Songs of Yesterday

by Monroe, Jennifer

  “That would be lovely,” Rose replied.

  After Caroline left, Rose brought out the basket of needlework that Aunt Eleanor had given her. Selecting a spool of red thread and taking out the handkerchief she had begun the day before, she settled back into her seat, her fingers soon working the needle deftly at the material. Regardless of the project, the repetitive nature of embroidery always allowed her to work out life’s problems.

  Now, as she considered Caroline’s words, her stitches quickened, and soon she became overwhelmed as to what to do. The life of a married lady raising a gaggle of children while her husband ignored her held no appeal whatsoever, nor did the life of a spinster. How had her future turned into something so bleak?

  Then another thought came to mind. Her mother never married after her father died, the woman stating that she could never love another man. If each woman had only one man out of so many who could make her happy, what if she were one of the few who had none waiting to meet her? Was that not how spinsters came into being?

  “Rose?”

  Rose let out a small yelp and looked up to see her aunt standing beside her. She had been so absorbed in her thoughts, she had not heard the woman enter the room. “Forgive me,” Rose said breathlessly as she held her hand to her breast. “You startled me.”

  Her aunt smiled as she took the seat beside Rose. “Where is Caroline?”

  “She went upstairs to take a nap,” Rose replied. “I thought I would complete some of the needlework I started yesterday.”

  “You appeared worried when I entered. Is everything all right?”

  Untruths never came easy to Rose—unless someone’s feelings would be needlessly hurt by it of course—and as she looked at the woman who was now her guardian, she could not find it in her heart to lie. “Caroline and I had a conversation concerning men as well as what is expected of a woman once she is married.”

  “I see,” her aunt said with a small smile. “And what conclusion did you draw from that conversation?”

  Rose sighed as she set aside the embroidery. “Is it true that I should resign myself to being left to mind the children while my husband goes about gallivanting like a child? She led me to believe that he will ignore anything I find interesting, such as my needlework. To make matters worse, he will no longer love me once we are married, if he had in the first place. Am I doomed to be nothing more than a broodmare who is expected to produce his children? And am I expected to have as many children as I can in order to stop me from dying of boredom?” She knew the barrage of questions was inconsiderate of her, but she had to blink back tears as she felt an overwhelming sense of the world falling down around her.

  Her aunt took her hand and gave it a gentle pat. “First of all, it is not wise to take marriage advice from a woman who is not yet married.”

  “So, what Caroline said is untrue?”

  “I must admit, some of what she said is true. However, it all depends on how one views marriage.”

  Rose stared at her aunt in confusion. “I am afraid I do not understand.” She sighed. “Perhaps I should consider living the life of a spinster.”

  With a small laugh, her aunt squeezed her hand. “Let me explain before you make such a drastic decision. If you are married and your husband went on a fox hunt, would you find his recalling of the hunt to be interesting? Would you enjoy viewing the pelts?”

  Rose shook her head in disgust. “Not at all. I find it a barbaric custom and have no interest in such things.”

  “Well, most men think the same about embroidery,” her aunt said. “It is not that they do not want you to enjoy such an activity, but they do not find such pastimes appealing. Men have their interests and women have theirs, but neither is more advantageous, or less significant, than the other. It simply depends from whose viewpoint the opinion comes.”

  Rose smiled. What her aunt said made sense. Then another thought came to her. “What of children? It will be my duty to raise them, will it not?”

  “Would you not wish to? Or would you prefer to have a nanny and then a governess? More than likely you will have a choice in the matter. I chose to raise my children myself, as did your mother, but many ladies hire others to take care of the children.”

  After a moment of thought, Rose sighed. “I would love to raise my own children. Mother never left me to be raised by a governess, and we have a very close relationship. I have often considered having several children, but Caroline says that, besides the need for an heir, men only want women to have a lot of children in order to keep their wives occupied and out of their way.”

  Her aunt laughed. “I can assure you that, although raising children is not an easy task, the children are not a means to relieve boredom.”

  It was as if a weight was lifted from Rose’s shoulders, although she had one remaining question. “Is it true that some couples, even those who are married, never find love?”

  When her aunt blinked at the question, Rose wished she had not asked it. However, the woman did not balk. “Sadly, many do not marry for love. Some do find it later, but others do not. There are still many who subscribe to outdated ideals about marriage, unfortunately.”

  “Well, I will only marry for love,” Rose said with a firm nod. “That is a worthy goal, is it not?”

  “I believe it is a wonderful goal, and one I believe you will likely achieve.”

  Rose gave a relieved sigh and hugged her aunt. “I can see why Mother and you are friends. You share the same wisdom. I only wish she had found love like you did with Lord Lambert.”

  Her aunt gave her a small smile and rose from the couch. “In all this you must remain patient. Love will come but typically when you least expect it.”

  “Thank you,” Rose said, returning the woman’s smile.

  When her aunt left the room, Rose returned to her embroidery. As she made the intricate stitches, her thoughts returned to marriage. She would marry for love and have as many children as she and her husband saw fit. Caroline may have her opinions, but as her aunt said, the woman was yet unmarried.

  According to her mother, Aunt Eleanor had been married to a remarkable man, and together they had lived a wonderful life until his death. If Rose could be blessed with a similar life, all would be well with the world.

  ***

  Rose took one last look in the standing mirror. She had hoped to wear one of the many new dresses her aunt had purchased for her earlier in the week, but none would be ready before the party to which Mr. Bradshaw had invited her. Therefore, she had donned a gown of light blue trimmed with white lace and a white underskirt. How she wished her mother were here rather than Paris, for the woman had always said this was her favorite of all Rose owned.

  “What a gorgeous gown,” Caroline said as she entered the room. “It makes mine look so plain.”

  What Caroline wore could never be considered plain by any sense of the word. Emerald green in color with patterns of yellow sequins, it sported a deep neckline that made Rose blush. Did the woman know that she was showing an abundance of cleavage? “Your dress is very lovely,” she said, which was the truth. She did not mention that she thought it was much too revealing for her taste.

  Caroline walked over to the vanity table and picked up a perfume bottle. It had been there upon Rose’s arrival and more than likely belonged to the previous occupant. “I am hoping to attract a gentleman this evening,” she said. “Perhaps this will help.” She placed a generous amount on each wrist, behind each ear, and in the hollow of her throat before offering Rose the bottle. “You should use it, as well. Men cannot resist wild myrtle, or so I have been told.”

  Rose took the bottle with great reluctance and dabbed the smallest amount to her neck and wrists before replacing the bottle.

  When she turned back toward Caroline, she almost gasped. Had the neckline on the woman’s gown lowered somehow? Perhaps she should warn her friend. “You know,” she said, “there is no need to expose yourself to find a gentleman.” Gathering a shawl from the
trunk at the end of the bed, she wrapped it around Caroline’s shoulders.

  Rather than thanking her, however, Caroline scowled.

  “Have I said something wrong?” Rose asked.

  “I am not a woman of loose morals,” Caroline said, her eyes rimmed with tears. “You do not understand. I have tried to engage gentlemen in conversation, but ultimately, they ignore me. I am so desperate, I am willing to do whatever it takes to gain any man’s attention.”

  The poor girl! Rose thought as she embraced Caroline. “I am certain that, in the coming months, you will find a man worthy of your heart. However, you must be patient for him to come along. Do not do something that will bring about the wrong type of man.”

  Caroline gave a heavy sigh. “You are right,” she said. “I must admit, you might be a bore, but you are quite intelligent in some matters.”

  “I am considered a bore?” Rose asked, shocked at the revelation. “Are my conversational skills that poor?”

  “No,” Caroline said. She even had the decency to blush. “I am sorry. It is that you enjoy embroidery, you hesitate to drink brandy or to engage in anything that might be considered daring. I did not mean to be hurtful.”

  Although what Caroline said was indeed harsh, Rose nodded. She had never considered herself boring, and the prospect of being adventurous did send a shiver of excitement down her spine. Eying the perfume bottle, she picked it up once again, her heart racing.

  “I will prove I am not boring,” she said. Pulling the neckline of her gown down a fraction, she dabbed a small amount of perfume to the top of each breast. She may as well be showing her entire legs at this point!

  Caroline laughed. “I see I was wrong about you,” she said. “You are not a bore. Perhaps we can do daring things over the coming months. I will be honest, I thought my time here would be dull.”

  Rose gulped. Everything in her upbringing told her to refuse anything daring Caroline suggested. Even considering anything outside of propriety made her skin crawl. Yet, for some reason she could not fathom, she found herself nodding in agreement.

  Chapter Five

  Holden scanned the ballroom and studied the many guests. Plenty of them he would consider friends, others were acquaintances, but it was one woman in particular, one who wore a blue dress, to whom he wished to speak. Miss Skylark was an alluring beauty he found unable to resist.

  “Holden,” his father hissed in a low voice, “Lady Longfield is speaking to you.”

  Turning back to the boorish woman in a yellow gown that gave her skin a sallow tone, he gave her his most winning smile. Beside her stood the woman’s daughter, Miss Hortencia Longfield, who had the unfortunate luck of being given her mother’s long homely face. “My apologies. I noticed that my cousin entered and I became distracted. What is it you said?”

  “I was speaking of this party,” the woman said with a sniff. “It is one of the finest I have ever attended, and I wanted to thank you for inviting my daughter and me.”

  Holden’s father gave him a stern glare, and Holden straightened his posture. He had already asked a dozen women if he could call on them, and he would have to do so again. Just the thought made his stomach clench. “I would like to ask your permission to call on your daughter, Lady Longfield,” he managed to say without sounding as if doing so would be a chore. He was uncertain how he accomplished that!

  Miss Longfield giggled, although it sounded more like a horse whinnying, which matched her horse-like face.

  “We would be honored,” the mother replied. “We look forward to receiving a card from you in the next few days.” She turned to her daughter. “Come, Hortencia. These gentlemen must entertain all their guests, not just us.”

  Holden was thankful when the two walked away. For all the fawning Lady Longfield did, at least she saw the importance of his time.

  David stood with a group of their mutual friends, and Holden had to conceal a grin. Everyone was having an enjoyable time, and he wished he could be amongst those who gave him the most entertainment. Spending an entire evening in the company of his father was an annoyance, but perhaps doing so would allow him some freedom for even a short while. What was it his father always told him?

  “Put in the work now so you may play later.”

  Those words certainly hit a chord now.

  He looked around him again. Plenty of women filled the room…

  Hmm, Holden speculated, there seems to be twice as many women as men. Most tittered into their gloves or behind their fans as men flocked around them.

  He shot his father a glare. This was his fault. Now Holden would be forced to request to call on twice as many women. He had better things to do with his time.

  He sighed. His father had been quite clear with his expectations. All he had to do was make it through the night and then he would be able to return to his life once more.

  “I am pleased with your behavior thus far this evening,” his father said. “I believe Miss Longfield was what? The tenth woman you have spoken to this evening?”

  “The thirteenth, actually,” Holden replied. “I will ask one more, if that is acceptable.” Before his father could remind him of what was expected of him, he added, “I do not wish to appear desperate by asking too many at once. Doing so would only harm my name, as well as yours, and we certainly do not want that.”

  His father seemed to consider his words. “I suppose what you say makes sense now that I think about it. So, who will you ask next?”

  Holden jutted his chin toward a small group of women. “The woman in the blue gown beside Lady Lambert and Miss Thrup. Do you see her?”

  His father looked in the direction Holden indicated. “Ah, yes. Do you know her?”

  “I made her acquaintance earlier this week. Her name is Rose Skylark and I understand she is a niece of Lady Lambert.”

  This made his father smile. “She would be a wonderful catch indeed. That is, if she takes after her aunt.”

  Holden stared at his father. Was he gawking at Lady Lambert?

  “Come,” his father said, “It has been far too long since I have spoken to the Baroness Lambert.”

  They made their way through the crowd, and Holden was relieved to see that Miss Thrup had left. An odd sensation washed over him as they stopped in front of Miss Skylark and her aunt.

  He had spoken to many women before, but for some reason, being in the presence of this woman left him feeling unnerved. Perhaps it was the gown she wore that matched her eyes. Maybe it was the woman’s beauty. Her scent gave him a heady feeling, for it was sweeter than anything he had ever known. One thing was certain; he needed a drink to quench the dryness in his throat.

  “Lady Lambert,” his father said with a deep bow, “it has been a while since we last saw one another. Much too long. But I am pleased that you and your niece were able to attend.”

  The ladies curtsied and Lady Lambert said, “Lord Bradshaw, it is good to see you again, as well.” She turned to Holden and added, “Thank you for the invitation, Mr. Bradshaw. Rose and Caroline are enjoying themselves immensely.”

  “I am pleased to hear that,” Holden said. “We are always pleased when our guests enjoy themselves.”

  When he looked back at Miss Skylark, a sense of fear came over him. It was as if the woman took away his ability to think, to rationalize, to utter a single word. He had to return his gaze to the woman’s aunt to release his tongue. “I do not wish to be out of line, but may I call on Miss Skylark in the coming week?” Was that a smile the younger woman hid behind her fan?

  “I believe that would be most acceptable,” Lady Lambert replied. “We look forward to receiving your card.”

  Then, much to Holden’s astonishment, his father said, “I have recently acquired a set of new crystal, and in it is a particular bowl about which I would like to ask your opinion. Would you care to join me?” He held out his arm to Lady Lambert.

  “I would like that,” the woman replied. She placed her hand on his arm and the two walked
over to the refreshment table.

  Holden returned his attention to Miss Skylark. His smile came of its own accord, especially when he noticed that her cheeks had gone quite red and she looked down at the floor.

  “Are you enjoying your time here in Rumsbury?” he asked. He had to learn whatever he could about this woman before his father and her aunt returned.

  When she looked up at him, Holden felt a flush of pleasure roll over him. “I am,” she replied with a smile. “I enjoy the slower pace as compared to London.”

  “London is a grand city with equally grand parties. Do you attend many functions there?”

  Her cheeks reddened further. “No. Well, I have attended three, but I tend to stay away from such events the majority of the time.”

  Holden’s curiosity was piqued. A woman as lovely as she not attending parties in the greatest of cities? It made little sense. If he lived in London, he would attend every party and ball offered.

  Then he noticed Miss Thrup returning from across the room, and panic filled him. He could not ask questions if that annoying cow was about. With a quick wave of his hand, he caught David’s attention and pointed toward Miss Thrup.

  David caught his meaning right off—it was not surprising; the man had done the same to Holden often enough—and he hurried to stop the woman.

  Miss Skylark did not seem to notice the covert exchange, thank heavens. “I assume you have attended many parties.”

  “Indeed,” he replied proudly. “There seems to be a gathering every week.” He glanced to where David and Miss Thrup stood speaking. There was little time, and he had questions he needed answered. “I must admit, I have not had the desire to call on a woman in some time. Yet, seeing you here tonight makes me wish to do so. Do you have many suitors?”

  “I…I find your question bold,” Her breasts heaved beneath the bodice of her gown in a delectable manner. She was most certainly beautiful, but she conducted herself like a woman destined to become a wallflower. What a challenge it would be to win a kiss from such an innocent.

  “I have upset you,” Holden said. “My apologies. Perhaps I should not send a card after all.” He dropped his shoulders, a trick he had learned in his childhood that earned him compassion from both governesses and tutors alike.