27. Chapter 27- Lily
It took Lily an entire day to decide whether to write, and another entire day to draft the letter itself. She knew how unreliable the post was—it could take five days for the missive to reach the northern part of the country, or it could take two whole weeks.
So it was foolish hope that had Lily searching the doorway every afternoon that entire first week. She supposed there was a wisp of a chance that Bradford had already turned back toward London, and the letter might reach him in a coaching inn along the way.
The following week was even worse for Lily’s nerves, for if the letter had arrived on time, then he might arrive on her doorstep any moment.
The third week, Lily told herself that he certainly would arrive, and that she must look her best every afternoon. Though Mabel was put through her paces, and the gentlemen who did visit seemed very appreciative of her efforts, there was still no sign of Bradford.
The subsequent two weeks were dismal, indeed. For there was no possible way a letter could take that long to arrive—she’d addressed it quite clearly. Which meant that if Bradford hadn’t come, it was because Lily’s words had failed to move him.
She spent her days avoiding her sisters—easily enough done, as each of them seemed busy with their own pursuits—and avoiding William.
He’d caught her crying in the library late one afternoon and had brusquely asked what was wrong.
When she’d been unable to catch her stuttering breath and articulate a clear reason for her sorrow, he’d frowned deeply and retreated, telling her he’d bother her no longer.
The following day, Mabel delivered a velvet box to her room. Inside was a sparkling tiara, woven closely with pearls and diamonds. The card was from William. It read: Hope you are feeling better.
Even through her private despair, Lily had to smile. William might not be able to handle a lady’s tears, but he was showing he cared the best way he knew how—with something expensive.
The only downside to experiencing a private despair—besides the despair part—was that one had to go on with life as if nothing had happened. Lily attended the theater with her family and tried not to think of Bradford. An impossibility—she’d seen several shows and he’d accompanied her each time.
She sat in the parlor and listlessly accepted visitors. She went to the balls and endeavored to avoid being asked to dance. And all the while, she thought of little but him.
“Good afternoon, Lily,” Rachel said, taking the spot on her right side one afternoon.
Lily blinked. It was five minutes until visiting hours were to start, and she hadn’t even realized Rachel was in the house.
“I hope you don’t mind if we join you,” Beatrice said before Lily could return Rachel’s greeting. She took the seat on the other side of Lily and continued, “I’m getting bored on my side of the parlor.”
“Are you?” Lily chastised herself for not paying better attention. “Do you not have a favorite beau?”
“Of course not. I don’t have any.”
“The sum of zero times zero is zero,” Rachel quipped.
Lily frowned. “I thought for sure you’d received several visitors.”
“Just because a gentleman visits doesn’t mean he’s all that interested. It’s the subsequent visits that are far more telling than the first.” Beatrice didn’t look too concerned; she was studying her fingernails.
“I’m sorry,” Lily said. “I didn’t know.”
“I don’t blame you,” Beatrice said, exhaling a laugh. “It’s impossible to pay attention to others’ progress when you’re being mobbed every day.”
“I’d hardly call it a mob,” Lily said wanly. She didn’t have the energy to argue.
“Your numbers have dropped off as of late.” Beatrice looked around. “Where on earth did Lord Hayes get off to?”
Lily couldn’t help it; she winced.
“Ah.” Beatrice’s eyes flickered to Rachel. “You were right.”
Lily thought it a bad sign that she couldn’t muster any indignation on her own behalf. So what if she and Bradford had been a topic of gossip? Someone was sure to notice his regular attendance. His absence, too.
“That’s why we’re here.” Rachel nodded.
“To cheer me up?” Lily’s eyebrows raised.
“I don’t think we’re qualified for that particular task,” Beatrice said.
“Beatrice invited me over to do what I do best.” Rachel gave a serene smile and a decisive nod as if she’d explained everything.
After a few moments, Lily said, “Pardon me, but what is your talent?”
“Getting stubborn suitors to go away, of course.”
Beatrice nodded. “I’ve noticed that while several of your beaux have caught the hint, you have quite a few who are remarkably tenacious.”
“Oh.” Lily twisted her fingers together. “I couldn’t ask you to?—”
“You didn’t ask,” Beatrice said. “I did.”
“But surely this isn’t the way to go about things,” Lily said lamely. “Perhaps I could try being ‘not at home’ again.”
“You’ve already done that several times,” Beatrice argued. “It never works; they just come back the next day.”
“Have you tried being ‘not at home’ every day?” Rachel asked. “If you’re willing to do that, then my efforts here are quite wasted.”
“I couldn’t do that to William,” Lily admitted. “He’s done so much to make this possible for us.”
And neither she nor any of her sisters were engaged.
Lily was coming to terms with the fact that her first Season was quite hopeless, matrimonially speaking.
If things didn’t turn around for her sisters—and quickly—there would be eight single Preston ladies in London next year.
Their four younger sisters would return from Paris in mere months.
Rachel tilted her head. “Perhaps you lot might consider visiting Bath over the summer. It’s supposed to be very refreshing, and doubtless you would meet new gentlemen there.”
“And if not, there’s always New York.” Beatrice shrugged.
“I don’t think things are desperate as all that,” Lily said, her eyebrows winging upward.
“Whyever not?” Beatrice said. “I think travelling would be an adventure.”
“Only because you don’t get seasick or have a fear of enclosed spaces. Sea travel is far less delightful for me than you.”
“We’re getting ahead of ourselves. We should focus on salvaging what’s left of this Season,” Beatrice said. “Which brings us neatly back to Rachel.”
“I’m not sure this is a good idea,” Lily said.
Beatrice threw up her hands. “If any gentleman hasn’t picked up on the fact that you’re listless, conversationally absent, and generally in a foul mood, he obviously isn’t paying attention to you in the least. He is interested in a pretty placeholder of a wife, and nothing more.”
“He might as well go buy a life-sized doll,” Rachel added.
“Such gentlemen are either looking for a wife in general or the money you bring to the marriage, and not courting you specifically. If you don’t find that offensive, you aren’t paying attention,” Beatrice said.
Lily winced. “When you put it like that…”
“These gentlemen require a more direct approach.” Rachel patted her hand. “While you are doubtless exceedingly talented in many areas, getting rid of fortune-hunters is my area of expertise.”
Lily secretly wondered how the young lady could claim any expertise about courting when she’d also been presented this very Season. Though she was far too polite to ask, she couldn’t help her frown.
Beatrice looked heavenward. “What’s the matter?”
Lily cast about for the source of her discomfort and finally said, “I suppose it feels mean, somehow.”
Rachel abruptly turned to face her. “Do you enjoy the attention of these gentlemen?”
“Not particularly, but?—”
“And do you plan on marrying any of them?” she asked, her eyebrows raised.
“No, but?—”
“Have you encouraged their visits, perhaps out of vanity or a fear of being alone?”
“Certainly not.” Lily wrinkled her nose at the idea.
The lady nodded, her blonde curls bouncing. “Then it’s time for them to leave you alone.”
“I hardly think that the addition of two beautiful, eligible young ladies will discourage them from visiting,” Lily said.
Rachel inclined her head. “Your flattery is gratefully noted, but I shall get them to go elsewhere.”
“How can you be so sure?”
She smiled. “I’m very nearly as pretty as you, with just as large of a dowry, and I’ve spent the Season alone and unbothered enough to read all the novels in my brother-by-law’s house.”
“It’s true.” Beatrice nodded. “She’s to gentlemen callers what a terrier is to rats.”
“That’s not accurate, as I don’t kill them.” Rachel pursed her lips and tilted her head. “Though it would be an interesting career.”
“Killing them?” Beatrice asked.
“Heavens, no. Think of the disposal problems—they don’t make a bucket large enough. I meant the price-per-head model. What do you think the going rate is for repelling a gentleman caller?”
“I don’t think there’s a large demand for such services, unfortunately,” Beatrice said. “Perhaps if you could teach ladies how to attract gentlemen…”
“You and I both know that the gentlemen only come around because I’m beautiful and wealthy.” From anyone else, such a statement would be bragging, but Rachel was just stating facts.
“You’re also witty and intelligent and an excellent friend,” Lily felt the need to point out.
“Do you see the problem?” Beatrice gestured to Lily in exasperation.
Rachel nodded as if she were a physician who’d just discovered the right diagnosis. “Indeed. No wonder you can’t get them to leave.”
“Why is that?” Lily asked, though truthfully, she’d never tried. She’d thought the gentlemen would just get bored and move on eventually.
“You’re too kind.” Rachel made this pronouncement as if Lily had a dire illness.
“I’m sorry?”
“You see?” Beatrice shook her head at Rachel. “She can’t even help apologizing when there’s clearly nothing to apologize for.”
“But aren’t we supposed to be visiting? Isn’t courtship kind of the entire point of the Season?” Lily still felt a bit guilty about their proposition.
Rachel said, “If you’re too nice to get them to leave, then you’re wasting their time as well as yours.”