All Things Must Change,Cease To Be
“You’re so crabby, Verity.”
“I’m not!”
“And peevish.”
Verity stomped the winding path of St James’s Park, her boots crunching the gravel as she muttered beneath her breath.
“I agree,” commented Aunt, endeavouring to keep up. “Peevish and crabby. Even the cats kept out of your way this morning.”
“I’m not!” And she kicked at the gravel. Then used one of Daniel’s tamer oaths as that act had left scuff marks on her new boots.
“See!” countered Sephi, her bright-green skirts swishing in the south-westerly breeze, parasol twirling. “Crabby.”
“I believe,” said Aunt low, “that she is missing the Earl of Stonewold. It’s only been four days but…”
Sephi nodded. “She’ll never admit it, even if you hid all her paints.” And she halted to sort her wayward skirts.
“And such crabbiness seems to be contagious,” murmured Aunt, flapping her gloved hand in the direction of Mrs Tait and her daughter someway ahead.
Verity peered up from her stomp and past the broad shoulders of the footman whom they’d thought it best to bring along.
Mrs Tait had asked to join the daily promenade of the Scandalous Scarlet Spinsters in St James’s Park as mother and daughter required some fresh air, but it appeared they had much on their minds.
Juliet’s scowl had matched Verity’s and Mrs Tait had looked entirely too beleaguered. Now they had linked arms but conversed intently and one could almost see–
“Ouch!”
Verity spun at her cousin’s yelp and frowned as a dark-garbed gentleman reached for Sephi’s arm to steady her, the parasol now strewn on the path.
“My apologies, lass,” a grave Scottish brogue intoned. “My thoughts were elsewhere.”
Sephi tutted. “You nigh walked over me, Sir.”
The gentleman, soberly handsome and dressed in smart black, bent to retrieve her parasol. “I don’t know how t’would be possible…” His eyes roved from her bonnet to her dress. “As I’ve not seen such a brightly dressed lady in some while.”
Snatching her parasol back, Sephi scrunched her nose at his dark attire. “Then perhaps you ought to look where you’re going more often, Sir, for the world is not all black.” And with a harrumph, she twisted and stomped towards them. “Shall we?”
Verity stared back at the gentleman who was unfortunate enough to have vexed Sephi and thought to give an apologetic nod but…
A smile had cracked the gentleman’s serious features, his eyes – blue as a winter sky – abruptly stirred with vivid life. They flicked to herself before, with a doff of hat, he strode off down the path that had crossed with theirs.
Verity hastened to catch her relations, Sephi’s grumbles likely heard in Whitehall.
“Well, then,” said Verity, “who’s being crabby now?”
“And peevish,” joined in Aunt.
“I’m not! I merely responded in kind after his snide remark about my bright dress.”
Aunt Theo slanted Sephi a look from beneath her bonnet brim. “He was not snide, darling.”
“Hah! Did you see the manner in which he stared at me? With such a…a look of disapproval. I’d wager he’d read the gossip papers. Knew who I was.”
“Erm.” Verity nibbled her lip. “Sephi, not that I know overmuch the ways of men, in fact after that letter, far from it, but I would not have called his look disapproving.”
“What was it then? Scornful?”
“No.” Verity patted her cousin’s shoulder. “I thought it was…admiring.”
“As did I,” said Aunt.
Sephi frowned and blinked at the same time.
“He looked at you with admiration, Sephi.”
Her cousin briefly closed her eyes. “No… No, you have it all wrong.”
Anger filled Verity and she cursed her cousin’s father and that lamentable libertine. For how wretched that Sephi should think all comments from men would be derogatory or snide. That she could no longer recognise admiration. “I do not think so. And you do look beautiful.”
“Thank you but… I just saw his stare and I thought…” She hit her forehead with a palm. “I wasn’t very nice to him, was I?”
“No, Sephi. In fact, you were quite rude.” And Verity cocked her head.
“Don’t look at me like that.”
“Like what?” Verity said with all innocence.
“You want me to apologise. I can see it in your eyes. Well, I can’t. He’s gone.”
Verity merely pursed her lips.
“Oh, not the lips as well,” Sephi groused. “Well, I suppose, if I ever see him in the park again, I could…smile. Maybe. In his direction.”
“I’ll believe that when I see it,” muttered Aunt.
“I can smile at a man.” And Sephi pulled her lips back to that of a gargoyle on a cold north-facing wall.
Verity winced. “Maybe just curtsey, Cousin.”
They continued along the path and Verity’s thoughts began to fill once more before she abruptly realised that not once had she noted how the dogwood stems were shining red now their leaves were falling or that the beech hedges had leached to copper.
Perhaps she was, after all, feeling just the slightest bit crabby.
Later that night.
Verity looked to the stars, some aglitter, some tinged azure, others crimson, sprinkled against the coverlet of black as though diamond dust had been thrown to heaven.
With a sigh, she stepped back into her conservatory and began to carefully draw down the fragile blind to cover the window – the roller mechanism had been repaired three times this year.
Perhaps she would sleep upon the chaise tonight and listen to the leaves furling, the air heavy with night-scented jasmine. Perhaps it would aid her crotchety disposition.
Was Miles safe at home? And who on earth would wish him ill?
She’d written him a letter expressing her concern and she hoped he would–
“There you are, hiding away with the plants as usual.”
Verity twisted. “Is all well, Aunt?”
“You tell me, darling.” And with an arched brow, she stepped in from the garden, Valmont stalking aside her skirts. “Let’s have a little chat.” She wended her way to the lush central haven and patted the chaise. “Come sit.”
Perhaps a new cat was being mooted. Verity sat.
With a whip of tail, Valmont also deigned to join them, kneading his wicked talons upon the cotton slipcloth.
“Now…” Aunt breathed deep and clasped her hands within her lap. “I believe you are in love once more with Miles Firth.”
“Er…”
“In fact, I believe you’ve never ceased.”
“Well…”
“And I believe he has feelings anew for you also.”
“I’m…”
“But you’re…well, bungling it, I’d say.”
“That’s…”
“You shared not a word of that night when he came to call upon you but I daresay you told him that your past was a hindrance to any renewed courtship.”
“But it wou–”
“Claptrap!” And Aunt sniffed.
“But what if–”
“What if.” She huffed. “I hear no Could be. I hear nothing of the Verity who overcame such adversity. I hear no pluck of the girl I know and adore. What if is for wilting milksops.”
“But this is not about me, Aunt.” Verity thinned her lips. “It is about Miles. I admit, he has asked to court me anew, but… He needs someone who can share his dreams of adventure. Let alone what my past would mean for him as earl.”
Aunt lifted a hand to Verity’s shoulder. “Miles is no longer that sprig of a lad you knew but a man of considerable competence, who is quite capable of knowing what he wants. Do not underestimate him.”
“I know. It’s that part of him, that man he has become, that calls to me so much again but–”
“And yet you do not believe in what I am saying, not truly. You do not trust that Miles knows his own mind, or that together you cannot overcome whatever difficulties may arise. Let him court you, darling. And just…see where it leads.”
“I…I…”
“It is not your fault, Verity. I know you bear no ill-will towards Sir Oswald and your Great-Aunt Lucia but to my mind, they abandoned you in your hour of need.” She patted Verity’s hand.
“With all that you went through, your father’s death and that awful asylum, some might have succumbed to despair but instead you became stronger.
You surmounted your problems, brought order to your life and became independent. ”
“Only thanks to you, Aunt.”
“No. It was your courage.” She stroked her cheek.
“You know me, darling, I call a fig a fig and I acknowledge that any potential future with Miles would not be without its challenges, requiring a change to your way of life. A frightening prospect for one who’s had to lead such an ordered existence for so long, to contemplate losing your independence. But change is not to be feared.”
Verity inhaled a stuttering breath and closed her eyes to Aunt’s words.
“But if your courtship leads to more, then a life with Miles, would also bring passion, excitement and such verve. I know you. I know you can cope with all of this. You had a recurrence in Miles’ carriage yet overcame it, and if another comes, you will do so again.
Miles is also prepared to face such challenges so you must trust in him.
Trust that you can face those challenges together.
” Aunt’s hand fiercely clenched her own.
“Think on what you really want, and then believe in it, reach for it and fight for it, Verity, accepting yourself as you are, yes, but also accepting Miles’ support. ”
As Verity lifted her lids, Aunt stood, leaned forward and placed a gentle buss on her forehead. “You are ready, Verity,” she whispered. “Ready for a new adventure.” Then she turned and softly left.
With an absent stroke of hand to Valmont’s neck, Verity let her thoughts scatter and then settle.
Was she afraid to trust in Miles? To trust in love? Was she pushing him away not for his own good, but out of her own fears? Afraid to reach for love? Of change?
A low purr emanated from Valmont, the dangerous rogue, and so she rose from the chaise and pottered about, cleaning leaves that had acquired a dusting of ash from her stove and checking the dryness of the soil.
Yet tonight, her conservatory bequeathed no peace.
Instead she noted how the plants had changed in solely a day: new leaves unfurled, a flower faded, a new one in bud.
Stems grew sturdy with passing time. Seedlings emerged and strove to be all they could be.
All was subject to change.
Life always changed.
And perhaps…perhaps it was time she did too.