Chapter 16
It was the day of his guests’ arrival. Henry stared at his reflection in the washstand mirror with one thought in his head. I want a drink. It was not yet eleven in the morning, and already he was looking forward to his first glass of whisky. What did that say about his state of mind?
He had had a bath and a close shave and was now styling his hair with a comb. Despite his exhaustion, his face gave no indication that he had spent the entire night tossing and turning from the sight of Eva at the piano. Her beauty had crushed him. Even now, the memory haunted his mind. It dug a burrow through his heart that he knew no amount of whisky, laudanum or pointless chitter-chatter could ever fill. If this was what being a hopeless romantic was like, he wanted nothing to do with it.
There was a gentle knock at the door.
“Yes, what is it?” Henry said.
“Sir, the first carriage has been spotted on the horizon,” Abbott said.
Henry shut his eyes. That gave him exactly four minutes to find the will to make his way to the front stone steps.
“I shall be down at once,” Henry said.
Beyond his bedchamber’s door, the footsteps receded. Henry observed his reflection again. He wore a dark-brown jacket, a satin maroon waistcoat, a white high-collared shirt and a pair of dark-brown wool trousers. It was the first time he had dressed to the nines in months.
I expect you to assert your full attention to our new guests, Fanny and Ada Davenport.
His father’s words. It had been nearly a month since he had received that blasted grey envelope and it was finally time to obey. He was aware of the unspoken intentions of the request. There came a point in a gentleman’s life when duty came above all else and sometimes the only thing one could do was grin and bear it. In this case, he was not yet sure how to proceed. He supposed he would figure that out once the opportunity arose.
For now, he would get through his week without going mad. That started with spending the next twelve hours not giving in to his impulse to glance at Evaline Quinn.
God grant me strength.
***
From the window of the parlour, Elias and Eva watched the guests arrive in luxurious black carriages. Outside, on the broad limestone steps, Henry and Lottie waited next to a line of servants.
I think my brother is in love.
Those were Lottie’s words when she claimed that Henry had invited an American socialite apparently for reasons of courtship. Eva had spent many hours trying to decipher them. Had she somehow missed the signs of his hidden infatuation? She was under the impression that Henry was a man with few romantic prospects, someone who kept to himself and did not waste time with stupid attractions. Then again, what did she know of his life as Mr. Asheford? Nothing. What she did know with absolute clarity was the undeniable pull between them, hence why she broke it off early before that attraction could grow into something beyond her control. Truth be told, she suspected it was already out of her control because, as she stared at him now, her heart fluttered in her chest, and it was getting difficult to deny it.
Henry’s dark-brown jacket made his figure look impossibly dashing. The maroon of his waistcoat made his eyes gleam all the more blue and brought out the reddish tint in his dark hair. And when he smiled, the dimples and ridges of his face were more prominent, adding to the perfect picture of a charming gentleman.
That damned smile warmed her to the core.
She forced herself to look away and study the first approaching carriage. Her stomach gave an uneasy twist. What if it were the American socialite?
The moment it parked in the courtyard, a tall, heavy-set woman in her mid-fifties strode out with a man of similar stature and age.
“Mr. Davis Thompson and his wife, Mrs. Anne Thompson,” Elias said loudly by her ear. “New money from texture manufacturing. Mr. Thompson has an eye for the younger lasses, so ye best keep yer wits around him.”
“Mr. McKenzie.” Eva feigned a gasp as if it were the most scandalous thing she had ever heard. “What a thing to say.”
“Aye, but ye cannot fault me when it is the truth.” Elias lowered his voice. “Last summer, he was caught red-handed by his wife ruffling the skirts of a bonny servant girl at a charity event in London, no less.”
“And what did his wife do?”
“What wives must … glance the other way.”
“Goodness, I would sooner divorce my husband if I caught him doing such a thing,” she said.
Eva had once caught an ex-boyfriend cheating with a girl from their university. He had claimed they were only friends from class but Eva had found disturbing text messages on his phone. She dumped him quicker than he could stumble out a sorry. She didn’t have time to waste with that kind of behaviour.
Elias gave her a sideways glance. “Divorce?”
“Yes?”
“I dinnae ken how it is in America but here ye would lose yer claim to property, custody of yer bairns and whatever funds ye may have. That’s hardly worth it for a husband’s adultery.”
Her mouth went dry, and her fingers dug into the wooden windowsill. Oh, right. She was in the nineteenth century where women had few rights.
“A bit harsh, isn’t it?” Eva said, dejected.
Elias’s brow furrowed as if pondering her comment, but before he could respond, a second carriage rolled up to the front of Asheford Hall. A tall, thin, red-nosed gentleman with dark hair and a beard that rivalled Elias’s, emerged from the carriage with a radiant smile.
“Lord Price,” Elias said. “The poor gent. His young wife passed away from tuberculosis many years ago. He has been terribly morose since.”
“He looks happy now.”
“That’s because he’s in his cups.”
Eva looked at Elias. “His cups?”
Elias leaned in to whisper in her ear. His breath was hot against the side of her neck. “Drunker than a mule.”
“Oh.”
“Ah, Christ,” Elias suddenly exclaimed. “I beg yer pardon, Miss Edwards. I didnae expect to see the Harrison twins so soon.”
Eva craned her neck to look at the next set of guests. Two young women jumped from their carriage. They were both heavyset and drowning in layers of peach silk, white ruffles and pink bows. Behind them stepped out an elderly woman with bright-red cheeks and a smile too wide for her pudgy face.
“Those two lassies and their bawface ma didnae stop harassing me last year at a party in London. I suspect they were fishin’ for a marriage proposal,” Elias muttered. “One of them, Adela, is like a wee yappy dog. She doesn’t know when to shut up.”
Eva laughed. “Wow, Mr. McKenzie, might I comment on how your Scottish accent flourishes when provoked.”
“Aye,” he smirked. “The Scottish fire is always bubbling below the surface.”
She flashed him a questioning look.
His blush was instant. In the morning light, his green eyes twinkled. Delicate lines were etched at their corners, lending his character more charm.
She wondered how old he was. Probably the same age as Henry, maybe a little older.
He grinned.
“Do you have something to say, Mr. McKenzie?” she said.
“I was only reminded of a braw, flichterin’ dealan-dè from a few days ago with her own fire bubbling below the surface.”
“I have no idea what that means,” she said and turned her attention to the next set of guests. Why did it feel like Elias was flirting with her? No. You’re imagining things because you crave male attention.
The following carriage was jet-black with details of gold trim. Upon stopping before the front steps, the door swung open, and a heeled foot protruded from the depths. The woman who slunk out had the look of an American socialite – she had effortless grace, wore a provoking yet slightly kitsch outfit, and had an expression that could only be described as a resting bitch face. Her bright-fuchsia dress clung to her thin figure in all the right spots. Her raven-black hair was pulled back and styled in thick ringlets atop her head, emphasizing her cat-like grey eyes.
Eva was so preoccupied with the woman’s appearance that she paid no attention to how Henry greeted her. Or the middle-aged woman who accompanied the socialite.
Elias’s voice startled Eva. “I dinnae ken who that is but it would seem Henry is quite smitten by the bonnie lass.”
***
Elias McKenzie had planted himself directly across from Eva. As always, his hair was immaculately combed and parted to one side. He observed her with a keen eye over his glass of wine.
She raised her own glass to her lips and sipped. To be watched like a hawk by Henry and gawked at by a burly Scotsman, all the while pretending to be someone she was not was unnerving. God help her get through this night without having a mental breakdown.
“My, oh my, if you had seen the gentleman who played Romeo, I am sure you would have fallen in love as I had! Such passion he conveyed for his Juliet, such love in his words.” Adelia was chattering Eva’s ear off. “I told Mama she had to allow me a chance to see him after the curtain fell, but alas, my poor demands were left to fly in the wind.”
Eva caught Elias’s eye again.
His expression said, I told you she was a wee yappy dog.
“Have you ever seen a more compassionate story of love, Mr. McKenzie?” Adelia asked.
“I have not considered the subject,” Elias said.
“Perhaps, Miss Harrison, if we did not consider such subjects for suitors, they would make more of an effort to meet us halfway,” Eva said.
“Precisely, Miss Edwards. Oh, I do like your cheeky spirit.”
“To be sure, I would never choose a man on the principle of half-considerations,” Lottie chimed in. “I am resolved that my husband shall not come to me empty-handed in promises of devotion and love.”
“How could anyone come to you with half-considerations?” Eva said and patted Lottie’s hand.
Footmen entered the room, offering a refill of wine. The sudden commotion drew Eva’s attention further down the table where Henry and Fanny sat beside one another, conversing discreetly. Fanny, with her raven-black curls, radiant pink dress and creamy cleavage, was busy batting her long lashes at Henry.
An annoying heaviness entered Eva’s chest. Henry was gawking at Fanny like a smitten teenage boy. The conversation with Lottie in the library last night came to her again. I think my brother is in love with a New York socialite called Fanny Davenport because why else would she be invited, if not for a marriage prospect?
A footman’s black sleeve blurred her vision. “Wine, Miss Edwards?”
“Yes, thank you.” She didn’t usually drink wine but tonight she was more than willing to have her fill.
Adelia leaned toward Eva. “Miss Asheford, surely you intend to marry even if a man could not convey such traits?”
“That awaits to be seen,” Lottie said.
“I would rather spend a life with a man who does not love me than spend it alone. What a terrible fate that would be.” Adelia raised her glass to her lips. “Besides, I have my theatrical plays and romantic novels to soothe my romantic soul.”
“And what does Miss Edwards have to say about matters o’ holy matrimony?” Elias said.
Eva gave Elias a loaded look. “I haven’t given much thought to the notion.”
Adelia snorted. “Every woman has given thought to marriage.”
“Well … I suppose the life of a spinster would suit me quite well, Miss Harrison.” Eva smiled. “That way, I have more time for theatrical plays and romance novels.”
“Surely, that is a jest,” Adelia gasped. “A beauty as yourself would be wasted as a spinster.”
“Perhaps Miss Edwards’s ideas of marriage differ from ours in England,” Lottie said quickly.
“An interesting notion, indeed. Miss Davenport!” Adelia shouted across the table. “Miss Davenport, a question for you regarding marriage.”
Ten heads turned toward Henry and Fanny, all conversations fading away.
Eva froze. Goddammit Adelia, what are you doing? If she clutched her wine glass any harder, the stem would break.
“Yes, Miss Harrison?” Fanny responded from the other end.
“Is the life of a spinster more socially acceptable in America?” Adelia said.
Fanny laughed, followed by a few other guests.
“The life of a spinster? Why, that is a fate reserved for those without beauty, talent or accomplishments,” Fanny said. “Why do you ask, Miss Harrison?”
“Miss Edwards here claims that such a life would suit her,” Adelia responded. “And I was curious to know whether it was a common custom in the Americas.”
Dear God, shut up.
Eva awkwardly glanced at Henry. He was stone-faced.
“It is unfortunate that not every woman can be blessed with supreme beauty and prospects such as my dear daughter,” Fanny’s mother said. “Perhaps Miss Edwards does not want to insult the most sacred institution of the Almighty with her faults, and that is a most sensible decision.”
Heat shot through Eva. If she were not masquerading as Jane Edwards, she would have stood and throttled the old woman to the floor.
She set her wine glass hard onto the table. It clattered against her dish. “Nor is everyone blessed with the traits of self-reliance and self-respect, two characteristics that tend to get lost within a marriage built on prospects,” Eva declared loudly and forced a polite smile. “But I digress on the matters of marriage. It is a subject I scarcely know about and should not pretend otherwise. My claims to spinsterhood were nothing more than a silly attempt at a joke.”
“Silly, indeed.” Fanny’s mother pursed her lips.
Silence filled the dining room.
Then a roar of laughter came from Lord Price, followed by Elias and soon enough the conversation picked up as if nothing had happened.
Eva was quick to dip her nose into her wine glass. Good Lord, she would need the whole vineyard at this rate. By the time the dinner ended, her body felt heavy from too much wine. Despite being slightly drunk … all right, maybe very drunk, she was quite proud of having avoided further drama and that included Henry’s brooding glare.
The guests had been ushered into the parlour and were engaged in polite conversation in small groups. Fanny began playing piano … because of course she would. Fanny fucking Davenport would not miss a chance to show off.
There she sat on the plush yellow piano bench, running her slender fingers along the keys and singing about a sailor lost at sea.
When the song ended, Eva had the urge to boo but promptly stuck her nose in her wine instead. She was being childish. And jealous. Maybe in a different life, she could have been the one up there playing the piano and singing for Henry.
Once the polite clapping of the guests died down, Fanny invited Henry to play along with her for the next tune. He smiled as if presented with a million-dollar cheque; full dimpled and all.
A bite of pain clamped hard around Eva’s heart.
He never smiles like that with you.
Henry took a seat at the piano, tested a few of the keys and began playing the opening notes of a song she did not recognize.
The music hit her chest like a mallet.
He never played music with you either.
When Fanny started singing, Eva had to control her breathing to avoid hyperventilating. She wanted the girl to shut up. Her shrill voice did nothing to accompany Henry’s playing.
His music transported her to a dark place. It reminded her that she did not belong. That she, Evaline Quinn, was the anomaly in the room. Like a bug, she threatened to break their code and crash their system. No matter how well she acted or dressed, she would never be like the people in this room.
The song ended; people clapped.
Footmen came in with more wine.
More wine … and more talking … and more singing with people long gone in her time. Everyone here was a walking skeleton. Her head was dizzy. She wanted more wine.
Lottie pulled at Eva’s elbow. “Take a turn around the room with me, Jane.”
“Now?”
“Yes, you are staring daggers at Fanny,” Lottie whispered in her ear. “Up now and leave the wine. You’ve had enough.”
With control, she stood from the chair and wobbled on two legs. “I think I’m drunk.”
“Precisely why we will get some fresh air.”
Lottie’s gloved hand pulled her around the room. Reluctantly, Eva followed. She was not sure whether she managed to look modest. God, what if she looked like the tail-end of a hard night of drinking with her university classmates? A sudden burst bubbled from her lips. What a sight that would be: dishevelled hair, eyes the size of pennies, a red face and an awkward limp.
She caught Elias’s observant stare from across the room and drunkenly smiled. Elias McKenzie, most probably a descendant of a fierce highland clan. He would make a good drinking buddy. He knew how to have fun. And fun is what she needed.
“Goodness, Jane,” Lottie muttered.
“What now?”
“Stop gawking at Elias,” Lottie whispered harshly into her ear.
“I wasn’t. Hey, where are we going?”
Lottie pulled her outside and across the courtyard. They had not made it far before the spins started. All it took was one glance at the window to see Henry and Fanny with their heads together in more discreet conversation for the urge to vomit to come knocking.
With a palm against a large oak tree, she spewed up red wine across the grass.
“Good God, Jane,” Lottie groaned. “This is most unbecoming of a lady.”
“I can’t do this,” Eva whimpered.
“I beg your pardon?”
Eva wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. Tears stung her eyes. “I can’t do this, Lottie, I can’t.”
“Oh no, no, you can.”
“I have feelings for your damn brother!”
Lottie’s blush was instant. “Feelings? What is it that you mean to say? Like love?”
“Yes! No … I don’t know,” Eva cried. “I don’t know.”
“Eva…”
“I just…” Eva groaned and turned away from the sight of the party. “I’m confused. Your brother … he’s, well, he’s all I think about and it’s gotten to the point where I can’t sleep without seeing his stupid face in my dreams.” Eva regarded Lottie. “And you, Lottie, you’ve been like a sister to me, and all of this has been so hard.”
Lottie came closer and placed a hand on Eva’s shoulder.
“I’m so scared,” Eva whimpered. “I’m scared the longer I stay, the harder it will be for me to leave.”
“I do not know what to say,” Lottie said quietly. “I do not know how to comfort you.”
“You already are by listening and being here with me.”
“Eva, you are the most courageous woman I know. When the time comes—”
A few silent seconds passed as Eva waited for Lottie to finish her sentence, but the girl’s mouth clamped shut.
“See? Not even you can say the words,” Eva murmured. “Who am I kidding with this dress and this party? I’ll never be part of this society … this world. I don’t belong, so why bother trying? Why should I continue to make it difficult for all of us by pretending?”
“Because you are here now, Eva. Why should we not enjoy the time we have together?”
“You’re a sweet girl.”
“But it is the truth.”
Eva tried to smile but it felt wrong. The truth would always be that she was an outsider.
“If anyone bothers to ask, tell them I was as drunk as a mule and you put me to bed,” Eva muttered as she patted Lottie on the shoulder. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“You will try because God put you here for a reason.” Lottie’s voice came loud and clear. “I truly believe that God brought you to our world to help us heal … to become whole and feel again after … after…”
“After what?”
“After what feels like a lifetime of pain,” Lottie said quietly.
The remaining wine in Eva’s stomach was turning into a congealed lump. Lottie’s sentiment was bittersweet and heartbreaking all at once.
“That’s a responsibility I didn’t sign up for,” Eva said.
“You do not get to choose God’s plan.”
Eva looked down. She didn’t have the heart to tell the girl that she didn’t believe in God. What did it matter anyway? The truth was she had come here by accident. There was no divine plan. Soon enough, she would leave them and return to her normal life. Whatever normal meant after all of this.
“Thank you.” Eva embraced Lottie. “For everything. How about you and I go to the pond to feed the ducks tomorrow?”
Lottie did not seem convinced.
“Or maybe sometime during the day when everyone is out in the garden, we sneak back to the piano and I play you some songs from my time?”
A slow smile crept onto Lottie’s pouting lips. “How could I say no to that?”