Undoing One's Enemy

by Camille Oster

  “We are hosting a party in a few days,” Celeste said turning her attention back to Lord Hariston, “you must come.” Amelia’s eyes widened at the thought because even if it was directed to Lord Hariston, it was an open invitation. She wanted to nudge the woman to get her to retract the invitation, but it was too late.

  “I would love to,” Lord Hariston. “We’d love to, I’m sure. I have heard that your evenings are not something to be missed.” Celeste smiled at the compliment. Lord Eldridge did not seem to show any indication either way and Amelia hoped that he hadn’t heard or that he didn’t want to attend. Maybe he had something else on, she silently begged that he would say so, but he was stubbornly silent.

  “We must depart, I fear,” Lord Hariston said. “We cannot be waylaid further, even by such beauty.” He tipped his hat and nudged the horse forward. Lord Eldridge did the same and Amelia watched as they retreated. Surely he would not come to the party—that would make for an extremely comfortable evening for her. She wanted to just put her hands in front of her face and growl out her exasperation.

  “Wasn’t that the man who bought your father’s estate?” Celeste asked as they began walking again.

  “Yes,” Amelia confirmed.

  “He is very attractive.”

  Amelia couldn’t directly argue because he was attractive—he was just unpleasant as well.

  “Your father spoke of him often. He never mentioned his rather admirable physicality,” Celeste said, still surveying the men who were retreating down the road behind them. Amelia didn’t say anything, she just felt uncomfortable considering she had some extensive knowledge of his physicality. “He is unmarried, is he not?”

  “Yes, I believe so.”

  “And wealthy. The old ducks will be beside themselves with him on the market. Poor thing. I’m sure they don’t give him a moment of peace.”

  Amelia was pretty certain he stayed away from some of those events; she’d seen the invitations piled up for him and knew what events he accepted. She also knew he was looking for a wife, but he didn’t make much of an effort at the right events for the well-established courting procedures.

  She made a silent prayer hoping he would not show up at the party Celeste was throwing. She had made a point with Celeste to invite Henry, for the purpose of getting to know him further and to also apologize for how her sitting session had ended with Lord Eldridge dragging her off; it must have been a strange sight even for the more flexible set. Having to talk to him while being observed by Lord Eldridge would probably make for an unbearable evening.

  Chapter 16

  There were only two hours until the party and her dress had just arrived, along with the flowers and wine. Amelia was helping Celeste and the serving staff to set everything in place for the dinner party. Celeste had engaged a celebrated French chef to cook for them and the menu seemed extraordinary and outlandish, but it should definitely be interesting.

  There was still so much to do—the whole house was a mess. There were wine cartons in the middle of the hall and there was debris all over the floor. Celeste on the other hand seemed perfectly content with the amount of time left.

  “Go put your dress on,” Celeste advised. “You’ll feel much less worried if you are at least dressed. I will send someone along to do your hair.” Amelia nodded and retreated to her room where a package lay waiting for her on her bed. It was rather small compared to her usual dress packages. The dress inside was inordinately slim. There seemed to be no form to it whatsoever, it just flowed in her hands like milky liquid without her being able to make heads or tails of it. Eventually she found a row of buttons which lead her to a shoulder, of which there seemed to be only one.

  Amelia had only seen illustrations of ancient Greek dresses in books; it was entirely different being confronted with one. There were gold details around the waist. It took her some time to figure a way into the dress, but once she figured that out, it slips into place. It had a high neckline, but it only covered one shoulder which was the oddest feeling. She had never worn a dress that did not have at least small sleeves. It was both flattering and beautiful.

  A girl she had never seen before knocked on the door and guided her to a chair where she proceeded to deal with Amelia’s hair with professional efficiency. She came away with elaborate curls and more gold bands keeping the hair in place. Amelia surveyed herself in the mirror; she looked like a character stepped out of a Greek tragedy. She felt really beautiful too.

  She realized she really wanted to look beautiful that night. She wanted to show him that for all his mocking and disapproval, she wasn’t just a silly creature with stupid dreams; she was a capable woman with the where withal to achieve what she needed to.

  The bare shoulder was a little risqué by society’s standards, but she was not restrained by that world any more; she was free to do as she pleased and she was in the company of people who thrived on that freedom—even if some of the old world tended to intrude.

  She returned to the salon as quickly as she could. There was still lots to do and she got completely distracted to the point that it was a shock when the first guest arrived, which happened to be Anton the thespian mad clerk. Celeste greeted him by extending her hand and he seemed to be slightly in awe of the two of them.

  “A dream come true,” he stated. Amelia blushed at the comment, but Celeste waved it off.

  “Have some champagne, Anton,” Celeste told him. “It is going to be a wonderful evening.”

  “Perhaps I can read something to the group, maybe something from Homer or the Iliad.”

  “That would be lovely, Anton,” Celeste said.

  Henry arrived shortly after, looking good in his typical scruffy manner. He made little effort with his appearance, but no one seemed to mind—they accepted him as he was. Amelia admired him for his lack of concern for such trivial things.

  She apologized for the interruption to the session in the park, and offered to sit again whenever convenient. She learnt it wasn’t necessary as he’d gotten what he needed and had already finished the painting, which had already gone to its commissioner and was now adorning a fine house somewhere in Devon.

  “I’m sorry, I didn’t get a chance to see it,” she said genuinely. “I haven’t had the opportunity to see any of your work yet.”

  “Then you must allow me to give you a tour of my studio. And by tour, I mean a small round in a very small room, but it has good light.”

  “I would like that.” Amelia was curious to see where he spent his time. She was even more pleased that the little scene in Hyde Park had not completely put him off—she would understand if it had. Having a man come and practically drag her away was dramatics on a disconcerting scale. She didn’t sense a high appreciation for dramatics in Henry and she liked that.

  She got distracted by the entrance of Lord Hariston who strode in and greeted Celeste. She watched them exchange pleasantries, but no one followed—Lord Eldridge had not come with him. She sighed a quick relief and tried to focus on Henry, who told her about a new exhibition that was starting at the British Museum, and she listened intently when he talked about the paintings he’d been waiting to see and their virtues.

  The bell for dinner rang, and it was time for them all to take their seats. Amelia ended up sitting next to Anton again. Lord Eldridge still hadn’t arrived. He was either rudely late or he wasn’t coming. She felt like getting up and demanding to know from Lord Hariston if he was coming or not. How dare he not show up when she looked so lovely. She wasn’t exactly sure what she wanted, but she wanted for him to see that she and her dreams deserved more than his mocking and disdain. She had been on edge the entire night waiting for him to walk through the door. She almost felt like she’d been preparing for battle, but the enemy never showed.

  “I have planned my next venture,” Anton said with obvious excitement.

  “Oh?” Amelia responded.

  “I am planning a trip to Paris to see the best of the French stage. They approach
the theatre very different in France—much more seriously. They don’t go for the elaborate sets, or get distracted by the audience. I am so looking forward to it. Do you speak French?”

  “Yes, but I am not familiar with their plays.”

  “You should come with me,” Anton said enthusiastically. “I meant to ask you tonight if you wanted to join me; it would be an honor to escort you. We could see all the running plays, as well as spend some time in Paris—the majestic city.”

  “Have you been before?” Amelia asked, both for the purposes of curiosity, but also to give herself some time to think. She desperately wanted to see Paris, but she had never thought to do so with someone like Anton—that was, someone who wasn’t her husband. Technically, she could go; there was nothing to stop her, but she wasn’t entirely sure what his expectations would be.

  “When I was younger; it was the most magical trip. I’ve been meaning to return, but I’ve been so busy making a career for myself. I am finally in a position to make such a trip.” There was obviously joy in his clear brown eyes. She considered him for a moment and tried to understand his motives. If he was in a better financial position, he would be in a position to marry. He could well be taking such a trip as part of a honeymoon, which made her wonder why he wasn’t seeking to marry. Or maybe he was.

  He was waiting for an answer. It was a tempting offer, she would dearly love to go to Paris; she just didn’t know what she would be agreeing to. She had a suspicion that the intention was for them to be intimate in due course and she wasn’t sure she could ever feel that way about him, even if his intentions were completely honorable. She needed Celeste’s advice.

  “It sounds like a lovely voyage.” She had trouble saying outright no, because it really was tempting and it had been her only real proposition to travel. There was a voice in her mind that told her to jump on the opportunity because she might never get the chance again. She needed time to think it over. She also needed time to consider Anton. If he was looking for a wife, it deserved some serious consideration as he was a lovely and sweet man. Technically, he was what she’d said she was looking for. “I will consider it,” she said with finality.

  The delay did not seem to dissuade Anton and she suspected that he might be happy with anything other than a ‘no’, which made her wonder how he regarded her. She had never considered him as an option, with his timid manner and evident penchant for the theatre had not immediately struck her as clear contender for a husband, but he did have the means to support a family and he did have passion—at least for the stage. He would probably make a kind and considerate husband.

  All the same, she would probably try not to speak with him again that evening as she would feel his eagerness for an answer, and she was not ready to give one yet. She looked around the table for Henry, but he was absorbed in conversation with a man she didn’t know.

  Dinner was finished and people started moving from the table. The wine was flowing well and the room was getting louder and warmer. The food had been absolutely delicious, maybe even the best she’d ever had. She felt full and a little sluggish after, but she also felt very content and deflated. It was much too late for Lord Eldridge to join them, so she began to realize that she would not see him after all. She felt incredible relief and she could actually just relax and enjoy the party.

  Celeste had taken a position on the sofa and there were men around her. It was clear that she loved the attention of men, and they loved giving it to her. There were less women at the party than men, and Amelia suspected Celeste had ensured that the ratio was somewhat skewed.

  Celeste’s friend Sophia was along one of the walls in deep discussion with Lord Hariston. Amelia was infinitely curious about this woman who ran her own small trade empire. The concept of being completely independent without the support of an inherited fortune or a husband was compelling. There was something about it that seemed almost other worldly. Amelia wanted to get to know this woman better. As she surveyed them, Lord Hariston looked straight at her and raised his glass; it was a clear signal that she should join them. She felt slightly uncertain about doing so as she was worried about making a bad impression on Sophia.

  She decided that perhaps she would be a better person all round if she insisted on doing the things that made her feel uncomfortable and self-conscious. She had acted such with Henry and things had only gone well, except for being dragged off by Lord Eldridge in front of him. Luckily, Lord Eldridge was not here to embarrass her such tonight. She decided to ignore her nerves and join the pair.

  Sophia was very pretty with intelligence showing through her clear eyes. Amelia suspected she was a very shrewd woman.

  “The lovely Miss Amelia Hessworth,” Lord Hariston said. “Have you been introduced?” he asked Sophia.

  “We have once, but we didn’t get the chance to make good acquaintances,” Sophia said. “Celeste is very protective of her.” It was an odd statement and Amelia got the impression she made the comment to Lord Hariston more than to her.

  “She has told me that you manage a set of enterprises,” Amelia said. “It sounds very intriguing.”

  “Intriguing?” Lord Hariston said. “What need has such beauty as these two creatures in front of me of intrigue?”

  “Well Lord Hariston, there is a certain intrigue in the ability to pick and choose one’s own adventures,” Sophia said.

  “Yes,” Amelia confirmed, not meaning to say so out loud. “It must be …”

  “But some cumbersome ventures, when your beauty can move mountains on its own.”

  “Beauty fades,” Sophia said with a tsk.

  “True beauty never fades,” Lord Hariston replied. “We are but poor slaves to its power.”

  Amelia decided that there was something about Lord Hariston that she didn’t immediately like. She wasn’t sure what it was, but she guessed that she disliked that he didn’t directly support Sophia’s achievements even as it had no bearing on him. He turned his attention to her.

  “You look like a Grecian goddess,” he said with a small bow. Amelia was flattered, she couldn’t be anything but. “I propose that this become the fashion for all ladies.”

  “It certainly would save a great deal of expense on wardrobe,” Amelia said. Even though she looked wonderful in it, it was still a very simple dress. “And not particularly practical in colder weather.”

  “I’m not even sure our summers are warm enough for such attire,” Sophia said with a laugh. “I think there are only truly practical in the Mediterranean. Although, I have to say, you can get away quite nicely without a corset.”

  “Now you are making me blush,” Lord Hariston said, although there wasn’t much of a true blush coloring his cheeks. Amelia got the feeling that precious little would make him blush; his eyes revealed that he’d seen pretty much everything there was to see in this world. She wondered if Lord Eldridge would look like that one day. These men that had seen everything but love—they placed no value or belief in it.

  “I understand that you are living here at the moment,” he said.

  “Yes,” Amelia affirmed.

  “Celeste will make a brilliant guide for you. She is extraordinary. If there is any way I can assist you, any way at all, I insist that you ask me. I would be more than happy to help with any future endeavors,” he said meaningfully.

  Endeavors, Amelia wondered to herself, somehow she didn’t think he meant helping her find the love of her life. She could only guess he meant some kind of agreement related to her affections. Perhaps this was the way it was done—a slightly veiled proposition, no doubt a coy smile and a pat on the arm and it was all on.

  “Perhaps I shall think of an enterprise as well,” Amelia said and smiled to Sophia. “It is clearly possible and Sophia more than shows that a woman can make a success of it.”

  Lord Hariston smiled tightly, he was clearly less than impressed, but he cheered up. “You would of course need an investor.”

  “Well if that’s the case and your idea i
s good, then you should come talk to me,” Sophia said with a coy smile aimed at Lord Hariston. Amelia liked and admired this woman even more than she had before.

  They were then distracted by Anton reading from the Iliad. He stood on a chair and read out part of the poem, completely engrossed in it, and he did a lovely job. She wondered if his passion had always been to go on the stage himself, but duty had prohibited it. She suspected that was the case and she felt sorry for him. She understood well the pressure he likely faced and she treasured her own freedom even more, even with the stress and uncertainty that came with it.

  Richard returned home close to midnight. It had been a painful and depressing night. He’d accepted an invitation to a dinner with a family with strong political ties. It had been a dreadful affair, culminating with an awful performance by the daughter on the pianoforte. The girl might have been moderately gifted, but her nervousness made her miss keys which just compounded her distress. It was painful to watch and completely agonising on his ears.

  He had already dismissed this event. It was one of those nights where he’d be eyed up like a piece of meat. He’d never really appreciated how brutal and mercenary women could be until he’d trod on the scene of society’s meat market. Tonight had been close enough to it as it including the parading of several unmarried young women and the odd older one too. However, when the invite to Celeste Bueford soiree had eventuated, even as it was in passing inclusion, he’d been desperate for anything else to do and he had been sorely punished for his decision. One of the young chits even spilled her wine on him and he suspected she’d done it on purpose to have a way of starting a conversation. They were like pray mantis, waiting for a male whose head they could chew off.

  He’d hated every minute of the night, partially because he couldn’t help wondering what Celeste Bueford’s party was like. He’d attended a few such gatherings in the West Indies, gatherings by women of lower standing. They had always been raucous affairs where there were generally too much wine imbibed by all. Although things were in general a bit more extreme in the West Indies, as was the company that gentlemen sometimes kept being the melting pot it was. One of his acquaintances even had a Chinese mistress, which was far more exotic that the likes of Celeste Bueford.