"Do you think…?" She sat lost in her thought for a moment.
"Think what?" I asked, no longer caring.
"Do you think that maybe…maybe he was afraid you'd think he put you in a compromising position to take advantage of you and render you unmarriageable for anyone else? Securing your fortune?"
"I doubt it."
"Hmmm… something's not right." Her eyes squinted as if she were trying to work out a difficult math problem.
"No, nothing is right. Everything is miserable. Not only did I act like a fool with Morgan, practically throwing myself at him, but he doesn't even want me. And to make it worse, the entirety of London knows about it." I was in full pity-party mode.
"That doesn't make sense either. Who would have told them?"
"Oh, I know who told them." I spoke angrily. "Arynna. She all but told me last night that she was going to. I was just too naive or stupid to put the pieces together and stop her."
"Arynna? She did this? What did she say to you?" Amelia asked, eyes wide.
"Just that she knew, saw me come in with Morgan, heard he was leaving and sent me off with an 'I'll fix this.'" I put my fingers up in quotation marks, not caring that Amelia had no clue as to what I was doing. "And that she'd joyfully tell everyone about my ruin and she hoped I'd have a nice evening because it would be the last one I'd have. Yes, I believe that about sums it up." I was so angry I wanted to beat something. Or someone, preferably Arynna.
"No! What a… a…"Amelia sputtered, clearly unable to come up with a name horrible enough. I honestly couldn't think of one either. 'Witch with a b' seemed far too tame.
"I know," I mumbled, putting my face in my hands. "What am I going to do, Amelia? I'm officially ruined! No one cares that it's a lie — or at least mostly a lie. I even got my voucher at Almack's revoked." My words were garbled through my fingers. Taking a deep breath, I waited.
"I'm going to talk to Lord Heath and Reg when he returns. He left a few days ago, so don't be upset if you don't see him. He would have been here in a minute if he were around," she spoke confidently.
"Oh, and what exactly are all of them going to do about all this?" I asked, exasperated.
"I honestly don't know, but perhaps they'll have a few ideas." She patted my head and pulled me into a sideways hug. "It can't get any worse, right? It's got to go up from here."
Her words offered me little confidence. I didn't know. I just didn't know.
Chapter Fifteen
Things certainly did not get better. The first day I stayed home, only receiving Amelia for company. No one else came, contrary to Mrs. Trimbleton's prediction. After staying home a few days, I began to feel stir-crazy. Though Mrs. Trimbleton had told me it was unwise, I wanted to get out. I wanted to shout from the rooftop that it was all a lie, but part of me wondered if it really was. By ton standards, I had been compromised when I'd let him kiss me and lead me into the darkness of night.
Morgan wasn't around to help or hinder the situation, so I was alone. Though I kept repeating his words and actions over and over in my head, I couldn't make sense of it. Everything I had been so sure of just a few days ago had been shattered, leaving me lost. Part of me wanted to hope for the best, hoping Amelia's speculation was correct. That maybe, just maybe, Morgan had miscommunicated and rather than asking me to forgive him for leading me on, he was trying to go about everything the correct way. But in his efforts to protect me from himself, he'd thrown me to the wolves.
Doubt fought against hope. It was like fighting a large-scale war in my head and heart. Feeling like a prisoner in my own home, I decided to take a walk in Hyde Park. Even though I purposefully went earlier than the fashionable hour, I saw enough people to give me a taste of my future. Each person I passed turned the other way, ignoring my presence completely, but that wasn't so bad. What was bad was when a few simpering debutantes in their pastel dresses giggled and pointed at me when they thought I wasn't looking, and then gave me the cut sublime when I turned their way.
Another lady spoke loudly as I walked by, ignoring me but making sure I heard her conversation. "Can you imagine? No morals, that one. That's what happens when girls lose their parents. No one to raise them and give them direction. She's no better than a common Cyprian or the Demimonde. Her parents would be so ashamed, dragging their good name through the mud…"
Tears stung my eyes. A new set of ladies saw my expression and began to snicker behind their gloved hands. "It's what she deserves," one commented and turned her face away.
Holding my head up high, I used the last of my courage to walk home, swearing off leaving my home for the rest of eternity. Nothing was worth the humiliation. To think, they had called me a Cyprian, a whore. It was just a kiss! I wanted to scream, but I knew it hadn't been just a kiss. It had been so much more, and my heart was broken. Without pride or hope, I ascended the stairs to my home. Once I got inside the house, I ran upstairs and shut the door.
No, nothing had gotten better.
The next day wasn't as bad because I refused to leave the house… not that I had anywhere to go. Days ago I stopped receiving invitations. Three days passed, then a week.
One visitor came, but I refused to see him — Lord Haymore. After he'd almost assaulted Wains in his anger at my refusal, I finally agreed to hear him out. Preening, he generously offered to marry me and make me respectable once more. At my immediate refusal, his face grew red, and I actually hoped he'd have a heart attack on the spot. He then tried another ploy, playing to my independent nature, as he called it. He promised me a marriage in name only, but I wasn't about to believe him. He finally removed himself once I explained in very specific terms that I would rather rot in the Tower of London than marry him. He had been my last visitor. I hadn't heard from anyone after that, not even Amelia.
Lying down in my bed on the eighth day, I hit rock bottom. The only bright spot in the past few days had been a small note from the Dannberry brothers. The two words gave me a trembling smile as I read them. "Chin up." I'd wanted to reply and say thank you, but Mrs. Trimbleton had advised against it, saying I could cause more scandal sending a note to two bachelors when in my position. With tears threatening to spill once again, I reached for a handkerchief.
Nanna, you were wrong. I cried, missing her even more than the day I'd buried her fragile body. There's nothing for me here, nothing. Worse, there's nothing for me back home either.
I sobbed, thinking about how pathetic my life had become. At least back home I wasn't a social outcast — rather, people didn't even know I existed. Being ignored was much better than being maligned, hated, lied about, and most of all unloved. I couldn't think about Morgan. Falling in love with him had been epically stupid and I cursed my gullible heart for falling so easily for his charm. He really was a rake, and not the reformed kind.
My romance books were so wrong. The people were cruel, love was rare, and I didn't want to be here anymore. The perfect little imaginary world Nanna and I had made with our silly books had crumbled around me, reminding me that nothing lasted. Not life, not love, nothing. I wanted to go home. I wanted to leave this all behind. I tried. I tried so hard, Nanna. Needing an escape, I made my way down to the library to find a good book. Even if it was just for a few hours, I needed to think of something else, someone else, and get lost in another world rather that my own pathetic one.
The library was one of my favorite rooms, for obvious reasons. The fire burned low in the grate, but its heat gave a warm welcome to the room. I searched the shelves, contemplating and wishing I had a Julia Quinn or Rachel Van Dyken novel, but I knew that was impossible. Neither author had been born, and wouldn't be for a few hundred years. But what I did find made me smile — Persuasion. I clutched the beloved book to my chest.
Oh, Nanna, if you only knew. If you were only here now… I took the book over to the comfortable chair next to the fire and flopped into it, dangling my leg over the armrest in a very unladylike manner. For a brief moment, I contemplated moving into a more
proper position, but I was done with the prim mannerisms. They hadn't gotten me anywhere. I flipped open the book and began to read.
After an hour, I'd reached one of my favorite scenes when I noticed ink stains that had bled through the next page. Flipping the page quickly, I noticed the stains were deeper on the next page. I could almost read the reversed letters. I turned to the next page and saw, in bold ink, a familiar script that made my heart skip a beat.
"Nanna?" I breathed before beginning to read the bold note.
Choices. Life is full of them, but they all lead us home one way or another. The choices we make simply determine how we reach our destination. You have yours, Jocelyn. If you wish, you may return. Simply put on the same gown that got you here. But if you wish to stay, replace the book and don't look back, because you won't get the opportunity. You must always look forward. But remember, often the hardest decisions are difficult because fear chokes out courage. Remove the fear and follow your heart. That will lead you home by the most perfect path.
Leaning back, I closed my eyes and thought over her words. They caressed my mind like a gentle hug, and my heart healed just the tiniest bit. I took a deep breath, feeling the weight of the decision press upon my shoulders. My first response was to run upstairs and put on the dress as quickly as possible. But I knew that I'd only be running away from my problems. If I would have read the note just a day before Morgan had left, I would have been severely tempted to disregard any idea of returning home but not so much now. Now I didn't know if I had any reason to stay, but it hurt to know I didn't have anything to return to either.
Nanna, what do I do? I mentally pleaded. As I stared into the fire, I tried to think of a legitimate reason to leave, one that didn't result from fear.
Reading the words again, I stopped at the part where she told me to follow my heart. A cynical laugh escaped my lips. I did, and look where it got me. Nanna would understand if I gave up and went home.
Playing with the fringe of my house robe, I absently contemplated what would happen if I did choose to leave. I could always search my name on the Internet and find out what happened… I grinned at the thought. Ahh, I did miss technology. I wonder what I'd discover, or even if there would be any historical account at all. Perhaps the unconventional heiress Jocelyn Westin simply disappeared… or maybe it would be as if I had never existed in this time at all.
But back in my own time, would people miss me? With a whimpering realization, I admitted the truth to myself. I'd be missed more here, in a foreign time, in spite of people calling me a harlot, than I would be back home. But was that enough of a reason to stay?
The debate continued in my mind for some time. Still unsure, I ascended the stairs and went to my room. As I stood before my wardrobe, a small smile lifted the corner of my lips. Wardrobe. The key to my future was in a wardrobe. Immediately I thought of C.S. Lewis's books.
With a small shake of my head at the irony, I opened the doors and searched for the dress. The soft whispers of fabric filled me with an odd nostalgia. I would miss wearing these dresses. Oh, I still dreamed of denim and T-shirts, but the feminine flow of a dress had been a welcome change. No matter the weather or occasion, I simply felt more beautiful in a dress. I would miss that if I left. Though dresses were not completely uncommon in my own time, they were nothing like the gowns I wore here.
When I found the right dress, I took it out and thought how strange it was that I hadn't chosen to wear it again since I had arrived. While there were plenty of clothes in the wardrobe, I had worn other dresses multiple times, yet I overlooked this particular one. Would it have worked? If I had put it on randomly, would I have found myself home, lying on my bed and wondering if it all had been a strange dream?
I shook my head. Because I'd never know. I carried the dress over to my bed. After I laid it out, I ran my hand over the beautiful fabric, then closed my eyes and took a deep breath before I began to undress. With each layer I removed, the tension in my belly grew. Perhaps it was fear or maybe an instinct telling me I was making the wrong choice, but I paused as I lifted up the heavy material.
I wanted to say goodbye. As my mind quickly brought up pictures of Libby, Mrs. Trimbleton, Amelia, even Lord Rake and the Dannberry brothers, I realized how cowardly it was to leave them all without even saying goodbye. The final face that my memory displayed sent a sharp pain through my chest. Morgan. Could I simply walk away without any regrets? No. Because even the barest hope was enough. I thought I had given up completely. My heart whispered that I still was holding on to a thread of hope that somehow the mess would work out. Love truly does conquer all, even fears… especially fears. And regardless of what Morgan had said, the truth was I loved him. I couldn't give up yet.
After lowering the dress back onto the bed, I laid down and rested. With my eyes closed, I tried to sort out my conflicting emotions before I fell into a dreamless sleep.
Chapter Sixteen
Again I awoke to a pounding I was sure originated in my head. The sensation was oddly familiar. Rolling over, I decided I would simply stay in bed for the rest of my life. My legs were numb from the odd way I had lain down the night before. Almost too late, I realized if I rolled any farther I'd fall off the bed. After adjusting my position, I tried to go back to sleep, still working through the dilemma from last night. I saw no reason to get up and face the same questions.
Pound, pound, pound, knock, knock, knock… the noise prevented me from falling back into blissful unconsciousness. "What?" I yelled, irritated.
"Miss Westin!" came Libby's voice.
"Come in, Libby. Please stop your incessant knocking before it kills me…" My voice trailed off when she opened the door.
"You have to get up, miss, he's here! You have to get ready! He's waiting in the green salon!" She tried to pull me out of bed, but I stubbornly refused.
"Who?" I mumbled into my pillow.
"Lord Ashby!" she all but shouted.
That got my attention. I raised my head and stared intently at her. "No." I knew I should have said yes, but fear began to choke me again. I plopped my head down.
"No?" Shocked, she let go of me.
"No," I mumbled into my pillow.
"But, but…" she sputtered. "He's here to talk with you."
"I think he's done quite enough, thank you," I replied sarcastically.
"Miss Amelia and Lord Heath are here as well," she added.
I raised my head again. "Excuse me?"
"Miss, I highly suggest you get dressed."
After a moment's hesitation, I accepted my fate. Libby would simply pester me till I got out of bed, and the absolute worst that could happen was that I'd be humiliated, again. I was growing used to the sensation.
I slid off the bed, noticing the sage green dress lying in a heap on the floor. "Miss, what happened to your dress?" Libby asked as she picked up the garment.
"I was just… setting it out for later." It was the truth, in a way.
"I see. But I doubt you could wear it now, it's quite wrinkled. I'll send it to be pressed."
"No!" I shouted. There was no way I was letting that dress out of my sight. If Morgan had come to put the final nail in the coffin holding my hope for our future, I wanted a way out of here, and fast.
Libby blinked and froze at my outburst but, to her credit, simply nodded and pulled out a fresh dress and new camisole for me to wear. Once dressed and primped with a too-tightly laced corset, I headed down the stairs, wishing for the days of Libby's mercifully loose laces. Taking a deep breath, I paused before entering the green salon.
The faces of people I had once considered friends stared back at me. I wondered if at least one of them could be called friend still, or if I'd have to suffer through their condemnation as well. Trying to paste a benign smile on my face, I endeavored to read their expressions so I could prepare myself.
Amelia scrutinized my face and body, and I could tell she was very concerned, but her expression was one of peace. Lord Heath looked li
ke… well, like Lord Rake as he wore an amused grin that seemed to harbor a delicious secret.
I almost lost courage to glance at Morgan, but as if I had no control over my body, I gazed into the familiar blue of his eyes and my traitorous heart raced. His expression could only be explained as tortured. My heart pinched and shuddered as if preparing for another blow. His eyes seemed to say, "I'm sorry," but it was too little and too late.
Realizing I hadn't spoken but had openly assessed each of my guests, I found my voice, praying it held steady. "Good morning." It only trembled slightly, and I glanced down to prevent any further embarrassment. Only as I stood there in a room with people other than Wains, Libby, and Mrs. Trimbleton did I realize how heavily my self-esteem had suffered, causing me to feel jumpy and timid.
Amelia jumped in to save me. "Jocelyn, I think you need to sit down." She offered me a small smile, and I grabbed onto it like a life preserver. How pathetic that my life had come to this, where a smile was reason for excitement. I kept my eyes downcast as I chose the seat farthest away from Morgan's. Breathing as deeply as possible, I gathered up my courage and glanced up.
As the moment of silence stretched on, I was compelled to speak. "Wains should be in shortly with tea," I offered, trying to play hostess. Thankfully Wains had met me on the way down to the salon and mentioned it might be a good idea. I had thanked him profusely, and his eyes had crinkled in the smallest way. That was probably the closest to a smile I'd ever see from him.
"Thank you, Jocelyn," Amelia said quickly as she shot Morgan a meaningful look. Lord Rake leaned back in his brocaded chair and schooled his expression into indifference, but I could tell he was fighting back a grin. As much as I wanted to draw courage from his mannerisms, I couldn't.
After another moment of awkward silence, I almost lost my miniscule drop of courage and excused myself. It was just too painful being with Morgan, knowing I had made a fool of myself. Adding insult to injury, my "friends" weren't even able to carry on a conversation with me. A tear slid down my nose, and I cursed myself for appearing weak. I wanted to wear the confidence I didn't feel, but I had lost it slowly, inch by inch over the past days with each remark or cut I had endured.
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