An Enchanted Beginning

by Alyssa Dean Copeland

  Seanna stepped up beside her and squeezed her hand. “Come now, Bethany, ’tis not the most disagreeable occasion.”

  Blythe and Cicely stood near the hearth. “When the men rejoin us, we shall have entertainment. Cicely will perform a small skit we have been practicing.” Bethany could see right through her pretend embarrassment. “Who else would like to participate?”

  Lady Butler’s hand pressed against her chest. “It is too bad Jonathan hasn’t arrived; it would be lovely if he could accompany Phoebe in a song.”

  Phoebe stood. “You are too kind, Lady Butler. I would be more than willing to perform on my own.”

  A few of the other woman offered. Blythe’s eyes scanned the room and landed on Seanna.

  Seanna spoke up. “I would be more than happy to…”

  Phoebe cut her off. “I am certain we do not have a place for sword play in the parlor.” She giggled, then continued. “Though, if we were to have a sword competition, your services would be most welcome.”

  “Of course.” Seanna gave a tight smile then whispered to Bethany, “I must have spoken in haste. It has become most disagreeable.”

  Bethany bit her lip.

  CHAPTER NINE

  Jonathan sat at his father’s highly polished oak desk, setting quill to parchment. Just a few hours ago, he’d been informed by his mother that Gilbert Arden had laid court to Bethany. It was bad enough Lord Severs expressed his interest, and now the wool merchant. Neither man possessed the traits to pay court to her. More extreme actions needed to be taken. He blew on the ink and read over his letter once more. Satisfied, he found his way through the kitchens and out the back door.

  Near the stables, little Avery was helping the stable master yank bales of hay off the wagon. Jonathan called out. “Avery. I have a task for you.”

  The young boy raced to him. Jonathan looked down. “Where are your boots? You did not sell them, did you?”

  “Nay, sir. They are safe, under me bed. I did not want to ruin ‘em.”

  Jonathan sighed in relief. Had the boy sold his boots, his mother would most likely pull out the whip.

  He picked a piece of straw from the boy’s head. “Go, fetch your boots and wash your face. I have letters for you to deliver.”

  “Yes, sir.” The boy took the letters and ran off toward the house.

  Lady Butler sat in the parlor reading a book. She licked her finger and turned the page. Jonathan cleared his throat.

  She looked up. “Ah, Jonathan. How do you fare this day?”

  “The day is as beautiful as you, Mother.” He kissed her hand.

  She pulled it back. “And what is it you want?”

  Jonathan laughed. “You are also wise, Mother.”

  “Not wise. I simply know when my son wants something from me.”

  “Very well. I would like to host supper this eve.”

  “And who is it you wish to invite?”

  “Lilly Thayer, James Bryant, Earl Maycott and his daughters. I am certain you have met them.”

  Lady Butler slammed her book closed. “You wish to invite that outlandish woman who fights like a man and her disgraced sister?”

  “Yes. The same.”

  She stood up. “I forbid it. I will not have those scandalous women here, in my home.”

  “Mother, they have already been here.”

  “Yes, they have. Had I known then what I know now, they would not have been invited. They are not welcome here.”

  “Then Mother, I suggest you go out for the evening. I have already sent a dozen invitations including the Staffords and Parkers.”

  “Oh—fiddlesticks. Do you desire to ruin my reputation?”

  “Mother, I doubt anything could ruin your reputation. Let it be known that you are celebrating James Bryant’s betrothal.”

  “You could have at least invited Lord Dohetry and his lovely wife.”

  He smiled. He knew of his mother’s obsession with the man known as Anon. “I did Mother. However, I doubt they will accept the invitation. His lovely wife is expecting a child and I believe Lord Dohetry intends to stay close.”

  She sighed. “Very well, Jonathan. But do not do this to me again. The next time, please converse with me prior to sending out invitations.” She began to leave the room. “Jonathan, pray tell. You are not interested in courting the Lady Bethany, are you?”

  “No Mother, courting anyone at this time is not my desire. I do find her to be good company.”

  A look of relief crossed her face, then a scowl. “What do you mean you have no desire to pay court to anyone? What of Phoebe Goodwynn? I dare say, Jonathan, the Goodwynns have been invited to sup with us in a few days’ time and I believe her family sees you as a good match. I have worked too hard for you to negate your duties.”

  Jonathan’s mouth fell open. Negate my duties? If he had, surely by now they’d be living as paupers without two coins to rub together.

  “Everyone was sorely disappointed you did not attend supper last eve. You need to attend these gatherings. Our reputation depends upon it.”

  But it was always about her reputation. The only one who would have noticed was Phoebe. He was about to tell her his thoughts when she took his arm.

  “I can see that I have upset you. Let us not worry about such things until after you have had an opportunity to spend a bit of time with Phoebe. Then you will see what a wonderful girl she is. Besides, it has been quite a spell since we hosted two dinner parties so close together.” She smiled.

  Now there was work to do. If Avery returned with their answer, he needed to be sure that the entire household knew of their guests. He would start with the cooks, the chambermaids, even the wash-women. One of them would spread the word, and with luck, the entire city would know by this eve. He was certain of it.

  * * *

  Timidly, Bethany stepped toward the parlor. There were no voices, no laughter. She peeked around the corner and relief filled her when she found it empty. After the long week, she no longer had to pretend to enjoy entertaining or being entertained, no longer had to endure warm greetings and pleasant conversations followed by glimpses cast her way from small huddles of quick lips and flashing eyes.

  The lace for her father’s cuff sat in a basket hidden behind the chair. It was either due to the servants’ lack of attention that they did not remove it or their merciful kindness in leaving it where it could be found. Regardless of their motives, it gave her a bit of pleasure. Now, if no one decided to distract her….

  With the chair turned toward the window, she relished in the warm sunlight caressing her skin. Her mind drifted to the moments she’d spent with Jonathan. He was gracious, courteous, and of course, most handsome. One day he would find a woman who would suit him. Most certainly the woman would not be Phoebe Goodwynn. She hoped for his sake he would marry for love as he wished.

  In the meantime, she needed to finish her father’s shirt. In just a few weeks, she would no longer have the opportunity.

  Seanna rushed into the parlor holding a sheet of parchment.

  “Bethany.” She took the seat next to her. “Look here. We have been invited to sup with the Butlers this eve.”

  With a sigh, she nodded. Another extravagant meal. Briefly, she wondered who had been invited and what conversations she would need to avoid. Before this journey, she had thought this would be what she wanted. How often was it she wished to have more than an occasional neighbor or courier to sup with? She’d wished that the ship to France would be here already.

  Mistress Thayer walked into the parlor, followed by the dressmaker and a seamstress. “Lady Bethany, Master Fuller would like to oversee the final alterations of your gown.”

  The idea of a peaceful morning had completely disappeared. It was time to start a day filled with activities and excitement. Surely, they had other things they could be spending their time with. She stood up and smiled at the dressmaker.

  CHAPTER TEN

  Bethany stared at the large painting over the hearth a
nd recalled the conversation she had had at the ball with Lady Butler.

  “Lady Bethany,” someone whispered in her ear. It was Jonathan. “Do not let my mother catch you staring at the portrait—unless, of course, you wish her to spend hours discussing it. It is her favorite topic.”

  He turned her away from the portrait. She heard footsteps approaching.

  He whispered again. “Look at the vase, the flowers, the speck of dust on the table.” He swiped his finger on the table. The footsteps grew louder and stopped. His voice louder. “The foxtails are doing well this year. If it if pleases you, I shall show you the gardens after supper.” Whoever was behind them walked away.

  He breathed a sigh of relief. “She is gone.”

  Bethany looked around; the corridor was empty. She couldn’t help but to giggle. “Your mother?”

  “Yes. If she were to see you staring at the portrait, the conversation would surely turn to Anon. You have heard of him, have you not?”

  The name was familiar. Abby Parker spoke of him at Lilly Thayer’s nuncheon. “Is it not Lord Alexander Dohetry who painted this under an assumed name?”

  “Depending upon whom you ask, this is the last portrait painted as Anon. Some speculate it was a portrait of his wife. However, we do know this was his last commission.”

  She hadn’t put much thought into Lord Dohetry’s past. Surely, he would have been scrutinized and cast aside; for a noble man to be an artist was unthinkable. But this was not the case; at least here, in Bristol, the man was a living legend.

  A bell tinkled.

  “It is time. Would you do me the honor of letting me escort you to the dining hall?”

  Considering they were the only two in the corridor, she could hardly decline. As she placed her hand in the crook of his arm, her stomach churned, her legs became weak. A pleasant, mellow, and musky scent overtook her senses. She wasn’t certain she could make it to the dining hall without toppling over. Still, she took another a deep breath, and allowed Jonathan to slowly escort her to the dining hall.

  A quiet murmur of the guests filled the room. He pulled out a chair for her and took his place down the table, next to Lilly Thayer. She glanced around. The guests were placed in a boy-girl fashion. Bethany had Lord Stafford to her left and Henry Parker on her right. It was then she realized that, most of the guests were couples.

  There were no eligible bachelors in the room save her father—and Jonathan, of course. And the women were pleasant, save the disdainful glances she’d received before. Relief filled her. She was not there to provide entertainment or satisfy curiosity. She was simply a guest. At that very moment, it was the finest affair she’d attended since her arrival to Bristol.

  With a clap of Lady Butler’s hands the servants brought in the first course. Several platters arrived filled with beef marrow fritters, civet of hare marinated with red wine and juniper berries, and stuffed chicken covered with a rich sugarplum sauce.

  Bethany looked around the table. Lady Butler had outdone herself, for there were no more than a dozen guests. She hoped to at least sample each of the dishes before satisfying her hunger.

  A servant filled her pewter goblet with wine. She took a sip and finally relaxed, determined to enjoy herself this eve.

  Jonathan’s father raised his goblet. “The Lady Butler and I wish to extend our appreciation for each of you joining us this eve.” He glanced at his wife with loving eyes.

  Bethany smiled. Not only did Jonathan receive his good looks from his father, he also had his distinguishing characteristics. It was no wonder Jonathan wished to marry someone he loved; he’d seen it his entire life.

  Her father leaned forward. “Lord Butler, you have spoken with this wool trader, Gilbert Arden. What do you think of his proposal?”

  The Lady Butler clapped her hands to get the group’s attention. When all was silent, she spoke. “There shall be no discussion of business while we enjoy our meal. We shall keep our conversation to something we all enjoy.” She paused then looked at Abby. “Pray tell, Lady Parker, have you word on your sister’s condition? I am certain Lord Dohetry is ecstatic with the arrival of their new child.”

  Bethany caught Jonathan’s eye. He gave a quick smile and winked. He was right. Lady Butler’s favorite topic was the Lord Dohetry.

  Four courses of the meal went without incident or talk of business. Bethany could tell her father was agitated with the Lady Butler’s request but said nothing. The servants removed their plates and replaced them with smaller dishes: trays of wafers, sugared rose petals, and jellies. Bethany took one rose petal and placed it on her tongue, savoring the sweet of the sugar mixed with the tart of the petal.

  The Lady Butler took a sip of her wine and turned toward her son. “I dare say, Jonathan. I overheard you earlier stating you wished to take the ladies for a walk in the gardens. Would you prefer to do it now, while it is still light?”

  His face visibly paled as he stood up. “Of course, Mother.” He nodded toward his father. “I shall return shortly.”

  Seanna placed her hand on her chest with a heavy sigh. “Oh, Lady Butler, I had hoped we could spend time in the parlor. As you well know, I am to be married in a few short weeks and could use the ladies’ advice on the gown and celebrations. I do believe Lord and Lady Dohetry will be in attendance and I so hoped to make a good impression.”

  Lady Butler stood up, followed by the entire table. “What a fabulous idea. Come, ladies, we have a wedding to arrange.” She took Seanna’s arm and started to leave the dining hall.

  Bethany stood in shock. If Seanna’s actions were not so over the top, a chuckle surely would have escaped her throat.

  Seanna glanced back over her shoulder. She mouthed the word “go” and nudged her head in the direction of the gardens.

  She glanced up at Jonathan who had just stepped next to her.

  “It appears your sister has given me leave to escort you.” He looked back at her father who sat at the table with a glass of brandy. “With your permission, my lord.”

  Her father waved his hand and turned his attention to Jonathan’s father. Had she not been brought up as a proper lady, her mouth would have fallen open. First her sister creates a ruse, then her father agrees to let her walk through the gardens. Her eyes scanned the room and locked on Lilly’s who stood just outside the doorway. At least Mistress Thayer had the decency to uphold propriety when her own father and sister would easily toss it aside.

  Jonathan took Bethany’s arm and escorted her to the doorway, onto a balcony leading into the gardens. “I believe your sister has bewitched my mother.”

  “I believe it was the mention of Lord Dohetry.”

  “Are you not excited about your sister’s wedding?”

  “Oh yes. Of course.” Though, James Bryant would not be the one she would have chosen for her sister. She remembered Phoebe’s words at the Wilmott’s supper. They were to be married. She was about to ask Jonathan when he spoke.

  “Is it not lovely? Come.”

  She looked over the balcony to the gardens. He led her down the small, wooden staircase to a pebbled path of tiny, colored stones in a mosque pattern. The squared garden had a perimeter of small, neatly trimmed evergreens. It was beautiful and more varied than her father’s garden. The warm, spicy scents combined with floral fragrances tickled her nose. She wondered if they had gardens this grand at the convent.

  She looked over her shoulder. Mistress Thayer gave her a smile from the balcony, watching.

  “This way.” Jonathan guided her to the center where a small silver birch tree was in full bloom. Underneath it was a wooden bench. She imagined spending an afternoon reading a book in the shade of the tree.

  “It is rumored the birch tree is enchanted. Any couple sharing a kiss under its branches will surely fall in love.”

  Bethany giggled. “Truly, a simple kiss would not spark such feelings.”

  He chuckled. “Truth be known, there are two who have shared their first kiss under a birch tree.
The Lord and Lady Stafford and the Lord and Lady Dohetry. So yes, I do believe it is possible. Though the tree in question is not this one, but the one at the Stafford estate. Once my mother discovered it, she had this garden reconstructed similarly to theirs. I believe she wishes its magic to infect me.”

  Bethany glanced up at the branches gently swaying in the breeze. What would it be like to kiss someone she truly loved? Would he adore her? Protect her? Comfort her? She shook her head. There had yet to be a suitor whom she felt would be a good match. Even Seanna didn’t approve of every man who appeared at their door offering a bouquet of flowers and a promise of marriage. It wasn’t long before the ship left for France. She knew where her fate lay.

  He lifted her hand. “You do not think unkindly of me, do you?”

  His lips brushed against her fingers. Her breath caught in her throat. Her stomach churned. If she had thoughts of the matter, he had already made his mind known. Besides, she would not allow her spoiled reputation to ruin his. He was her friend.

  She regained her composure, tipped her head, and smiled, pulling her hand from his. “I do not think of you at all Lord Butler, for I hear you are to wed.” She walked away with her head held high, leaving him standing at the tree in the center of the garden.

  Across the yard, there was a movement in the bushes. A set of piercing blue eyes locked with hers. She froze. She had seen that face. Quickly, she glanced behind to see if Jonathan had noticed. When she looked at the hedges again, the face was gone. Her stomach turned, hands shaking. She tried to take another step, but couldn’t move. Memories of weeks past surfaced again. She could almost smell his repulsive scent, feel his breath against her neck. A cold shiver went up her spine.

  Jonathan placed his hand on the small of her back. She jumped.

  “Bethany? You’re white as death. Let me take you inside and join the others.”