Glass Roses: A Victorian Fairytale

by Britain Kalai Soderquist

  “A hit acknowledged, sir,” I said testily when I was able. “In future I shall be more thorough.”

  “Eleanor, please do not be angry with me.”

  “Why should I be angry with you? You have only spent the last fortnight avoiding me and believing me to have deceived you as to my character and conduct.” I regretted the words the moment I said them, but I was indeed angry and hurt.

  “And deception is not included in your repertoire,” Rupert replied sarcastically. I blushed furiously at that; I had of course been operating under a deception all evening.

  “Perhaps I should spend less time at the opera. It appears to be a bad influence on me.”

  “Eleanor,” he said again, and this time he said it gently. “You cannot think that I actually believed any of what was said against you.”

  “Can you honestly say you did not? Why would you avoid me if you did not have doubts about my innocence?” Rupert had the grace to color slightly at this. We twirled again in silence before he spoke.

  “I have a duty to my family, Eleanor, which I cannot ignore for the sake of my own wishes. I needed to discover the truth for myself, and I knew I could not do so in your company. You have perhaps forgotten that I care for you a great deal. How could my judgements remain impartial in the presence of the woman I love?”

  “And what is your conclusion?” I asked, somewhat mollified but still a little resentful.

  Rupert sighed heavily but did not speak immediately, instead looking through my mask and into my eyes. He seemed to be willing me to answer the question for myself with the intensity in his gaze, but his silence made me fearful, and for a moment I worried he would say that, innocent or not, he could no longer countenance asking for my hand. I waited anxiously for his answer. “Must I explain it?” he said at last. The knot of fear wound itself tighter inside me. “Eleanor, I cannot—,” he broke off as a piercing wail suddenly filled the hall. The musicians stopped playing, and everyone turned to look at the woman who had collapsed into a chair on the edge of the ballroom, openly weeping. Fanny and Hettie rushed forward, and I realized with a start that it was Step-mamma. Several other ladies gathered around, one with a bottle of salts. A footman was pushed aside, and Lady Eloise approached him at once to ask what news he had delivered to my stepmother that had distressed her so. It was only then that I noticed the paper in her hand.

  I was too far away to hear what the footman was saying, but the look on Lady Eloise’s face showed that she was quite horrified. Only when I went to move forward did I realize that Rupert’s arms were still around me. He released me, and I hurried across the ballroom, untying my mask and ignoring the shocked sounds Fanny and Hettie made when they saw me. I snatched the letter from Step-mamma and read it quickly. I shall copy it here so that you may have all the details it contained:

  Dear Madame,

  I regret to inform you that your husband may have been involved in an accident which occurred on Wednesday, the thirteenth day of August on the great railway line between the cities of Munich and Stuttgart. Your husband’s location is not known at this time, nor is the condition of his health. We shall inform you of any news as we receive it.

  Respectfully,

  H. A. Gottlieb, Minister

  Transportation Department of Germany

  The letter fell from my hand, and I stared at the place it had been without noticing that it was gone. Fanny retrieved it, and soon she and Hettie joined their wails to those of Step-mamma. In some little corner of my mind I thought they were making quite a spectacle of themselves, but I was too numb to do anything except stand there. It seemed like an eternity, but it could only have been a few moments that we remained so placed. Questions chased their way through my mind, but I could not answer them. Why had the footman delivered the note to the ball? How long ago had it arrived? Where was Papa and had he indeed been caught in the accident? What if he had been killed? What would we do? How should we ever know what had happened to him?

  I felt both of my arms being taken and two people steered me away. Rupert placed his arm around my waist, and Lady Rousseau patted my hand as they walked me down the hall. Others were helping Step-mamma and the girls. Rupert summoned our carriage, and when it arrived Fanny and Hettie were placed in it first. Step-mamma was assisted next, but she wheeled on me as Rupert led me to the door behind her.

  “This is your fault!” she spat. “If you had not refused Baron Wilhelm, Charles would not have been forced to take you away, and he would not be dead now. Do not think for one moment that you are coming home with us. You are to blame, and you will receive no kindness from me, you ungrateful, conniving little wretch!”

  “Papa is not dead!” I said firmly. The touch of Rupert’s hand had given me strength, and Step-mamma’s words had redirected all of my earlier anger into its proper channel. “And do not think that you could speak to me so even if he were. You seem to have forgotten that I am the Stafford heir, not you or your horrible daughters, and if Papa really is gone, then it is you who are not welcome in my home. As it happens, I have no need of your assistance. I have my own means of returning home. Good night, Madame.” Step-mamma stood there for a moment in shocked silence while I looked on her with a haughty air that could have rivaled that of any monarch. Finally she turned and climbed into the carriage without a word. I maintained my posture until the carriage had rolled away, and then I felt all of the anger drain away to be replaced with worry and exhaustion, and I was momentarily dizzy.

  Rupert was watching me with the greatest concern, one hand supporting me under my elbow, the other still around my waist. Lady Rousseau had stepped away to call her carriage before the scene unfolded and had not yet returned. I closed my eyes and breathed in the warm night air to steady my nerves a little before I attempted to look at Rupert.

  “I am sorry you had to witness that,” I said quietly. “I would have spared you if I could. It was kind of you to stay.”

  “I did not realize… I mean, I had no notion…” Rupert seemed lost for words, but I knew what he meant. He had not realized that Step-mamma could be so vicious. Of course I had not informed him of many of her faults, preferring to spare my father the scrutiny of his choice, but Step-mamma had done the job for me in this instance. We stood there until I felt the silence had become uncomfortable. Belatedly I realized there were still many people standing around the entrance to the manor and several seemed to be observing us. The memory of my wrongfully-tainted reputation came back to me. I could not stay there, especially not if Rupert intended to be so attentive. I stepped out of his grasp and straightened my skirts.

  “I think it is time for me to leave. Thank you for your help.”

  Rupert looked confused. “You do not intend to walk home, do you?”

  “No, Lady Warner was good enough to lend me her carriage this evening. I shall be quite safe.”

  “Eleanor, you cannot go home alone. At least let me go with you.”

  “Thank you, but I think it is best if you do not.” It took all of my remaining strength to refuse his offer with an even tone. All I really wanted was to bury my face in his shoulder and cry until I had no tears left. But I could not; not when all of Paris believed me to be in disgrace. I tried to smile, but the weight of my worry for my father and my sorrow over being required to let Rupert go made the expression impossible.

  Rupert looked as though he wanted to protest, but he seemed to realize that I was determined not to be alone with him and nodded his assent without speaking. I turned and fled up the steps to the house to fetch my shawl and order my carriage. Lady Rousseau was waiting for me. She also tried to convince me to allow Rupert to attend me home, but I was resolute. Then she offered to take me home herself, but I again refused. The servant announcing Lady Warner’s carriage was a welcome sound, and I said a hasty adieu before leaving.

  Rupert was still standing where I had left him, as though he had not moved, or as though he did not want me to slip away before he could see me once more.
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br />   “Good night, Rupert,” I said, my voice shaking slightly in spite of myself.

  “Eleanor, please,” he said, taking my hand and looking at me with his bright blue eyes full of concern. I drew a shaky breath and closed my eyes again. When I opened them Rupert looked resigned. He brought my hand up and kissed it once before handing me into the carriage. I closed my eyes against the sight of him and managed to make it as far as the manor gates before I began to cry.

  I have not seen Rupert since, nor have I spoken a word to any member of my stepfamily. Lady Rousseau wrote this morning, as did Lady Warner, but I have not yet responded to their letters. We wait anxiously for more news to come, but we do not expect to hear anything for some time yet. I know that all of my thoughts should be for my father, but every so often I think of Rupert and how I must have offended him with my refusal of his help. I have made the most horrid muddle of everything, and I do not know how it will all come right.

  Please have the goodness to inform Uncle Matthew of what has happened and ask him to write to Step-mamma and advise her as to what she should do next. For myself, I am determined to remain in Paris until I receive some word of Papa, but from what S. was saying over breakfast, she seems to think we should return to England as soon as possible. I shall not go with her if she does leave, for I know where I must be. Lady Rousseau will allow me to stay with her if it becomes necessary, but I will not leave. And if you could remember Papa in your devotions, I would be most grateful.

  Your worried cousin,

  Eleanor

  19 August, 1845

  18 Charleston Street, London

  Dear Eleanor,

  I hardly know where to begin; the news from your letter is most disturbing and it has caused me much anxiety on behalf of you and Uncle Charles. I am certain you will write again as soon as you have anything to share, but until then Papa and I will be most diligent in our prayers. Papa is even now composing the letter you requested he send to Aunt Sylvia. If anyone may influence her decision in this time, it will be him.

  Another aspect of your letter that concerns me is that Aunt Sylvia did not attempt to stop Fanny from spreading falsehoods while you were gone. I have known my aunt my entire life, and I can assure you that she would not have allowed rumors to be told about anyone connected with her if she had known of it. Aunt Sylvia may be heartless, but her desire for consequence generally outweighs her vindictive nature. Perhaps she only had a vague inclination that you were becoming unpopular. This I find more likely, as she would have approved of her girls becoming more important than you in general, but not at the expense of her own reputation or that of Uncle Charles. As vexing as it is, she likely knew as little as you did. Please do not think that I am trying to defend my aunt’s inattentiveness; she is certainly complicit by any intelligent standard. I simply wish to help you understand why she did nothing to stop Fanny from telling tales.

  As for your worries about Rupert, I feel the situation is far more hopeful than you realize. Your feelings remind me of my own as I expressed them in my last letter. I did not want to hope in the event that I was disappointed, but my current belief is that hope rarely returns a negative result when the motivation is pure.

  William would shake his head at that last sentence; already his scientific ways have made more of an impression on me than Papa’s ever did. But I am forgetting that you cannot yet have heard my news. I beg your indulgence as you once did of me while I share what has been occurring in the days since I wrote you last.

  Friday evening was the day chosen for the Easton’s ball, and I spent the days leading up to it in a nervous state that until recently has never been part of my character. Lady Easton had invited William to the ball, but I had no confidence that he would attend, knowing his reclusive habits too well. I dressed carefully in my new cream ball gown and wove a profusion of red and white roses through my hair, taking more care over my appearance than I ever have before. Lady Graham nodded her approval when I joined her in the drawing room, so I must have been suitable. We were to dine with the Eastons before the ball; we left early and were soon at their home in Queen Anne Square.

  Lord Easton quickly seized Papa and Lord Graham’s attention with an announcement about some new results in a study he had been conducting and led them toward his library, either not observing or ignoring the disapproving look his wife gave him as she led the way into the drawing room. Miss Easton was seated within, as the non-familial guests had not yet begun to appear. While the elder ladies discussed the arrangements for the evening, I spent some time in conversation with Miss Easton. She showed a rare enthusiasm for my gown, and I admired some of her latest artwork. My attention was so diverted that I did not immediately notice the sounds of another guest arriving. It was only when Lady Easton went to greet him that I realized anyone was there.

  “It is an honor to welcome you into our home this evening, Your Grace.”

  “Thank you, the invitation was most welcome.” William stood in the doorway, looking elegant in a dark green jacket and breeches the color of chocolate. The idea of a ball invitation being welcome to him was so very amusing that I could not help a very small laugh escaping me. Elizabeth should have been the only one close enough to hear me, but William somehow did too. His brown eyes flashed toward me, and Elizabeth looked between us with an expression of curious interest.

  “Elizabeth, it is time for you to retire now,” Lady E. said gently but firmly. Elizabeth colored slightly at having forgotten the time and moved toward the door. She curtsied prettily to him before leaving the room, and he gave her a little bow in return. I smiled to see him so polite, remembering his rude manners the first time we had dined in company. My eyes followed him as he went to be introduced to Lady Graham. I noticed that his bear-like appearance was somewhat lessened by the unexpected tidiness of his hair; it had been trimmed recently, and I privately thought the effect quite favorable. Finally he turned his attention to me. We exchanged greetings, and I was both pleased and nervous when he took the chair beside me.

  “May I inquire after Mrs. Kirke and her family? It seems such an age since I last saw them.”

  “They are quite well. I was given strict instructions to deliver their best wishes to you if our paths crossed in town.”

  “I am happy to receive them, and I hope you will take mine to them when you return to Scotland.” He nodded his assent. A few moments of silence passed while he looked at me with familiar intensity. I thought he was considering something, and I longed to know what it was, but my curiosity was not satisfied, because just as he opened his mouth to speak, more guests arrived in the hall, noisily interrupting our private moment. The added entrance of Papa and Lords Graham and Easton effectively separated William and I until we went in to dinner, where I thankfully discovered we had been placed close enough for conversation during the meal. But the moment for whatever William had wished to discuss was past, and we could speak only of impersonal things. I did my best not to appear ruffled, but it was a relief to gain the relative privacy of the crowded ballroom some time later.

  Charlotte Davenport approached me the moment I entered. “Come Bella, you must meet my cousin Sir George. He is just returned from the Continent.” I glanced around for William as discreetly as I could, but he was too far away to assist me in making an excuse. Charlotte drew her arm through mine and lowered her voice as she pulled me away. “My dear, you will not help your cause with the Duke by ignoring everyone else. You must make him seek you out. Men like to work a little for the attention of their lady.” I was surprised she had noticed my partiality for William after only two meetings, and it must have shown in my expression, for she laughed lightly. “If you think you have been clever in hiding your regard for him, let me undeceive you now. This is London, after all. Half the ladies in the room have already noticed, and those who have not will know it by the end of your first dance.”

  Now my face was as red as the roses in my hair. “Is it truly that obvious?” I asked in a mortified ton
e.

  “If it helps at all, it would be less obvious if His Grace did not stare at you quite so much.” It took all of my will not to turn around and look for him. Charlotte laughed again. “Come, my cousin tells me he has news of your family on the Continent, and I promised him the opportunity to ask you for a dance. George will be disappointed if I do not keep my word.”

  Sir George did indeed claim an acquaintance with you (I believe you mentioned him in one of your early letters from Paris) and we spent the first dance of the ball discussing you at length. He told me that his intelligence of you was not current, as he had returned to England before you left for Vienna. Naturally I did not share details of your trouble with Fanny and her falsehoods. His high regard for you was quite gratifying to hear. As pleasant as our dance was, however, I admit that I was hard-pressed to keep my attention from straying to William, who was standing close to where we were dancing, conversing with Lord Easton.

  After the dance was over, Charlotte presented another of her friends to me, and I once again found myself partnered with a man who, though amiable, was not William. My exasperation with Charlotte’s opinions on courtship grew as the supper hour approached and I continued to dance with strangers. My heart sank as I saw Charlotte approach before the last dance, and I determined to tell her I was finished dancing so that I might at the very least not be forced to go into supper with another of her friends.

  “Well, I think you have suffered long enough,” she said, smiling mischievously at the sour look on my face. “I believe your Duke is anxious to secure your hand before I can prevent him from claiming it again.” I turned to where she had directed her gaze and saw that William was indeed making his way toward us with a determined glint in his eyes. My heart rose at the sight. Charlotte laughed again and lowered her voice once more. “I congratulate you, Bella. He is a fine catch and likely to make you very happy. Do try not to dance every dance with him after supper. There is no reason to give the gossips too much fodder for their talk.” With that she smiled again and curtsied to William before gliding away.