Glass Roses: A Victorian Fairytale

by Britain Kalai Soderquist

  “Have I interrupted anything important?” he asked with a curious look at Charlotte.

  “Nothing that I am not quite pleased to be finished with,” I said, still feeling flushed at the ease with which Charlotte had read the situation.

  “Your friend is quite enthusiastic in promoting your enjoyment of the ball. Although I am tempted to be uncharitable and call her interfering, rather than helpful; it almost seemed that she was deliberately keeping you away from me.” He bowed and held out his hand, which I took gratefully. We joined the waltz that was beginning, and though we did not speak, I felt as though the look in William’s eyes communicated his feelings quite well.

  We sat near Papa at supper (as far from Charlotte as I could manage), and the first half of the meal was most enjoyable. About halfway through, however, Papa said something that reminded me of his unfortunate propensity to say the first thing that comes into his mind, regardless of how unsuitable it might be.

  “By the by, William, what is this I heard the other day about you intending to sell part of your estate? You never mentioned it before.”

  “It is a recent decision, though I suppose I should not be surprised that it is known already. Yes, my steward has instructions to prepare the old Hamilton manor and several surrounding plots of land for sale. I should have done it long ago; the village and neighborhood could have grown substantially. But hopefully it will not be long before we see some new families there.” William looked at me with a small smile as Papa chattered his reaction to the news. I smiled back, genuinely pleased, though I was suddenly nervous. It hit me rather forcefully that William and I had not yet discussed my rejection of his proposal. Was a crowded ballroom the proper setting for such a thing? I highly doubted it, yet I was not convinced that a private talk was within my abilities at that moment. But the subject had been alluded to, and I could not stop thinking of it.

  My stomach continued to twist into a knot of worry as we returned to the ballroom. Should I be the one to say something? Should I wait for him to broach the subject? Should I remain silent? These questions tossed back and forth within my mind as we crossed the length of the room, heading for a small grouping of chairs that was as yet unoccupied near the musicians’ stand. Papa was still with us, further complicating matters. I could not speak before him.

  William remained with us until the musicians took their places again. As the set formed, he turned to me. “Would you care to dance again, Isabella?”

  “Thank you, yes,” I replied, grateful for the invitation. I took his proffered hand, and we moved to join the set. My heart was tugging at my insides, determined to drag my reluctant mind into speaking some sort of apology. Even so, we were several bars into the dance (another waltz) before I found courage enough to speak. “William, I—,”

  “I know what you are going to say. Do not trouble yourself over it any longer, Isabella. I have long since realized that you were right to question me as you did. If you can forgive me for my harsh reaction, then I am willing to consider the matter as closed. Well almost closed,” he amended, a sudden light in his eyes and a smile twitching about the corners of his mouth.

  “What do you mean?” My heart was drumming quite out of time to the music, making it difficult to concentrate. I thought I understood what he meant, but I dared not hope too much.

  “Perhaps you will permit me to call tomorrow and discuss it with you then?” he said, his voice maddeningly calm in spite of that small smile.

  “William! I do believe you are teasing me now. I did not think you were capable of such a thing.” I smiled broadly as he chuckled, feeling the vibration of it pulse between us.

  “Well, I have had an excellent teacher,” he said, and the sudden intensity of his look caused whatever I had planned to say to fly quite out of my head.

  We danced twice more that evening, and I pointedly ignored the knowing look Charlotte directed at me as I accepted William’s hand for the fourth time. I was too happy to care what the London gossips thought. William had forgiven me, indeed had asked me to forgive him (though I privately felt he had no need). The feeling of happiness that filled me was mingled with relief. He would not pay me such pointed attentions in front of such a public gathering if he had not truly forgiven me. And pointed his attentions were, for when we were not dancing, we remained together in conversation, ignoring all else. All the while I could not help marking the very great difference that this ball bore from the one during which we had first danced. The warm glow of his brown eyes was utterly captivating, and I wished that the ball would never end.

  Eventually the evening did come to a close, and it was with great reluctance that I allowed him to help settle my shawl and lead me to the carriage. He took my hand and looked down on me with an expression full of admiration. “I have not yet told you how beautiful you look this evening,” he said, causing me to blush most uncharacteristically. “May I still call on you tomorrow?” he asked. I nodded, speech being momentarily beyond me. He gave me another small smile in return and kissed my palm before handing me into the carriage. The feel of his lips stayed with me the entire ride home, and I fell asleep with my fingers curled gently over my palm.

  The next morning I dressed with extra care and took my sketchbook into the parlor to wait for William’s arrival. I wanted to draw him as I remembered him from the night before: eyes glowing with intensity, his dark hair thick but not unruly, a slight smile playing about his lips, the thin lines around his eyes showing just enough to suggest his age without taking away from his handsome visage.

  At last I heard the hall door open and close, and then he was in the doorway. I rose to greet him, silently blessing Lady Graham’s foresight in leaving the room to speak with her housekeeper mere moments before. In three strides William had crossed the room and taken my hand.

  “Good morning, Miss Copley,” he said as he looked at me with merriment in his eyes.

  “Good morning, Your Grace,” I replied in kind, paying no mind to the fact that we had both skipped over the usual ceremony of greeting. “I trust you are well?”

  “I shall be very soon. I hope you will forgive my forward manner, but I have a request to make of you, and I shall not be satisfied until I know whether you are willing to fulfill it.” I smiled and blushed, suddenly rendered unable to reply by the happy feeling filling every available space within me. “I was wondering if you would be willing to assist me with an experiment,” William continued, taking my other hand as well.

  “What kind of experiment?”

  “I believe it is generally called a social experiment. It is to be a rather long one, I am afraid. It will require much care and study, but I have great hopes that it will ultimately be successful.”

  I stepped closer to him, and he obligingly placed his arms around me. “And what do you hope to prove with this social experiment?” I asked, happy to continue the game.

  The smile that William gave me was the most brilliant I had ever seen. “Nothing less than my complete and utter devotion to the woman who has taught me what it means to truly love someone more than life itself.” He paused, and I held my breath. “What do you think? Will you help me with my experiment, Isabella? Will you marry me?”

  “Yes, of course I will,” I replied, then sighed happily as he leaned down and touched his lips to mine.

  The next moments are a happy blur in my memory. I say moments, for they were cut short rather abruptly. Instead of a prolonged kiss, I recall the sound of my own name being uttered in absolute shock by the last person I expected or desired to see when I was being kissed by the man I loved.

  “Isabella! What the devil are you about?” Gilbert Cosgrove stood in the doorway of the parlor, hat in hand. William and I broke apart, but did not immediately move from one another’s embrace. The sight of Gilbert would have surprised me had I not been slightly overwhelmed by kissing William. As it was, my mind was in a state of happy indifference.

  I slid gracefully out of William’s arms and smiled at Gil
bert with only a hint of sarcasm. “William, may I present Mr. Gilbert Cosgrove. His family resides in Kent. Mr. Cosgrove, Lord William, the Duke of Stirling.” Neither man bowed. The fury in Gilbert’s expression was clear, but William only looked mildly annoyed. He grunted in the most bear-like manner, and I had to suppress the desire to laugh.

  “Have we met before, sir?” Gilbert asked through clenched teeth.

  “I believe you had the pleasure of being in company together at Lady Duncan’s spring ball,” I offered, recalling the moment when William had forced me to dance with Gilbert after seeming to rescue me from his presence.

  “Cosgrove… not that impertinent boy Arthur saved you from in the park last week?” William said, a light of recognition coming into his eyes.

  “The very same.”

  “I’ll thank you in future to refrain from accosting my wife-to-be, sir, or I may find it necessary to demand satisfaction from you. And I can assure you that the satisfaction will be entirely mine,” he added with a sudden growl in his voice as he reached down for my hand. Gilbert’s flushed face paled noticeably, and he began twisting his hat in the most uncomfortable manner. (If he were not so odious, I should have felt a little sorry for him; William can be positively intimidating when he wishes.) He stood there for an awkward minute, watching William hold my hand firmly and obviously within his own, before he finally bowed and left without a word.

  “Well, I am glad to have that over with,” I sighed. “Between your growling and Lieutenant Potter’s experience with protecting younger sisters, I feel quite secure of never seeing Mr. Cosgrove again.”

  “From what Arthur says, only your disadvantage in size prevented you from handling the situation yourself. And I do not growl,” William added, turning me toward him again.

  “You most certainly growl, and I find it quite endearing,” I replied. “It reminds me of the very respectful manner in which you spoke to me when we first met.”

  “I shall endeavor to help you forget that particular meeting, if you will permit me,” he said, gathering me into his arms for another kiss. And by the time he left me in the parlor to find Papa and seek his consent, I found that I was quite willing to forget all of his previous offenses.

  We are to wed in four weeks’ time here in London. There is much to decide regarding where we are to live and what Papa shall do once I am gone, but I have no doubt that it will all be satisfactorily resolved in time. I am far happier than I have any right to be, but I cannot help myself. I long to see you, and I will not rest until Uncle Charles has returned and I have introduced my Duke to you both.

  Love,

  Isabella

  25 August, 1845

  24 Rue de Verre, Paris

  Dear Isabella,

  Can it really be true? Are you indeed engaged to the Duke? I can hardly contain my joy at this wonderful news! Combined with what I have to share with you, I feel quite as though I could die of happiness. No doubt your Duke will scoff at me and say that such things are not scientifically possible, and I hope he is right, for it would be a terrible shame to leave this world just when I have experienced a most welcome reunion of my own.

  Papa has returned to us at last! Thank you a thousand times for your prayers and kind words while I was still in doubt as to his whereabouts. Indeed, the days since the masked ball have been full of constant anxiety and fear, and I needed every ounce of help available to conquer them. But all has been resolved at last, and I shall share the details with you at once. It would be cruel to keep you in suspense any longer. And do not fear that I shall forget to mention Rupert, for he features prominently in my story.

  News of the railway accident was in all of the papers the morning after the ball, along with the names of those who had purchased tickets on the journey. Papa’s name was indeed on this list, but as the official announcement stated, it could not be immediately determined who had actually taken the journey and who had not made the connection. The line in question was the new line through Augsburg, where Papa and I stayed for several days on our journey to Vienna.

  The entire household spent that first day absorbing the news, but by the next morning Step-mamma had determined it was time to do something. Over breakfast she announced her intention in an off-hand tone to Fanny and Hettie, ignoring me as she had done since the ball.

  “If you wish to pay calls this morning, girls, you must do so without me. I shall be meeting with a solicitor to discuss the settling of the family estate.” I looked up quickly and returned my cup to its saucer with a sharp tap. Step-mamma continued to look over her mail while she spoke, as if she had not noticed my reaction. “I shall require the salon for the morning. Doubtless it will be a tedious business, but it must be done, and I would rather finish it sooner than later.” Fanny and Hettie ignored her and continued their giggling conversation about some new piece of gossip that had escaped me.

  “You shall do no such thing,” I said firmly. Step-mamma glanced up at me with a shrewd look.

  “I shall do as I see fit,” she replied in clipped tones. “I am the head of this household now that Charles is gone.”

  “No, you are not. Papa is not gone, and even if he were, I will thank you to remember that I am Papa’s heir, not you.”

  Step-mamma feigned nonchalance and returned to perusing the letter in her hand. “As to that, I very much doubt it shall prove to be the case. Why should Charles not have had the will changed when he married me? As your legal guardian, it would be sensible for me to inherit the estate instead of you.”

  Fanny and Hettie were attending to us now; they had stopped talking and were watching the exchange with interest. I struggled to keep my voice calm as I replied. “You are not my legal guardian, as I have been of age for nearly two years. And the Stafford estate has been passed to the eldest child of the family for more generations than your own family name has been in existence.” Step-mamma glared at my reminder of the relative newness of her family’s position in society. “And, in the event that you have forgotten it, my father’s original marriage agreement to my mother requires their children to take precedence over any children from superfluous marriages in the event of a death on either side.” I managed to keep my expression neutral as I said this, but inside I reveled at the pink tinge the word “superfluous” had brought to Step-mamma’s face.

  “How dare you speak to Mama so!” Fanny spat, although I was fairly certain that she was more angry with the fact that I was standing up to Step-mamma than because she comprehended my meaning.

  “I shall speak to her in any way I choose, Fanny.” I rose from my chair and turned back to Step-mamma. My appetite was quite gone now. “You will write to the solicitor and cancel your meeting. If you refuse, then I will do so on your behalf. There will be no legal discussions of any kind in this house until we know more about Papa’s situation.” I stared hard at Step-mamma so that she would know I was perfectly serious, then left the breakfast room and went to my chamber, where I indulged myself by throwing a pillow as hard as I could into the chair beside the fire while fighting back angry tears.

  It burned me to think that Step-mamma was already willing to consider Papa as gone. How could she be so unconcerned about the man she had married? Did she feel no love or respect for him at all? Her eagerness to assure herself of her portion of my father’s financial assets made me feel sick and cold inside. I had no doubt that Fanny and Hettie would side with her; they never had shown much regard for Papa, and only obeyed him because he had control over their allowances. I wished very much to spend the rest of the day shut away from the sight of all three of them, but I knew I had to be vigilant in guarding against Step-mamma and her machinations, so after I had calmed myself sufficiently, I removed to the salon where I could keep an eye on the entrance hall, the formal drawing room, and Papa’s study door as well. I spent the entire day there, only leaving when it was time to dress for dinner.

  After my rebellion over the solicitor, Step-mamma’s behavior toward me became, if poss
ible, even more spiteful. She either ignored me completely or criticized my behavior and appearance at every opportunity. Fanny and Hettie spent their days either lounging in their rooms, snarling at me whenever we were together, or calling on their friends to receive condolences and complain about how unfair it was that I should be wealthy and they should be destitute.

  As for myself, I received concerned callers with Step-mamma, and tried to pretend we were not privately at war with one another, and I did my best not to think more about Rupert than I did Papa. I had not seen him at all since the night of the ball, and it was only when Lady Rousseau called later in the week that I learned he had left town entirely. Apparently he slipped away the morning after the ball before anyone had risen and without telling anyone where he was going. I felt guilty any time my thoughts drifted to him, but I could not help wondering where he was and what he might be feeling and thinking.

  This is how we were situated until yesterday afternoon. I was in my room, attempting to read over your letter for the tenth time to distract myself from worrying about Papa, when the sound of the front door opening and closing roused me from my stupor. We were not expecting anyone to tea (as far as I knew), and I fought down a flame of hope as I went to investigate, trying to think who it might be. Sound came from the salon, and I approached the door as quietly as possible, straining to distinguish the voices in the room beyond. I could hear Step-mamma’s shrill tone and a man’s voice that I did not recognize. As I drew near, their conversation became comprehensible, and I stopped abruptly in shock at what I was hearing.