Chapter 21
The morning after tea at the Fitzwilliam estate, Lavinia decided to accompany her father and Cecily to the market. She knew well that their father could lead Cecily there without issue on his own. She just did not trust that he would not say something cruel while he was doing it.
The day had started ordinarily enough. Cecily had fussed over which bonnet suited the weather.
Their father had grumbled about the state of the roads before they had even left; and Lavinia had braced herself for the usual barrage of comments and complaints.
The price of goods, the incompetence of tradesmen, some fresh grievances about her own conduct that he had apparently always been holding back.
What she was greeted by that day was not what she was used to. Indeed, something must have been truly wrong. Her father was jovial. Not only jovial. He was… happy.
The sisters walked through the market with their father, giving each other confused looks every few steps.
Lavinia found herself deeply unsettled by his good humor more than she would have been by his usual temper.
At least the temper was familiar. That, however, whatever it was, felt entirely unfamiliar and she was beginning to wonder if she had left her father at home and taken in some other older gentleman.
“Lord Casterleigh seems like a fine gentleman,” their father said.
“You did not seem to have that opinion when Lavinia was courting him before,” Cecily said, raising an eyebrow.
“Neither did you,” said he replied. “But I have seen you giggling at his jests ever since he arrived.”
“Just because I was laughing does not mean that I enjoy his character,” Cecily huffed. “It just means that, on occasion, he can be funny.”
“Well, however he is, he appears to be a man who could provide for dear Lavinia and restore her reputation!” Their father laughed.
“He could, I suppose,” Lavinia said as her eyes drifted toward the haberdashery. She looked over the different threads, trying not to think about her situation.
“Well, would it not be better for Lavinia to find someone who actually cares for her this time as opposed to throwing her into another terrible marriage?” Cecily asked.
“Being well looked after financially and socially is as much as a woman should be able to hope for,” their father said. “It was, in fact, rather clever of the duke to suggest so.”
Lavinia stopped when she heard that.
“And very generous of the duke to offer financial support!” he added.
“Pardon?” Lavinia asked, her voice dark and quiet.
“Oh, yes, the duke specifically mentioned Lord Casterleigh as a suitable candidate and offered to pay to financially support the match!” their father laughed.
Lavinia’s knees buckled and she looked over at Cecily. Her sister wore a confused expression which quickly shifted to one of horror..
“Lavinia, you did not know?” Cecily whispered. Their father suddenly seemed to notice something was wrong and looked at his eldest daughter.
“Nobody thought it was a good idea to inform me of this?” Lavinia asked. Their father finally had the decency to appear shocked.
“Lavinia, I truly thought he would have told you by now.”
For a long moment, no one spoke. Cecily’s hand found Lavinia’s arm, though whether it was to comfort her or steady her, Lavinia was not sure.
Their father, to his credit, had at least stopped smiling, his earlier good humor draining from his face as he slowly seemed to grasp exactly what he had just revealed.
It did little to soften the blow. If anything, his sudden discomfort only confirmed that there had been no misunderstanding. It was a decision that had been made deliberately and consistently, by men who had simply thought not to include her.
The market seemed to fade away around her, and her ears rang a harsh tone. Lavinia swallowed hard, trying to control her breathing.
Just as I had started to trust him… Just as I thought I could see something more with him than I thought I wanted… I discover that he worked with my father to sell me off like… Like… Livestock.
Her hand covered her face as she gained her composure, trying not to be sick right there in the street. Cecily stepped toward her.
“Lavinia?”
“I need to go,” Lavinia said, turning away from them.
She tried to force her way through the crowds. It was like she was moving through a dense fog rather than through a sea of people. Her breathing was hard and shallow, chest tight. Her eyes stung with tears as the reality of her situation finally hit her.
Suddenly, she stumbled into something and looked down, realizing she had fallen into a fabric merchant’s stall.
“Watch it!” the merchant shouted.
“I am sorry,” she mumbled, her shaking hands holding the edge of the display. Bolts of silk lay strewn across the ground.
“Ach! Now I have to clean this up!” the man shouted.
“I am sorry,” she murmured. “I… I will…”
She tried to pick up the bolts but her hands were shaking violently. Lavinia realized that she had drawn the eyes of people around her. She looked at them, dazed and tried to pick up the fabric again.
“That is the duchess?” A woman asked.
“Tis a shame,” another voice murmured.
“I suppose I am not surprised that someone like that would have such a nervous break,” a third person said.
Lavinia closed her eyes. The words seemed to come from everywhere at once, layering over each other until she could no longer tell which voice belonged to which face.
Her chest ached with the effort of drawing a breath; and beneath her gloves, her hands had become cold despite the warmth of the summer sun.
She suddenly realized just how futile her effort was.
Scrambling to stand up, she once again tried to push through the crowd and get away.
Space. I need space!
“Mama!” a little girl cried out, pointing at Lavinia. “Is that the lady who killed her husband?”
The world froze at that moment. The crowd seemed to turn toward her all at once. She struggled to draw breath into her lungs. For the first time, she felt like a terrified rabbit, instead of the woman who had acted as duchess for the area.
The mother looked from her daughter to Lavinia, her face pale.
“I—Your Grace—”
“Teaching children to repeat vicious gossip reflects rather poorly on the parents, not on the subject of said gossip, would you not agree?” Lord Casterleigh said, stepping between Lavinia and the mother and child. Lavinia looked up noticing how his hair eclipsed the sun.
The mother spluttered and pulled her child away.
Lord Casterleigh’s shoulders relaxed and he turned to Lavinia, his expression softening.
“Are you quite alright?” he asked gently.
Lavinia nodded, sniffling. He smiled, offering his arm.
She took it and allowed him to lead her toward a quieter part of the market, near an old oak tree.
In the shade, she started to be able to breathe easier again, , her mind starting to return to her.
Lord Casterleigh kept her shielded from the rest of the people trying to gawk at her.
After a moment, she realized that he had not attempted to speak. He had not tried to defend the actions of the mother. He had simply stood with her. No, he had done more than that. He had defended her, publicly, without hesitation.
I should feel grateful. I do feel grateful.
Lavinia looked up at Lord Casterleigh. He was not standing there as a man defending a woman. The way he shifted his weight, the way he folded his arms.
That was a man defending property. Even the speed at which he had spoken did not strike her as a lord who had considered what it could do to his reputation. Defending a woman whom everyone was whispering about… That could have caused scandal. And people would be speaking about him afterward.
But that would not matter if he believed he had already gained me. If he already believed that he had tied his boat to my ship and he would not lose me.
“Thank you,” she said softly. She truly meant it. He tilted his head and smiled warmly.
“You should never have to face such injustices alone,” he replied. Lavinia nodded.
“I am glad that you came,” she said softly. “But I am afraid that I must go and find my sister. I left her with our father and I can only imagine she is becoming rather fraught.”
“Of course,” Lord Casterleigh nodded. “I do hope I will be allowed to visit you at Briarwood Hall again soon.”
“Yes,” she nodded, standing tall again. “I will be expecting you.”
“I will see you soon, then,” he said.
She stepped away from the old oak, managing to maintain composure as she walked down the street. In her mind, she was mapping out a route to somewhere quiet. Somewhere where she wasn’t being watched. Somewhere she could think without that man staring at her.
She rounded the corner and hurried behind the church. Once there, she pressed her shaking hands against the cold stone, taking shuddering breaths, trying to force her body to be calm.
Every kindness. Every gift. Every sweet word. It was all part of a trap.
She realized that she had not been making decisions, not truly. It was like she was an animal being lured under a trap by food, all guided by the duke’s steady hands.
The pigments. The apology…
She thought of every small kindness she had accepted in those past weeks, examining each one as if seeing them for the first time.
Kindness she had mistaken for character.
Attention she had thought was genuine regard.
It had all felt so natural, so easy to fall into.
But, that was the point. Because it had all been designed to feel that way.
And I let it. I let myself believe in it all. If I had questioned him at the ball, or when he visited, or even at the garden party, perhaps I would not have been in this situation.