let out an exasperated sigh. “People are often telling me that I’m always putting my foot in my mouth, which is, of course, most awkward.” Phoebe shrugged. “But I can’t help it.”
Hester beamed at Phoebe, who looked over her at her and winked.
Phoebe would forever have a special place in her heart for the genuine and supportive friendship she had formed with Ellen.
Duchess Mercy was arranging Hester’s hair and paused to say, “Now sit still, my dear. I know it’s tempting to look at Phoebe’s antics, but this shall never be done if we don’t take care.”
She’d been quite surprised that no French lady’s maid was working away at her curls.
There were several wonderful lady’s maids that attended the young ladies of the house.
But Duchess Mercy had asked if it would be acceptable for her to play maid to Hester today.
She’d been shocked to the point of near speechlessness. Her soon-to-be mother-in-law was the most remarkable of women. And she’d made it clear that she wished to be close to Hester. It was such a foreign thing to her that she’d barely managed to nod her agreement.
The duchess gently put each lock into place, then secured lilies of the valley into the curls.
The duchess let out a note of approval and clapped her hands together. “You are such a beautiful bride. I am so grateful that my son has found you. It’s such an interesting journey to love and happiness. Yours has seemed particularly good, hasn’t it?”
“Has it?” she asked, rather surprised. She wouldn’t have said so, but she was genuinely curious as to why Mercy thought so.
“Well,” Mercy said softly, nodding, “what I mean is you and Calchas have been friends from the start. There has been no confusion, no dislike, no silliness.”
She laughed, unable to disagree. “How could anyone not like Calchas?”
Mercy waggled her dark brows and her lips curved in a rueful smile. “Oh, my dear girl. Many have found him to be quite an acquired taste.”
Mercy pursed her lips and adjusted the silver hairbrushes on the dressing table. “Perhaps he’s different with you than he is with others, but often he tells people things that they don’t want to hear.”
“Oh, he does that with me too sometimes,” Hester blurted without any diplomacy. She winced at her own honestly, terrified Mercy might think ill of her.
But Mercy grinned. “Oh really? How marvelous. Do you do the same thing for him? Because he needs it.”
“I shall do my best,” Hester assured, growing accustomed to the easy discourse with her mother-in-law. Everyone had always been so kind, but now…it was different. She wasn’t a guest. She was family. And her own family had treated her terribly.
She had to remind herself that the Briarwoods were nothing like her family and would never make her feel ashamed or alone.
She sat up a little, letting her fingers brush the delicate lace draped over her silk gown.
“But he and I are very clear. There’s no point in mincing about what we think.
It likely all started because I had to ask him for money right away, which was no easy thing.
In turn, he helped me in my most dire straits.
So, I think we started in a place where we had to be completely truthful with each other. ”
Mercy gently touched her shoulders. “Good,” she said, her eyes warm with affection and approval. “I am so glad to have you as my daughter-in-law. I’ve been very blessed, you know? But I cannot wait for even more grandchildren.”
Hester smiled, those silly tears stinging her eyes again at the very possibility of children. “Nor can I wait to give them to you.”
Mercy’s eyes danced. “Truly? How wonderful.” She cleared her throat, attempting to look calm, though her excitement was undeniable. “Now, of course, there’s no rush, but you know how large our house is. We can always fit a few more children in.”
“This family has stretched Heron House, grand as it is, to the seams,” Hester replied. “But it is clear that it’s stretched to the seams with love.”
“Oh, it is. It is,” assured Lady Juliet as she approached. “I have the bonnet!”
Lady Juliet, her soon to be aunt, was a formidable woman who had taken to the stage as young woman and married an American, Mercy’s brother. Juliet was saucy beyond all belief.
Juliet placed the delicate chapeaux into Hester’s hands.
“There,” Juliet said with pleasure. “This will look stunning atop your already gorgeous curls. Mercy will perch it just so, and your curls will go uncrushed. Then I will tie it under your chin, to the side, and it will give you a jaunty air.”
Juliet winked. “Your husband will not be able to resist you. And we shall all be immensely proud of our work.”
“Thank you,” she said, her breath stolen at the sight of the beautiful, pale bonnet that looked like spun sugar, and she was just as taken by Juliet’s bright humor.
“This is a moment that we all savor,” said Lady Juliet’s twin, Lady Hermia, as she approached with a posset of violets in her hand.
“Oh,” she queried. “Why?”
“The ushering in of a new Briarwood is always a beloved event,” declared the dowager duchess from the doorway.
Hester turned and spotted the grand woman who had, in many ways, started all of this that day in the hall, talking about paintings.
The dowager came forward, slightly shaking in her step, but still moving like a galleon at sea, all her glorious sails billowing. She might be aging, but she could still command attention.
Her jewels sparkled in the morning light as she crossed over to Hester. “I had a very strong feeling when you came into my house that day that you’d never truly leave.”
Hester’s jaw dropped rather uncouthly. “You did not.”
The dowager gave her a pleased, knowing look. “Oh, I did. I have a knack for these things.”
Hermia, Juliet, and Mercy all nodded.
“It’s true,” said Hermia.
“She has a shocking tendency to be right,” supplied Mercy.
“Don’t doubt her,” added Juliet.
“Then I never shall,” Hester vowed with surprising ease.
“Very wise,” the dowager said. “Very wise, my dear. Now, I don’t think you’re the typical blushing bride, and we won’t send Phoebe from the room, but we just want you to know that if ever you are concerned about anything, or if things are not going as you’d hope, you mustn’t keep it to yourself.
You are as much my granddaughter as Phoebe is. ”
“And you will be my daughter,” Mercy added warmly.
Juliet and Hermia nodded their agreement.
“You are a Briarwood, or you will be in a few hours,” Hermia said firmly.
“And nothing can change that,” declared Juliet proudly.
“We take care of each other, you know,” said the dowager duchess.
“I can see it, and I’m being folded in.” Hester sucked in an embarrassingly shaky breath. “And I don’t entirely understand why.”
Mercy cocked her head to the side, her dark hair shining in the morning light. “Don’t say that, my dear. Calchas loves you.”
“And I don’t really understand why.”
The dowager duchess blinked. “Don’t you?”
“No,” Hester said, twisting on the chair. Grabbing the back of it. She glanced over at Ellen. “Ellen’s always loved me dearly, but in a way she had no choice. My parents made it very clear that—”
The dowager duchess placed her hand over hers.
“Now, now, my dear. None of that. It is a great misfortune that you were not raised with love and affection. Unfortunately, this world is peopled with those who were never taught their own worth, who were never made to feel as if they were loved and valued for themselves alone. You know, no one needs to prove their worth here, or that they deserve to be loved. Each one of us is a glorious jewel shining in the sun. Sometimes something blocks that sun and the jewel never shines, and it is the greatest tragedy. So, if you do not understand why Calchas loves you, we shall each have to shine upon you so that the facets of yourself can at last glow. And then one day, you will see in yourself what we all see.”
Hester swallowed and more dratted tears filled her eyes. “You are all so very terrible,” she blubbered.
“Why?” Mercy exclaimed, her face suddenly worried.
Hester desperately tried to reclaim her composure. “Because you are all always making me want to cry with your goodness. It’s not fair. I never felt compelled to cry until I came here.”
Juliet bent down and squeezed her shoulder lovingly. “Oh, crying easily is the most wonderful gift! Embrace it. Every actress loves to cry upon the stage.”
“Juliet,” Hermia warned, “you are being ridiculous.”
Juliet pursed her lips. “I thought a moment of ridiculousness was warranted, because the truth is,” Juliet said, “everyone should be able to cry when they wish, but most people are not allowed. I think that’s the reason why so many people become actors, just so they can cry on the stage, because they’re not allowed to in life.
I’m the odd one, having always been allowed to express my feelings. ”
“But welcome,” enthused Hermia to Hester. “Welcome to a place where you must show all of your emotions and not just the acceptable ones to society.”
Hester laughed, wiping her eyes. “Like the pretense of happiness?”
“How clever you are!” gushed Juliet. “Do we see many happy people in the ton?”
Hester shook her head. “No, I confess not.”
The dowager tsked. “That is an exhausting way to live. And one ends up on their death bed, wondering what the devil one did with one’s life! Pretending happiness,” she harrumphed. “For who? Why, I ask you?”
“Here, we don’t run from our feelings,” Mercy said with sudden seriousness.
“Do you wish to run away?” the dowager duchess suddenly asked.
Hester paused, wondering how best to explain. “I’ve done that once. I don’t need to do it again.”
She swallowed back her fears that her own husband might run away one day, giving into the wildness within him.
Could his own family see that side of him? She didn’t dare ask. But she was betting on him staying with her and ignoring the call of the sea and his nature.
And she really did wonder at herself for trying to ignore his nature. But wasn’t that the nature of humans? To ignore such things and hope for the best?
The truth was, she had a fear, and it was deep in her heart, and she could not make it to go away. She feared that even though she was marrying Calchas, and even though he claimed to love her, she was going to end up alone again.
She was being embraced by a family, taken into their loving arms. And yet she was going to be left, just as she had been left before, by her parents and then her own husband. And she’d have to face the world alone.
At least she’d have her children. That would have to be enough, wouldn’t it?
Somehow, she would be able to survive the pain of Calchas going to sea, traveling the world without her, because he was going. She could feel it building in him, even if he couldn’t.
She was trying to ignore it. Trying to pretend it wouldn’t win. But it would. It was only a matter of time.
The truth might be that he didn’t lie to his family or anyone else, but he certainly did lie to himself. It was there, in the way his jaw was set and the way his shoulders were tense.
Yes, the wild was beckoning him. She had seen it in her late husband many a time. She had seen it in the other sailors her husband had been friends with.
And that summoning of the adventurous spirit within? That could never ever be denied.
No matter how much they loved those at home.