Loving Lady Marcia

by Kieran Kramer

  “Oh, dear girl.” Marcia actually chuckled. “You don’t have to hate the school, although I appreciate your caring. It’s only one person who ruined things, and she doesn’t even live there. She lives here in London. But she’s our benefactress, and we need her financial support, rude as she may be.”

  “All right, then,” said Cynthia, “I won’t hate the school, but I must admit that after what happened to you, I’m doubly glad I decided to stay home with a tutor until I make my come out.”

  All the girls in the family, with the guidance of Mama and Daddy, had set their educational courses at age thirteen. No one had been surprised in the least that Cynthia, the youngest of them all, had decided to stay at home with a tutor. Janice, who’d always been the most adventurous of the three, had forged her own path and chosen to attend a Swiss boarding school, where she’d been top in her class but had come back lacking the confidence the international experience should have given her.

  They might be all sorts of different in the manner that sisters—even ones like they, who looked very much alike—should be. But they shared a love for their family and a zest for life that bonded them through thick and thin.

  On the way to the Tower, they talked animatedly of books they were reading, which led to a discussion of the Greek gods and goddesses, Cynthia’s latest obsession.

  “I prefer the Roman gods and goddesses,” Marcia said. “After all, my name comes from the god Mars.”

  “The god of war,” said Cynthia thoughtfully. “I wonder why Mama gave you that name?”

  “I’ve no idea,” said Marcia.

  But it was apt. She held tight to her anger, allowing it to embolden her thoughts even as she did her best to appear reconciled to her new situation, the one she’d tried to avoid for so long. She was once more an eligible daughter of the House of Brady with the leisure time to find a husband.

  Mama’s lady’s maid sat quietly next to her, but Marcia sensed the servant was watching her to gauge her mood. So were her sisters, almost as if they depended on her to set the tone, which had often happened in her life, long before she became a teacher and headmistress. She was the oldest girl in the family, after all, and before Mama had married Daddy, the oldest child.

  She’d had to grow up early, Mama once said with regret.

  It was rare that they talked about the spartan days after her father died and before the Marquess of Brady and his sons entered their lives. But Marcia remembered that time well. She especially recalled how much Mama had needed her to be strong for Janice and Cynthia.

  So at the Tower, she asked brisk questions of their guide and laughed when he made jokes, all because she couldn’t let her sisters know that her foundations had been shaken.

  “Shall we get some ices at Gunter’s?” Janice suggested when they were done ogling the Crown jewels.

  The Tower usually swarmed with gawkers, but it was early in the day and not a single person they knew was there, which is what Marcia had hoped. She wasn’t prepared quite yet to explain to any of her acquaintances why she was in Town. “It’s a bit early for an ice, isn’t it?”

  “Not at all,” said Janice. “And you haven’t been to Gunter’s this age. Perhaps we’ll see—” She abruptly stopped speaking and blushed.

  “See who?” Marcia asked.

  “Some of Janice’s beaus,” Cynthia chimed in, grinning. “She’s always looking for them.”

  “Not true.” Janice rolled a weary eye at her older sister. “I only meant that perhaps we’ll see”—she hesitated—“some of your old friends.”

  “She means your old beaus.” Cynthia giggled.

  “No I didn’t,” snapped Janice.

  “Yes you did,” Cynthia retorted.

  Janice attempted to send her younger sister a discreet warning look, but Marcia saw it, plain as day.

  Poor Janice. She was trying to protect Marcia’s feelings.

  Cynthia looked puzzled. “Who are your old beaus, Marcia?”

  There was a long silence.

  Marcia swallowed and shrugged. “I have none.”

  Janice made a face at Cynthia, and Cynthia bowed her head. “Oh. I’m sorry. I didn’t know.”

  “It’s perfectly all right.” Marcia sent a reassuring smile to them both.

  “But you can acquire some beaus by going to balls,” Cynthia said with enthusiasm. “Mama, Daddy, Janice, and Gregory go to them often. Peter avoids them at all costs, of course.” Her face brightened. “I think there’s one tonight at the Livingstons’.”

  “It’s a bit too soon for me,” Marcia said. “But thanks for letting me know. Do you really want to go to Gunter’s?”

  “Yes, let’s do,” Cynthia said. “I especially love the lemon ice.”

  Marcia loved ices herself, but indulging in one seemed a paltry thrill at the moment.

  Janice linked arms with both her sisters, and with the maid trailing behind them, they began to stroll toward Daddy’s best carriage. “We’ll go,” she said, “even though you don’t want to, Marcia. It will cheer you up. You look much too serious.”

  “But I’m fine,” she answered. “And now that I think about it, Gunter’s sounds lovely.”

  Janice stopped, and they were all forced to stop with her. “You can’t fool us.” She gazed at Marcia with knowing eyes. “For once, lean on your sisters. Let us take care of you.”

  “Yes.” Cynthia’s eyes were shiny with tears. “That’s what sisters are for.”

  Marcia said nothing for a moment. The girls were so concerned and kind. She had to make a supreme effort not to believe, along with them, that she was a victim of a tragedy.

  Not yet, at any rate.

  “Very well,” she said, with an appreciative smile.

  * * *

  Some minutes later, after another carriage ride, Janice and Cynthia grabbed Marcia’s hands and pulled her into the interior of Gunter’s, where she immediately came face-to-face with one of Mama’s friends.

  “Why, it’s Marcia Sherwood!” the lady crowed in delight. She was with two other stylishly dressed matrons, all of whom let loose with a barrage of questions:

  “Where have you been, Lady Marcia?”

  “Are you here for good at last?”

  “You’ll not sit out any dance, I’m sure, my dear. Are you going to the Livingstons’ ball?”

  She did her best to answer, but then she caught a glimpse of Lysandra, of all people, and her stomach seemed to fall through the floor. All those terrible feelings she’d had last night threatened to come back, full force.

  She wasn’t ready to see the widow so soon.

  Lysandra sat at a corner table with two elegant women and gazed at Marcia with ill-concealed disdain. Marcia’s face instantly heated as she remembered the horrible things the viscountess had said about her yesterday.

  But she couldn’t afford to indulge in despising Lysandra, could she?

  No.

  She needed to win her over. How to do so was the unanswerable question at the moment, one that she would delay pondering until later.

  “Will you be there?” one of Mama’s friends asked her in pointed fashion.

  Oh, dear. She’d been caught off guard. “Yes. I think so … what was the question?”

  The tallest matron pursed her lips. “We all want to know how long you’ll be in Town and whether you’ll be at the Livingstons’ ball.”

  “Oh.” Marcia threw the trio an embarrassed grin. “Sorry. I’m not exactly sure. Yet…” She trailed off, feeling foolish.

  “My goodness,” said one of the women, her chin drawn in.

  “I see,” said another one faintly.

  Janice linked her arm through Marcia’s and squeezed. “We’re so happy to have her back. She hasn’t had an ice this age. And she’s absolutely exhausted from her journey. We really must sit.”

  The ladies took the hint well, moved to the door, and wished the two older girls—especially the recent weary arrival—a glorious remainder of the Season.

&n
bsp; “I’ll send my Norbert over to call on you before you leave—or don’t leave,” one of them promised Marcia. “He’s got ginger hair and no eyelashes to speak of, but he tells a good joke.”

  “And don’t forget my cousin Frank,” said another. “He’s this close to inheriting an earldom.” She pinched a thumb and index finger together.

  The ladies laughed—it meant Frank’s distant cousin was soon to die, of course.

  Marcia sent them off with a demure wave. “I’d forgotten how absurd high society can be,” she whispered to Janice when they’d gone.

  “Indeed,” her sister said back with a grin. “Welcome to my world.”

  “Mine, too,” Cynthia remarked over her shoulder before making a beeline for the counter displaying the ices. Several of her good friends were there, so she immediately got involved in conversation.

  Marcia and Janice exchanged amused glances.

  “She hears everything,” Janice said. “And hates being left out. You’ll have to remember that, now that you’re back.”

  Marcia squeezed her arm. “You’ve been a huge help already. Thank you.”

  “Really?” Janice beamed.

  “I mean it,” said Marcia.

  And she did. She was ashamed to admit that she’d nearly forgotten over the past four years that she wasn’t alone, that the other members of the House of Brady were ready and able to support her.

  “I’ve missed you, Janice,” she said amid the low buzz of conversation all around them. “Seeing you in the summer at Ballybrook when there’s nothing stressful going on isn’t the same as being together here in London amid all this.”

  She glanced about the shop, skimming quickly over Lysandra’s table. Gunter’s was filled with the crème de la crème of the ton, and many of them were eyeing her with undisguised interest.

  “Then no more pretending,” Janice urged her. “Tell me right here in Gunter’s exactly what was said between you and Lady Ennis and what you plan to do about your situation. Cynthia is happily occupied for the next few minutes. We can sit at a table and wait for her.”

  “Very well.” For the next few minutes, Marcia quietly told her sister every detail of her conversation with Lady Ennis, including the fact that she longed for her position back at Oak Hall.

  “Of course, I knew that.” Janice smiled a bit sadly and pressed her hand on top of Marcia’s. “I understand why you want to go back, and I want to support you. I need to give up my own selfish desire to have you with me all the time.”

  “Do you really?” Her admission touched Marcia deeply.

  “Of course.” Janice chuckled. “Yes, I occasionally wonder how any men will notice me with you in the room, but I love you. You’re my sister. And there are enough men in the world for both of us.”

  Marcia raised an amused brow. “I’ve already told Mama I’m not interested in any man—not as long as I can have a career at Oak Hall.” A vivid memory of Lord Chadwick came to her, and a sensation of warmth, quickly followed by indignation, flooded her whole body. She forced herself to brush it off. “I’m going to predict, with tremendous optimism, that I’ll be a busy headmistress while you continue to take London by storm. And no more suggesting I attract more men than you.” Marcia’s admonishment was gentle and affectionate. “It’s simply not true.”

  “But you’re beautiful,” Janice said, her face flushing.

  “Every woman has her own type of beauty,” Marcia said with conviction. “Yours is much more interesting than mine.”

  Janice’s expression showed some hope. “Do you think—do you really think I might be … attractive?”

  “Yes,” Marcia said firmly. “You most certainly are. And you need to believe it.” A heavy dose of guilt assuaged her. “I’ve been the worst support to you, Janice. I didn’t even come up to Town to attend your come out.”

  “Don’t be silly.” Her sister’s tone was brisk. “You couldn’t leave the school in the middle of the term, especially as Mama said one entire room of girls came down with a stomach illness that same week.”

  “True,” Marcia conceded. “It was awful.” She gave her sister a wistful smile. “I do wish I’d been at your debut. But at least I’m here now.”

  “Yes, and I’m thrilled you’re here to stay,” Janice said. “At least until you wrangle your post back, which I know you’ll do.”

  Now it was Marcia’s turn to hope. “Do you think I will?”

  “Of course.”

  Two friends of Janice’s tapped her on the shoulder. When she turned around to acknowledge them, Marcia slipped away and walked up to the ice counter.

  She felt terribly conflicted. She’d only been in London one day, and already she could see that her family needed her—and she needed them. She’d allowed her summers at Ballybrook to become briefer and briefer each year. There were always responsibilities beckoning her back to Oak Hall.

  But there was such a splendid, unnamable feeling she got when she was at the school. Her favorite moments were outside, when she’d look out over the grounds and see a crowd of girls playing games, a few girls gathering flowers, others walking horses in the practice ring, and still others sitting in a circle with their teacher, discussing ancient philosophy.…

  If only I could be two places at one time, she thought as she listened to Cynthia say good-bye to her friends and finally order her lemon ice. Janice walked up then and ordered hers, as well. Over in her corner, Lysandra didn’t show a sign of budging. In fact, the widowed viscountess narrowed her eyes at Marcia when they locked gazes.

  But thanks to Janice, Marcia had recovered something of her aplomb, and so she acknowledged Lysandra with a slight tilt to her head and a polite smile. She refused to let her former classmate and employer ruin her morning. Even more, she wanted to prove to her that she was stalwart. Headmistresses should always be such.

  She selected her ice flavor—peppermint—and made sure that she and her sisters didn’t hide in a corner. She chose a new table right by the door, where anyone else of her acquaintance in the upper ten thousand could see her and say hello.

  Mama had predicted yesterday that she’d attract a great deal of notice, and she’d been right. Visitors came to their table in a steady stream, much to the delight of Janice and Cynthia, who adored company, especially of the young male variety. Marcia, however, having had her romantic illusions destroyed early, was sure her extreme elusiveness accounted for her popularity with the gentlemen.

  Not that she cared one jot—

  Except for the fact that Lysandra was taking discreet glances at her, and her expression was quite sour.

  “The soon-to-be spinster and ex-headmistress can show some sparkle, after all,” Janice whispered in her ear during a brief respite from the deluge of company. “Lady Ennis looks rather jealous of you.”

  “She does, doesn’t she?” Marcia murmured into the din. She felt a silly satisfaction.

  “What are you two talking about?” Cynthia asked them. “What’s sparkling?”

  “The ice, in the sunlight from the window,” Janice explained.

  “Yes, and with all the hubbub, I’ve neglected mine,” Marcia told them, and was about to scoop up the last bit of her peppermint confection when a shadow fell across the table.

  She looked up, and a tiny voice in her head said, Let it melt.

  Because Finn stood before her. Her Finn. The one who was supposed to be living in America.

  Seeing the face of her first love—her first lover—after all this time caused her heart to pound painfully against her rib cage. Neither could she breathe at all well.

  Perhaps, she thought, the social game isn’t so banal, after all.

  “Marcia.” His golden voice, the timbre deeper now, sounded incredulous. “Lady Marcia. Is it really you? I was walking by and saw you through the window.”

  Through the window? What was it with the Lattimore brothers and their eagle-eyed vision?

  A picture of Lord Chadwick assailed her: the persistent, ever-d
emanding earl, finding her in the dressmaker’s shop, then pursuing her down the street, asking her if she’d found her perfect life—only a half hour before her new life at Oak Hall had fallen apart.

  She held her spoon in midair. “H-hello, Mr. Lattimore.”

  Finn.

  He was more beautiful than ever. His sun-bronzed skin and hair were testament to his long absence from English soil. And he’d added heft to his youthful form. He looked stronger, harder, older—a real man now.

  No longer a boy. And she—she was no longer that young, impressionable girl.

  He grinned, and her mouth went dry. “It is you.”

  “You remember my sisters, Lady Janice and Lady Cynthia, don’t you?” she managed to say.

  “Of course.” He bestowed a charming smile upon each of them but then turned back to her with obvious eagerness. “I’m meeting my brother in five minutes to look at a horse at Tattersall’s. I’m back in Town permanently, you know.”

  “No, I didn’t.” She was shocked to find that for a split second, she was vastly annoyed. How could she concentrate on getting her job back when Finn was in London?

  But that split second disappeared quickly. She couldn’t help noticing his lips, the lips that had kissed her so well. She wouldn’t dare look at the rest of him … she simply remembered, with a pang near her heart, how perfect life had felt when she’d been cradled in his arms.

  It was better than any feeling you’ve ever had as a headmistress, a horribly wicked voice in her head whispered to her.

  “But I must know before I go,” he said hoarsely, with a hint of hope, “will you be at the Livingstons’ ball tonight?”

  She could see her sisters watching her and prayed neither would kick her under the table.

  “No. I’m afraid not.” It was the hardest no she’d ever delivered, but if there was one thing she’d learned at Oak Hall, it was that no was a powerful word. And she’d said it whenever the security of her students, her teachers, and her school was at stake.

  And now her thoughts were completely rebellious. Her body was mutinying, too. All because of the man standing before her now.