A Well-Trained Lady (Seasons of Change Book 4)

by Jess Heileman

  Ruth nodded. “He certainly has.”

  My heart dropped at her confirmation, despite how I reprimanded it. Of course he should be married by now. It had been years since I had last seen him.

  “In truth,” Ruth said, “you would hardly believe him to be once so full of mischief. Though, he does still tease us from time to time, and we are always glad to see it.”

  I tipped my chin downward, uncertain whether she was still answering my question or if she had misunderstood me entirely. “Does his wife appreciate his teasing?”

  Ruth quirked her head to one side. “Augustus is not married.” Her hand lifted to her mouth. “Oh, is that what you meant by settled down? How silly of me. Of course I should have known that. No, he is still most eligible despite him being the kindest, most handsome man in all of Dorset. All of England, really.” She paused. “Though I admit I likely hold a biased opinion on the matter.”

  I could not prevent a smile, though whether from the ridiculousness of her declaration or the clarification of Augustus’s bachelor status, I could not be certain. “Your cousin was always most handsome,” I said, unwilling to admit more. “And how do you enjoy Dorset? I heard the landscape there is quite breathtaking.”

  “Oh, it is. When I first went to live with my aunt and uncle, I was certain I could never grow to love it as I loved Bath, but I have. And you would love it there also.”

  I had once wished to visit Dorset more than any other place in the world, but that was years ago. Now I had not the slightest desire to step foot within the county, let alone be anywhere near Augustus’s treasured estate, Fairhaven. “Perhaps I would.”

  “Arabella, dear.” Papa stepped to my side. “Your mother sent me to check on you.”

  I glanced over at him with a grin, eager for him to realize who I was speaking with. But he was already staring at Ruth, his face blanched and his mouth agape.

  “Ruth?” His whispered voice was hoarse, nearly indistinguishable.

  I scanned his awestruck features, utterly confused how he had known her when I had not.

  Ruth beamed up at him. “I am surprised you recognized me, Lord Godwin.”

  Papa pressed his eyes shut and opened them again, as though he thought Ruth might be a figment of his imagination. When he had confirmed she was still there, his gaze returned to me.

  “It is her, Papa,” I said with a laugh, taking hold of his arm.

  He gave a slow nod. “It is obvious. She looks very much like her mother did at her age.”

  Ruth’s expression filled with delight. “Do you truly think so? My aunt has claimed the same thing—that I remind her of Mama, when Mama was younger—and I have often wondered if she speaks the truth of it or if she simply means to please me. I do have her hair and brown eyes, of that I am certain, but I recall Mama being the most beautiful woman I have ever known. Yet, when I look in a mirror, I feel I am quite plain.” Ruth’s words gushed from her, and I again felt a smile coming to my lips without the slightest encouragement. There was the chattering girl I’d loved so well.

  Ruth tipped her head to the side. “I don’t necessarily count it as a bad thing—to be plain that is—for I have been told many a time there is more to a person than their appearance.” She glanced sideways and drew in closer to us, lowering the volume of her voice. “But, in all honesty, I wouldn’t complain if I were to be thought beautiful.” She straightened. “So, you saying I resemble Mama, Lord Godwin, is the greatest of compliments, and I thank you with my whole heart.”

  “Then you’re most welcome.” Papa’s lips lifted into a rare, full smile, but when he caught sight of me it lessened. “And who is it you are here with, Ru—pardon me—Miss Seton?”

  “Our neighbors, the Whitmores. That is who we are staying with while Augustus and I are in London. You see, Mrs. Whitmore is Lady Brimhall’s first cousin, and the Brimhalls were generous enough to allow me along this evening when they were told of my visit to Town. It is my first ball, you know.” She glanced around. “It is all quite overwhelming, so many people in their finery, and I don’t believe I’ve seen so many candles in my whole life, let alone in one room.”

  Papa and I gave slow nods.

  “Oh yes, the Whitmores. I should be happy to introduce you, if I could only place them.” Ruth’s face scrunched, and she rose onto her toes, scanning the crowded room. “Oh, they are here somewhere.” Papa seemed equally conscious of her tactless manners before she lowered herself. “I’m certain I shall find them in time.”

  Papa glanced over his shoulder, his eyes returning to Ruth with a gleam of urgency. “Well, it’s likely best if you go find them straightway. You do not wish them to worry after you.”

  I took in Papa’s inscrutable profile, unsure why he would say such a thing when we had just found one another. It wasn’t as though the Brimhalls held such large functions that one could truly get lost for long among the crowd.

  Ruth’s smile faltered at Papa’s admonition, and she glanced toward me. “I would hate for the Whitmores to worry on my account, especially after their kindness toward me. Perhaps I should go in search of them.”

  I reached out and took hold of her hand. “Then go. But let us depart with an agreement to correspond now that we’re older and more capable of such things?”

  Her brow creased momentarily, before her face brightened again. “Oh, yes. Now that we’re older and more capable. I should enjoy that, and it makes our goodbye feel not so permanent.”

  A sense of relief overcame me. “Precisely.”

  Papa cleared his throat, and Ruth instantly dropped my hand, taking a few steps backward. “Farewell, Bella. Farewell, Lord Godwin.”

  Papa and I dipped our heads in near unison, and I offered a parting smile. “Farewell.”

  We watched as she disappeared through the crowded room.

  I released a sigh. “Poor dear. Though I love her regardless, I cannot help but think how altered she would be if her mother had not died. It is apparent her aunt’s tender disposition is far too lenient for her spirited nature, for I have hardly met a lady so neglected in her training.”

  Papa looked at me, his expression pained.

  “Who was that pathetic creature?” Mother’s voice startled me, but Papa turned toward her, his face now masked of emotion.

  “I’m not certain. It seems the young woman had Arabella confused with someone else.”

  My head flinched backward in confusion, and Mother’s suspicion moved to me. “You did not know her, Arabella?”

  Uncertain why, I followed Papa’s lead and shook my head. “No.”

  Her gaze drifted back to the place in the crowded room where Ruth had just departed. “Why the Brimhalls would invite such riff-raff to one of their balls is beyond me. I should likely not have come had I realized who we would be forced to keep company with this evening. Mr. Hall and his young new bride are also in attendance.”

  Papa nodded. “Well, my dear, it is fortunate, then, that we must not remain in such offensive company a moment longer.” Mother’s attention settled back on Papa as he gave a brief tip of his head in my direction. “Arabella mentioned she had a headache coming on, and I assured her we would not be at all bothered to return home without delay.”

  Mother scanned my features with skepticism. “Arabella appears perfectly well to me.”

  I lifted a hand to my temple, instinct pushing me to go along with Papa’s deception. “The headache is just beginning. But the spots in my vision are growing larger, and I fear I will soon grow faint.” I glanced around at the many faces surrounding us. “I would hate to swoon in front of all these people.”

  There was nothing Mother disliked more than making a scene, and, after a brief moment, she gave a small huff. “Very well. But, because you are so ill, Arabella, you shall be staying abed for the entirety of tomorrow. And that includes missing the theater.”

  Mother always knew precisely what consequence to hold over me. But when I looked to Papa, it was evident there was a reason
for his ruse despite me not knowing it. “Then let us be on our way.”

  Chapter Two

  The clock on the mantel ticked in a most tedious rhythm through the empty sitting room. Each click marked another irretrievable second of my life passing by, and one less moment I had until our looming departure to Sandson Hall. I dropped my sampler to my lap and glared at the small clock mocking me, as though it would do some good. It did none.

  “There you are, Arabella.” The shrill tone of Mother’s voice commanded my attention. She had scarcely spoken a word to me since the ball, yet I suddenly favored the silence of the past few days to the wrathful glint in her focused regard.

  I took a steadying breath, attempting to give nothing away. “I did not realize you were searching for me.”

  Her jaw steeled as she moved to the window, placing her back to me. “I know you are aware of the reason for my vexation, so you need not act an innocent.”

  My gaze dropped to the cream-colored rose I had been embroidering, dread pulsing through me. She must have discovered the truth about Papa’s and my encounter with Ruth. No wonder she was furious. I opened my mouth to offer an apology.

  “Priscilla will be most displeased.” Mother gave a disbelieving shake of her head. “Not to mention the timing of it all is most inconsiderate.”

  I closed my lips, unable to find a correlation between the timing of our chance meeting with Ruth and its effect on Aunt Priscilla. Could she be referring to something else entirely? I needed to tread with more caution.

  Mother whipped her head toward me. “What have you to say?”

  “In truth, I’m not certain what you are speaking of.”

  “The Leavitts?”

  I tried not to cower at the intensity of her stare as she started toward me.

  “What of them?” To my great relief, I truly had no idea what Papa’s cousins had to do with anything.

  Mother leaned over me, taking hold of my arm, her fingers cold and sharp on my skin. Her eyes bore into me, searching my features for any hint of deception. After what felt an eternity, her grip slackened. “You truly do not know?”

  “Know what, exactly?”

  Mother dropped her hand from my arm and straightened. “Your father has decided to send you to the Leavitts’ for the next several weeks, instead of allowing you to join us at Sandson Hall.”

  “Papa’s cousins?” My heart leapt when Mother gave a brisk nod. “But we are set to leave any minute for Sandson.”

  “I know.” Disgust coated her words, as though she’d mistaken my amazement for displeasure equal to her own. “I am in full disagreement to this arrangement, though your father will not hear a word of it.”

  I swallowed, cautious to not appear too eager over the joyous news. In truth, had the revelation come at any other time, I would have thought it far from ideal, but knowing the Leavitts’ company could be more easily borne than the company I would find at Sandson Hall, I was obliged to consider myself most fortunate. This certainly had to be Papa’s reward for my silence regarding Ruth and his unwillingness to speak to me of it—accepting an eleventh-hour invitation to free me from the clutches of Mother and Aunt Priscilla.

  Mother was watching me as I pulled myself from my thoughts. In an attempt to look more displeased by the news, I dropped my shoulders and released a small puff of air. “But what shall I do at the Leavitts for so long?”

  Mother sat herself on the opposite end of the settee. “You shall be acting as companion to Mrs. Leavitt. Apparently, Mr. Leavitt believes your cheery spirit shall be just the thing to improve his wife’s ailing health.”

  I set my focus on the embroidery sample on my lap, refusing to take Mother’s doubtful tone to heart. “And shall I go to Branbury straight from the Leavitts’ then?”

  The exhale Mother released sounded more like a hiss. “Yes. It appears that is what your father intends.”

  I gave a slow nod, realizing this providential development could be taken from me as quickly as it had been given. “But do you not oppose my going?”

  “Of course I oppose.” The shrill tone altered Mother’s voice. “But as I have already stated, Charles will not hear me on the matter, despite my reasons. As if he has ever dictated your social arrangements to me before. It is most unlike him and utterly infuriating.”

  “Mrs. Leavitt must be melancholy indeed, for Papa to be so determined.”

  Mother huffed. “Yes. I suppose she must be. Though her timing is most inconvenient as is Mr. Leavitt’s lack of foresight to not send for some other young relation to cheer her. One less inclined to receiving invitations than you.”

  I thought to mention Sandson Hall hardly counted as a noteworthy invitation, but I held my tongue, allowing the silence to settle. I would not risk her temper, nor my freedom.

  “At least Charles was correct in one regard—your continued absence from London will ensure that you will not haphazardly encourage any more suitors while Lord Thorton is away.”

  My throat constricted as I thought of Papa saying such a thing. Surely he only mentioned it in an attempt to appease Mother. Hadn’t he?

  Watching me, Mother’s lips curved at the edges, and I cursed myself for not better concealing my quandary. “I am at least relieved to discover you were not aware of the arrangement, as Charles had assured me.” Mother’s eyes shifted between mine. “To think that either of you would willingly deceive me would be unpardonable.”

  Ever so slowly, I released the air I hadn’t realized I’d been holding in. “I knew nothing of the Leavitts’ invitation.”

  A light knock sounded on the door, stealing both our attention.

  Mother stood. “Yes, Harriston?”

  The butler gave a slight bow of his head. “The coach is ready for you, my lady.”

  “And have my daughter’s trunks already been hauled back inside?”

  Harriston tipped his chin downward. “They are being moved now.”

  “You presume to collect me when your work is not yet complete?”

  He gave a small bow. “Forgive me, my lady.”

  Mother just shook her head. “These Town servants are utterly remiss.”

  I quieted my tongue, unwilling to risk provoking Mother further.

  Mother’s regard returned to me. “Well, be certain to arrive at Branbury in time to dress for dinner on the first day of July.” She started toward the door but paused, looking back at me. “You must realize that Lord Thorton is likely your last chance at a match of that caliber. Do not forget it.”

  Placing my sampler on the side table, I stood and faced her. “I know what is expected of me.”

  Mother scrutinized me one last time. “I would certainly hope so by now.” Without another word, she walked from the room.

  I took a moment to gather myself. When Papa walked past the door, indicating for me to join them in the entry hall, I followed obediently.

  Mother tugged on her gloves. “I am of the mind to delay my departure so that I might at least see Arabella off.”

  Papa hardly looked affected by her threat. “You shall do no such thing. I am more than capable of seeing to the task.”

  “I believe we often hold different opinions, though mine don’t seem to matter as of late.” Mother shook her head, grasping her reticule. “I shall not pretend we are parting on good terms.”

  “And yet, I implore you to enjoy yourself.” Papa sounded less than sincere. “Considering the guestlist, I’m certain Arabella’s absence will allow you to more fully enjoy your time at Sandson Hall.”

  Mother pursed her lips and lifted her chin, moving toward the open door. “Farewell, Arabella. Charles.”

  “Goodbye, Mother.” I stepped through the doorway after her, still in shock that she was climbing into the waiting coach without me.

  “Farewell, dear,” Papa muttered, stepping behind me. We watched in silence as the coach rolled forward and down the street.

  “Papa, I want to—” I glanced over my shoulder, only to find he was no l
onger there. Hurrying back into the entry hall, I caught sight of his retreating figure. “Papa?”

  He paused and ever so slowly turned back toward me.

  Despite his visible reluctance, I would not allow this opportunity to pass, not after all my futile attempts at obtaining a private audience with him the past few days. “I want to thank you for allowing me to visit the Leavitts. I know Mother was not pleased with your interference, but I am grateful for it.”

  He gave a slight nod of acknowledgement and again turned to leave.

  “Also,” I called, halting him a second time. “I was hoping you could offer an explanation as to why we were not to mention Ruth to Mother.”

  Papa lowered his chin and rubbed at the bridge of his nose, as though the mere question exhausted him. “It is complicated, Arabella.”

  “Yet, is it not reasonable that I should be made aware of the situation before I begin a correspondence with her?”

  His eyes returned to mine. “I can say no more. I have sworn I would not speak of the Setons, and I’m nothing if not a man of my word.” He paused, indecision evident in his features. “That is why I must allow for this.”

  “Our correspondence?”

  “No. Not that. Though if you do write to Ruth, take caution to ensure your Mother does not intercept your letters.”

  I nodded absently, my thoughts still on his previous statement. “If it’s not that, Papa, then what is it you are—”

  His stern glare silenced me. “Do not make me regret my interference in keeping you from Sandson Hall.”

  I swallowed. I had grown accustomed to Papa’s aloofness, but I was not used to his anger being directed toward me. “Forgive me.”

  He considered me briefly then shook his head. “Now,” he said, his voice once again gentle, “go find some way to entertain yourself. I have work to attend to.”

  Even after Papa disappeared into his study and closed the door behind him, I could not convince myself to move. Why had Papa been so harsh with me? And why had he sworn to not speak of the Setons? I had always supposed my parents had been friends with the couple, just as I had been friends with their daughter. But my memories were so vague, I hardly felt sure of anything anymore. With one last glance at Papa’s closed study door, I made my way back to the drawing room.