Glass Roses: A Victorian Fairytale

by Britain Kalai Soderquist

  “If by determination you mean your eagerness to prevent me from continuing my walk, then yes, I have observed it quite minutely. How did you discover where I was, pray?”

  “I called at the Grahams and Lady Graham said you had gone out to the park. How the devil else would I have known it?”

  “Mr. Cosgrove, you must excuse me. I have no desire to speak with you if you continue to use such vulgar language.” I felt a bit of a hypocrite for this last comment, but I reasoned that at least I had not indulged in the behavior.

  “No, stay. I came to speak with you about our engagement.”

  “I cannot imagine what you have to say on the matter, as we are not engaged,” I replied with a note of impatience.

  “A circumstance I wish to rectify. Isabella, I want you for my wife. What must I do to convince you to accept my offer?”

  “Nothing, Mr. Cosgrove; I have no intention of ever accepting your offer. It is in every way impossible for me to promise myself where I know I will have no chance of reasonable happiness. Now if you will excuse me, I shall return to Lady Graham at once.” I tried to step past him again but he reached out and seized my wrist in a tight grip. “Mr. Cosgrove, release me at once!”

  “But Isabella—,”

  “I believe the lady has made her point quite clear,” a male voice sounded behind me. I whirled quickly and was utterly astonished to see Lieutenant Potter standing on the path. He was dressed in his blue navy uniform, and though he wore a polite smile, his eyes glinted in a manner that seemed quite menacing. It was not difficult in that moment to picture him as the fighting naval officer that he was at sea. My relief at his sudden appearance you may judge for yourself.

  “Miss Copley, do you have anything further to say to this gentleman?” he asked, though he kept his eyes on Gilbert.

  “I am most obliged to you, Lieutenant; I believe my conversation with Mr. Cosgrove is quite over.”

  “Then allow me to accompany you home so that I may pay my respects to your father.”

  “With pleasure,” I replied, taking the arm that he offered me. “Good day, sir,” I added to Gilbert. We left him standing beside the flower beds with a look of angry bewilderment on his face. The maid followed along behind us as we returned the way I had come.

  Once we were far enough away, I spoke. “Arthur, how in the world did you know where to find me?”

  “I called at the Graham’s residence, and Lady Graham sent me to make certain you were not ambushed by that man.”

  “Your arrival could not have been more opportune. But how is it that you are in London? Is Helen here with you?”

  “She is still in Manchester, tending to my sister and her child. I have been sent to town on a commission for the ladies and thought I would call to ask for your help in fulfilling my duty. I am sadly uneducated in the ways of dressmakers and milliners.” I laughed and promised my help. “Might I enquire about the gentleman I had the pleasure of intimidating just now?” he asked next.

  “That gentleman hardly deserves the name,” I said with a grimace. As quickly as possible, I summarized the difficulties I have been experiencing with Gilbert. Lieutenant Potter shook his head when I finished.

  “I am glad I arrived when I did. It is a shame you do not have any brothers, Bella. You are quite capable on your own, but there is nothing like an older brother to enforce your point. But from what I understood before leaving Scotland, you should have acquired a better defender than a brother by now. How does William do these days? Is he here in town as well?”

  My face warmed uncomfortably; it was impossible not to know what he was talking about. It had not occurred to me before to think that anyone else would have known William’s plans to propose, but now I realized that if anyone had guessed at his resolve, it would have been Arthur Potter. (I could not help wondering why Helen had not told him of my refusal of the Duke; perhaps she wished to spare my feelings on the subject.)

  “The Duke is indeed in town, but you are mistaken to call him my defender. I did not even know he had arrived until yesterday.” Arthur looked down at me with a curious expression, but did not say anything at first. After considering for a moment, he merely said that he would have to learn the Duke’s address so that he could pay his respects and then allowed the subject to lapse. We chatted about Helen and the children until we reached the Grahams, where Lady Graham greeted us with relief. She was most gracious to Lieutenant Potter and invited him to join our party to the Davenports, which he agreed to with enthusiasm when she mentioned that William would be present.

  Having Lieutenant Potter with us this evening helped dispel some of my anxiety at seeing William again. He joined each of our conversations, which made the time I spent in William’s company look less particular to the gathered company. Anonymity was my goal; friendly we might be, but Isabella Copley and the Duke of Stirling were not currently a matter of gossip, and I was determined to keep it so.

  I had reason to regret this goal later, for as the evening progressed I found my desire to speak with William privately increased with every moment. Never have I chafed at the requirements of polite society as I did tonight. I stared at him, he stared at me, Lieutenant Potter attempted to hide his amusement (with poor results), and Charlotte Davenport kept glancing at me in the most inquisitive manner. It was all I could do to avoid her attempt at cornering me before we left. And now here I sit, going over the details again in my mind, wondering if we shall have another opportunity to speak and hoping that he will attend the ball that is being held by the Eastons later this week.

  The thing I wish most to know is if he is still angry with me. His behavior leads me to believe that he has forgiven me, but could this not simply be the effect of polite company? I very much want to believe that he still cares for me, but doubt still finds a way to discomfit me. Alas, I must wait and be patient.

  Love,

  Isabella

  15 August, 1845

  24 Rue de Verre, Paris

  Dear Isabella,

  At last I have discovered the cause of my fall from social grace, and you shall have the whole story as quickly as I am able to write it down. For my new intelligence I have my friend Lydia Galloway to thank; dear, faithful Lydia who has never once believed anything that was said against me.

  My last letter to you was posted on Wednesday afternoon. It was not until Sunday that I heard from Lydia by way of a scrap of paper that was slipped into my hand by a dirty little street urchin as we left the morning service. Step-mamma was speaking with the rector and did not notice. Upon the paper the words “Fleur de Lis Park, 1 o’clock” had been scrawled in Lydia’s hand. I looked up and managed to catch her eye just as her mother turned to lead the family home. We exchanged nods, and she left. My stepfamily and I returned to luncheon at our house, and then I took advantage of their usual afternoon stupor to slip away and meet Lydia in the park.

  Fleur de Lis Park is a beautiful little green space in the center of our section of town where many people meet to stroll about on fine Sunday afternoons. Today was no exception, and the park was full of people enjoying the sunshine and flower beds. Upon reaching the stone pillars which hold the park gates, I found an arm drawn through mine as Lydia slipped up beside me.

  “I am so glad you were able to get away. I must be quick, for Mama will notice if I am not back in time for tea. I have been longing to see you for such an age!”

  “And I you; but please just tell me what is going on!”

  This is the story which Lydia related to me as we strolled about the park. Apparently Fanny was even more upset with the Baron’s proposal to me than even I had guessed. She felt that Hettie’s prospects had been unfairly usurped, and that I had toyed with the Baron on purpose to draw him away from Hettie. As soon as I left for Vienna, she began dropping hints to her intimate friends, not only about her version of events with the Baron (his removal to Munich shortly after my departure being most convenient to her intent), but also that this was not the first time I h
ad seduced away the affections of a nobleman from a more worthy young lady. Fanny’s friends are a nosy lot by nature, and Fanny could count on them to press her for more details until the whole story came out. In short, Fanny gave the account of her own attempted elopement with Lord Clement and claimed that I was the one who actually acted her part in it! Of course a story of such scandal would spread quickly in any circle, but Fanny’s friends made even shorter work of it than usual.

  Within a week of my removal, everyone in Paris believed that I was guilty of behaving like a common scullery maid and that I had lied to them most horridly the whole time. Mme. Duponte, knowing we would attend Lady Jacques’ ball, had gone straight to Mrs. Galloway and shared the story of my scandalous attempt at elopement and our subsequent removal to the Continent, along with exaggerated details of my refusal of Baron Wilhelm and Papa’s taking me away to Vienna. Lydia had been shocked and had declared it to be false from beginning to end, but her mother had apparently been convinced of it after hearing it spoken of by several ladies over tea that same day.

  To cap it all, Fanny had also begun to spread rumors that Rupert and I were soon to be engaged. Lydia did not know how Fanny could have learned that such a thing was even possible, but I can now account for that as well: Papa wrote to Step-mamma about it. In his reply to my plea for help he confessed that he had told her of his interview with Rupert and his expectation that Rupert would offer for me before I left Vienna. You know such a thing has not technically happened, but Papa cannot be blamed for thinking it would occur. Did I not express my thoughts to you in a similar manner?

  It is no wonder Rupert was embarrassed to meet me at Lady Rousseau’s house so unexpectedly. He likely heard the story of my apparent misconduct the moment he arrived in Paris; everyone in our mutual circle and beyond would have heard the rumors of his intentions toward me, and his friends would have been anxious to put him on his guard. I can imagine he would have denied the truth of such allegations at first, but upon hearing them repeated regularly over the course of several days, even he could in time be convinced. I do not know why he did not come to me directly and ask for an explanation, but I cannot be angry with him when I am too busy being angry with Fanny and Hettie for spreading such lies, and with Step-mamma for encouraging them.

  Now you know all that I know of the situation, but I am no closer to discovering a solution than I was before. I shall do my best to hold my head up and pretend I do not care one jot about what people say, but I fear it will not be enough. I cannot bear to think of Rupert and his feelings; if they are anything like my own, then they are tumultuous indeed. Even if I am able to overcome this trial, I fear it is impossible to hope that he will wish to continue our courtship. If it were possible for hearts to break, I do believe mine would have done so already, for I am just as miserable as if it had. I long for Papa’s arrival, and I wish I could escape this horrid house and these horrid people and never return.

  Your latest letter was just brought in to me, and I am most relieved to receive it. Nothing could have lightened my otherwise dreadful feelings more than to hear that you are hopeful of the Duke’s feelings once again, and that you appear to be free of the odious Gilbert Cosgrove. My dear, dear Isabella, you must not believe for one moment that the Duke’s behavior toward you is due to mere politeness. Did you not tell me that even in the midst of your misunderstanding you thought he still cared for you? Indeed, you quite eloquently described feeling that he still cared for you when he noticed your distress in the rose garden at Castle Stirling. I have the passage before me at this very moment. Let this be proof to support your hopes. Only the Duke himself can provide you with more, and I have no doubt that he will do so at the earliest opportunity.

  I must close now and dress for the ball we are to attend tonight. My original intent was not to go, but Lady Rousseau sent a note asking me particularly to attend, so I feel I must. The one consolation I have is that it is to be a masked ball. Perhaps I can contrive to arrive without my stepfamily? The thought of being in company without cold stares following me about is quite tempting.

  16 August

  I can hardly write, my hand is trembling so violently, but I must set this down at once; it would not do for such things to come through the London gossips, even though I am not sure I can bear to write the words. Oh Isabella, I fear I have the most dreadful news to relate. There has been a horrid accident on one of the railway lines that makes up the route between Vienna and Paris, and it is feared that many people have been gravely wounded or even killed. We cannot be sure, but there is a strong likelihood that Papa was on the train at the time. It will be some time before matters can be sorted out and the passenger lists confirmed against the lists of those harmed. I fear the worst; I can scarcely believe it, and yet I am afraid of how it shall be if I do not prepare myself for the worst at once.

  Naturally we learned of this dreadful news in the most terrible of ways… at Lady Eloise’s masked ball last evening. And what is worse, Rupert was there for the whole of it, and I fear I have made an even more horrid jumble of things than before. But let me go back and start from the beginning, or you shall not understand. I was quite unequal to the task last night, and even after a night of fitful sleep, my feelings are still so agitated that you may not be able to make anything out of my account at all.

  I mentioned before that I was going to attempt to arrive at the ball separate from my stepfamily to give myself a fair chance of enjoying the evening for once. To this end, I wrote a note and requested to borrow Lady Warner’s carriage. She most graciously replied that it would be ready to convey me whenever I was ready to depart. To conceal my plans from my stepfamily, I pretended I had a headache and told Step-mamma I wished to remain at home. She seemed pleased to not be called on to chaperone me all evening; Fanny and Hettie were in raptures when they heard the news. I feigned indifference and remained in my room while they finished their preparations. Once they had left, I summoned Martha to help me dress in the gown I had worn to Lady Warner’s ball. More than anything, I wished to be turned out to advantage so that I might disarm any who might be tempted to connect me with my stepsisters. To the ensemble I added a mask of white satin with pearls sewn around the edge. It covered my face enough to conceal my identity from anyone who did not know me tolerably well. Naturally I wore Lydia’s glass slippers; I did not fear that they would give me away, for my stepfamily had never seen them, and they would be hidden by my skirts most of the night.

  Lady Warner’s coachman was punctual, and I arrived at Lady Eloise’s manor one hour after my stepfamily. The dancing had begun already, and I was able to enter the ballroom without drawing much attention to myself. Within moments I was seated and observing the dance, remembering to look for Lady Rousseau, who would likely not be able to recognize me. I had determined to assume a false name for the evening, reasoning that I could always approach her and inform her of my identity. You will laugh to think that I thought such a precaution necessary, but you have not been here to witness the effects of Fanny’s lies for yourself.

  Eventually I was asked to dance, and while I enjoyed the sensation, I could not help feeling bitter; had the gentleman known who I was he likely would never have solicited my hand. These thoughts continued as I changed partners, and it was only out of spite and pride that I did not return to my seat. Every dance I danced was one that could deprive Fanny or Hettie of a potential partner, and every new partner was another chance to show my power over those who had deliberately snubbed me. At the time I felt dizzy with an intoxicating sense of vengeance, but now I am ashamed to think I allowed myself to give in to such wicked emotions.

  As I was dancing up the set I had an excellent view of the entrance to Lady Eloise’s ballroom, which meant I knew immediately the moment Lady Rousseau arrived. My heart sank when I saw that she was accompanied by Rupert as well as Lord Rousseau. It would be impossible to approach her now without revealing my identity to him. (You may be wondering why I had not prepared for such a ci
rcumstance. Quite simply, I had forgotten it in the anticipation of my plan.)

  Many in the gathered company still wore masks, while others had removed them for comfort or conversation. Mine was still tied firmly in place, and I had no intention of removing it. Behind its protective cover I watched Rupert while I danced. He did not wear a mask, though he carried one. He stood observing the dancers in a way that reminded me of his uncle. I had to push away the urge to smile at that thought; it would have looked most odd to my partner. Suddenly Rupert’s gaze seemed to fix on me, and I nearly stumbled from surprise. When I dared look again, he was not looking at me, and I wondered if perhaps I had imagined it. The dance ended and I curtsied to my partner, determined to disappear as soon as I was released. Perhaps it was my haste that foiled me, for I did not see Rupert until he was standing right in front of me. Over his shoulder I glimpsed Fanny’s face, taut with annoyance. She had likely been about to try and engage his attention.

  “May I have this dance, mademoiselle?” he asked, his French as flawless as ever. I nodded my assent, not trusting myself to speak much; I was sure he would recognize my voice. My mortification was complete when I realized that the musicians had started playing the waltz that preceded the supper break. Would I have to maintain the illusion through the whole meal? I felt panicked and angry and embarrassed all at once. How could Fanny and Hettie have placed me in such a position in society? How could I have placed myself in such a compromising situation tonight?

  “May I inquire as to your name, mademoiselle?” Rupert asked, still in French. Did he truly not recognize me? Or was he pretending for some reason I could not guess?

  “Müssen,” I replied automatically and then cringed. It was not a French name, but I had been using it all evening because I knew that no one would recognize it.

  Rupert’s expression remained impassive and my stomach twisted itself in knots. “Indeed? I know a family by that name in Vienna.” Then he leaned down and spoke softly in my ear in German. “Names may be changed and gowns may be copied, fraulein, but your footwear betrays you.” I started at his words and his nearness, but he pulled me closer and executed a dizzying turn to cover for my awkwardness.