By the time the day of the party came, Cora's stomach had wound itself into the most intricate of knots. She stared at her reflection in the mirror as Katy pushed a few last pins into place, creating a lovely coiffure.
"I'm shaking," Cora said, holding out her quivering hands for inspection.
The maid wasn't overly sympathetic. "What do you expect after eatin' practically nothin' all day? Course you're shakin'!" Katy had brought up a tray earlier and Cora had not touched it. She was certain that if she ate even a single bite, it would come right back up in the most unladylike of ways.
"I am not at all hungry," said Cora.
"'Tis your nerves trickin' your belly into thinkin' that, Miss. You need to eat somethin' or you're like to faint."
Trickery or no trickery, Cora could not even look at the food without feeling queasy. She glanced at her maid, hating that she needed to ask the question she had promised herself she would never voice out loud. But she had to know. "Katy, will you tell me what is being said below stairs about me?"
Katy frowned for a moment, then shrugged. "Not much anymore, Miss. Some used to think you took to bein' a 'ousekeeper so as to catch Mr. Ludlow's eye, but I set 'em straight and told them to stop their tongue-waggin'."
The maid seemed quite pleased with her answer, but it did nothing to settle Cora's nerves. She should have left the question unasked, but it was too late now.
Cora mustered a kind smile. "Thank you for saying so, Katy. And I don't know how, but you've performed a miracle with my hair. It has never looked more lovely."
Katy blushed rosily. "Thank you, Miss, but we both know 'tis you who makes it lovely. Now don't keep Mr. and Mrs. Shepherd waitin' any longer. Off you go now."
Cora picked up her wrap and slowly made her way to the stairs. Mr. and Mrs. Shepherd waited in the great hall below, talking quietly. As soon as they heard Cora's footsteps descending the stairs, Mrs. Shepherd looked up and clapped her hands. "Oh, my dear, it's just as I suspected. That blue is ravishing on you. It puts a sparkle in your eyes and makes you look most angelic. Don't you agree, Stephen?"
"Heartily."
When Cora reached the bottom step, he held out one arm to his wife and the other to Cora. "I shall be the envy of every man in attendance tonight."
"Let us pray there will not be many of them." Cora pressed her palm to her queasy stomach. "I don't think I have ever felt more nervous, not even when I first set off for Yorkshire."
Mr. Shepherd patted her hand. "You have nothing to fear. We are running a bit behind schedule, so you will not be forced to mingle overly long. Then we will partake of the blandest meal you will ever eat and be subjected to the dullest entertainment you could possibly imagine. Our last experience involved listening to an extremely long reading of Lady of the Lake. Being an avid reader, you would think I would have enjoyed such a performance, but the man's lifeless and monotone voice put me straight to sleep."
Mrs. Shepherd nodded her agreement. "He is speaking the truth, I'm afraid. Every time Stephen began snoring I had to nudge him awake. It was most taxing, believe me, and I'd never been more relieved for any performance to end."
Cora smiled as they descended to the waiting coach. If she had to make a debut, at least she could make it with Mr. and Mrs. Shepherd at her side and not her own parents. That thought alone gave her some comfort.
The cold air nipped at her nose and whipped across the back of her neck, sending shivers down her spine. She tugged her wrap tighter about her before climbing inside and settling in the seat across from the Shepherds. Her gaze immediately strayed to the small window, where she peered into the darkness. The snow had not lasted more than a day or two and they had seen no more of it since the evening that had changed everything for Cora. There had only been overcast skies, rain, sleet, and fierce winds that had rattled the window panes and woke her up at night.
It all felt like a dark omen now.
While Mr. and Mrs. Shepherd conversed quietly about a book he'd recently read, Cora remained content to watch the shadows play across the landscape, swaying back and forth as the coach rattled onward. Jonathan would be in attendance tonight as well. The thought should have given her some comfort, but Cora did not know what to expect from him either. Would he speak briefly and casually to her, as though they were mere acquaintances, or would he look at her with warmth and tenderness as he did when they were together at Knotting Tree or Tanglewood? It was not the thing to hang on a gentleman's arm all evening, but she hoped he would attend to her for a least a time. She needed to know that he did not regret loving her.
The coach slowed and turned, making its way up the carriage path towards the house. Cora watched the building grow larger and larger as they approached. Light spilled from every window, casting a yellow glow across the stone. It looked warm and welcoming, and Cora could only pray those already inside would be the same.
The coach stopped, and the door creaked open. Mr. Shepherd descended first, followed by Mrs. Shepherd, and then Cora. As before, Mr. Shepherd took both ladies by the arm and led them to the entrance, where a butler ushered the party to where Mr. and Mrs. Bidding waited. Cora had to clench her teeth to keep her jaw from dropping at the sight of their hostess. She was the tallest woman Cora had ever seen and appeared so very grim. Her features were almost more manly than womanly, but her burgundy gown was stunning. It had a delicate silver overskirt that glittered with every movement the woman made. At her side stood a slightly shorter, more portly gentleman with a balding head, a sharp nose, and the same grim expression.
"Mrs. Bidding, Mr. Bidding, what a welcome sight you are," Mrs. Shepherd said brightly, even though their host and hostess looked anything but welcoming. "Please allow me to introduce our dear Miss Notley." She gestured to Cora, and Mr. Bidding managed a pained smile.
Cora forced her lips upwards as well, all the while wondering at the cold reception. Did Mrs. Shepherd not claim them as dear friends? Had Mrs. Bidding not included Cora's name on the invitation, written in her own hand? Why then, did the Biddings seem so displeased to see them? Cora had expected this reaction from others but not her host and hostess.
"Mrs. Bidding, whatever's the matter?" inquired Mrs. Shepherd, apparently unable to ignore the tension any longer.
Mrs. Bidding heaved a sigh and frowned. "I wish I did not have to tell you this, but it appears as though our party will be much smaller than expected. All of the other guests, with the exception of Mr. Ludlow, have been sending their excuses since this morning. We received the last of them not twenty minutes ago."
"What?" breathed Mrs. Shepherd at the same time Mr. Shepherd muttered a few select words that earned him a glare from his wife.
Mrs. Bidding's gaze drifted to Cora for a moment. "Only yesterday, Lord and Lady Pembroke became suspiciously ill and sent a note around saying they would not be able to come after all. Apparently, whatever ails them is quite catching, for today everyone seems to be affected by it, other than us of course."
"How very fortunate that we are still in good health," said Mr. Shepherd dryly.
"Indeed," said Mrs. Bidding, looking at Cora once more. She must have thought Cora required additional enlightenment because she added, "The Pembrokes are the highest ranked family in the province and carry a great deal of influence."
Cora had already surmised as much, but that didn't stop her fingers from tightening around Mr. Shepherd's arm as something resembling anger stirred inside her. What a ninny she had been to worry about making conversation with others. It had never occurred to her that she would not be given the opportunity to speak with them. She felt the cut as keenly as she had felt it numerous times before, only this time it ran deeper because it extended to the Shepherds, Jonathan, and even the Biddings. How could people be so callous and cruel? She would never understand it.
"This is all my doing," said Cora woodenly. "You should not have invited me, Mr. and Mrs. Bidding, or I should not have accepted."
Mrs. Bidding sighed. "Of course we should
have. It's just these dratted circumstances. I am beginning to think that Tanglewood inspires scandal in anyone who occupies it."
Mr. Shepherd uttered a mirthless chuckle. "That seems to be the case, doesn't it? And speaking of Tanglewood, has Mr. Ludlow not arrived yet? I had thought we would bring up the tail."
"Oh, yes. He has come and gone, I'm afraid," said Mrs. Bidding with a huff. "Once he heard the news he decided he would pay a visit to the Pembrokes and make certain they are not suffering too greatly. I did my best to discourage him, but of course he would not listen to reason. He will no doubt ring a peel over their heads and be forever ostracized by the family as well."
"It's a sorry business indeed," added Mr. Bidding with a shake of his round head.
"Please tell me you are jesting," said Cora, wide-eyed at the news. Why did Mrs. Bidding wait until now to reveal that bit of information? Why did she not meet them outside and tell them to go after Jonathan with as much haste as possible? Good heavens, what had he been thinking? A confrontation with such an esteemed family would only worsen matters.
Her knees suddenly felt weak and shaky, for she knew what he'd been thinking. He had wanted to defend her honor. No doubt his anger at the situation overcame his good sense, and she could only pray the cold air would chill his temper before he arrived. People like the Pembrokes did not forgive easily.
Mrs. Shepherd shook her head, looking as downtrodden as Cora felt. "What a perfectly wretched thing to have happen. I am truly sorry, Cora. I suppose I should have known better, having experienced a similar situation in my past, but I had hoped more from the people in Askern."
Cora could only swallow and wish that she was anywhere but here. She was well aware of the rules of society and the repercussions that came from breaking or even bending them. Perhaps all would have been forgiven in time had she been born to a genteel family. But that was not the case. She had nothing but the patronage of the Shepherds and the attentions of Jonathan to inspire forgiveness, and though she had held out hope it would be enough, deep down she had known it would not suffice. All she had done was bring the people she cared most about down with her.
"I do hope you will stay," said Mrs. Bidding. "I refuse to tell my cook that she has labored all day for only Mr. Bidding and me."
Mr. Bidding must be a man of few words and even fewer opinions. His nod was almost habitual, as though he was used to agreeing with his wife on any and all matters.
"Of course we will stay," said Mrs. Shepherd firmly.
Cora nodded her acquiescence as well. She was the reason behind this fiasco of an evening and being gracious was the least she could do. She only wished Jonathan had stayed as well.
During the carriage ride home Mr. and Mrs. Shepherd attempted to engage Cora in various topics of conversation, no doubt to distract her. But no matter how hard Cora tried, she could not pry her thoughts away from Jonathan. Had he truly gone to the Pembrokes? Had they convinced him that he was a fool for harboring feelings for Cora? Had his feelings towards her changed? She had no way of knowing what had occurred. He had not returned to the Biddings and would most certainly not visit them at Knotting Tree at this late hour. It would therefore be tomorrow before Cora would know anything more. How dreadfully far away that seemed.
The carriage lurched to a stop and the three occupants exited in a far more somber mood than they'd entered. With a sigh, Cora lifted her beautiful blue skirts and wearily climbed the steps to the house, thinking what a waste of an expense all her new gowns had been. Jeffries held the door as they entered. When Cora passed by, he tucked a letter in her hand. "This missive arrived by courier for you about an hour ago, Miss Notley."
She accepted it with a frown, wondering who might have written. The only letters she had exchanged thus far had been with Lady Harriett, but her replies had always arrived with the regular post, not by courier.
A petrifying worry assailed her. Had her parents finally discovered her whereabouts? Had they written to demand her return?
With shaky hands, she quickly tore open the letter and read the signature before breathing a sigh of relief. "It is only Lady Harriett," she said to no one in particular.
"It must be urgent if it came by way of courier," said Mr. Shepherd with a furrowed brow. "Is everything all right?"
Cora scanned the first paragraph only to shake her head with amusement. Lady Harriett had received an invitation for a ball and could not decide if she should wear the green silk or the blue taffeta. Which do you suppose would make my eyes sparkle more? she wrote. I really must have your opinion because I cannot decide on my own. It is a conundrum of the worst sort.
Cora sighed and tucked the letter under her arm. "'Tis only a fashion emergency," she said. "Lady Harriett can be dramatic at times."
"Yes," said Mr. Shepherd. "We are well acquainted with Lady Harriett's dramatics. I am glad to hear it is nothing serious."
Mrs. Shepherd laid her hand on Cora's arm and gave it a gentle squeeze. "Enjoy your letter and try to get some rest, my dear. Tomorrow will be a new and better day, I promise.
"Will it?" Cora tried to smile, but she did not feel it. Tomorrow would most certainly bring a new day—there was no way around that—but a better day? How could it, especially if Jonathan came bearing even more distressing news after his visit with the Pembrokes? Did he truly believe he could convince them to have a change of heart?
From where Cora stood, the only person who could improve the situation for everyone was her, and the only way that she could think to do that was to leave Askern and begin afresh someplace else. Only then could the matter be put to rest.
But that was not the answer either, not when the mere thought of leaving caused her heart to melt into something resembling the muddy slush that came after the snow. She did not have the strength to leave unless Jonathan came as well. Perhaps they could embark on a new life together where no one knew of her folly. Could she ask such of thing of him, or would that mean she did not love him as she should? Which scenario would be better for him? To stay and fight for some sort of life with him or leave quietly on her own and allow him to go on without her?
A mass of dread consumed Cora's already raw stomach. She could not think on this anymore tonight without severe repercussions. Perhaps Mrs. Shepherd was right and the morning would bring a dawning of a different hope—one she could not conceive at the moment.
"Thank you for being so wonderful to me," Cora said, needing to take herself and her sorry disposition off to her room.
Mrs. Shepherd's gaze narrowed. "That sounds rather like the beginning of a goodbye. You are not thinking of leaving, are you, my dear? Because I will not allow it."
Cora managed a smile. "Not when I have nowhere to go at present."
Mrs. Shepherd opened her mouth to say something more, but Mr. Shepherd held up his hand. "Let us not discuss anything more tonight. It would be better to wait and see what tomorrow brings."
Cora nodded in agreement, thankful for his intervention. Her body ached for a soft bed. "I wish you both a good night."
"Goodnight, my dear," said Mrs. Shepherd.
Cora dragged her body up to her room, where she gratefully submitted to Katy's ministrations. Before long, she was tucked under the covers with a warm cup of tea on her bedside table.
Once Katy had slipped out the door, Cora took a sip of the soothing liquid and opened Lady Harriett's letter once more, allowing her head to relax into the pillows. The note could not have arrived at a more timely moment. If anyone could distract Cora from her solemn mood, it was Lady Harriett and her ridiculous fashion woes.
Cora skipped ahead to begin reading where she had left off.
You must think me the most silly and trivial of creatures. While you arise at an inhuman hour and slave away over household duties, I bemoan my fashion troubles. I am beginning to think I need to discover a cause of some sort. If I continue on as I have been for much longer, I will likely become as dull as Lady Rosemont, who can speak intelligently on only two
subjects: fashion and the latest on dits. It has been said by some that she has feathers for brains, and I would so hate for people to think the same of me, and yet I do not wish to be considered a bluestocking either. Hmm…
Oh goodness, there I go again. Perhaps I do have feathers for brains after all. (You must write immediately and assure me that I do not. I shall not sleep a wink until I hear from you.) Speaking of which, is all well with you? Has Mr. Ludlow found it necessary to dismiss you again, only to ask you back? Oh my dear, how your last letter made me laugh. I have met Mr. Ludlow, you see, and he struck me as being altogether too serious for his own good. You merely solidified that aspect of his character in my mind. I pray you will instruct him, by your own wonderful example, on how to go about smiling more. Life should be an adventure and not a chore, as you and I both know. Despite the many duties and hardships you must endure, I am certain you find something to smile about every day. That is your gift, and it is my greatest wish that Mr. Ludlow will find the emotion infectious. Perhaps he will fall madly in love with you, and the two of you can create a delicious scandal by wedding—or even better, eloping. Oh, how I should love to hear such news! My opinion of Mr. Ludlow would greatly increase if he proves himself such a romantic.
You are likely blushing furiously, so I will stop my teasing, though you must admit it is a lovely notion, is it not? Perhaps that should be my new cause—to put my pen to paper and write a daring romantic novel. I would be very good at it, you have to admit. Of course, it would be necessary to publish incognito, for I could never admit to doing such a scandalous thing, but it would be great fun nonetheless.
Sadly, the time has come for me to go down to dinner. I wish you were here to advise me on next week's ball as your taste is always impeccable. But alas, you have gone and left me to my own devices. I miss you greatly, my friend. Please write soon so that I may know you are well.
The Rise of Miss Notley (Tanglewood Book 2) Page 18