by Meghan Sloan
Alice stopped bouncing, quite abruptly, staring at her friend with solemn eyes. “Oh, Charlotte,” she said in a serious voice. “I have the most startling news!”
Charlotte gazed at her, her mouth falling open. “What is it, dearest heart? Are you ill?”
Alice grabbed her friend’s arm, dragging her to the bed where they sat down side-by-side. Only then did she turn to her friend again, pushing her hair out of her face.
She took a deep breath. “I am about to be engaged,” she whispered solemnly. “Engaged…to be married!”
“What?” Charlotte stammered. “But you have not written to me of any courtship, Alice! How has this come to pass?”
Alice sighed heavily. “There has been no courtship,” she said slowly. “Only an offer put in, for my hand, to Papa.” She paused dramatically. “I have not even met the gentleman…yet.”
Charlotte’s eyes were almost bulging out of her head. “I cannot believe it,” she said. “Who has offered for your hand? Oh, please, put me out of my misery, Alice. I simply cannot endure it.”
Alice took another deep breath. “You will be stunned,” she asserted, staring at her friend. “I was when I heard who it was.” She paused. “The offer has come from Silas Wilmington, no less.”
Charlotte’s eyes were as wide as saucers. “Silas Wilmington? The gentleman whose fiancée vanished without trace, six months ago?” She looked confused. “But…he was so deeply in love with her! Everyone spoke of how heartbroken he was!”
Alice nodded. “I know,” she said, picking at a loose thread on her sleeve. “I was very shocked as well. When Papa told me, I knew I remembered his name from somewhere.” She took a deep breath. “But you know me. I try not to listen to gossip, and it slips from my mind usually, anyway. But not this gossip. The missing fiancée, and her heartbroken betrothed!”
“The mystery of Marina,” breathed Charlotte, quoting the newspaper headline. “It was all anyone could talk about for quite a few months.” She frowned. “He has really put in an offer for your hand? Without even laying eyes on you? It seems strange. Marina was so…so…”
“So beautiful?” finished Alice, with an edge to her voice. “So flamboyant? So charming? I am very aware of her reputation, Charlotte, believe me.” She sighed deeply. “It did worry me, at first, I must admit. But Papa has assured me that he is sincere in his offer. He says that he just wants to move on from it all, and one can hardly blame him.”
Charlotte still looked unsure, biting her lip in a worried way. “I suppose,” she said slowly, “you are truly fine with it? With the fact that he may still be in love with her, even while he is wanting to marry you?”
Alice sighed again. It was a fair enough question and one that she had been pondering day and night, ever since Papa had told her of the offer. Was Silas Wilmington still in love with the beautiful Marina?
It wasn’t as if Alice had met the man in the course of events and they had struck up a rapport. His eyes hadn’t sought hers. He had not asked her to dance and gazed at her in an admiring way. He didn’t know her from Eve. She was a complete and utter stranger to him. She was under no illusion that he was in love with her, or even admired her, not even from afar.
No, Silas Wilmington had gone along with this because he didn’t want to be involved, she guessed. He was a man of six and twenty, her father had told her. Old enough to stand up to his own father and tell him he was not interested in an arranged marriage, with a lady he had never even met. He was complicit in this, so she had to assume he was willing.
“I do not want to cause you offence, dearest heart,” said Charlotte, biting her lip again. “But I also do not want you to be hurt. If you accept his hand, just because you are afraid there might never be another offer, it might be a very hard situation to live with.” She paused. “I know you, Alice. You are a hopeless romantic. I know that you always dreamt that your husband would truly love you, and that you would love him, as well.”
Alice stood up, pacing the floor, thinking about her friend’s words. Charlotte did know her, better than anyone. She knew her insecurities, her despair, that no one would ever offer for her hand, and she would end up an old maid. They had talked about it often. Alice would pour her heart out to Charlotte about it.
Charlotte also knew how much she craved to be wildly, passionately in love. They had giggled over the Gothic romances they had read as girls. Alice had always hoped that a character like in those novels would sweep her off her feet, whereas Charlotte had been more temperate, claiming that while passionate love was fine, it did not necessarily make for a good marriage.
“I know you are right, my dear friend,” she said, turning to Charlotte. “I did always truly hope that one day I would have my very own love match…but it has not happened, has it?” Her voice was wistful. “I have been out on the social circuit since I was eighteen. Two years, Charlotte, where no young man has even glanced my way…”
Charlotte sighed. “I have seen plenty of young men gazing at you, Alice,” she said. “But you are always so shy. You do not encourage them with flirtatious looks and witty conversation, as the other young ladies do. That has always been your problem.”
But Alice was shaking her head firmly. “No, it is me,” she insisted stubbornly. “I am not beautiful, Charlotte. Not in the conventional way.” She took a deep, ragged breath. “My hair is too red, my skin too pale, my features altogether unremarkable…I am too short, and too thin.”
“Alice, stop!” cried Charlotte, getting off the bed, and taking her friend’s hands in her own. “You are putting yourself down again, and it will not do. You are perhaps not striking in your appearance, in the manner of Marina St. George, but that does not mean that you are not beautiful…besides, I always found Marina too showy for my tastes.”
Alice smiled tremulously. Charlotte was always so loyal to her. Such a good friend. She was truly blessed.
“You are your own worst enemy, my dear,” continued Charlotte. “You must believe in your beauty. Besides, there are more important things in life. Like a kind heart and a clever mind. You just need to blossom, that is all.”
Alice kept gazing at her friend, blinking furiously. Her mother had always told her the same thing. Mama had said that a lack of confidence was a sad thing and told her not to desire to be someone that she was not.
“All of those young ladies are the same,” Mama had said dismissively. “They are cut from the same cloth. Whereas you, my Alice, are a rare gem, indeed. You must aspire to be your very own self, and no one else. The rest shall follow, as surely as night follows day.”
Alice sighed wearily. It was all very well for everyone else, she supposed. But actually truly believing something, and acting on it, was harder than that. She supposed it was the reason that she had stopped going to as many social engagements over the past year. It was simply easier to stay at home and not put herself in situations where she felt uncomfortable, even as she longed for adventure and romance.
Charlotte was not like that. Her friend was pretty, in an understated way, with her straight dark hair and pale blue eyes. But she never had much cared for admiration and shrugged her shoulders over finding love. Charlotte was practical. She was not averse to the idea of marriage, but she was not actively seeking it, either. If it happened, well and good, but if not, she was quite fine with that idea, as well.
It helped that Charlotte did not need to marry for money in the least. The Hayward family were wealthy landowners, with a rambling country manor in the hills around Bath, as well as a fashionable townhouse within it. Neither her father or mother were eager to play the matrimonial game and put no pressure on her to do so. Charlotte was free, in a way that many young ladies in society were not.
Alice bit her lip. Neither her father nor mother had pressured her either. They were unconventional people, in so many ways – her father a professor, lost in the scientific world, and her mother slightly bohemian, existing only for art. Her family were not overly wealthy, but they
were comfortable. However, they did desire for their only child to find happiness within matrimony.
She knew that they worried about her, and always had. She had always been shy and quiet. Perhaps accepting the Wilmington offer was their way of pushing her out of her shell, because they were fully aware that it was so difficult for her to do it herself.
“Why do you doubt yourself, Alice bear?” her father always asked her, a tad impatiently. “We have always encouraged you to march to the beat of your own drum.”
She turned to Charlotte, pushing away her musings. She had just remembered she had not told her friend about this special day.
“He is coming here, tonight,” she whispered, her eyes wide. “His entire family, to meet me for the first time.” She paused. “They will be in the house, for dinner, within two hours!”
“Oh, my Lord!” exclaimed Charlotte, putting a hand to her mouth. “Well, we have no time to lose, then. We must find you a gown deserving of meeting your new fiancé…if that is what you want, of course.” She stared at Alice, hard.
Alice knew what she was asking her. Did she want to dress up, to impress Silas Wilmington, or did she want to downplay it, with a view to discouraging the offer? It was not set in stone, yet. Tonight was just a chance for them to get to know each other, in an informal setting. It could go either way. She knew her parents would not force her into the match if she was not committed to it – if she felt that he was not a true match for her.
She pondered. Everything her friend had said was true. There was indeed a very good chance that Silas Wilmington was still in love with his missing fiancée and would be totally indifferent to her. But, on the other hand, there was the chance that he was willing to put it all behind him and was approaching this match as an opportunity to do so.
She would never know which was the case until she met him and talked to him. Until she gave him a chance.
She turned to her friend, smiling slowly. “I had not yet decided on a gown for his evening,” she said. “You have come in time, Charlotte. Let us peruse my wardrobe and find the perfect one.”
***
Alice gazed at herself in the long, full-length mirror, turning this way and that. Trust Charlotte to know what suited her better than she knew herself.
The gown was perfect, in every way.
They had wasted no time after Alice had declared that she should try to impress. Charlotte had whipped through her wardrobe with expert hands, her eyes critically judging each gown.
“What about this one?” Alice had asked, picking up the skirt of a bright green silk gown that she had worn once to a ball. “It is pretty, and it is impressive.”
But Charlotte had shaken her head quickly. “No,” she had declared. “It is overdone, in the extreme. Too much lace, and too many bows. When you wear that gown, you look swamped in it, dear Alice.”
Alice sighed deeply. Her eyes alighted on a gown of primrose yellow. “What about the yellow silk? With the satin ribbon?” She pointed at it.
“No, Alice,” said Charlotte, in a determined voice. “These gowns you are choosing reflect what your mother thinks looks good, not what actually does. They are not elegant enough, not at all.” She frowned, turning to her friend. “You are petite, Alice, and fine-featured. Delicate. When you wear these blowsy gowns, with all their frills and accoutrements, you look lost in them. We must choose something that suits your figure, shows off your natural beauty, rather than overwhelming it.”
Alice stared at her friend in dismay. She had no idea what Charlotte was talking about, but then, her friend always had wonderful taste in clothing. She should trust her.
Charlotte rifled through a few more gowns before grabbing one, pulling it out from the wardrobe. “I have found it,” she said, her blue eyes shining. “This will look perfect on you, Alice.”
Alice had stared at it doubtfully. It was a simple muslin gown, pale cream in colour, with a high empire line. The only adornment on it was a line of cream velvet ribbon, just beneath the bodice. It had short, slightly puffed sleeves. She had always thought it rather plain and felt washed-out when she wore it.
“You think?” she said, turning her head this way, and that, as she gazed on it.
“Yes,” said Charlotte emphatically. “It is the very thing. So elegant, and well cut. It suits your figure perfectly. And the colour contrasts beautifully with your hair, and your eyes…”
“If you say so,” said Alice, in a doubtful voice. “Mama says that I look like a little mouse in it and is always adding bits of lace to embellish it.”
“Trust me,” said Charlotte, lying the gown down on the bed carefully. “It is the very thing. We will dress it up, just a little. You will look beautiful, my dear.”
As Alice stared at herself in the mirror now, she was forced to concede that Charlotte had known exactly what she was talking about. She did look elegant, almost waif-like, in the gown. Almost like a fairy princess. Charlotte had chosen her accessories, too. A simple teardrop pearl necklace and matching earrings.
Betty had done her hair, curling it into ringlets, but leaving it down, hanging over one shoulder. And then she had woven a matching ribbon of cream velvet through it. Simple but elegant, as Charlotte had insisted. The colour contrasted with her golden red curls.
“Lovely,” said Charlotte now, coming up behind her and admiring her in the glass. “Are you happy?”
Alice sighed. Charlotte had woven her magic. She didn’t look like herself at all. And that was the most that she could hope, at this point.
They heard a carriage pulling up outside and the sound of voices.
Alice rushed to the window, gazing down. They were here. Silas Wilmington and his parents. Her heart started to pound uncomfortably in her chest. She was about to see him for the very first time.
There was an older gentleman and lady, already on the pavement. The gentleman was short and portly, with grey whiskers and a large, reddish nose. The lady was plump, too, with greying golden hair. Alice could see, though, that she would have been quite a beauty in her day.
The carriage door opened again, and a young man stepped out, gazing around, his eyes flickering this way and that.
Alice’s heart started to pound harder. This must be Silas Wilmington.
He was tall, towering over his parents, and broad-shouldered. His hair was raven black, so dark that it didn’t seem to reflect the light at all. He was also dark in complexion, quite swarthy. She studied his face intently. A long, patrician nose, and a strong jawline. Handsome. Very handsome.
He suddenly looked up to her window. His eyes were a mossy green colour, quite startling against the darkness of his skin.
Alice stepped back quickly, her heart pounding harder still. Had he seen her?
There was a sharp rapping on her door and her mother’s voice imploring her to come out, that their visitors had arrived. She didn’t have time to think about it at all as she and Charlotte hurried down the stairs to greet the guests and be formally introduced to her fiancé for the very first time.
Chapter 4
Silas adjusted his silk cravat nervously as he stepped into the foyer of the house. Damn thing. He always felt like he was choking, when he wore them, but his mother had insisted. She had also laid out what other clothes he was going to wear this evening, as if he was eleven years old instead of six and twenty. It had irritated him to the extreme, but he had let it go, just this once.
How he could not wait to get out of the family house for good. It was so long overdue that it was almost urgent.
He gazed around the foyer, studying it carefully. A well-worn red and green Persian rug on the floor. A large oil painting on the wall, a reclining female nude, very Rubenesque, with a string of pearls looped around her body. His mother and father were studying the painting, too, with slightly shocked looks on their faces. He couldn’t repress the smile that rose to his lips. His parents had no taste for art, and this was definitely too risqué, for their palates.