Glitter

by Abbi Glines

  I simply nodded, not giving her the satisfaction of a response and said my farewells before leaving both ladies behind in the garden. It was very likely that Ashington had spent the evening with Miriam because he needed more conversation. Lydia was rather quiet. I felt slightly drained from having to carry the mornings conversation as I climbed into my carriage but not before instructing the driver to take me to 18 Mayfair.

  Ashington’s carriage wasn’t outside and to that I was relieved. My morning had been taxing enough. I was here for two reasons and seeing Ashington was not one of them. However, finding out how last night went was one of them. The other was completely selfish. I wanted to see Miriam. I was an honest man, at least I was honest with myself. Others, it was give and take.

  The butler led me to the drawing room, and unlike the last time, I did not have flowers to enchant Miriam with nor was she entertaining a suitor. Instead, Miriam sat on the settee with a book open in her lap and what appeared to be a chocolate in her left hand.

  Her eyes widened at my arrival and she sat both the book and chocolate down before standing up. “Mr. Compton,” she said in way of greeting although it was neither warm nor inviting. I had come past the typical visiting hours and it was clear she was quite comfortable. I enjoyed seeing her this way and I was glad I’d chosen to stop by, even if it was uncustomary.

  “My aunt will be right back, she just left to go find a letter from her sister,” Miriam explained. “I wasn’t expecting company.” There was a cautiousness in her eyes I truly hated to see there. She was not happy to see me nor did she trust me.

  “It’s past the typical visiting hours I realize, but I was passing by and wanted to see you. Seems I missed your conversation. My morning has been rather dull,” I explained.

  Miriam studied me as if she wasn’t sure what to believe. “I thought perhaps you might be lost,” she replied, not willing to pretend she was pleased with my company. I liked that fire. It was one more thing to like about Miriam Bathurst. As if I needed more encouragement.

  “I am not lost, I can assure you. I’ve thought of little else but speaking to you after our last encounter.” I decided a little bluntness was in order to get her attention if not to soften her as well. I didn’t believe easing back into her good graces would be easy.

  Surprising me, she motioned for the high back chair across from her. “Please have a seat. I shall ring for tea. Tis a bit early but biscuits must be better for me than the chocolates Aunt Harriet keeps around.”

  Smiling, I took the chair she motioned toward. “Thank you. Tea sounds good. As does your company.” I hadn’t expected to be offered a seat until her aunt’s arrival in the room. This had to be a good sign.

  Miriam took her seat again and didn’t reach for the book or chocolate she had been holding when I arrived. “Is it my company you seek or are you here to find out about your brother’s business?” she asked me directly without blinking.

  There it was. The lady was indeed fearless. She got to the point and didn’t feign ignorance to appear attractive. Something I had never understood anyway. Her offering me tea meant nothing. She had simply decided to deal with me head on. Lead the attack by making me uncomfortable. Had she hoped that would send me running? Surely not. She was much too smart for that.

  “Both,” I replied just as directly. If there was a chance that Miriam would be in the crosshairs of a revenge meant only to harm my brother then she deserved my honesty when requested. I wanted nothing more than for Ashington to choose Lydia. However, I could easily see my brother being bewitched by Miss Bathurst.

  She nodded. “I thought so.”

  “Why does this not surprise me?” I asked.

  She lifted a shoulder and sighed. “I don’t know, perhaps because your charming smile and pretty face don’t distract me from your true intentions. I am aware you will unleash your best work on whoever can best assist you in your games.”

  “Pretty face? I don’t know if I should be insulted, horrified, or flattered. No woman has ever labeled me as pretty before, Miss Bathurst. Why is it with you I always experience a first?” I had chosen to ignore the part about my true intentions. It appeared Miss Bathurst understood way more than I had believed. I had to protect my plan for revenge. Even from her.

  She scrunched her nose playfully. “Most people use the word pretty as a feminine description but the definition is not necessarily the case. Handsome is a harder more rugged description while you have such perfect features women find themselves swooning over your appearance alone. It is rather shallow.”

  My laughter wasn’t forced or part of an act. It was real and it seemed that only in the presence of Miriam Bathurst did I feel any positive emotions at all. She reminded me of happiness and light. She made me want to be a different man. One that I was sure I could never be. Not even for her. However, in the moments I was with her, I wanted to forget that and just soak in the feeling of all that was Miriam.

  Miriam, however, did not smile. It was almost as if she knew of my desire to see her smile at me again and was punishing me. I regretted the fact one day soon she would want nothing more than to forget me. I had no doubt she would accomplish just that. However, I knew forgetting her would be an impossible task. Miriam Bathurst may just haunt me for eternity.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Miriam Bathurst

  “I have the grandest of news, honey! Your sister is to come for a visit! Isn’t that the most spectacular thing? I have been sending requests to your mother as has your uncle since the beginning of the season and we finally got a response. She is a rather difficult lady, isn’t she?” Aunt Harriet came barreling into the drawing room, not only speaking so loudly in her excitement that it could be considered shouting, but she was also in her bare feet with a piece of chocolate in one hand and another shoved in the side of her mouth so she could speak while she read the letter in her other hand.

  Unfortunately, she didn’t take a moment to look up from the letter she was reading as she continued to speak rather loudly in her American accent whilst eating the chocolate in her mouth. “She says right here that Whitney will require proper attire if we wish to take her out into the city but request that if we do not plan on buying her new gowns to keep her indoors unseen. Can you believe she’d say that? I mean of course we will provide the darling with gowns but that we should-” She stopped mid-sentence as she finally lifted her gaze from the letter in front of her to find I wasn’t alone.

  Her eyes went so wide as her mouth dropped open in surprise. There was a moment of silence and I knew the small facts of her bare feet and chocolate stuffed mouth were all beginning to dawn on her. As I saw the light in her eyes, I began to giggle. I couldn’t help myself. Aunt Harriet was rather comfortable in her home and held no stock in formality. My gaze swung over to see how Nicholas Compton was taking this and I found that it was taking much for him to keep from joining me in laughter. I hadn’t felt like smiling much less laughing since his arrival but leave it to Aunt Harriet to change that.

  It was in that moment laughter did join mine, but it wasn’t Mr. Compton’s. It was Aunt Harriet’s. She let out one of her loud belly laughs and finished eating the chocolate she’d had stuffed in the side of her cheek while speaking. This only fed my laughter more but then there was the reason she had come in here so rashly and in a hurry to tell me the news that also had me suddenly feeling buoyant and full of joy.

  I stood then and walked over to her. She stopped laughing and smiled at me as I stood in front of her. “Tis true. Whitney is coming?” I asked.

  She nodded her head vigorously. “And we will buy her the most beautiful gowns. She will feel like a princess,” my aunt promised.

  My laughter soon turned on me and tears of joy filled my eyes. I threw my arms around Aunt Harriet, hugging her tightly. “Oh, thank you. Thank you so much. She will love London.”

  I missed Whitney more and more every day. Just having her here with me would make this all so much easier.

 
“Of course, honey. I would have gotten her here sooner had your momma not been so difficult,” Aunt Harriet assured me. She didn’t need to explain that. I knew all about my mother and how she could be.

  Aunt Harriet patted my back and then said, “It appears you’ve come to call and found us in a less than formal state, Mr. Compton. I do hope you can forgive us,” Aunt Harriet said over my shoulder in a tone that was light-hearted and not at all worried what he may think of all the emotion he had witnessed.

  I pulled away from her then and wiped my eyes and face from the tears that had escaped. Crying in front of Mr. Compton hadn’t been my plan, but the emotions that hit me all at once had been too much. I went to sleep at night thinking of the day I would once again see my sister. My dreams were of when she would be given the opportunity to experience the London season and all the things she wanted so badly.

  “Please do not apologize,” Mr. Compton said as I managed to dry my face enough to turn and face him again. He stood and I thought he was going to take his leave. For that I could not blame him. Most men would have bolted for the door well before now. However, he walked over to me and held out a small white starched handkerchief. I saw his initials in the top corner as I folded it before drying my face properly.

  “Thank you,” I said, but I didn’t feel the need to make excuses for the scene he had witnessed. He had chosen to visit when we were not expecting visitors. My aunt was an American and her ways were not English ways. In her home, if she wanted to walk around in her bare feet and talk with her mouth full then she could. Furthermore, I was not trying to impress Mr. Compton. I knew he was not here for anything more than information on his brother.

  Whereas I did believe Lord Ashington was truly seeking a wife, Mr. Compton was only seeking to cause trouble. I could be wrong but that was how it all seemed to be playing out thus far. Nicholas Compton was being much too obvious with his back and forth between me and Lydia Ramsbury. He had chosen no other female to escort to the opera, for a walk in the park, or for even a dance. There was nothing true about his intentions.

  “I was unaware we had company. It was just that when I opened the letter and saw that Alfred’s sister had finally agreed to send her youngest daughter for a visit, I knew Miriam would want to know right away. She has missed her so very much,” Aunt Harriet continued to explain herself, which I wished she wouldn’t. None of this was of any concern to Mr. Compton nor would it ever be. I was not going to be a willing participant in his games.

  “It is my belief that Miss Bathurst is a very lucky lady to have such a loving aunt on her side who champions her the way you do. I am but a visitor in your home and I feel honored to have witnessed such a touching scene between the two of you,” Mr. Compton replied.

  Although I knew his response wasn’t proper at all, Aunt Harriet beamed, having no idea how informal he was being. This was her way and if it made her more comfortable, so be it. At this point, how more informal could we be? She was already in her bare feet and talking with her mouth full.

  The maid entered with afternoon tea that I had forgotten I had rung for at Mr. Compton’s arrival.

  “Oh, do stay for tea,” Aunt Harriet said to Mr. Compton, not realizing the afternoon tea was quite early and I must have already sent for it due to his visit.

  “I would love to,” he replied then turned to me and gave me a small smile. It was our secret. He didn’t want her corrected and if I didn’t like him for it. Most gentlemen would criticize and find reasons to leave. Nicholas Compton might have some faults, but this was not one of them. He had good deep inside, if only he chose to use it more.

  Aunt Harriet seemed more than thrilled by his response. She clapped her hands together. “Wonderful. Let me find my slippers and I will join you both shortly,” she said then turned and hurried back out the door.

  When she was gone, Nicholas looked at me. “Do her feet not get cold?” he asked.

  I shook my head. “No and it might be a while before she returns. She rarely remembers where she left them,” I replied honestly.

  This caused him to laugh some more and I smiled as I took a sip of my tea. There was no harm in relaxing in his company. I knew he wasn’t here for reasons that concerned me. He simply came to find out what his brother’s intentions were. Truthfully, I doubted very much that Lord Ashington would spend much more time with me. I held no title and I was much too opinionated to be a countess. I had never thought to aspire to such ranks and I wasn’t sure I wanted to start. I needed a husband, but I didn’t require one with such a grand title.

  These were the things I had been telling myself since arriving home last night. It did me no good to feel anything for Lord Ashington. There had been moments last night when an odd warmth in my chest startled me when I looked at him. He had been much more interesting than I had assumed. I believed he would make a fine husband. Just not mine. I wasn’t what he would choose as a wife and letting myself believe otherwise would lead to future heartbreak. For I was afraid I might find myself truly having feelings for Lord Ashington if I let my guard down.

  “Tell me about your sister,” Mr. Compton said as he placed his cup of tea back on the table beside him.

  The smile came easily to my lips as I thought of my sister’s arrival. “What is it you wish to know?” I asked him, not sure if he was truly interested or if he was seeking conversation only.

  “Anything you wish to share. I’ve not heard you speak of her much and it is clear you two are very close. That is something quite foreign to me. Ashington is my only sibling.”

  He didn’t need to say more. We both knew what he meant by that; however, I wasn’t sure it was Ashington’s fault entirely that the two hated each other. Nor was it my business to know the details of why they were at odds. Even if I did probe, I doubted very much that I would receive much truth. There was a gleam in Nicholas Compton’s eyes that made one question his sincerity.

  “Whitney is a true beauty and brightens any room she enters. Her laughter is musical and she can make the dreariest of days happy. She finds joy in the simplest moments and makes one wish to see the world as she does. I don’t miss home, I miss Whitney. She is home to me.” It was easy to speak of my sister. Knowing she would be here with me soon eased the ache of missing her so much. Just speaking of her made my mood lift.

  Mr. Compton said nothing but the way he looked upon me was puzzling. It was as if he were seeing someone he had never met. Measuring them and their words perhaps. It was an odd experience to be on the receiving end of such a gaze. I wondered what he was thinking, but I asked nothing, remaining silent.

  When he finally spoke, he cleared his throat and leaned back in the velvet high back chair. “Not in all my days have I heard a lady speak of another with such honest reverence. Even amongst sisters, there is always a hedge, be it rivalry or jealousy. However, your words were spoken with such purity that it can’t be questioned.” He said this as if he couldn’t believe the words he was speaking.

  “I would give my life for my sister,” I stated because, in truth, I was doing just that. Choosing to marry was giving up the dreams I had for myself. The life I had wanted I would give up so that Whitney could have the one she deserved.

  “I have no doubt and I must say I am shocked by it,” he replied, still studying me as if I were something strange. “I think you can’t be any more intriguing Miss Bathurst yet, with each moment I spend in your presence, I find I am wrong.”

  His words were flattering I would admit, but again, I was never sure if I was but a pawn in his game. I dare not take his words to heart for they could become something to hurt me in the future. I was not in London for myself. I was here for my sister. I best remember that.

  “I assure you I am as common as the next girl,” I replied then took a sip of my tea. In the future, it would do for me to be careful how much emotion I laid bare for others to see. Especially the likes of Nicholas Compton. His beauty was not something to be blinded by, for his inside did not reflect his outw
ard appearance.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Earl of Ashington

  I wasn’t sure how long I could remain in the city before going back to Chatwick Hall and dealing with pressing matters of business. Emma loved the country and would be more than happy to return, but I had yet to decide on a wife. Perhaps we could be gone but a fortnight and the time away would give me time to clear my thoughts.

  A blur of yellow ran past me then skidded to a halt beside the library door before turning and darting inside. It was as if I hadn’t been standing here at all. I waited and it was but a moment before I heard the heavy footsteps of Alice coming down the hallway.

  “Miss Emma, if you stain one piece of furniture,” she called out in a warning tone.

  Stain? What had the child done now?

  Alice spotted me and stopped. “Have you seen her?” she asked me, looking weary.

  I pointed to the library door.

  Alice raised her eyebrows. “Pray she hasn’t touched your priceless collections with her jam covered fingers,” she said then made her way to the library.

  Concerned for my books, I followed Alice. The library was normally dark with the drapes closed, but I had been in here earlier and had them opened. I would remember next time to close them to keep naughty little runaway girls out.

  “I know you took the jar of jam from the kitchen, Miss Emma,” Alice began. “If you touch anything with the jam, you will ruin it. There are priceless books in this room.”

  I was scanning the area for any sign of small feet hidden under or behind something.

  “I licked my fingers clean,” a small voice called out.

  I sighed in relief.

  “There will be no jam with tea ever again for you if you don’t come out,” Alice warned.

  That was enough to draw the well-hidden Emma from behind a bookcase containing all of Shakespeare’s plays. One small white slipper appeared then a small body slid out with it as she looked at both of us solemnly. Berry jam was smeared around her mouth and a touch on her nose. She may have cleaned her hands, but her face was quite a mess.