The Brahmin Ball (A Sweet Historical Romance Novella) (Brahmin Brides Book 1)

by Julianna Blake

  “I doubt we enjoyed our holidays as much as you did.” Madeline cast a pointed glance up toward the door of the Browning residence.

  He followed her glance, then returned his gaze to Madeline. “I would very much like to speak with you. Can I offer you ladies a ride home?”

  Madeline exchanged a glance with Clara, then shook her head. “I don’t think that would be wise, under the circumstances. But we’ll accept a short ride, down the street a ways, and back.”

  “Very well.” Mr. Gladstone helped Madeline into the front of the four-seat sleigh, then assisted Clara as she climbed into the back seat. Walking around the sleigh, he got settled, and they were soon off.

  The wind on her face was cold as they whooshed down the snow-packed street, falling into line between other sleighs. Beacon Street was as busy as always on afternoons following a snowfall—couples enjoyed spending time together, and young men were always eager to show off their new sleighs. Madeline blushed, realizing that it could appear that she was spending time with Mr. Gladstone, with Clara as a chaperone. If Mr. Gladstone was indeed engaged, and people talked, her mother would have a fit.

  “This is my uncle’s sleigh,” Mr. Gladstone said. There was an awkward moment of silence. “I wouldn’t want you to think I was going about, pretending it was mine.”

  “It’s not my business whose carriage or sleigh you make use of, Mr. Gladstone.” Madeline deliberately made the conversation difficult—probably to the point of rudeness—but she was so angry for Grace’s sake, she found it difficult to stop herself.

  “Yes. Well…” he cleared his throat. “I’ve been eager to…no, forgive me, I should let you speak first. You said you wanted a word with me?”

  He cast her a sideways glance, and the tension in his jaw told Madeline that he might have an inkling that she wanted to give him a dressing-down.

  “I did.” She took a deep breath, steeling herself to be bold. “You embarrassed my sister the night of the ball. You promised her a dance, then cut out in the middle of the ball, with not so much as a word of apology. One could forgive it, should there have been an excuse, such as illness. But I hear you’re doing well. In fact,” she tilted her chin higher, piercing him with a look, “I hear you’re doing quite well. Am I to understand that congratulations may soon be in order?”

  She caught Clara out of the corner of her eye as she watched Gladstone—she was shrinking down in the back seat a bit, in embarrassment.

  Gladstone turned his head sharply, his expression a mixture of shock and confusion. “Congratulations? I’m not sure what you could mean.”

  Madeline’s certainty wavered. “Are you not courting Felicity Browning? I apologize if I’m being presumptuous, but it sounds as if the announcement will come any day…”

  Irritation passed over his face as he drew himself up in indignation. “You are indeed being presumptuous, Miss Barstow. And I’m surprised that any sister of Miss Grace Barstow would take part in such gossip. It’s no one’s business to make any assumptions about my visits to the Browning home, unless or until I or the Brownings disclose the reason for such visits.”

  “I…I didn’t mean…” Madeline had lost her footing, and didn’t know how to stand her ground. He was right. She’d made assumptions and listened to gossip, and even if it was true, it wasn’t her place to ask about any of it. But that didn’t make his treatment of Grace any more excusable.

  “What did you mean, then?” he said in a clipped manner. “And why do you accost me for ignoring your sister, when it is clearly the other way around?”

  Madeline and Clara gasped in unison.

  “How can you say such a thing,” Clara demanded, “when you abandoned her and ran off with your former fiancée? She was devastated!”

  “Clara!” Madeline chided. Grace would be humiliated if she knew they’d revealed the depth of her pain.

  “I didn’t abandon her, I gave her a message through one of the servants. She was all the way across the room, and I had no time to spare.”

  Madeline put gloved fingers over her mouth to cover her shock. She’d forgotten all about the footman who had approached Grace after Gladstone’s quick exit.

  “Did he not deliver the message?” Mr. Gladstone prompted.

  “He did. That is, he tried to, but…oh dear.” She had the feeling her embarrassment was about to deepen.

  “Are you saying Grace never heard the message? That explains it!” He slapped a hand on his knee, holding the reins with the other. He shook his head. “I thought she must have changed her mind about me. I asked him to give my regrets, and told him to ask Grace for her address, so that I could call on her later in the week. When I tried to ask Uncle’s footman the next day, I couldn’t find the man. The servants informed me that he’d been fired the evening before.”

  “Fired?” Clara asked. “For what?”

  “For reasons best not spoken of,” he said. “Uncle Edgar and Aunt Alice were already gone when I came downstairs that morning—I forgot that they were scheduled to leave that day, to spend the holidays with their daughter’s family, so I couldn’t ask for your address. A few days passed before I thought to have a servant find it for me, on Aunt Alice’s calling list. I went to your home that very day, intending to leave my calling card, but no one answered the door, and the house was silent, with curtains drawn.”

  Madeline’s stomach clenched. He must have stopped by right after they’d moved from their home. The moving crew Uncle Henry hired didn’t have much to move, as much of their valuable possessions had to be left behind, to be taken by creditors, against their father’s debts. “We…changed residences shortly after the ball.”

  Mr. Gladstone shook his head. “I never should have chosen that footman to deliver the message. I should have taken the time to do it myself. If I’d known he was a problem…”

  “Oh, but he did,” Clara piped up from the backseat. “He did try. But Grace was so upset about it, she left before he could give it.”

  “Clara!” Madeline hissed.

  “Upset about what?”

  Madeline sighed. She had no choice at that point. “She knew that you knew. She knew why you were leaving. She just couldn’t bear to hear it.”

  He glanced at Madeline before returning his eyes to the road. “I’m confused…why would Grace be upset that I was leaving to visit a sick friend? She doesn’t strike me as being so shallow.”

  Madeline clenched her hands inside her fur muff. We’ve made a grave mistake! “A sick friend?”

  “Yes. Amelia Browning. Felicia Browning’s sister.”

  Glancing back at Clara, Madeline could see she was as shocked and embarrassed as she was. “You’ve been visiting Miss Browning’s youngest sister?”

  “Yes...but…I thought you said Grace knew.”

  “No. I’m so sorry. This has all been a terrible misunderstanding. She had no idea you were visiting a sick friend. She thought…that is…we heard…”

  “You heard I was courting Miss Browning again?” He raised an eyebrow. “I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised. We were a favorite topic of gossip when we were courting. I think that might be half the reason Miss Browning insisted on continuing the courtship, despite her family’s protests, rather than true affection for me.”

  “I’m dreadfully sorry. When you disappeared so fast, at the worst possible time, we just assumed it was because…” she stopped herself just in time.

  Mr. Gladstone pulled the sleigh to the side of the street, and turned to give her his full attention. “Because?”

  “You…don’t know?” Madeline asked, slowly, unable to believe what she was hearing.

  “Know what? Miss Barstow, please stop speaking in riddles, and just say what you mean. I apologize, but given my profession, I prefer the direct approach.”

  “Surely you’ve heard about our…situation.”

  He shook his head. “Meaning, your move?”

  “The reason we moved.” She would not say it out loud, and she would ha
te him forever if he made her say it.

  “Miss Barstow, please, assume I’m completely in the dark. Because I am. What reason?”

  She stared at him in horror, then turned away.

  “Our family’s financial ruin,” Clara stated. “You can’t possibly tell us you haven’t heard. It spread through the ballroom that night like wildfire, and tongues have wagged about it ever since.”

  Madeline’s face burned, and though she dreaded it, she stole a peek at him to gauge his reaction.

  His mouth hung open with shock. “No. No, I did not know. I had no idea. I’ve been working all day and visiting Amelia every evening. She became like a little sister to me when I courted Miss Browning, and I still consider her a dear friend.”

  “How is she?” Madeline asked.

  “Much better. She came down with an awful case of influenza. They weren’t sure if she would make it. Miss Browning is still very concerned, but the doctor now expects Amelia to make a full recovery.” He heaved a sigh, looking up at the grand homes that towered three stories above them. “I had no idea your family was experiencing difficulties. I never heard the rumor. I hated to leave without saying goodbye to your sister that night, but Miss Browning told me a servant had arrived with a message that Amelia’s condition had worsened tremendously soon after she had left for the ball. She wanted me to go back with her, because she was so upset, and because she knew I’d want to see Amelia. I couldn’t ask Miss Browning to wait, so I gave the footman the message to deliver to Miss Barstow. I had no idea she hadn’t received it. I only assumed she had changed her mind, or that your mother didn’t approve.”

  “Oh dear…all this time...” Madeline shook her head, embarrassed that she had said so many terrible things about Mr. Gladstone, without knowing the facts.

  “All suffering Grace has been through…” Clara added with a sigh.

  “Clara, really!” Madeline chided.

  “He should know.”

  “I should know. It’s all my fault. I assumed the reason Grace didn’t send her calling card was because your mother must have deemed me an unsuitable match. But all this time, Grace has believed that I abandoned her at the ball…over money?”

  Madeline nodded, embarrassed.

  He sighed. “I’d be angry for her presumption, if it I hadn’t judged her just as harshly.” He straightened in his seat. “I must see her at once! I can’t let her suffer any longer—she has to know the truth.”

  “She’ll never see you,” Clara piped up from the back seat. “She’s hardly left her room in weeks.”

  “We’ll tell her,” Madeline decided. “Then she’ll come down and see you.”

  “No,” Gladstone insisted. “No, it must come from me. She’s been through a lot, with your father passing, the financial difficulties, and now thinking I’ve rejected her. She may not be thinking clearly—I know I wasn’t, for a long time after my own father passed. This is something she needs to hear from me.”

  “He’s right. And the conversation should take place away from the house, or else Mother will find a way to interfere.”

  “We’ve tried for weeks to get her downstairs,” Madeline said, shaking her head. “I don’t see how we can get her to leave the house.”

  “Oh!” Clara clapped her hands over her mouth, gasping. “I have a brilliant idea!”

  Madeline listened as Clara proposed her strategy, and had to admit it was better than any contrivance she could come up with.

  “Very well, then,” Madeline agreed, “we have a plan. I only hope it works out as we think it will.” She bit her lip, wondering if they were making a mistake.

  Grace wasn’t herself, and there was no telling what her reaction would be.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Grace was ensconced in her room, reading a book. She’d managed to avoid Mother’s attempts to drag her out on social calls, and everyone else was either in other parts of the house, or out doing their own thing.

  After her argument with Madeline the day before, Mother had burst in moments later and lectured her for twenty minutes on how she was wearing everyone’s patience thin. Grace didn’t know how much more of Mother’s needling she could take.

  For once, though, the house was quiet and she was left in peace. She drank in the silence and tried to focus on her book, relieved to be alone, for once.

  But it didn’t last.

  Grace heard rushed footsteps treading heavily up the stairs. She glanced up from her book in time to see Clara sweep into her room.

  “Get your coat on, quickly,” Clara panted. “I’ve encountered a very handsome gentleman who wishes to meet up with me in the park!”

  Her face was flushed from the cold, and her eyes sparkled. Whoever it was, he had her in an ebullient mood.

  “And why would I want to go with you?”

  Clara sighed, hands on her hips. “I need a chaperone.”

  “Ask Madeline.” Grace returned to her book.

  “Madeline isn’t here.”

  “Where is she?”

  “What difference does that make?” Clara rolled her eyes. “She’s not here, and I need a chaperone.”

  Grace raised the book higher in front of her face. “Ask Mother.”

  “Oh bother, Grace, would you take Mother? Regardless, she’s out visiting.”

  “Can’t you ask a servant?” Grace snapped, growing weary of Clara’s demands.

  “Uncle won’t let a housemaid bring you up a bowl of soup—do you really think he’ll let me drag one of them out to the park? Please?”

  Setting down her book with a sigh. “Clara, you know I haven’t been outside the house since…since before Christmas. I’m comfortable here in my room. I’ve no desire to venture out in the cold.”

  “But think on it, you could tell Mother you went out and socialized! It might keep her out of your business for a day or two. And all you have to do is sit on a park bench for an hour.”

  The idea was tempting. I doubt she’d leave me alone for a day or two, but she might lighten up on the nagging a bit. It was better than Mother dragging her to a social event.

  She relented. “Alright, let me fetch my coat. But I warn you, no more than an hour, Clara, or I’ll leave you there and tell Mother you refused to come home with me.”

  “It’s a deal!” Clara clapped, bouncing on her heels like a little girl, her face bright with joy.

  “Watch yourself. If you behave like that in front of a gentleman, you’ll scare him away.”

  “I will.” Clara nodded solemnly, following Grace out the bedroom door. “Perhaps you should put on your best wool hat.”

  “Why?” Grace glanced back over her shoulder as they descended the stairs. “He’s your beau, not mine.”

  “I never said he was my beau. We only just met for the first time, yesterday. But you should look your best…you know…in case Mother spots us in the park. It will give her one more thing to bother you about, if you aren’t looking your best.”

  “True enough. The green wool hat it is, then.”

  As they fetched their coats and Grace fit the green wool hat on her head, Clara regarded her with the strangest look.

  If I didn’t know better, Grace thought, I’d suspect my sister was up to no good. Or perhaps it is merely her excitement.

  ***

  “Ahh, the sun is coming out. That should take the edge off the chilly air,” Madeline said, trying to fill the awkward silence. She smoothed her coat over her lap, then stuck her hand back inside the fur muff. I’m glad I wore my warmest wool dress and full-length coat, or I’d be a block of ice by now.

  “I hope it does. I wouldn’t want your sister to catch a cold.” He looked up at the trees, blowing out a puff of crystalized air.

  She and Mr. Gladstone sat on a bench in the public garden on the west side of the common, waiting for Clara to return with Grace. There hadn’t been enough daylight left to instigate their plan the day before, so Madeline and Clara had met him in the garden the next afternoon at thre
e o’clock, the soonest he could leave his office.

  After Clara had left to fetch Grace, there was nothing for them to do but sit and wait, and gaze at the snow-covered gardens, the denuded bushes, and the barren branches of the elms reaching toward the sky. Now and then a neighbor or acquaintance would pass, and Madeline would smile and nod in greeting. The rest of the time was spent with either she or Mr. Gladstone commenting on the weather or the identities of various people strolling through the park.

  She had left a decent amount of room between them, taking extra care not to encourage gossip, should anyone pass by and take notice of them. But she didn’t know what to say to a man she had nothing in common with, and knew little about.

  He gazed down the promenade that Clara had left by. “Do you think Grace will forgive me?”

  “Mr. Gladstone, there’s nothing to forgive. If anyone is at fault, we are. And I haven’t even apologized yet...”

  “There’s no need—”

  She held up a hand to stop him. “There is. We judged you unfairly.”

  “Understandable, given the reactions of other ball attendees that night. But I assure you, I am not like them. I’m not a Brahmin, and I care not a whit for becoming one. I’ve tried to convince myself all week that I don’t need a wife and family, and that I should focus on my legal career, and a possible future in politics. But I fear I was only trying to distract myself from thoughts of your sister.”

  “Convince yourself? Aren’t you interested in a political career?”

  “I don’t think so. It’s just not my style. Perhaps in the future, if I feel that I can do some good…but right now, I’m at the stage of my life where I believe it’s time to settle down. If I can find the right girl, and convince her to marry me, that is.” He gave Madeline quirky smile.

  Madeline feigned a shocked expression. “Don’t tell Mother that! I think she already has plans for you to become the next governor of Massachusetts.”

  They both laughed…but Madeline was only half joking. If all went well, the man was in for a surprise when he met Miriam Barstow.