An Enchanted Beginning

by Alyssa Dean Copeland

  Since she had been seated, those around them had taken a couple of steps away, distancing themselves. Bethany glanced back down at her hands. This would indeed be a long night.

  * * *

  Jonathan surveyed the room. His mother stood near the hearth, cornering Alexander in conversation. He should have known the moment Alexander was announced, she would dominate his attentions. He looked trapped, flustered. Jonathan smirked. Was it not his responsibility as the son of the host to ensure the guests enjoyed themselves? And if it meant removing them from his mother’s company, all the better.

  He stepped up to them and gave a curt bow.

  “Jonathan, have you made Lord Dohetry’s acquaintance this evening?”

  “No, Mother. Between his announcement and the few steps afterwards, I have not found the opportunity.” He turned to Alexander and nodded. “Lord Dohetry.”

  Alexander grinned. “Lord Butler.”

  “Mother, I believe a few of our guests made inquiry regarding your lovely garden.” He motioned toward several women standing near the balcony doorway.

  Her eyes went wide. “My apologies, Lord Dohetry. It appears the other guests are in need of me.”

  He watched his mother walk away.

  Alexander leaned toward him. “I did not anticipate a need for rescue so early on. My thanks for your haste.”

  “It may be short lived, for I have no knowledge of their discussion.”

  Alexander chuckled. “I best make my presence known. Rachel expects me before long.”

  “Be swift. My mother is quick to detain.”

  Jonathan watched Alexander disappear into the swarm of guests. He scanned the room and could feel the eyes of mothers and daughters alike watching his every move. He lowered his eyes.

  Lord Edmond Severs stepped up and motioned toward the Maycott sisters across the room. “I hear Lord Maycott seeks a groom for his beloved daughter.” He took a long drink from his goblet. “Is it true she wields a sword and dresses like a man?”

  Jonathan crossed his arms. “I do not take stock in tell-tales.”

  Lord Severs snorted and lowered his voice. “I believe it would be most interesting to tame the chit and her weapon.”

  He remembered the comment James made at The Bell: That he’d need to protect himself from his wife’s sword. At the time, he believed it a jest.

  “Lord Severs, I believe you have your eyes set on the wrong woman. Lady Seanna is the one they speak of. She is to wed Master Bryant.”

  “And her sister?”

  “Is seated, wearing the crimson gown.”

  Lord Severs wrinkled his nose. “She appears to be tamer than my horses. A pity about her circumstance.”

  He lifted his brow. “Her circumstance, my lord?”

  “As you stated, you do not take stock in tell-tales.”

  Severs lifted his cup in salute and walked away.

  Jonathan snapped his mouth shut before anyone noticed. Her circumstance? He should have asked Nic and James more questions, or–-dare he think it–-spent more time with his mother. Surely, she would know the latest gossip of every person in attendance–-as well as not in attendance….

  If there were unsavory rumors about Bethany Maycott, he respected her courage. Most would not show their face, and yet, she was here, under the scrutiny of his mother’s guests. It appeared that Seanna was not having any luck finding her sister a suitor. No one approached them, not even the women. It was unacceptable. He needed to do something drastic. Something unexpected. He straightened his doublet and made his way across the room, weaving around the guests.

  Someone touched his arm. “Lord Butler.” Lady Goodwynn held his forearm. “Have you met my daughter, Phoebe?”

  Of course, he had, several times over. He kissed Phoebe’s hand. “A pleasure to meet you, yet again.” The girl blushed and batted her eyes. “If you will excuse me.”

  He stepped away before they began to engage him in what would undoubtedly have been a long conversation.

  Seanna surveyed her surroundings like a mother wolf protecting her new born cub. As he stepped next to Bethany, Seanna grazed the small blade at her hip.

  “You do realize it is unbecoming of a woman to pull a weapon on the son of the host.”

  The girl’s smile lit up her emerald eyes. “Of course. My apologies. You must be Jonathan Butler?”

  “I am.”

  “I am Seanna Maycott and this is my sister, Bethany.”

  Jonathan bowed. Bethany was even more beautiful up close. He doubted even Anon could paint such perfection. Though, he noticed, her dark brown eyes were glossed over and filled with defeat.

  She nodded and gave him a timid smile, then lifted her hand.

  “My lady.” He kissed her fingers. A jolt stunned his lips. His first reaction was to drop her hand, immediately overcome with the desire to keep hold. With great reluctance, he allowed her to have her hand back. “I have yet to see you dance.”

  Seanna spoke for her sister. “We have only just arrived.”

  Jonathan lifted his brow. “Well then, we should remedy this quickly. If you would be so kind, Lady Maycott, I should like to request the next dance.”

  Bethany glanced at her sister and then at Jonathan. Instead of answering, she smiled again and nodded. This time he noticed a bit of a sparkle in her eye.

  With her hand tucked into the crook of his arm, he led her to the edge of the dancefloor. The same feeling overcame him, this time deeper, lingering. “You are enjoying yourself this evening?”

  Her eyes darted around the room. “I am. You have a beautiful home.” He could tell she was uncomfortable, though she smiled and gave a pretense of ease.

  “Have you enjoyed your visit to Bristol?”

  “I have not seen much of the city, though the people are…” she paused, “most generous.”

  She chose her words carefully, as a well-bred lady would. Whatever the gossip surrounding this beautiful woman, he knew it had to be inaccurate. His eyes moved about the room: Lord Severs stood wide-eyed, sipping his drink; the Wilmott sisters stood with their mouths agape, openly staring at them; Phoebe Goodwynn crossed her arms, a scowl upon her face, eyes fixed on Bethany. Phoebe caught his gaze and quickly averted her eyes. He felt Bethany tense—she’d witnessed it. He vexed his mind for another question to regain her attentions when the music ended.

  Guests lined up for the Saraband. Jonathan offered her his hand; she placed the palm of her hand on top of his. She glanced up; he gave her an encouraging smile. She responded in kind, his heart raced. The music started. They followed the couple in front of them, stepping several steps forward, then backward. He attempted to hold her gaze.

  Jonathan found her to be a most complementary partner. She was neither too tall nor too short and took her steps with ease. He briefly wondered how light she would be if they were to dance the Volte, if he lifted her into the air.

  He took a step forward. “You are a most accomplished dancer.”

  She lowered her eyes and blushed. “I do enjoy it so.”

  He had to perform a few more steps before he was close enough to speak again. “Pray tell, is this your first ball in Bristol?” He about kicked himself for asking such an obvious question. She had to know that he knew.

  She gave him another alluring smile. “Yes. We only just arrived a few days hence.”

  A true lady, he thought to himself. She neither mocked nor ridiculed him; she simply smiled. He couldn’t fathom what happened which caused her to have an unsavory reputation—especially since she had recently arrived.

  He turned in unison with the line and noticed his mother and Phoebe whispering to each other, their eyes on him. He wondered if there was more to his mother’s idea of marriage to Lady Goodwynn, if she’d already made an agreement. He turned to face Bethany and shook the thought from his mind. He would deal with that situation later. His primary concern was reestablishing Bethany’s reputation. He made it a point to give the impression he was enjoying hims
elf—which was not difficult at all for he found he was.

  When the music ended he placed her hand in the crook of his arm. “With luck, this will entice others to follow suit.”

  She tipped her head.

  He leaned closer to her ear. “Society is fickle. They will soon disregard past occurrences for an event more worthy of consideration.”

  Though she showed no outward emotion, the sparkle in her eye disappeared. The last thing he wanted was to give her hope there was something more to his actions. It was better this way, he told himself. The dance would create curiosity, just shy of a scandal. The room would fill with chatter and everyone would debate amongst themselves what he, Jonathan Butler, saw in this girl.

  He led her back to her sister and chaperone. “If it is acceptable, I shall return.” Then kissed her hand. He turned and walked away, shrugging off the feelings she evoked.

  With his head held high, Jonathan slowly walked to the other side of the room. He felt the stares, heard the whispers. He didn’t care. Within a dance or two, he expected to witness a change in the young girl’s future.

  Gil, the wool merchant, handed Jonathan a cup of ale. “Again, we meet, Lord Butler.”

  “I did not know you received an invitation.”

  “I am a guest of Lord Severs. He wished to introduce me to a few other investors and felt this to be an opportune occasion. I wonder, what is the name of the beauty you shared a dance with?”

  “Lady Maycott.”

  “Earl Maycott’s daughter?”

  “Yes. You know the earl?”

  Gil nodded. “I was told he would be in attendance.”

  A servant interrupted them. “Master Arden, your presence is requested in the library.”

  “Very well.” He turned to Jonathan. “I look forward to speaking with you again.”

  Jonathan watched the man walk away. Now he was more curious than ever. He thought to eavesdrop on the conversation, but had promised to keep a wary eye out for the girls. He felt torn. Had it not been for the request, he would have already taken his leave. He took a sip from his goblet and glanced over at Bethany. Earl Severs had extended his hand, and led Bethany to the dance floor. He looked back at the way Gil went. Jonathan would ask Nic if he had heard anything about this man.

  * * *

  Lord Severs escorted Bethany back to Seanna after their dance. He kissed her hand and departed.

  Seanna whispered in her ear. “Is the ball all you expected? There have been many requests.”

  “Do not misplace your hopes, Seanna. These men are not interested in my hand, only satisfying their curiosity.”

  She eased herself back into the chair, her eyes wandering around the room. For a moment, she thought Lord Butler might have been interested and her plight had disappeared from her mind. But he made his intentions known. As the son of their host, it was his duty to dance with their most unappealing guest.

  The music started again and the dancers began to perform the Pavane. She watched the long trains of the women’s gowns trail across the floor like peacocks’ tails. Across the room, women averted their eyes when she glanced at them, but the men had no issue catching her gaze. Since Lord Butler had requested a dance, she’d received more attention than she wished. Had he not intervened, she might have convinced Seanna to depart prematurely. But with the number of men making inquiry, Seanna wouldn’t hear of it.

  Seanna sat beside her. “I hear he is the most sought-out man in Bristol.”

  She gave her sister a questioning look.

  “Jonathan Butler. Mistress Thayer mentioned all the women are seeking his attentions. And he requested another dance with you.”

  Bethany returned her attention to the beautiful gowns on the dancefloor. Even if Lord Butler were interested, he was not a Duke, she thought to herself. Had her father responded to Thomas Howard’s inquiry, the events of the past month would never have transpired. With the scandal attached to her person, she wasn’t worthy of a suitor, and the looks from the women told her so.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  Bethany heard footsteps outside her bedchambers. The house was beginning to stir. She pulled up the coverlet, determined to fall back asleep for a few more minutes before Ruth barged in and demanded she wake. Ever since Seanna rescued her from the bandits, she preferred to stay in bed.

  Instead of Ruth, Seanna rushed into the bedchamber. “Bethany!” She jumped on the bed. “Look at this.” Bethany opened her eyes. Seanna held several pieces of folded parchment. “We have been invited to several balls and supper with the Goodwynn’s. Lord Severs has requested an audience with you.”

  Bethany scooted further down into the bed.

  “Father has approved. We are to have a new dress each, though mine will be for my wedding day. Lilly will be here shortly to oversee the design.”

  “Father should save his coin for your dowry and my entry to the convent, and not waste it on a gown I shall only wear once.”

  Seanna pulled the coverlet down, exposing Bethany’s face. “Not true, Bethany. You shall wear it many times, until it turns to rags.” Seanna giggled. “We will find you a worthy suitor.”

  Bethany rolled her eyes. She knew the tell-tales; she was ruined. Not even a suitor worthy of her status could reestablish her reputation. She didn’t have the vigor to argue with her sister. Seanna would win any argument. She only needed to find the patience until they were to leave for France. With luck, the nuns would not know of her abduction and she would have the opportunity to begin anew.

  Ruth came in and pulled back the shutters, letting the morning light shine into the room, then walked to the cupboard. “Have you decided what you shall wear this day?”

  Seanna scooted to the edge of the bed. “Lord Butler will be arriving this afternoon. We should make a good impression.”

  Ruth pulled out a gown. “The peach would be appropriate.”

  “Then peach it shall be.” Seanna rushed over to help Ruth prepare the gown.

  Bethany fell back onto the pillows and pulled the coverlet over her head. A feeling of defeat filled her. Jonathan was being kind, creating gossip by pretending to court her. She’d rather not have the attention, but a flutter of excitement of seeing Jonathan filled her stomach. It wasn’t excitement, she firmly decided. It was simply hunger. Before Seanna could jump back upon the bed, Bethany shoved off the coverlet and slipped out.

  It was well over an hour by the time they had finished dressing; they had pulled up Bethany’s hair, securing it into a matching coif woven with tiny pearls.

  Seanna grasped Bethany’s hand. “You look lovely.”

  She didn’t feel lovely. But she followed Seanna downstairs to the parlor where Mistress Lilly sat surrounded by bolts of fabric, a merchant, and several seamstresses.

  Lilly stood up. “Good morrow, Lady Seanna, Lady Bethany. This will be an eventful day.”

  Bethany slid into a chair, wishing she had found her way to the dining hall to break her fast instead of to the parlor where she would be measured, pinned, and draped in fine fabrics. She kept her chin tipped, her back straight, and placed her hands into her lap—giving the appearance of wanting to participate, like any proper, gentle-born woman would.

  On the table, pages of parchment were stacked with dress designs.

  Lilly lifted one, handing it to Seanna. “Master Fuller assures me this is most beloved in London.”

  It showed a dress with a Spanish farthingale, long sleeves and a high shawl collar with decorated lace edges.

  The merchant picked up a bolt of sangyn-colored taffeta and hung it over his arm, gently moving it. “This fabric comes to life with a bit of light.”

  Bethany simply smiled. Though the blood-red color was beautiful, she did not want to call attention to herself, as she had the previous eve. Out of the corner of her eye, she watched Seanna thumb through the drawings and point excitedly at different designs. Bethany knew Seanna wouldn’t know the difference between French or Spanish style without guidance. Bethany sho
ok her head. Deep down she knew her sister preferred breeches and swords to gowns and sewing.

  Ruth set down a plate of bread and cheese. “I thought you would like to eat,” she whispered.

  There were times, such as this, where Ruth’s actions were most welcome. Bethany picked up a small piece of cheese and placed it in her mouth.

  The merchant lifted a bolt of yellow. “This sarcenet arrived from Italy only days ago; you must touch the fine, soft silk for the full effect.”

  The delicate fabric felt glorious between her fingers; now she felt it was a waste. But if nothing else, a gown would take her mind off the inevitable.

  Seanna pointed to another drawing. “What of this one?”

  Bethany favored a dress with a high lace collar and tight sleeves embroidered with golden thread, intermittently exposing-cream colored fabric underneath blue velvet sleeves.

  She noticed her sister’s betrothed standing at the doorway, watching them with a grin upon his face. Such a pompous man.

  Father walked up, slapping James on the shoulder. “Is there anything more satisfying than watching women fawn over themselves while planning new gowns? But let us leave the women to women’s work. They choose what they will and expect us to approve, even without our counsel.”

  Bethany smiled at her father and turned back to the drawings.

  “Your spirits this day are greatly improved,” Seanna remarked. “Does it have anything to do with your approaching visit with Lord Butler?”

  “No. Jonathan is a kind man, but he is not the reason.”

  “Then what is it?”

  “You were right, Seanna. The thought of a new gown does lift my spirits.”

  Bethany pretended she did not see Seanna glance at Lilly and smile.

  * * *