A Lady's Vanishing Choices

by Woodson, Wareeze

  Gertrude glowered at Bethany and continued, “I want you to wear the jonquil muslin I purchased for Eleanor last season. The one with the ribbons under the bosom. That should do nicely.”

  “Is Eleanor aware I’m to wear one of her frocks?”

  Gertrude stared long and hard. “Eleanor is a dutiful daughter. More than I can say for some. I’ve ordered her maid to deliver the garment to your door.” Gertrude made a shooing motion. “Run along now. I don’t have all day to consider your problems. Be ready promptly, mind.”

  At least the gown wouldn’t require alterations. Bethany took the stairs two at a time. She must do something with her hair. Her pulse fluttered in her throat. Not that she was trying to gain attention, especially from Perry. She merely intended to avoid another set-down from his brother, and to avoid another confrontation with Aunt Gertrude.

  After she washed and allowed her hair to dry a little, she twisted several strands into curls and tied each into place with strips of cloth. In a few hours, she could arrange it in long ringlets spilling from the crown of her head.

  She opened the drawer to her dressing table, searching for her mother’s bracelet. The sparkle of the jewelry would be charming with the muslin gown. Not immediately seeing the bracelet, she tugged the drawer open a little further and reached all the way to the back. She ran her fingers along the rear, the corners, and all around the edges. Nothing. Alarmed, she emptied the entire contents on the bed, but the bracelet wasn’t to be found.

  Tears stung her eyes and her spirit sank to her toes. How could she have lost her mother’s bracelet? She flopped on the edge of the bed and buried her head in her hands. Think. When was the last time she actually remembered wearing the bracelet? She raised her head. In the garden. She’d had it on her wrist when she strolled through the garden. Perhaps she dropped it there.

  Hurrying outside, she carefully scrutinized every inch of the grounds immediately beyond the door. Finding nothing, she continued on to the winding path through the grounds and searched with the same thoroughness. She finally reached the bench where she’d paused to rest earlier in the day. After examining the entire area, she sank onto the seat in defeat. Then she remembered, before trailing her fingers in the water in the fountain, she’d removed the bracelet and shoved it in her pocket.

  Heaving a sigh, she relaxed and allowed her anxiety to float away. Footsteps crunched on the gravel path behind her, and she glanced around. Much to her surprise, Aunt Gertrude came into view from the direction of the woods.

  When she noticed Bethany, she halted. “What are you doing?” Gertrude demanded, approaching the bench. “And why do you appear out of doors looking such a fright?”

  “I dropped something and came looking for it.”

  Gertrude had her hand clenched inside the folds of her gown. “An improbable tale. More like you to sneak round, prying into things that don’t concern you. Did Arthur send you to spy on me?”

  “Certainly not. But—”

  “But me no buts. Go to the house and ready yourself at once. If you are a moment late, I shall order the carriage to proceed without you. Now be off.” Gertrude glanced back over her shoulder at the nearby woods and marched toward the side door.

  Bethany slipped through the back door and up the stairs, letting a pent-up breath escape. What bee did she have in her bonnet? Nothing new in being on the receiving end of one of her aunt’s dressing downs, but she seemed unduly agitated. What had happened to upset her? What could she possibly have been doing in the woods, and why was she disturbed when Bethany saw her?

  Brushing such ponderings aside, she entered her chamber and retrieved her bracelet. Kissing her precious piece of jewelry, she clasped it to her chest for a second. She began her ablutions, but before she finished completely, a tap sounded at the door.

  “Come.”

  A young maid slipped inside. “Milady sent me. She says you need help to do up the back.”

  Bethany nodded and stepped into the gown. When she’d finished straightening the garment, she allowed the maid to pile her hair on top of her head and tie it with ribbons—not yellow ones. She inspected her image in the long mirror. With several added twists to place a curl just so, she nodded at her reflection. She turned this way and that, admiring each swing of her gown. A thrill raced up her spine and butterflies fluttered in her belly. Clearly the lovely lady in the mirror couldn’t be the same awkward, dull-witted creature her relatives called her. She smiled. Fine feathers certainly make attractive birds. I’m as giddy as a young gel.

  Clasping her mother’s bracelet on her arm, she floated down the stairs, her heart beating hard enough to choke her. Her first real grown-up party. She’d never been so excited in her life.

  Entering the drawing room, Bethany encountered her aunt’s dissecting inspection. Her gaze seemed to crawl over Bethany’s face, down her throat to her breast, and then to the bottom of her skirts. Her aunt’s lids narrowed and a cloud of disapproval descended as her expression stiffened. She sniffed. “You’re on time, at least.”

  Eleanor stared at Bethany with her mouth open, but she didn’t say a word. She glanced at her mother and frowned.

  Uncle Arthur stared at her beneath lowered brows and muttered, “You look well enough. If you keep your tongue between your teeth, all shall be well. Let us depart.”

  Eleanor kept casting glances in Bethany’s direction while the family moved outside and climbed into the coach. The silence inside the vehicle grew thick with tension, and the mixture of scents added to the stifling atmosphere.

  Chapter 11

  When the carriage arrived outside Stroter Hall, welcoming light spilled from the house through the windows and out the open doors. Uncle Arthur climbed out and helped the ladies descend. He took Aunt Gertrude’s arm, leaving Eleanor and Bethany to follow.

  Even from the entryway, a festive air permeated the place. The ballroom displayed polished floors washed in candlelight. Guests dressed in beautiful finery stood chatting in clusters. Lord Rivton, Perry, and a lady stood in line to receive the guests.

  Bethany peeked at Lord Rivton from beneath her lashes. His jacket of super-fine black cloth clung to his broad shoulders, and his perfectly tied cravat added elegance to his appearance. Her pulse fluttered, and she drew a deep breath. How could she find him appealing when he disparaged her every move? Still, she longed for one of his winsome smiles instead of his usual frown.

  Bethany paused before Lord Rivton waiting for him to shift his welcoming gaze to her. His smile faded and an undecipherable look entered his eyes. He nodded his head in a slight bow and turned to the next guest. Disappointment smothered her. Not a cut-direct exactly, but certainly not the smile of approval she longed for either. What had she expected—for him to swoon with delight at the sight of her? Her appearance hadn’t changed all that drastically. Grow up.

  She turned to Perry. His greeting added sweet balm to her shattered aplomb as he kissed her fingers.

  With a charming smile, he uttered, “Lovely. I must have the first dance.”

  She sensed the touch of Lord Rivton’s stare, and at the same moment she witnessed her aunt’s warning glare. If she’d been a bug pinned to a page, she couldn’t have been more uncomfortable. “I don’t dance.”

  “Nonsense, I shall teach you.”

  “Perry, introduce me to the young lady and let her proceed.” The lady standing beside him nodded a greeting.

  He obliged. “Bethany Littleton, this is my cousin, Sara Carrington.”

  With a delighted smile, Sara said, “You are Bethany, my little cousin. No one else has those beautiful eyes. How could I have forgotten?”

  Astounded, Bethany stood frozen to the spot. She couldn’t think of an appropriate response and barely managed to keep from gapping. Could she possibly have a relative other than Uncle Arthur?

 
Before she could utter a word, her aunt paused and strode to her side. “No such thing. She has no other relatives. Lord Arthur Littleton is her only living relative, her father’s brother.” Gertrude caught her by the arm and pulled her away. “She isn’t accustomed to crowds. I must insist she withdraw before her nerves become shattered. Come away, Bethany.”

  “I’m perfectly fine, Aunt.” If this lady was one of her relatives, she wouldn’t budge from the spot. The only way to defeat Auntie dear was to stand her ground. Bethany almost laughed out loud. She thinks I’m listening to her, but I always close her off when she delivers her scolds.

  Through gritted teeth, Gertrude commanded, “At once. I say.”

  Sara intervened. “Perhaps we may retire to the library.” She drew herself up to her full height and with a regal nod of her head, she continued, “I insist. We shall be out of the crowd, and I may visit with her without undue strain.”

  “Very well.” Grudgingly, and with a smile that did nothing to disguise the annoyance in her eyes, Gertrude followed. She firmly gripped Bethany’s arm, making certain of her control of the situation.

  Sara swept into the library. “Take this chair by the fire, Bethany. I don’t want you to take a chill.” She glanced at Gertrude and took the chair next to Bethany.

  With a glower, Gertrude huffed and settled on the settee. She stared at Bethany, but clamped her mouth shut.

  Sara leaned forward. “Bethany, how did you come by your bracelet? I admired it from afar.”

  “It belonged to my mother.”

  “May I take a closer look?” Sara inspected the silver unicorn dangling from the bracelet. “As I thought, my mother has one exactly like it.”

  “Proving nothing, young woman.” Gertrude sniffed. “This type of jewelry is a dime a dozen and any number of ladies may own such.”

  “My cousin’s name is Bethany. I’d forgotten your surname is Littleton until I recognized you. I recall being sad when your parents died. You went to live with your uncle, but I thought my mother’s brother, Uncle Philip, had been appointed your guardian. I didn’t understand why you didn’t live with him.”

  Why indeed. Bethany didn’t understand either. She couldn’t prevent a momentary thrill of hope and stammered, “I have other relatives?”

  She struggled to understand why she’d never been informed of such a possibility. At only ten years of age, and with no place to turn, she’d run away. If she’d known about her other family, she may have tried to reach them. She couldn’t comprehend why Aunt Gertrude hadn’t taken the opportunity to be rid of her, and saved herself from the annoyance of an unwanted niece. Perhaps her other family hadn’t wanted her either.

  Straightening her shoulders, she quickly pushed that thought aside. If Maggie hadn’t been there to sooth her wounded feelings and supply a bounty of loving acceptance, she may have succumbed to the browbeating words delivered by her aunt and uncle.

  A blaze of red swept up Gertrude’s face, and she fisted her fingers in her lap. Her bosom swelled, and she snorted, “I informed you, Arthur Littleton is your only living relative, and Eleanor, of course. I’ve never heard anything as ridiculous as recognizing your eyes. How absurd.”

  In a determined tone, Sara insisted, “I’m quite certain, Bethany is my cousin. However, there is nothing to be gained by daggers drawing.” She stood, straightened her skirts in a leisurely fashion, and leveled a look at Gertrude. “My claim may be easily proven. Tomorrow morning, I shall dash off a letter to my Uncle Philip for the truth of the matter.” She turned to Bethany. “You seem quite recovered. Do you feel up to a party? If so, let’s rejoin the other guests.”

  “Indeed.” Bethany bit back a smile. She’d never witnessed her aunt bested in any encounter, but Sara had left Aunt Gertrude with nothing more she could say.

  A flash of excitement knotted in the pit of Bethany’s stomach. Perhaps she did have other relatives.

  Sara touched her arm. “I shall leave you in Perry’s hands. He is an excellent dancer, so elegant and gallant where the ladies are concerned. He can instruct you, and you may dance the evening away.” She turned to Gertrude. “I have a few people I’d like you to meet as well, friends of mine from the diplomatic corps. My husband, John, is attached to the Foreign Office.”

  Gertrude’s eyes gleamed. She glanced once at Bethany, hesitated for a split second, and opened her mouth, but she closed it again before turning to follow Sara.

  Bethany trailed behind, not wanting Perry to teach her the dance steps. Besides her doubts of him, she longed for a moment alone to consider all Sara had said. Bethany sighed. What if Uncle Arthur wasn’t her guardian after all? A swarm of bees seemed to have taken up residence in her belly, stinging and fluttering about. Before she could find an excuse, Sara handed her off to Perry. Resigned, Bethany gave in gracefully. “Seems you are burdened with me after all.”

  “No such thing. You move as if you’re floating. We shall have you dancing away in no time.”

  Still on the dance floor, but at the edge with a few potted palms giving the illusion of privacy, Perry showed her the steps, helping her count in time to the music. She had nearly conquered the pattern of the dance and the rhythm when she spied Royce over Perry’s shoulder, deep in conversation with a colleague. Drat. When had she begun to think of him as Royce instead of Lord Rivton? How foolish of her to think of him at all.

  Swallowing to calm the sensation of breathlessness, she averted her gaze. She didn’t understand how this man could cause her heart to flutter, especially since he seemed to hold her in contempt.

  Against her will, she found herself glancing in his direction again. She missed a step as her gaze accidently locked with his and an angry scowl appeared on his face. Now, how had she upset him? He warned her away from his brother, but that was to protect her, wasn’t it? Perhaps not. Perhaps he meant to shield his brother from her. She nearly laughed out loud. He thinks Perry is in need of protection.

  She pulled her attention away from Royce and gazed up at Perry. Allowing him to teach her to dance had lessened her distrust of him, easing her doubts with fond memories of him as a carefree youth. He’d always teased her, full of mischief, while she had been the serious one. She could perceive some of the boyish traits in the man, not quite rendering him harmless in her eyes, but close.

  Perry urged her into the stream of dancers circling the room. She couldn’t count, watch her steps, and gaze about, but she moved with him, glancing into his eyes for a long moment. Handsome, young, and with a charming air about him, how could such a man be a killer? Did a murderer somehow appear different from an ordinary man? Foolish. A chill raced down her spine. This was Perry, in the middle of a crowded room. She should be safe enough.

  “You are as stiff as a poker. Relax a bit. I’ll guide you.”

  Quickly returning her gaze to his cravat, she said, “I shall tread on your toes.”

  “Follow me.” He shrugged. “That’s all it takes.”

  “Easy enough for you to say, but I’m the one dancing backwards.”

  He quickly changed directions, pulling her after him. She stumbled, and his antics lessened her misgivings still further. Relaxing a bit more, she followed his lead.

  Just as she sank into the enjoyment of dancing, a disturbing sense of being watched assailed her. She furtively glanced around, only to discover Royce propped against the wall, but not on the other side of the room. He stood with his arms crossed over his broad chest, staring at her. Shivering from the disapproval reflected in his eyes, her heart beat a suffocating tattoo in her breast. Bethany swallowed and heat scalded her cheeks. She raised her chin defiantly and met his stare with a glare of her own. One corner of his mouth lifted in acknowledgment of her look before he transferred his gaze to Perry.

  How can his mere presence affect my breathing, especially since he makes his dislike so
apparent? She expelled a sharp puff of air, thankful to be released from the intolerable strain of his perusal.

  “Your brother is staring at you, at us.”

  Perry frowned and glanced at Royce before turning his back to him. “He still thinks I’m in leading strings.” He smiled down at her. “Would you care for a glass of punch?”

  “That would be delightful.” She quickly abandoned the dance floor in favor of the sheltering potted palms.

  “I’ll be back shortly.”

  Watching him walk away, she allowed her gaze to drift to the spot where she expected to see Royce still staring at her. He wasn’t there. Quickly surveying the room, she couldn’t find him. Perhaps he had followed Perry.

  With that happy thought, Bethany managed to duck out the double doors onto the balcony. A pool of light from inside the ballroom cast shadows on the floor. Relieved to have found a hiding place, she hurried to conceal herself from prying eyes just as a cool breeze wafted a pungent smell towards her. Her vision adjusted to the darkness, and much to her dismay, she observed Royce leaning against the railing blowing a cloud of cigar smoke in the very place she’d intended to hide. How had he managed to exit the ballroom so swiftly?

  He glanced towards her. “Betha.”

  An unnerving moment of silence stretched between them. She returned his greeting with a simple nod. Before he could say another word, she twisted on her heel to reenter the ballroom. Music filtered through the opening, waiting to welcome her back to safety.

  A glowing tip of sparks sailed in an arc when he pitched his cigar away. He called to her again, and his voice held a threatening intensity. “One moment, please.”