A Farm Girl's Despair (#5, the Winds of Misery Victorian Romance) (A Family Saga Novel)

by Dorothy Green

“That is true.”

  “Come, you must re-join the diversions. I have had many gentleman ask me for a dance with my sister, but they have not been able to find you. Come, come. I dare say some of them are very agreeable indeed.” Gemma said as she dragged her sister inside.

  But Hilda knew that none could be as agreeable as Ross, though he was no longer available, and she should put every effort into meeting a man that was available and just as agreeable as him. Perhaps she would be able to strike up a conversation as she had with Ross, that gave her such delight, with one of these gentlemen asking for her hand in a dance.

  “Mr Proctor, I believe you were asking after my sister, how fortunate for you that I have found her,” Gemma said as she led her sister Hilda to her parents who were conversing with Mr Proctor, a man of the age of one and thirty, and very agreeable as well. He was of good standing in society and was of agreeable looks, though nowhere as near as handsome as Ross, Hilda thought.

  “Yes Miss Layles, and if Miss Layles would have me, I would enjoy a dance.” He said.

  “Yes sir, I'm obliged to agree to that dance,” Hilda said with a curtsy and a smile, though as soon as she turned she was scanning the room for Ross, as Mr Proctor let her out onto the dance floor to dance the quadrille.

  “It is a fine evening, is it not?” Mr Proctor said as he held her hand and they waited for the string quartet to begin the song.

  “Yes, I am quite enjoying myself sir. And you?”

  “Yes, quite fine,” He said. Then that was all that he said the rest of the dance, and every attempt to engage in conversation by Hilda, he greeted her with one word answers. He was not one for conversation, and she missed the witty conversation she had for the brief moment on the veranda with Ross.

  But she was glad for the dance because it was a distraction, so that would every turn of the dance she could scan the room. Then she saw him. Ross was standing in the corner proudly with his chest out and his hands behind his back. He had a grin on his face and seem to be looking directly at her.

  Hilda blushed and quickly turned away in shock. He could not be looking at me, could he? No, it must be my imagination, and she quickly looked to see if anyone in her vicinity would be the recipient of his smiles, his fiancé perhaps?

  But as she looked she did not see the beautiful woman that had been on his arm before. In fact she didn't see any other person on the dance floor looking in his direction. She took another glance in his direction, and once again was met with a smile from him; this time his dark brown arched slightly. Her eyes grew wide and she quickly snapped away, confused and excited.

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  When the dance ended, Mr Proctor escorted Hilda back to Gemma and her parents. Although she was engaged and polite conversation with Mr Proctor, she very much was looking around the room for Ross, but she did not see him again. Did she imagine that he was looking at her simply because she wanted it so? But then again what kind of man was he if he was giving her attentions, now that he was engaged? His fiancé would not be flattered by the notion.

  “There you are. Here, come, you and your sister we are to sit for the late supper, come come,” Mrs Layles said.

  Gemma and Hilda joined arms and together they followed their parents through the ballroom, past the reception room where people were engaged in playing cards, and engaging in conversation without the loud music of the dance. Through this room they emerged into the elegant and grand dining hall.

  Gemma and Hilda quietly gasped. The room was very grand indeed. Several tables were set up and were very long and each could sit ten to fifteen guests, if not more. A large marble fireplace adorned each side of the room, and a rich pale green silk fabric adorned the walls. The tables were set with the finest china and silverware imaginable with tall candelabras set alarm the table.

  Gemma and Hilda sat beside their parents. A fine soup was placed in front of them, made of peas and rich spices. Hilda realised just how hungry she was in the moment once the warm food hit her belly. When they were done a plate of game hen and roasted potatoes were placed in front of them, and Hilda ate with a smile on her face. It was then, when she was serving a morsel into her mouth that she looked at the doorway; Ross Brookend was leaning against the door in conversation with another gentleman, but his eyes were not on the gentleman, they were on her.

  Hilda flushed bright red with embarrassment. How long had he been watching her eat? Had she been behaving like a lady? Or had she been stuffing her face like a pig? She wracked her brain, trying to remember just how much she had been enjoying the food and not caring too much about being a lady, just enough to not gather attention.

  “And Mr Crossbury is very agreeable indeed, Hilda. I wish you could have joined in conversation with him. He is very smart, witty. Indeed he makes me laugh so, I have never met a gentleman like him,” Gemma said. For she had been rambling about Mr Adam Crossbury the entire supper, and Hilda was obliged to give her a nod as she listened, but most of the attention had been on her plate.

  “And do you think that you will see him again?” Hilda said setting her fork and knife down, not wishing to push food into her mouth now that she knew that she was being watched.

  “I do hope so. Since he is acquainted with Katrina's family; it is quite possible, I dare say that I hope it is quite soon,” Gemma giggled.

  Hilda was very happy for her sister. For it was very rare that Gemma rambled on about a man in such a positive light. For the most part she did not find most men tolerable, because they did not pique her interest no matter how wealthy or attractive they were. But hearing her sister ramble on about such a man made her feel an ache in her heart that she could not ramble on about the man that had taken her attentions, The MP of Cornwall, for he was engaged and there was nothing that could be done about it. Speaking of him in such a manner would do no good, no she would have to save those secret thoughts for her diary much later. She could not wait to confess her feelings to the pages of the leather bound book.

  Once again she looked up from the table, but Ross was gone. She felt relieved because she could eat again, but felt sad because she was rather enjoying the attention. Why was he about looking at her in such a way?

  The evening carried on very late indeed and Hilda and Gemma both danced a few more dances before their parents bid them to say farewell to their relations. But as they left, Hilda searched the crowd with her eyes for Ross but could not find him. Had he already left with his fiancé?

  She knew that it was very wrong of her to want to see this man again for he was engaged, but she could not help herself. For so long she had him in her heart and it was now harder to let him go more than ever after the encounter that she had.

  The carriage ride back to Hampstead Heath was quite enjoyable for Hilda. For she had Ross's face on her mind, with the sideways grin that was very handsome indeed. His dark hair lush and in some ways a bit unruly considering the fashion of the day.

  “And the bead work on Mrs Frank’s gown was unbelievable, some might say a bit too extravagant...” Mrs Layles said. She had been gossiping about everyone and everything as soon as they stepped into the carriage. Their father on the other hand was quick to close his eyes and fall asleep along the journey. It was only Gemma that obliged her mother with a response, well Hilda nodded and smiled in agreement that was she was not closely listening to her mother's words at all. Her mind was much agreeably engaged elsewhere, replaying the conversation she had with the MP of Cornwall over and over.

  Once the party returned home and set to bed, Hilda sat at her desk in her chemise with her diary. Indeed the excitement she felt in recounting the events of the evening brought a smile upon her face.

  I write having returned home from the most extravagant and exciting ball I have ever attended. The house of Lord and Lady Winton in St. James Court is quite beautiful and all in attendance dressed in the finest fabrics.

  However, among the night filled with d
ancing, eating, and joy was an event I had never expected.

  As I stood on the veranda taking a break alone from the many dances I enjoyed, none other appeared than the man I have dreamed of for so long, the MP of Cornwall, Ross Brookend.

  O,h how excited I am to even write this now for my own thoughts. At first I was astonished that he of all people should come upon me, but after my shock waned, I engaged in a very agreeable and dare I say, playful, conversation.

  Oh, how fun and witty he was with his words. I felt a connection like no other of my relations. Indeed he is as handsome as ever, and I thought my heart would flutter away at the interaction.

  Then, to my astonishment still, after our secret conversation on the veranda, I found the man looking at me throughout the rest of the evening. When I danced with Mr Proctor, Ross stood nearby with his eyes locked on me and the most gorgeous smile I had ever seen. Then again, as my family and I sat at supper, I found him staring in at me from the corridor just outside the dining hall!

  How it made me very happy to have such a night as this. But alas, he is taken. The man is engaged to a woman who I learned tonight is named Miss Mary Anne Woodley, daughter of the aristocrats Lord and Lady Woodley. She comes from a family of wealth and title, and will be the Marchioness after she weds Ross, and then thereafter, the Lady.

  How I wish that it were me that he loved.

  “What are you doing, sister?” Gemma burst into Hilda’s room.

  “Oh, nothing,” Hilda quickly put the diary in the desk drawer.

  Gemma watched her sister put the book away, then plopped on the bed.

  “Glad I am that you are still awake, sister. For I am too excited to go to sleep just now,” Gemma said.

  “Ah, my sister. Did you have a good night?” Hilda smiled and moved over to the bed, sitting down next to her sister.

  “Indeed I did, sister, I think possibly the best time I have ever had at a ball or assembly; this one was far superior than past experiences.”

  “Oh, and does a Mr Adam can't have anything to do with that?” Hilda arched her brow at her sister.

  “I confess, I think it might,” Gemma laughed. “But more than that, yes, Mr Crossbury is very agreeable, but it was such fun. The house is quite extravagant, is it not? And we did not even get to stroll the gardens, I am sure that they are quite beautiful. But I had so much fun. Did you know that Mr Kyle Jefferson kept stepping on my feet as we danced? Lord, what person taught him to dance in such a manner? He has no balance whatsoever. I fear that my shoes are ruined complete.”

  Hilda laughed. “That is most unfortunate and I am very sorry for you. Though it makes me quiet filled with laughter to think of such a thing. How did I miss such a moment?”

  “I do not know, but I did find you on the veranda after my dance with him. And you did you meet anyone that struck your fancy, sister? Indeed there were many men that were dancing with you throughout the night. Did you engage in conversation with anyone that piqued your interest?”

  Hilda tried to restrain her smile and turned her face away from her sister, for she would know that she was lying when she said, “No. No one that mattered to me in any special way.” As soon as she said the words, Ross entered her thoughts and she sighed. She wanted to spend many more hours conversing with him, but it was impossible.

  “I did have fun, and the dancing was quite pleasant. I guess it is because I did not dance with Mr Jefferson.” She said turning back to Gemma.

  “But perhaps you may be fortunate enough to see him at another assembly,” Gemma said in the most serious manner. Both of the girls erupted into a fit of giggling. They spent the rest of the night conversing about the evening until the sun rose, and they both fell asleep on top of the covers on Hilda's bed.

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  The next morning, Hilda awoke to Gemma at her side in her bed. A bright and brilliant smile came across her face as she remembered the night before. She closed her eyes to the bright morning light and allowed the memory of Ross’s handsome smile and kind eyes to wash over her.

  Her entire body tingled at the thought of him and she felt the same excitement that she had felt the night before and how he did not recognize her. She remembered at just how shocked she felt when he walked out onto the veranda while she lectured herself on..., on...

  “Oh my!” Hilda quickly sat up in bed in such a heated state. Gemma did not even stir, for after having such a late night into the morning hours, she was tired.

  But Hilda was wide awake. Had Ross heard what she had been saying to herself? How long was he standing on the veranda before he made himself known? If he heard her, he must know that it was about him? Would he? She racked her mind trying to remember what she had said exactly. Easier said than done, for she had drank her fair share of port that evening. She remembered saying something to that fact of, he is engaged, let him go. Or something of that, but did she ever say his name?

  What if she had and he heard and the entire conversation he had been playing with her, because he had heard her say such things about him.

  “Oh, I am mortified. How could I ever know the truth?”

  She turned and looked at her sleeping sister.

  Then she moved out of bed and sat at her desk with her diary once more.

  I have just remembered something and I hope that I am wrong. When I was on the veranda at the ball, indeed I must have said some things about Ross. It was after I said these things that he made himself known to be in my company. I do not know what he heard, indeed I cannot remember exactly what I said. I am mortified as I write this on these pages even now. If Ross did hear me, than he played along and made the most of such words. Oh what have I done? I am such a fool.

  The next few days were quite uneventful compared to the day of the ball. Hilda felt like these days passed quite quickly, because she was in another world. In fact, one could often find her staring off in the distance, replaying the moment that she spoke with Ross in her mind. Because she was in her own world, the hours passed completely unbeknownst to her. She moved back and forth between complete elation of feeling happy that they had a conversation and then feeling mortified that he had overheard her. It was a high and low of emotions and she could speak to no one about it but her diary.

  When she played at the pianoforte, she often imagined that Ross was watching her, and she would smile thinking of such a thing. The only comfort she found was with her diary, because that was where she was able to tell the truth; the whole truth of her secrets and her feelings. She rather enjoyed writing in her diary quite often, but not just about events, also of poetry. Now that poetry had started to reflect her experience with Ross. It was as to be expected.

  But with the rainy days of spring, they often spent much time indoors in the parlour room, doing needlework.

  “Child, what do you do? You have held that needlework in your hand for almost ten minutes complete while you stare at the wall. What is it? Is there a spider on the wall?” Mrs Layles asked Hilda, for Hilda had been staring off in the distance on one of her daydream adventures, thinking of Ross.

  “No Mama, sorry, I was just considering a different pattern in my mind than the one that I knit now,” Hilda said, looking back at her needlework lying to her mother.

  “Well, if you are going to do so then do it soon, for the way that you are going it will be a year before you finish that small piece of needlework.” Mrs Layles criticized.

  “Yes Mama, of course.”

  “Gemma, ring Sarah for tea. I think we could all use a break, and it is near that time, though perhaps fifteen minutes early. Still, we are in our own house and we shall have tea when I say. There is no notion of sticking to the rules of society on such a day like this. These spring rains must let up soon so that at least we shall have a turn in the gardens,.” Mrs Layles said.

  “Yes, Mama,” Gemma stood up and rang the bell. A few moments later Sarah the servant entered.

  �
�Bring us tea, Sarah. This time bring cakes as well, for we are quite bored.” Mrs Layles said.

  “Yes ma'am, at once.” Sarah said and then scurried out of the room.

  Gemma and Hilda stood and moved the needle work and patterns from the table, making way for the tea service that would be brought to them. Hilda took this time to then take a turn about the room, stopping in front of the window to stare out at the rain. At least in this manner she could stay without her mother wondering what her mind was looking upon. At least in this way she could disguise her thoughts of Ross with gazing at the rain.

  One whole week past complete and the rains did finally let up. The family was very glad and they took a carriage into the Hampstead Heath parks, simply to go for a Sunday outing after church. Everyone was very happy to be out of the house.

  “Oh how I wish we could call upon the Earl of Mansfield at Kenwood House. How delightful that would be,” Mrs Layles said as they passed the grounds of the grand estate. “But we are not of nobility and shall never have a relation such as that.”

  Hilda smiled at this thought. For she knew that she had wished that upon herself just as her mother did. But did she fancy Ross because of his title or because he was always there in her thoughts since he rescued her and gave her a new life? She knew that she preferred that he had no title at all and then he would be free to marry someone more of her station.

  “Yes Mrs Layles, and so we shall have to be content with a quiet life of not having the dramatics that come with the nobility,” Mr Layles said.

  “Oh, how vexing,” Mrs Layles responded.

  Hilda looked to Gemma and they both restrained smiles. For they knew that they were much more like their father, not ones to care about aristocracy. Though he did want comfort for his own daughters.

  But it was the very next day on a Monday that brought some excitement to the Layles home.

  “Gemma, there you are child. I have been looking for you in this entire house. What do you do in your sister's room?” Mrs Layles burst into Hilda's bedroom where Gemma and Hilda sat at the window conversing.