Father made it clear the day that I married that I should stand by my husband's side no matter what may come to pass. She had never understood what he had meant until she had suspected her husband of cheating. It had been a heavy blow to her, as she had been with child at the time. In a fit of hysterics, she had lashed out at him, accusing him of adultery. Miles had taken one look at her, his eyebrows raised in amusement. Edith would never forget what he said.
“Edith, control yourself. Should I take a harlot to my bed when I have one already?”
He spoke of her brief love affair with a viscount during the early years of their marriage. She had never betrayed him physically, but emotionally she had. Charles had been a source of comfort to her, a man who was content to simply hold her hand or kiss her forehead. Guilt had made her reveal the nature of their relationship to Miles, confessing that she had acted inappropriately with a man who was not her husband. Miles had not raised his voice, not even then. He had merely asked if the affair was over, to which she had replied yes. She had already informed Charles that she could never be with him, and he had left England. Edith had often thought of him, wondering where he was. Within the depths of her soul she knew she had loved him like she had never loved her own husband.
Miles pulled her chair out, waiting for her to take her seat before going to his.
“Is there something on your mind, Miles? You seem troubled.”
“A man with daughters will always be troubled.”
There it was once again. Her failure to have produced a son, an heir. When she was with child for the second time, Edith had been convinced that the baby would be a boy. Perhaps she had just convinced herself as her second pregnancy had been so different to the first. When Cecilia was born, Miles had not looked at her for weeks. At her wit's end, she had forced baby Cecilia into his arms and stalked off. When she returned, a different Miles had awaited her. It was amazing what such a small thing as a baby holding onto an adult's thumb could do. Miles had softened towards his daughter, but not towards her. Edith had simply accepted it, glad that he had taken to his child. At his comment she looked down, knowing not to reply.
"Edith, I find myself in a situation that must be concluded today."
“And what would that situation be?”
“Marriage for both our daughters.”
Chapter 2
Cecilia arrived well after dinner, personally escorted by Percival's spinster aunt, Miss Simms. Mrs Potts, their housekeeper, ushered them into the drawing room, much to everyone's surprise.
“Miss Simms, how lovely to see you!” her mother exclaimed. “I was not aware that you attended the picnic today.”
“Oh n-no,” the woman stuttered. “I was not in attendance, Mrs Ramsbury. Picnics are f-far too frivolous for a woman of faith s-such as myself.”
Poor woman. She had been dealt a heavy blow at birth with both her appearance and a speech impediment. The woman was plain-looking, certainly not ugly, but nothing about her physical features were particularly remarkable. And if that was not enough, she spoke with a stutter that many men found off-putting. It was indeed a shame as she was a lovely woman, perhaps a tad too virtuous for the social circles that she found herself in. It was no wonder that she preferred to stay at her brother-in-law's house, rather than to accompany them to social events. Elizabeth watched the woman wring her hands, clearly uncomfortable to be the centre of attention.
She watched as her father's forehead creased. He was a mild man, one who rarely showed emotion. However, Elizabeth could sense the beginning of a potential scolding. It will not be a true scolding, for Papa does not like to raise his voice.
“How did you come to bring my daughter home?” he asked carefully.
Elizabeth watched as a blush suffused her sister's already rosy cheeks.
“Oh, Papa, I was with Percy's family.”
“That is highly irregular, Cecilia!” he said. “Why were we not informed of this before?”
“Oh, p-please do not scold her so,” Miss Simms spoke. “My s-sister does so love to have Miss Cecilia with us and invited her. I b-bring her apologies for n-not having s-sent word earlier.”
Elizabeth saw that her father could not stand the stuttering speech of the poor woman. Her mother must have as well, because she quickly stood and went to the woman.
“Thank you, Miss Simms, for bringing our daughter safely home. I am sure that my husband accepts your sincere apology. Come, let me escort you to your carriage.”
Her mother took Miss Simms by the arm, propelling the woman forward. When they were out of earshot, her father turned to Cecilia, impaling her with a stern gaze.
"What is the meaning of this, young lady? Do you think it acceptable to frolic about the town without a word to me or your mother?"
“Papa, I am sorry, but I could not deny Mrs Hawkins. She was most insistent. However, I assure you that I was in good hands.”
He twirled his moustache, something that Elizabeth recognised as a physical indication of his agitation. Elizabeth could tell that Cecilia also recognised the signs for, as if on command, her tears began falling down her cheeks. Her sister ran to her father, kneeling at his feet. I knew that the water works would start soon, thought Elizabeth. She watched as her sister began to beg their father for forgiveness, her voice seemingly full of regret.
"Papa, I implore you – please forgive my foolishness! I did not mean to disrespect you and Mama. You know that I hold the both of you in the highest esteem. I simply thought that I should represent our family to the Hawkins by being kind and obliging. I assure you that that was all it was. Please forgive me, Papa."
Had it been acceptable, Elizabeth would have stood up and applauded her sister for her stellar acting abilities. She knew full well that Cecilia was not in the least apologetic for her changed plans. Instead, she was sorry for the scolding she was currently receiving. One word from her father could spell the end of her regular outings. Cecilia took her act a step further and took her father's hand, placing it upon her head in submission. Oh, that was a wise move, thought Elizabeth. Cecilia does know how to manipulate people. She loved her sister, but she did not approve of her antics. Her father's hand remained stiff upon her sister's head for but a second before it relaxed. And there it was.
“I shall allow this to pass, Cecilia. But do not let it happen again.”
Cecilia leapt up from her position and planted a kiss on her father's forehead. “Oh, thank you, Papa. You are indeed the kindest father. May I retire to my room now?”
Her father waved his hand. “Yes, yes, go on.”
Cecilia skipped out of the room, her face once more a picture of youthful gaiety. Elizabeth immediately returned to her novel, one of young love and hardships.
“Elizabeth,” her father said.
She quickly looked up. “Yes, Papa?”
“I would like you to speak to your sister concerning her behaviour. You know that I am not one for tears, and as her older sister, she will listen to you.”
Where would her father get that notion from? Cecilia was a law unto herself. No one could control her.
“What should I say?”
"I hardly feel the need to explain it to you. You are an intelligent girl, you understand what duty and propriety mean. Ensure that your sister does not repeat this," he waved his hands in the air, "act of disobedience again."
That was the last thing that Elizabeth wished to do. Cecilia was a highly emotional individual who would lose herself in hysterics at any opposition. The only person that she behaved herself with was her father.
“Papa, I hardly think that I can do such a thing. Perhaps Mama will be able to show her the dangers of crooked behaviour.”
He shook his head firmly. “No, your mother is occupied with other duties. You will need to step in and be the older sister.”
Elizabeth sighed, taking care not to make it too obvious. “Very well. Shall I go now?”
“It is late, best you retire to your room. Leave the book
behind.”
That surprised her. “Papa?”
He pointed. “The book. You must leave it behind. No man wishes to have a wife more concerned with books than him. Best you learn that now.”
She was stunned. “But I have always read in bed, Papa.”
“And you are no longer a child. Must I repeat myself again or will you listen?”
There was a note of warning in his voice that had her putting the book down. She did not bother to look at him as she left the room. Why is Papa being so difficult about this? When did he become so concerned with my reading habits? She did not like this change, not one bit.
*
Elizabeth climbed the stairs to their bedroom, not looking forward to the conversation to be had with her sister. It had been their father's wish that Elizabeth share a bedroom with her sister during the time of Cecilia’s nightly terrors many years back. As time went on, it became an unspoken settlement that Elizabeth should remain with her sister. All attempts to advocate for her own room had fallen upon deaf ears. More so her father's than her mother's. And now to be forced to speak with her when it is well-known that Cecilia accepts no advice contrary to her beliefs? She shook her head. “I should enjoy living on my own and being independent,” she muttered out loud.
She opened the door to find her sister already in her nightgown, sitting upright in her bed, seemingly waiting for Elizabeth's arrival. Her facial expression belied one who was mournful of her actions. She could see that her sister's body was humming with excitement, a stark contrast to the mask she wore. Oh, Cecilia. If only you would start to understand that life does not revolve around you. Elizabeth wanted the best for her sister, but she was worried that her nature would expire any good fortune to fall upon her. Patience and tolerability could only last for so long before something had to give.
“Is Papa quite upset with me?” Cecilia asked.
Elizabeth longed to say yes, but no good would come of it. Her sister would likely fall into a fit of passionate tears, ranting about the unfairness of it all.
“No, just disappointed.”
“Oh,” Cecilia said smiling. “Disappointment is preferable to anger. I am sure that he will lay his feelings aside once Percy speaks with him.”
Elizabeth paused her progress to her bed. “Percival? Why should he speak with Papa?”
"Prepare yourself for bed, and then I shall tell you. I have so much to tell you, Elizabeth! I am nearly bursting with excitement. Today has been a most productive day indeed."
Believing herself to be subjected to the latest gossip, Elizabeth bathed her face before moving behind the screen and changing, all the while thinking about her father's odd request, or rather command, for her to leave her book in the drawing room. Perhaps if I were given to hysterics like Cecilia, I might be able to get my way. But I could never do such a thing.
“Oh, do hurry up, Elizabeth. Must you prolong your routine? You do it every day, surely this means that you are used to it.”
“Each to their own, Cecilia. You take some time in the morning. I take my time in the evening.”
Her sister laughed. “You cannot compare the two. Who are you preparing yourself for at this time of the night? The man of your dreams?”
“I was not aware that by taking my time I would be doing it for someone.”
She heard her sister flop onto the bed, sighing loudly. “Oh, you are hopeless.”
Elizabeth chuckled. “And I still love you, despite how you mock me, little sister.”
She was indeed still her sister. Elizabeth could become frustrated and angry at times, but this was the sister who used to run to her when she hurt herself or hug her at the oddest moments just to show affection. It was only in the last few years that she had changed so much that they no longer had anything in common except for the room they shared. She came out from behind the screen and climbed into bed, preparing herself for the onslaught of gossip she was about to hear, wondering if she should tell her what Papa has said before she started.
“Ceci, Papa wished that I would talk to you about your behaviour and actions today.”
Her sister rolled her eyes. “I believe that this has been sorted, Elizabeth. I do not wish to discuss it again.”
But Elizabeth was firm. “What you did was wrong. But due to your tears, Papa could not scold you.”
“Who has said this to you? Surely not Papa?”
“Yes, it was Papa. There is an image that must be upheld. Whatever we do will reflect on the Ramsbury name, and you know that this is important to Papa. Please do not repeat your actions.”
“Oh, leave that be now, Elizabeth. As I said, Papa will soon forget his disappointment once Percy speaks to him.”
“Speaks to him about what, pray tell me?”
Cecilia adjusted herself on the bed, getting to her knees and sitting back on her haunches. Her excitement was palpable.
“I expect that Percy shall ask for my hand in marriage in days to come. Is that not wonderful?”
Elizabeth tried to smile but she couldn't. This cannot bode well for me. I am nowhere near to accomplishing what I wish. If Ceci should marry, pressure may be placed upon me to do the same.
Cecilia saw the look on her face and placed her hands on her hips.
“Are you not happy for me? Should you not congratulate me?”
“How certain are you of this proposal?”
"As sure as my name is Cecilia Ramsbury. He told me that he wished to take our courtship to another plane of intimacy. What can that mean but be betrothed?"
Another plane of intimacy? Is that what the young men were calling it? “I am not familiar with the jargon used by the young people of our time.”
“Oh, you truly know nothing, Elizabeth.”
“I shall take that as a compliment.”
Cecilia flopped onto her belly and regarded her sister with a narrowed gaze.
“What is it?” Elizabeth asked. “Why do you look at me like that?”
“I do not imagine that you are a happy person.”
“What has made you come to that conclusion?”
"You cannot be happy to sit at home for much of your day, if not more, and be happy. It is my hope that you would find a man who will make you as happy as Percy makes me feel."
Elizabeth snorted. "Marriage? An invisible chain that we women wound ourselves with every vow that we speak. I am not one for marriage, Ceci. In fact, there is not a hope within me directed toward matrimony.”
Cecilia's nose wrinkled. “And why ever not?”
“I expect that it would bore me to an early grave. Being happy is an important aspect of my life. Marriage would rip that away from me, not to mention it would inhibit my talents on the pianoforte. I have much that I wish to achieve – getting married is certainly not one of them.”
Her sister shook her head. “You are far too cynical for your age, Elizabeth. Who is to say that your husband will not allow you to pursue your passions?”
Elizabeth thought of her mother, of what she had said. Getting married would surely dampen her musical passion. “Have you ever seen Mama play the pianoforte?”
Cecilia thought about that as she twisted the bed quilt around her hand. “Perhaps once or twice. She seems far busier doing other duties. Why do you ask?”
“Did you know that Mama was a gifted musician? Her passion for music was as mine, if not greater.”
Lords to Be Enamored With: A Historical Regency Romance Collection Page 30