~.~
Chapter Five
After Lady Amelia and her Aunt Ebba breakfasted with The Duke, they dressed in their finest walking clothes, and went out to shop. Lady Amelia always adored her Aunt Ebba, she was more like an older sister than an aunt. Aunt Ebba was much younger than her mother, but many people said the sisters had looked and acted alike in spite of their difference in age. Aunt Ebba and her husband Uncle Edward had always been in Lady Amelia’s life, along with her ten year old cousin Phillip.
“It is a shame that Patience could not join us,” Amelia said. “She was so looking forward to shopping. She sought a new hat to go with her yellow frock. Yellow can you imagine? It washes out her color so much she practically disappears. She is so quiet that there is a danger of her disappearing at any rate.”
“Indeed,” Aunt Ebba said. “You could take a lesson, Amelia, and be a bit more demure.”
Amelia scowled at her.
“Stop that,” Aunt Ebba replied. “You will be wrinkled before your time.”
Amelia softened her face obediently. “Do you remember the dress? It was a beautiful fabric.”
“I don’t believe I recall,” said Aunt Ebba thoughtfully, “Although, green should be her color, not yellow. Did I see the dress in question?”
“I don’t know. It is just the color of the embroidery on the dress you wore to the last ball, albeit, quite a bit less decorative. It is a traveling dress, not a ball gown. I have a bit of fabric cut from the seam. I told her I would look for something.”
“You are kind,” Aunt Ebba said.
The shop was the place to be seen and the pair were attracting all sorts of attention. Amelia wore a lovely cream walking dress trimmed in pink satin with four puffed flounces along the skirting and Aunt Ebba was in a periwinkle blue ensemble with a contrasting peach shawl. Aunt Ebba was a stylish woman, only fifteen years older than Amelia, and she loved to be seen. Normally, Amelia was happy to take part, but her recent fight with Charity had somewhat spoiled her mood. The girl had not even come around to apologize the next day, and Amelia was not sure what to do when the conversation fell to her dilemma.
“And then she just walked out, right into the rain; slamming the door as if she intended to take it with her. Not so much as a by your leave. Charity can be so churlish,” Amelia complained, lightly tossing aside the bonnet the shop clerk was trying to sell her, onto the pile of other discarded hats. “That one is dull. Do you have perhaps any new novelties?”
“We knew that though, the way she displays her assets,” Aunt Ebba said. “No decency. Obviously, you are right. She should be the one to apologize, but I cannot refrain from suggesting that you are better off without her friendship. That girl was one step away from a scandal, and you do need to be careful where those are concerned, hmm? You must be above reproach.” Aunt Ebba admired a towering purple turban, replete with feathers and flowers in all shades of yellow. It was striking, and just the sort of thing she adored.
Amelia busied herself with scrutinizing yet another hat. “But we have been friends for ages. I do care about her, and I feel as though I am in the wrong,” said Amelia.
“Well you are not. The way she chases after your father is disturbing. He has expressed no interest whatsoever. It is shameful.”
“At least I have Patience,” said Amelia, delicately fitting a dark green bonnet on top of her hair. A delicate spray of golden leaves and tiny pale yellow flowers decorated the brim. “She is a loyal friend. I had hoped you might help me with a favor for her, in fact. What do you think of this for her? Think of this green against her red hair.”
“I like it,” Aunt Ebba said. “I think it will do smashingly. Those tiny flowers are just right for Patience, and there is little enough yellow so that even if the color is not completely correct, it should do nicely with her yellow traveling dress.”
Amelia set the bonnet in the pile of things she planned to purchase. It was not a statement piece, but a sensible bonnet that would suit many occasions. It was just right for Patience. “And one other favor,” Amelia said.
“Of course,” said Aunt Ebba, tossing the purple turban on top of the pile with a wink. “What can I do?”
Amelia glanced around. The clerk was no more than ten feet away, searching his supply for suitable offerings. She did not want to seem common, asking about a man, nor did she want rumors to begin about Patience’s feelings for him.
“The other night we were at a ball and she saw, in passing, a man she took a liking to. He left in a hurry, though, and we were unable to catch his name. You know how she is, mooning after him because he smiled at her.” Amelia shrugged politely.
If Aunt Ebba had ears, they would have perked at that. There was nothing the woman enjoyed more than budding romance. She, a married woman, insisted that she lived vicariously through those stories of love and infatuation and kept up with all of the gossip as a means of enriching her life.
“Do tell. What did he look like?” Aunt Ebba waved the clerk away when he approached with a tower of hat boxes. He set them down, wobbling, on the table and left them alone.
“Well, he was quite ill it seems, and left in a rush, but he was tall, well above most anyone else there, and his features were exaggerated. Or so Patience said. I did not see him myself but I imagine a large nose and eyebrows and ears or something of the sort. He had dark hair and was well-dressed but not like a dandy. It is not much to go on but that is all we have.” Amelia was not hopeful. It was a thin lead, even for her aunt.
But Aunt Ebba looked very pleased with herself and a knowing smile dimpled one of her cheeks.
“What?” Amelia prompted. “You know something, what is it?”
“Oh this is a delight, Amelia, you do not know?”
Amelia sighed. She hated these games, but her aunt delighted in them. Being begged for information was almost as pleasurable as acquiring it.
“No, I do not. Please, tell me. Who is he?” If Amelia had any inkling on her own, she would have refused to ask on principle, but she did want to help Patience.
Like a cat with a fresh bowl of cream, Aunt Ebba savored the moment. “Do you know there is a bit of gossip floating around about that ball? In particular, about you?”
Amelia’s stomach clenched. She flashed back the entire evening, trying to think of what she could have done to start gossip. Her thoughts went to the young commander and she flushed prettily.
“I did not know that,” said Amelia at last. “Is Charity spreading some sort of lie about me? I would not put it past her.”
But Aunt Ebba shook her head. “I have this from a reliable source. You were seen dancing, and enjoying yourself, with a nobody of a man. Some military man, they said. That you were giggling and smiling and flirting with him, as you have done with no other man. Someone has cracked the diamond, they claim.”
Amelia closed her mouth with a snap. It had fallen open as her Aunt had gone on, when she realized what sort of foolish sop people believed.
“Hardly. I gave him a single dance because I was bored and he was amusing, if only for his awful dancing. Really, people can be so absurd. If I smiled at him, it was because he had made of himself as a jester does. It is hardly declaring my intent to marry the man. I cannot even recall his name.”
Samuel Beresford. She did remember it but she refused to acknowledge that out loud. A commander, not even a captain. It was ludicrous.
“But you should!” cried Aunt Ebba, clapping her hands in delight. “You should, because the man Lady Patience is so smitten with is that man’s brother.”
Amelia had no response to that. Her mouth had fallen open again and, she realized with great annoyance, that she was twisting her skirts between her hands, like Patience. She brushed irritably at the wrinkles.
“Yes, I can see you hadn’t the slightest idea. Mm, the Beresford brothers. Sons of the Earl of Blackburn. The elder brother, Percival Beresford is known to be shy, a bit of a recluse, but handsome and gentle. The younger, Samuel, is
hardly known at all, apart from his good looks and his fondness for light skirts,” said Aunt Ebba, as casually as if they were discussing a game of cricket.
“He was not that good looking,” said Amelia, lamely.
“Of course not, dear.”
~.~
By the time they returned to Aunt Ebba’s townhouse they accrued quite a pile of packages. Over half were Amelia’s, and she sent the man on to her home when he had finished unpacking, but stayed for tea with Aunt Ebba. She had not gotten over the shocking news from the hat shop, and was still debating whether or not she should tell Patience the truth.
“But why not? The son of an Earl is a more than fine match for her,” said Aunt Ebba, biting into a crunchy biscuit.
“It would be awkward. If she married him then I would be thrown together with the younger brother on all sorts of occasions, and with these rumors flying about…” Amelia had no stomach for sweets at the moment. She took a long sip of bitter tea.
“No doubt the younger Beresford will be back at sea soon,” Aunt Ebba said.
A servant pushed into the room. He carried a note on a silver tray, which he gave to Aunt Ebba. She looked down at it as she was about to set it aside, frowned, and tore it open. Her face paled. Amelia could see her fingers shaking, until the note slipped free and floated down to the carpet, face up.
“Auntie? What is it?” Amelia stooped down to pick up the note and hand it back, but she saw something in the black ink that caught her eye. Terrible accident. “W-what has happened?”
But Amelia read it for herself. Words and phrases jumped out, as if her mind were incapable of reading it as a coherent message.
“Oh no,” Aunt Ebba began, cut off by a sob. “Your father, I mean. Oh Amelia do not read the details, please.”
But it was too late. Carriage accident. Dead on impact. Grievous wounds. Dead on impact. She had not even had a chance to say goodbye. Amelia felt her knees give way beneath her and she collapsed to the floor. Tears did not come at first. She felt frozen in time, the words repeating over and over until she felt as if she were going mad. Dead on impact. If she ran home right now, he would be there, waiting for her to play piano while he drank his evening brandy. No, he was dead. He was dead in the road, like some animal.
Then she was sobbing. Body wracking sobs and terrible cries of pain that did not even sound as if they came from her. Aunt Ebba gathered her up, pulling Amelia’s head onto her lap and stroking her hair, but her fingers shook and caught as she too cried. Her father was gone. She would never see him again.
~.~
Amelia’s things were packed. The carriage waited outside the door, but still she could not bring herself to get up from her piano. It would be too real then. If she left here, her father would truly be gone. Foolish. He was dead. He was gone. She bit back the tears because she had learned if she allowed one out, many more would follow until she felt empty, and exhausted. There was nothing left to do but leave.
At last, when she knew she could delay it no longer, she went down to the door and out into the carriage. It started off and she leaned her head against the wall, praying for sleep. The journey to her family’s country home would take the better part of a day, and she had nothing to entertain her but her own thoughts. Aunt Ebba promised to come and visit as soon as she could, but for now Amelia was alone. She had not even told Patience what had happened, and she dreaded the girl showing up at the townhouse and finding it empty.
Not one week after her father’s death had letters begun to arrive. Most were condolences, but one was from her Uncle Declan, the man who had inherited the title of Duke of Ely. She had never met the man; Father had hated him.
It was a terse note, stating that he would come to explain “how things would be from now on” in regards to her lifestyle. Amelia could imagine all manner of things he might demand from her a frugal allowance, a banishment to a distant relative, but she was determined not to let it unnerve her. She was Lady Amelia Atherton, tough as a diamond.
Aunt Ebba had said nothing about it, other than that they would discuss it when she came to visit. In the meantime, she cautioned, do not spend more than you must to get by.
Amelia swallowed hard past the lump in her throat, putting such thoughts from her mind and tried once again to sleep but the jolting carriage made it impossible. It was a long and unpleasant ride.
~.~
When she finally arrived home, the home she had grown up in, she could almost pretend her father was there. It smelled of him, of his cigar smoke and his cologne. It felt like an embrace. She spent the first day just sitting in his chair. The next day, she began sorting which things in her wardrobe could be repurposed for mourning attire. The small group of staff left at the house gave her space, for the most part, She refused all meals, keeping to herself and the rooms upstairs.
On the sixth day since her arrival home she went downstairs to the parlor and uncovered the piano, pulling off the sheet that had protected it from harm in her absence. She would not think at all of the future. She would not think of her father’s death or her Uncle Declan looming in the not far distance. She would not think of how her life would change. There would be only this moment, suspended in time.
The first chord she played was awkward, not quite perfect, but she played it again, and again, until it was exactly what she wanted, fortissimo, a storm, a storm at sea. Tears welled in her eyes and grief constricted her heart, but all she felt seemed to flow from her fingers as she played: her passion released to the world. If she closed her eyes she could imagine her father there, in the chair across from her, tapping his foot in time with her music.
~.~
~Part 2 ~
Hidden Pages
Chapter One
The little fishing punt rocked side to side, unforgiving of even the smallest movement as it meandered idly down the river. It could not have gone any slower if Samuel Beresford had thrown down an anchor. Samuel shuffled restlessly.
“The point is to move slowly, Samuel, you needn’t look so cross about it,” said his brother, Percival.
Lord Percival Beresford had a fishing pole in hand and made a lazy cast, the hook landing not more than ten feet off the side of the boat. Boat. If you did not mind sullying the word by applying it the flat-bottomed craft Samuel had, for some idiotic reason, agreed to spend the day in.
“We are here for a day of idle recreation, so that I might take in the fresh air and thus aid my convalescence.” Percival continued. “You did write mother?”
“I did,” Samuel said. “Just as you said, but by the time I sent the letter, the doctor said you would recover. I only told her you weren’t well and that that we had retired to the country at Stanherd Residence. I did not see any benefit to telling her the seriousness of the situation. If I done so she would have descended upon us in a heartbeat, with at least three doctors and her entire retinue from Bath.”
“Very good,” Percival replied. “I would not want to spoil her holiday.”
Samuel just shook his head. Percy took decorum beyond the bounds of reason. He could be dying and would endeavor not to inconvenience anyone.
“It is very pleasant out here, is it not?” Percy asked.
“I think you are trying to torture me. You said we could take a boat out,” said Samuel, kicking at one of the treads. “This is not a boat. This is a cabinet someone has flipped on its side and shoved out into the water. Then they give you a pole and say, here, push it along and have fun.”
Samuel was being unfair. He was in fact grateful for the excuse to get out of the house, which had become more claustrophobic by the day. The reproachful quack of ducks as the punt passed their nests reminded Samuel of his father’s constant harassments and he wanted to tell the ducks, and his father, that he would be gone before they knew it, so not to bother getting in a fuss…only his brother needed him. No matter that Percival would never admit it.
“Is this not what it is like to be in the Navy, then? It is rather how I imag
ined it, the water beneath you, the blue sky above, not a worry in the world.” Percival was trying, unsuccessfully, to hide a smile. Samuel let him have it. If he was feeling well enough to tease, it meant he was at last on the mend.
The illness had come on Percival suddenly, violently at a ball in London. He had become quite ill, sweating and complaining of a burning in his mouth and stomach pain. He had originally blamed the ailment on a bad lamprey and didn’t want to embarrass his host, so he and his brother had quietly quit the party and went home. Samuel had seen seaman sick from eating bad fish, and the best method of recovery was to rid oneself of the offending item, but once purged, Percy did not get well. The doctor had shaken his head and said that perhaps it was as Samuel first thought a bad lamprey eel or a mushroom, but if so, he should get better. Only Samuel wondered, why did no one else get sick? It pointed to a more sinister intention and a deliberate one. Days in bed had left Percy thinner than ever, almost gaunt, an unhealthy pallor marred his skin and he could barely eat without upset.
“We are on the water, and yes, there is a sky above us, but the similarities end there,” Samuel groused. As a commander in the Royal Navy he was rather used to a true ship. Samuel got up, legs bending to ride the motion of the boat, and used the pole to send them off again. Percival drew in his fishing line, empty. He had not had so much as a bite all day. “Are you baiting the line, or just throwing it out?” Samuel asked. “I see a fish now, and look, there is one there. They are all around us Percival, how have you not caught a thing?”
The Duke’s Daughter - Lady Amelia Atherton: A Regency Romance Novel (Heart of a Gentleman Book 3) Page 4