Garden of Hope

by Daphne Bloom

“I just…have the urge to dance with you,” he says. It seems silly to me, but at least there is no one around to watch us make fools of ourselves.

  “All right,” I say. He pulls me toward him, and I place my hands on his shoulders. He places one hand around my waist, the other one remains on his cane. “Which dance?” I ask.

  He looks back at the house and I listen to the music. The orchestra is playing a gavotte, a slow but elegant dance that requires long, exaggerated movements. Not something I can imagine either Henry or myself doing very well.

  “How about if we just sway to the music?” he says. I nod as I feel a flutter in my stomach. He begins to sway back and forth, and I rock with him. I laugh as he looks down at me.

  “What’s so funny?” he asks.

  “Nothing,” I say. “I just can’t believe I’m at a ball, dancing, and actually having a good time.”

  He laughs as well. “Well, that makes two of us who are surprised.” We both smile at each other as we continue to sway, then I feel him pull me closer. I can no longer look at him as his cheek lightly touches my temple.

  I feel a swell of sadness, and I’m glad that he cannot see my eyes as they fill with tears.

  He is teasing me. Not intentionally perhaps. I don’t know him well, but I don’t think he has cruel intentions. But as we stand here, dancing at a fancy Season ball, I feel so…normal. Like I’m doing what every other girl here is doing tonight. And yet I’m not like other girls. The dance will end, my sister will find me, and I’ll be forced to go back to the party where I am once again the strange, awkward girl desperate to find a husband before it’s too late.

  From what I gather, Henry is the second son of an earl. It’s his responsibility to marry and have a son to secure his family’s position. I don’t know if his brother has a son or not, but even if he does, Henry must have children too should something terrible happen to his brother. It isn’t fair, but I’m not naïve enough to think otherwise. I’m the daughter of an earl, so we are of the same class, but I can’t be the wife of an earl. I’d be a terrible countess. And I know my sisters think so too.

  Since Henry and his family came to tea with us, every other man they’ve introduced me to has been from a lower class. They even dared to present me to one man who wasn’t a peer at all, but a spice merchant. Very wealthy, very handsome, but a merchant nonetheless. I can’t help but think that mother would have had an apoplexy of her own if she’d known. I know he was only interested in me for my title. I could never trust him.

  I know I cannot be picky. Father’s will doesn’t stipulate that I must marry a peer. In truth, I could marry a beggar and the man would still be entitled to my dowry. Still, it hurts that my sisters think so little of me.

  I hear the music pause and then another song, a waltz, starts up. I expect Henry to bring our little dance to an end, but he doesn’t. If anything, I think he holds me a little closer.

  Oh, why hasn’t Papa recovered? If he did, then all this silly business would be at an end and we could go back to the way things were. Surly in another year or two I’d be considered a spinster and Papa would have to accept that I would not be able to marry. Then he could adjust his will to allow me some measure of independence. Or Elise will give birth to a boy and all this silly heir business will be put to rest. I know that Papa would be happier with at least two grandsons, but there would be less pressure for me to produce one of them.

  “Lily,” Henry says, breaking the silence and my racing thoughts. “Can I ask you something?”

  I look up at him.

  “Oh…are you crying?”

  “Oh,” I say, stepping away from him and wiping my cheeks. “No. I mean, yes. I’m sorry, I was just lost in my own ridiculous thoughts.”

  “I’m sure they are not ridiculous,” he says.

  I chuckle. “I can assure you they are.” I clear my throat and notice that the sun is long gone and probably has been for some time. “It’s late. I should go. Shall I fetch your brother for you?”

  He is quiet for a moment, looking at me. “Yes, yes, of course you should. Thank you.”

  I nod and head up the stairs.

  “Lily.”

  I look back at Henry and see his arm outstretched, offering me my flowers. “Don’t forget these.”

  I go back down the stairs and retrieve them. “Thank you.” I feel him hold onto my hand for a moment, but then he lets go. I give him another smile and then run up the stairs back to the ballroom. I have been gone a terribly long time. I’m sure Constance is going to be furious.

  I find George, Henry’s brother, rather quickly, and he seems to be a little frantic. I tell him where to find Henry, and he thanks me profusely as he rushes off. I then look for Constance. I can put it off no longer.

  I do not see her in the ballroom, so I head back to the main entry hall. On the way, I hear a woman crying from another room, a parlor where people who don’t like dancing are able to chat or play cards. I feel terrible when I see Constance standing there in tears, surrounded by several of her friends, including Henry’s sister-in-law, Alice.

  “Where could she be?” Constance asks. “She’s nowhere in the house!”

  “I’m here,” I say. She looks up at me as if she’s seen a ghost. “I went to the garden.” I hold up my little bouquet.

  “Lily!” Constance says, marching over to me. “How could you do that? What…what have you done to your dress?”

  “I needed some air,” I say, with a shrug, running my hands over the dress and wishing I had been more careful. “You should have known to look for me in the garden.”

  “You shouldn’t have wandered off!” she says. “Couldn’t you stay inside for one night? Why can’t you just act normal?”

  Her words hurt me in a way that doesn’t happen often. I hear the whispers, see the ladies whispering behind their fans, the men pointing. I’m not sure which is worse, the insult or the fact that so many people heard her.

  “Come on,” she whispers, taking my arm. “You look a fright. Let’s go.”

  “No,” I say, my voice certainly not a whisper. “I don’t want to go anywhere with you.”

  The others make less of an effort to hide their gossiping, and I think Constance might swoon from the shame of it all. I’m terribly embarrassed as well, but I’m also angry. And hurt. I don’t mean to act the way I do. I can’t control it.

  “Lily,” Constance says, her whisper pleading. “Please, let’s go.”

  “Not until you apologize,” I say.

  “Oh, Lily!” Constance says, her voice squeaking. “I’m sorry, all right? Let’s just go.”

  I know her apology isn’t real, but it breaks me all the same. “How could you?” I ask as the tears run. “How could you say such a thing?”

  “Because it’s true!” she finally hisses. “Look at how you’re acting!”

  My mouth gapes. How I’m acting? What did I do wrong? She’s the one bawling because I took a walk. She’s the one hurling insults. But as I look around, I can’t help but think that everyone else in the room agrees with her. I see them whispering, shaking their heads. Not looking at Constance for making a scene, but at me with pity in their eyes.

  Even Alice Pembroke.

  My heart seizes in my chest. Alice has seen and heard everything. She is surely going to tell Henry. He might not want to marry me, but I had thought he was a friend. But after this, how can I ever look him in the face again?

  I back away from Constance out into the hallway. When I turn around, Henry and George are there.

  “Lily?” Henry asks, his brow knitted. “Are you all right?”

  I’m so horrified, I can’t think. I certainly can’t speak. I rush past him back to the entryway and out the door as a footman opens it for me.

  “Lily!” I hear Henry call, but I don’t stop. I can’t face him. Not now, not ever again.

  Chapter Ten

  Henry

  “I’m not going,” I say as I pet Rashi’s soft head and feed him a car
rot.

  “Why?” George asks, exasperated. He’s been pressuring me to attend every single event that comes along—and Lily hasn’t been at any of them since she ran off after having the altercation with her sister at Lord Ellsworth’s home. Each event has been an evening of me standing alone or making awkward conversation with women who are clearly not interested in me.

  Being raised the son of an earl, I always believed that, no matter what, women would constantly throw themselves at my feet—usually for my money and title, not for me. I always found the idea detestable and vowed my marriage would be more than a business arrangement. But now… Well, I hate to admit it. But the fact that women aren’t interested in me for my title and money is a little insulting. Am I so appalling that even a title and country estate are not enough to tempt a woman? What’s the old adage—be careful what you wish for.

  “I understand the process has been frustrating,” Alice offers. “I’m truly surprised that there have not been more inquiries from anxious mothers and matchmakers. Perhaps we should change tack. Invite eligible ladies here for small gatherings.”

  “So they can have a taste of what they are missing out on?” I ask, looking up at the tall ceilings and velvet draperies.

  “No,” she says firmly. “It would be easier for women to get a more accurate impression of you in a more intimate setting. It might be easier for you to talk to them as well.”

  “I rather like the idea,” George says. “And could help weed the girls out as well. Any who are not interested will politely decline the invitation in the first place, I should think.”

  “Agreed,” Alice says. “It will be obvious by the guest list why the young ladies are being invited.”

  “And if no one accepts your invitations?” I ask. “What then?”

  “Then we come up with a new plan,” George says. “We mustn’t give up.”

  I sigh. “It all seems rather desperate, doesn’t it? I don’t know any other earls who have had to work so hard to attract a bride.”

  “It isn’t hard,” George says. “Your standards are too rigid. If you let Father and Mother do it the old fashioned way—”

  “You mean arrange a marriage with a stranger?” I interject.

  “You’d be married by now.”

  “I don’t think that asking for what you two have is too much to ask,” I say, and they both look away. “Just because I am lame am I doomed to a loveless marriage of convenience?”

  They don’t answer. Alice examines a flower arrangement while George picks at non-existent threads on the arm of his chair. What can they say? It’s terrible, but it’s true. It’s the way of the world. When a young lady has choices, what woman would choose me?

  “For the first dinner,” I say after a long silence, “perhaps you could invite the Derby girls? We had quite a nice tea together, didn’t we?” Alice and George exchange a look I don’t like.

  “What?” I ask.

  “I…don’t think that’s a very good idea,” George says.

  “Why not?” I ask. “Lily and I rather get on, I think. She’s an earl’s daughter and in a similar boat really, what with needing to find a match before the Season is out.”

  “But…” George stammers a bit. “You were there the other night, weren’t you? You saw what happened.”

  After Lily ran out of the house, a footman was able to catch up with her and take her to her family’s carriage. I wanted to be the one to go after her, but…well the blasted injury gets in the way of everything, doesn’t it? Constance was terribly embarrassed, and of course everyone gossiped about them afterward. I didn’t stay behind to listen, it all seemed rather mean-spirited.

  I shrug. “We were told at tea that Lily can be emotional, overwhelmed. Constance must have upset her. I’m sure it was nothing.”

  “Nothing?” George says. “The girl is not normal.”

  I wave my cane at him. I’m obviously not “normal” either, and I’m beginning to doubt what the word even means.

  “What George is saying, Henry,” Alice tries, “is that…people have been talking…about Lily.”

  “I really don’t want to hear it,” I say.

  “But you should if you are truly interested in her,” Alice persists. “Of course, many of the rumors are simply that—rumors. But it cannot be denied that Lily has…a condition.”

  “A condition?” I ask. “What?”

  “I don’t know that there is a name for it,” Alice says. “According to Lady Ellsworth, who is a friend of Lady Derby, Lily’s mother, Lily has been peculiar her whole life. She didn’t speak until she was five! She rarely makes eye contact. She did very poorly with her tutors…” Alice sighs as if the list goes on and on.

  “She looks at me,” I say, remembering how she looks at me whenever she tells me about her plants. “And I never enjoyed boring books. When it comes to flowers, Lily can name every genus and species of orchid known to man. You can’t tell me she’s not smart.”

  Alice rubs her fingers together as though searching for the right words. “There is a reason this is her fifth Season.”

  “She’s not suited to be a countess,” George says bluntly. “What if she…” He clears his throat. “You need a son. What if Lily passes her…peculiarities on to your child?”

  I push myself to standing. If I could, I would storm out of the room and slam the door. As it is, standing is the strongest statement I can make.

  “So, that is why you oppose her?” I ask. “Because she isn’t suitable breeding material?”

  “Henry!” Alice scolds. “That was uncalled for.”

  “Is it not what George just said?” I challenge.

  “Henry, please be reasonable,” Alice says. “You know why all this is so important. If…something were to happen to us, the responsibilities of countess—including raising healthy children—would fall on her. Do you truly believe she is up to the task?”

  “Are you?” I ask, and I instantly regret it. George flies from his chair at me and I raise my arms to protect myself from the blows. Rashi squeaks and leaps out of George’s way. I hear Alice cry as she runs from the room.

  “My lord!” Our butler, Anderson, must have heard the skirmish and come running. He pulls George off me and I stumble into a nearby chair, my lower back on fire.

  “Don’t you ever insult my wife again!” George yells.

  “I’m sorry,” I mutter, trying to stifle tears. How could I say such a thing to her? She’s been like a true sister to me. We had been walking together in the garden when she started having pains before she lost the baby. It broke my heart.

  “Please, my lord,” Anderson says, “why don’t you see to Lady Pembroke?”

  George straightens his jacket and storms from the room. Anderson kneels by my side, rubbing my shoulder.

  “Are you all right, my lord?”

  “No,” I say, shaking my head. “I can’t feel my leg.”

  “There is some swelling,” the doctor, a new man I’ve never met before, says. “But I don’t think there was any new damage. I think after a few hours of rest, the feeling should return. But I wouldn’t recommend any activity more than walking for a few days.”

  Both of my parents are in the room with me, my mother holding a handkerchief to her mouth.

  “Are you sure?” Father asks.

  The doctor hesitates a moment. “With injuries such as these, it is not possible to be sure, sadly. Either the feeling will return…or it won’t. You say that the doctor in Cornwall was not optimistic about a full recovery?”

  “He said it could go either way,” Mother says. “But there’s been no progress lately.”

  The doctor nods. “I have heard that with injuries like this, there has been some progress with things like stretching. Massage.”

  “We’ve heard that as well,” Mother says. “But the stretches the doctor prescribed seem to cause him only more pain.”

  “I would recommend a specialist,” the doctor says. “I know a fellow who has spen
t a lot of time studying these kinds of therapies. Half-Indian fellow, but he’s very good. Let me contact him and see if he can make a house call.”

  “Thank you so much, Doctor,” Mother says, shaking the man’s hand.

  “I’ll leave something for the immediate pain, though.”

  “Yes, thank you,” Father says. “Let me show you out.” A moment later, Mother and I are alone in the room.

  “Mother—”

  “You will apologize to Alice,” she says, her voice stern and her hands clasped together tightly. “And you will never say an unkind word to her again, do you understand?”

  “I’m so ashamed,” I say, rubbing my forehead. “She’ll never forgive me.”

  “Thankfully, she’s not as pig-headed as you and your brother. How could you even think it was acceptable to say such a dreadful thing?”

  “I didn’t think,” I say. “She was saying that I shouldn’t marry Lily because she wouldn’t be able to provide a suitable heir. But that’s a possibility with any woman I marry, isn’t it? What if I end up with a girl who is barren? What if…what if I can’t…father a child?”

  “You could marry any girl and might not have children,” Mother says. “Or you could marry Lily and know you won’t.”

  “We don’t know—” I start to explain, but Mother holds her hand up.

  “It is a moot point, my dear,” she says. “Your father would never approve of that girl, sweet as she may be. You must forget her and set your sights elsewhere.”

  “She’s not only sweet,” I say. “She’s…interesting. When she talks about her garden, her eyes light up. She sees me, Mother, not my cane. If…If I weren’t injured, I would have asked her to marry me already.”

  “You cannot be serious?” Mother exclaims. “Are you in love with her? You don’t even know her!”

  “Fine, maybe not marry, but I would court her with serious intention,” I say. “As it is, it is not her…peculiarities that worry me. I wouldn’t want to saddle her with a broken husband who could never give her children.”

  Mother sits on the edge of my bed. “Henry, I know that you think your injury ruined you for life, but you still have a lot to offer a young woman.”