Love or Title: The Colchester Sisters

by Darcy, Charlotte

  She had a pretty comb in the side of her hair with some dainty paper flowers on it, just large enough to be seen and small enough to be discreet. All in all, Esme felt comfortable. She was pleased with her appearance.

  The ballroom at Berkeley Hall was vast and had been decorated with great vases of summer flowers set on tall pedestals all about the place. Esme could detect their fragrance everywhere and breathed in deeply to enjoy it. She had a good feeling about the evening and she felt a knot of nervous pleasure in her stomach every time she thought about the Marquis. He was likely already here somewhere, all she had to do was find him.

  Of course, she did not intend to make herself obvious. Instead she would stand a few feet away with her sisters, seemingly oblivious to his presence, and wait for the Marquis to make the first move.

  With Mr. and Mrs. Colchester deep in conversation with Lord and Lady Hollerton, Esme and her sisters began to gently work their way through the ballroom.

  “There he is.” Verity was the first to spy him as he stood in the middle of a group of five or six people.

  “Then let us stand here, for we are close enough,” Esme said and stood sideways onto the group, her face determinedly turned towards her sisters.

  “So now we just stand here in the hope that he notices you?” Verity said and seemed quietly annoyed with the whole thing.

  But Verity was young and determined not to understand the way things were out in society and very likely thought that Esme could simply walk up to the man and bid him good evening.

  “That is the idea, yes,” Esme said with a hint of exasperation. “I cannot simply insert myself into his party, you see.”

  “I do not see why you have to search for him at all. If he likes you well enough, Esme, then surely he might search for you instead. It strikes me that you are not going to enjoy the ball standing here all night sideways onto him and aching from such impossibly perfect posture.”

  “If you are not at all happy to be with us this evening, Verity, you could always return to Mama and Papa and take part in the conversation with Lord and Lady Hollerton.” Esme knew she was being waspish, but she was nervous enough without Verity’s determined common sense.

  There was no place for common sense at a society ball, surely.

  “My dear, the Marquis has seen you and he is smiling,” Jane said discreetly, doing her best to hide her excitement. “He has his head tilted to one side and has made eye contact with me, Esme. I think you must turn now to acknowledge him.”

  “Right, I shall do just that,” Esme said and hesitated for a moment.

  She felt suddenly far less nervous and rather more afraid than she had done before. She began to question herself, to wonder if she had played her cards of behavior and etiquette correctly. Perhaps she had not, perhaps she had been obvious and therefore lacking polish.

  “Esme, you must acknowledge him,” Jane said with a little hint of panic in her voice.

  Esme immediately turned her head, her heart lurching when she looked into his face. She inclined her head gracefully and was so relieved when he smiled at her that she could have fainted. The wave of relief made her feel a little weak and she realized just how afraid she had been that he would not notice her or, if he did, that he would not pay her any heed whatsoever.

  But that was all her mother’s talk upsetting her, she was sure of it. Mrs. Colchester had been determined to make her daughter aware that she need never accept any invitations that she did not want to accept. It did not matter who they were from, she did not have to spend time in anybody’s company if she did not find them agreeable.

  Esme had known immediately that her mother was talking of the Marquis and she had found herself defending the man, telling her mother how perfectly pleasant he had been out in the grounds of Longton Hall. But her mother simply nodded and smiled sweetly, her mind clearly already made up about Daniel Winsford.

  When the Marquis broke free from his little party for a moment and began to walk towards her, Esme’s heart was beating like a drum. He stopped in front of her, his black breeches and tailcoat immaculate against his golden colored waistcoat and white shirt. His thick dark hair looked good enough for her to reach out and touch, although she knew she would never do such a thing.

  “Miss Colchester, how lovely to see you here,” he said in the tone of one who was surprised that she was there at all.

  Her mother and his had discussed their attendance at the Berkeley ball when they had afternoon tea, but perhaps the Marquis had been a little out of sorts, or at least had not paid much attention.

  “I hope you are well, My Lord,” Esme said and inclined her head again, seemingly amusing him.

  “Indeed, I am well,” he said and was smiling. “Come, let me introduce you to my party.” He held out his arm for her to take.

  Esme caught Jane’s eye and saw her sister nod that she should go, that she should leave her and Verity behind and not worry about it.

  “Please allow me to introduce you to my cousin, Miss Colchester. This is Lady Rachel Marlow and she has come to stay at Longton Hall for a few weeks.”

  “I am pleased to meet you, My Lady,” Esme said shyly.

  “And I am pleased to meet you, Miss Colchester.” Lady Rachel smiled at her warmly, reminding Esme greatly of Lady Longton.

  There was an ease and kindness about the woman that she immediately liked.

  “And these are my friends, Miss Colchester,” the Marquis went on in a tone she did not quite recognize. She felt a little embarrassment when she thought it might be amusement on his part. “This is Michael Burton and his sisters, Miss Eliza Burton and Miss Henrietta Burton.”

  “How nice to meet you, Miss Colchester.” Michael Burton was ostentatiously dressed compared to the Marquis, but he was polite if not friendly as he performed a little bow.

  “I am pleased to make your acquaintance, Mr. Burton.” Esme turned to Mr. Burton’s sisters only to find that they had already begun to speak amongst themselves again and had no intention of going through with the full and formal introduction.

  Something about it made Esme feel small, parochial almost, as if her simple manners were somehow old-fashioned. But surely manners were never old-fashioned, and the sisters were behaving rather poorly.

  “Miss Colchester’s mother is a friend of my mother,” the Marquis said as if to explain her presence. “Mrs. Colchester does charitable works as my mother does, and that is how they have come to be acquainted, is it not?” He narrowed his eyes and looked at Esme for confirmation.

  “Yes, that is quite true,” Esme said, feeling a little silly and wondering where this was all going to end.

  “And my mother invited Miss Colchester and her parents for afternoon tea last week. So there, now our connection is explained,” he said and barked a little laugh.

  All three Burtons barked along with him, the sisters, Eliza and Henrietta, rather loudly. But Lady Rachel was not at all amused by her cousin and moved to stand at Esme’s side.

  “Lady Longton speaks very highly of your mother, Miss Colchester. I believe that, between them, they have been instrumental in raising a good deal of money at their most recent charity drive.”

  “Indeed, they have, My Lady,” Esme said, grateful for the woman’s concern but rather embarrassed and wishing that she could find some way to easily return to her sisters.

  “I must say, I do like your gown, my dear,” Henrietta Burton said in a shrill voice.

  Esme turned to look at her and could see amusement riding high in her small and beady eyes. Esme knew immediately that it was not a true compliment and yet everything she knew of manners and etiquette demanded that she thank Henrietta Burton nonetheless.

  No wonder Verity was so disenchanted with society and all its little demands. But Esme was a different person altogether, and she would behave in her own way.

  “Thank you, Miss Burton,” Esme said, hoping that the lighting was just dim enough that nobody would see her blushing.

  �
�Really, it is so sweet. Had you not been here at a ball I would think you on your way to your wedding.” Henrietta Burton spoke in a determinedly sweet and sickly tone, one disguised to thinly veil her spiteful intent.

  So, the Marquis had discussed her before he had brought her into the little group and, if his friends thought they could be so rude to her, it was clear that he had not discussed her in glowing terms.

  “It really is a very nice gown,” Lady Rachel said hurriedly, but her gentle voice was drowned out by the laughter of the Marquis and Mr. Burton and his sisters.

  “You must not take dear Henrietta seriously, Miss Colchester. She does have something of a bright sense of humor,” the Marquis said but it did nothing to make Esme feel any better.

  She felt small and stupid and wished for all the world that she could find some pretense for walking away from them. But she could think of nothing, so she simply nodded and smiled and wished that she could dissolve.

  “Ah, I have been looking for you everywhere my dear,” came a booming male voice at her side. “Do forgive me, one and all, but might I steal away Miss Colchester for a few moments?” he asked, addressing the group.

  “By all means,” the Marquis said, although Esme thought he now looked a little disgruntled that another man had approached her.

  The whole thing really was so very confusing; one moment he liked her, the next he did not.

  But more confusing than that was the man at her elbow, holding out his arm to lead her away. Esme knew that she did not know him, they had never been introduced, and so she could hardly imagine what it was that he wanted with her.

  “Please do excuse me,” Esme said and bowed her head before taking the man’s arm and allowing him to lead her away.

  “Forgive me, Miss Colchester, for I know that we have not been introduced.”

  “No, we have not,” she said waspishly, even though he had appeared as if to answer her silent prayer for some reason to escape. “But I have seen you before, have I not?”

  “Yes, you caught me out at Lord and Lady Hollerton’s garden party for staring at you,” he said and laughed. “And you must forgive me, but I thought you were perhaps in need of a little assistance. I am not a man who would like to stand and see a young lady made a fool of for the sport of others.”

  “I am not at all grateful for that description of me, Sir,” Esme said, her pride suddenly swooping down from above and wrapping its heavy wings around her.

  “Forgive me, I did not mean to make matters worse,” he said and looked at her apologetically.

  He was a curious man and she wondered why on earth he had chosen to insert himself into her life. Ignoring the fact that he had, in a very practical sense, freed her from the situation she had been aching to escape, Esme chose instead to save all her annoyance for him.

  She stared at him openly, defying every rule of etiquette she had carefully learned over the years as she made a very fine study of him. Esme realized that, had he not annoyed her so greatly, she might have found that face of his handsome.

  He had fair hair and pale blue eyes, tanned looking skin, and a very firm jawline. He was older than the Marquis by some years, perhaps being a little more than thirty, and he was taller and broader than the Marquis, looking far less aristocratic because of it.

  Esme had liked the Marquis’ looks from top to toe. He was tall enough and slim with the slightly angular features of the aristocrat.

  The man in front of her could have been anybody on earth. As handsome as he was, there was something in his manner which she assumed would make him a little rough, somewhat uncultured. And even though he had rescued her, he had done so in such a clumsy way that she thought his manners were very likely a little wanting.

  “I do not understand why you thought it necessary to come to my aid,” Esme said in a determinedly cool tone of voice.

  “Forgive me, I did not know it was the current mode for young ladies to enjoy being treated so cruelly,” he said and bowed, making ready to leave her.

  “No, no,” Esme said, panicking a little. “You cannot go yet.”

  “Why not?” he said, and she was certain he was laughing a little under his breath. “When I have displeased you so.”

  “You gave the Marquis to understand that we were acquainted. If you leave me standing here now, you will make more of a fool of me than ever.”

  “Then I am to rescue you from foolishness but be pleased to have you berate me for doing it?” Despite the harshness of his words, the man was smiling at her.

  “Since you have caused all of this, I think it is incumbent upon you to see it through, Mr… Mr…?”

  “Wentworth. George Wentworth,” he said and bowed.

  “Well, this is a fine introduction!” Esme said, knowing that her rancor was not entirely reserved for Mr. Wentworth.

  Still, she was not yet ready to admit defeat as far as the Marquis of Longton was concerned. Forgetting Mr. Wentworth for a moment, Esme peered down at her gown and wondered, with the lace overlay, if it did not look little bridal after all.

  Hardly able to believe that she had thought she looked so well as she had set off from her father’s house that evening, Esme silently berated herself for her poor choice of attire.

  “It is a very nice gown, Miss Colchester, and it suits you very well indeed,” he said and looked at her with the sort of appreciation that made her blush.

  “Not that it is any of your business,” she said ungraciously.

  “What you wear is none of my business, Miss Colchester. What I choose to see as pleasing, however, is.” He was smiling at her again and Esme found herself growing more and more annoyed.

  “I think I will return to my company now, Mr. Wentworth,” Esme said simply, wishing she had never come out for the evening at all.

  Everything had gone so dreadfully wrong and the fact was that she felt like crying.

  “Would you like me to return you to the Marquis, or return you to your sisters?” he asked, and his tone of voice was less amused now and somewhat gentler and more concerned.

  “I think I should like to be returned to my sisters,” Esme said, knowing that she was admitting defeat but equally sure that there could be nothing to be gained from spending the evening in the company of Mr. Burton and his sisters.

  She had decided by then the entire thing was their fault. Their spiteful influence had ruined everything.

  Chapter 6

  “But why did this Mr. Wentworth come to take you away?” Verity asked, not ready to receive anything other than the fullest explanation.

  “He thought I needed rescuing.” Esme shrugged dismissively.

  “Is that because the Marquis and his party were laughing at you?” Verity seemed angry with Esme.

  “Laughing at me? Oh, of course not.” Esme was being defensive. “And I cannot work out why it is you seem angry with me, Verity,” she added.

  The Colchester women had all convened in Esme’s bedroom that night after the ball. All sitting on her bed in their nightgowns with their thick hair in long plaits, the women had gone over every part of the evening. Although it was true to say that Esme had left one or two things out.

  “My dear, you did seem most uncomfortable. And those two young women were braying with laughter like donkeys, I could hear them from where I stood,” Jane said gently. “Esme, you know you may tell us anything. We are sisters, are we not?”

  Esme felt miserable as she watched the shadows from the two lit candles dancing on the walls of her chamber. Ordinarily, she found such a thing relaxing and comforting. But that night, the shadows looked taller to her somehow, darker and more ominous, as if even they found her ridiculous.

  “I must admit, I was a little embarrassed in the Marquis’ company. But not because of anything he did or said, really. It was the dreadful Burtons. His friend, Michael Burton and sisters, Eliza and Henrietta Burton. The sisters in particular were very rude, making unpleasing comments about my gown. They made me feel a little ashamed,”
Esme admitted and felt suddenly tearful although she blinked hard to avoid letting the tears fall.

  “But that is disgraceful!” Jane said and reached across the bed to take her sister’s hand. “You poor thing, how awful of them to behave in such a way. But what did the Marquis have to say about it all? Surely, he did not simply allow them to abuse you in such a way.”

  “No, no,” Esme said, wondering at her determination to defend the man when he had not defended her. “His cousin, Lady Rachel Marlow, told me that it was a very nice gown. She is a very pleasant lady, I am sure. She reminds me greatly of the Marquis’ mother.”

  “Then I am glad that she was there, my dear,” Jane went on. “But perhaps it was for the Marquis to provide a comforting presence in that moment and not his cousin. After all, he was the one who invited you to join their party and so you were his responsibility.”

  Esme felt a little cornered; she was always a great student of etiquette and modern manners and now her own sister was using that against her.

  The truth was, the Marquis really did ought to have taken more responsibility for her or, more to the point, perhaps never invited her to join his party in the first place. From the moment she had taken his arm and allowed him to lead her away, she really had become his responsibility.

  “But never mind that now,” Jane said, and Esme realized that her sister had sensed a little of her own upset and decided to talk about other things. “Tell us more about that handsome man who intervened.”

  “He did not intervene, Jane, he interfered. There was a very real difference, my dear,” Esme said, and could feel herself becoming haughty at the very mention of the man.

  So haughty, in fact, that it was as if he had suddenly appeared before her.

  “I hardly even noticed him until he was leading you away. He must be a very stealthy sort of a man,” Verity said with interest. “But surely he was close enough to know what was going on, otherwise he would have had no grounds to lead you away.”