by Erin Satie
Cordelia stared Tess right in the eye and said, deadpan, “My principles are very good company.”
Tess chuckled and Olympia clapped.
“They make a nice pair, don’t they?” said Olympia.
“Oh yes,” Tess agreed.
But Bonny didn’t like cynicism, couldn’t treat life as a game and people as pieces on the board. “Most men are decent. And marriage is our chance to bring out the best in them—to find the good and foster it.”
“I’ve heard that sermon before.” Olympia yawned pointedly. “Miss Kelly is right. The law gives every advantage to men. Here is my philosophy: It’s up to us to tip the scales in our favor. I intend to find a husband so devoted that he has no desires of his own. He’ll live only to please me.”
Bonny remembered, with unnatural vividness, Lord Loel’s growling voice as he told her that if she wanted, she could have a husband who would go down on his knees every day and thank God for bringing them together.
It had sounded romantic when Lord Loel said it. But the way Olympia Swain put it…
“I don’t think I’d like that,” Bonny confessed.
“Of course you would,” said Olympia. “Everyone would. That’s why it’s so popular among royalty.”
“I’ve lived in eight different households during the past ten years—” said Tess.
“Eight!” Bonny cried.
“My patroness places me with those whom she favors and takes me from those who fall from her good graces,” said Tess, mild and without judgment.
“Who is this patroness of yours?” Bonny demanded. “She sounds heartless.”
“Queen Victoria.”
Bonny bit her tongue. The Queen!
“I was given to her as a gift when I was very young, by a British naval captain who vehemently opposed slavery.” There was enough acid in Tess’s voice to etch her implied, unspoken opinion of this event onto a steel plate.
“You sound like you don’t like him very much,” Cordelia observed.
“I’m grateful to him, of course. He rescued me, he gave me his name, and he secured my future by placing me in the Queen’s care.”
Bonny noted that, while Tess sounded perfectly sincere, she had not said a word about liking Captain Hurley.
“You say he rescued you?” she asked.
“I had lost my family. And found myself in a… difficult situation. Ask the gossips if you must know more.” Tess gave herself a small shake. Her clouded expression cleared, her posture straightened. “In the years since, I have—as I mentioned—lived in eight fine and prosperous English households. I’ve seen unhappy marriages up close, and not a one featured a slavishly devoted husband.”
Bonny looked down at her lap.
“Cheer up, Miss Reed,” said Olympia. “We’re lucky, you and I. You’re beautiful, and I’m rich. We have the luxury of choice. All we have to do is choose wisely.”
“And those of us who are neither heiresses nor great beauties?” Cordelia asked.
“Avoid the men who drink too much,” murmured Tess.
“I believe you’re serious.” Cordelia’s mouth thinned as she turned to Bonny. “This is why, more and more, I don’t think I’ll marry at all.”
“You dismiss your suitors too easily,” Bonny told her friend. “You weigh their flaws too heavily when you judge them, their virtues too lightly.”
“I want a husband whose companionship I enjoy more than the peace and quiet of my own company,” said Cordelia. “Is that too much to ask?”
Bonny eyed her two rescuers and nodded minutely, which made them all laugh.
Chapter 12
“You know who Tess and Olympia are, don’t you?” said Cordelia in the carriage on the way home.
“Tess said that she was Queen Victoria’s ward,” Bonny said, still stunned. “Could that be true?”
“Of course it is. If you read the papers, Bonny, you’d already know the story,” said Cordelia. “Theresa Hurley is an African princess.”
Bonny’s mouth went dry. “A princess?”
“The only surviving member of her family,” continued Cordelia. “She was taken captive by a rival king, after he killed her parents. That Captain Hurley she spoke of had been dispatched to rescue several British prisoners held by the same man, and when he saw the poor princess, he determined to rescue her as well.”
“And you met her?” demanded Mrs. Gainsway.
“Yes, Aunt. She helped keep the crowd away after Bonny rescued those boys.”
“Oh my.” Mrs. Gainsway fanned herself. “They say she has a private audience with the Queen every week!”
“And Olympia?” Bonny asked.
Mrs. Gainsway gasped. “Olympia Swain?”
“She’s incredibly wealthy, isn’t that right?” Cordelia prompted.
“Rich as Croesus—rich as the Sultan on his golden divan!” Mrs. Gainsway cried. “She’s the richest heiress in all of Britain and by a comfortable margin.”
“Her parents must be very lax,” said Bonny.
“Her parents are dead, dearest,” returned Mrs. Gainsway. “And they left everything to her—mountains and mountains of money! Poor thing. She would need to be Moses to cut through the sea of suitors that surround her at all times.”
“She seems up to the task,” Cordelia murmured.
“Very strong willed.”
“I liked them both.”
“Me too,” said Bonny. “I hope we see them again.”
Her wish came true the very next day. They received an invitation to go for a drive, and soon after Bonny and Cordelia returned a grateful acceptance, a gorgeous barouche turned the corner on the Gainsways’ sleepy street. Painted white with silver accents, drawn by four matched grays, it somehow served only to highlight the magnificence of the two young women inside—Olympia in blue and Tess in green—sitting side by side with the accordion hood folded back.
The overall effect was imposing enough to revive the nervousness Bonny had felt upon first meeting the two women. But then Tess reached out to take Bonny’s hand, steadying her as she mounted the narrow steps, Olympia greeted her with a kiss on the cheek, and her fear dissolved.
“We’ve decided to be selfish,” Olympia declared. “You see, we’d like to see more of you.”
“And the only way to do that is to bring you to London,” continued Tess. “Which, if we understand your circumstances correctly, won’t happen unless you find a husband who spends time here.”
“So we’re going to help you find a husband,” concluded Olympia. “It’s all for our own benefit, and we are too devoted to our own amusements to hear any protests.”
“Or thanks,” Tess murmured, more seriously. “And we’ll be cross if you try.”
Bonny, who’d had the words “thank you” on the tip of her tongue, shut her mouth.
Cordelia elbowed her in the side. “You’re allowed to disobey, you know.”
“Oh.” Bonny beamed. “Then thank you. Thank you both.”
Olympia glared at Cordelia. “Spoilsport.”
Cordelia smiled serenely.
“We haven’t done anything yet.” Tess signaled the driver. “Let’s get started, shall we?”
For the next several hours, the driver ferried them between shops and parks, sometimes waiting idly by while the girls descended to the pavement for a stroll, sometimes rolling at a stately pace through shady lanes, sometimes at speed. Whenever the conversation lagged, Olympia and Tess filled the silence with gossip—they knew everyone.
Bonny and Cordelia must have received a hundred introductions over the course of that afternoon. Tess or Olympia would do the honors, always adding, “You must have heard about those boys who nearly drowned? Well, it was Miss Reed who saved them. She’s marvelous, isn’t she? A miracle in the flesh.”
In this manner, they found themselves on speaking terms with people that they would never have dared to approach otherwise. They were introduced to the most important people in London society, the tastemakers an
d grand dames.
“I feel very pleased with myself,” Olympia declared when the barouche returned to the Gainsways’ townhouse.
“We made a good start.” Tess yawned. “I’m almost grateful that the choice will be made for me. It’s fatiguing to conduct a search.”
“It’s fatiguing even when all the eligible young men come to you. I could spend whole days just sorting through the proposals I receive, without reaching the end of them.” Olympia added thoughtfully, “Though it wouldn’t take nearly so long if I didn’t count the ones sent by strangers.”
“Strangers!” Bonny cried.
“Complete strangers,” confirmed Tess. “I’ve seen the proposals. They’re absurd.”
“Tess—did I hear you say that the choice will be made for you?” Cordelia asked.
Tess nodded. “When the time comes.”
“But isn’t that a bit…” She didn’t finish the sentence. Even Cordelia hesitated to criticize the Queen in front of her ward.
“There’s no sense in complaining about the inevitable,” said Tess. “So instead, I hope for the best.”
“I wish I could help you the way you’ve been helping me,” Bonny said.
“You have.” Tess embraced Bonny, then Cordelia. “You see why friendship is so important to me?”
Soon after bidding farewell to their new friends, Bonny and Cordelia dressed for an assembly to which Mrs. Gainsway had obtained tickets. Mere minutes after their arrival, Bonny could tell that people were treating her differently. Men flocked around her, as they always had, but they paid attention to Cordelia, too. Both of their dance cards filled up within minutes of their arrival.
And, what was truly remarkable, the women were more welcoming as well. They sought introductions, welcomed Bonny and Cordelia into their conversations, and in the following days they paid visits.
Mothers sat down on the Gainsways’ sofa and asked Bonny about her family and her fortune. These answers were disappointing, but these mothers kept up their quizzing—searching, Bonny realized, for some justification. They liked her, she realized. They wanted to approve. But with only her beauty to recommend her…
Bonny knew that if only she had something to offer—a relative who’d achieved some high office, a little bit of money—it would be enough. The mothers would go home to their husbands and their sons and say, “Perhaps it’s not the best match, but she’ll do.”
Bonny began to think of the Odontoglossum crispum in a new light. How much was it worth? Enough to change anyone’s mind?
On their last day in London, Cordelia had a wicked idea. She wrapped The Widow in thick paper and sent it by post to Olympia, along with their farewells and, as a postscript, “Something to talk about when we see one another next.”
The hairs on the back of Loel’s neck rose when he walked into New Quay. The hostile glances and cold shoulders weren’t anything new, but the intensity had increased. A few dockworkers jostled him as they passed, knocking their shoulders into his. A middle-aged woman with laugh lines at her lips and eyes deliberately jostled his basket, cracking the eggs he’d just bought.
Because he’d been seen with Miss Reed. She’d suffered unspecified repercussions, but she remained the town’s favorite daughter. People here were proud of her, the way they might have been proud of a scenic view or a geological formation. They didn’t have to be responsible for her beauty to feel blessed by it.
He would collect more blame—and, if he weren’t careful, a more severe punishment. He decided to cut his marketing short and head home early. He could travel beyond the county border for supplies, if he had to.
He looked around, saw nothing, and continued along the road to Woodclose. He only made it a few steps before Charles Gavin stepped out from an alley. A few of his Black Lion cronies surrounded Gavin in a protective circle.
“You seem to have forgotten something important,” said Gavin. “You’re not welcome in this town.”
After the fire, Loel had decided that he’d done enough damage for one lifetime. He’d promised himself that he’d never harm another soul. He’d known, even at the time, that it was an impossible oath. There was no way to live a whole human life without causing some pain. The good might overwhelm the bad, but there’d always be a scrum on the bottom, congealed from resentments and grudges, bitterness and jealousy.
But in this instance, at least, he knew what he owed to himself and to New Quay. Charles Gavin wanted a fight, however unfair. He wouldn’t get it. Loel refused to lift a hand against these men, not even in self-defense.
“It’s bad enough that you lure lowlife cretins onto our streets,” Gavin continued. “But you crossed a line when you led one of our women astray.”
“You’re speaking of Miss Reed?”
“You don’t say her name.” Gavin swelled up with each furious word, like a cock ruffling his feathers. He was so proud of himself, and so pathetic to Loel’s eyes. “You don’t speak to her, of her—you don’t go near her—”
Loel interrupted. “She deserves better than you.”
For a brief, satisfying moment, Gavin froze with his mouth agape. Apparently Loel was supposed to listen quietly to a harangue before calmly accepting his beating. Charles Gavin had spent too much of his time in a town his family practically owned.
Loel wouldn’t fight back, but neither would he kowtow to the bully.
Gavin scoffed. “Like you?”
“Not me.” Loel rolled his shoulders, loosening them. Warming his muscles might help, once fists were flying. “But better than you. And she’ll get it too.”
Gavin cracked his knuckles. “Shut your mouth.”
Loel shrugged. If Gavin had organized this, if he’d decided to play the brute in broad daylight, then Loel didn’t need to say a word. Gavin already knew he’d lost Bonny Reed.
Loel filled his lungs. He was about to be in a great deal of pain but for the space of one breath, he’d enjoy his victory. He’d saved Miss Reed from this lout—and she would be fine. Better than fine.
“You don’t know anything,” Gavin snarled. “I’ll show you.”
The bullies at his back murmured encouragement, and Gavin lunged, aiming for Loel’s face. Loel dodged, but Gavin still struck a glancing blow to his temple. It was enough to send Loel reeling. Someone kicked his knee. Someone else slugged the small of his back. He couldn’t count the blows, couldn’t parse the pain, and mercifully blacked out.
Bonny marshaled her arguments on the way home, but they fell apart the moment she walked through the door. Her mother greeted her with a kiss on the cheek and said, “You must have had a good time, because you’re looking well. It’s nice to see color in your cheeks. Why don’t you go upstairs to refresh yourself and then get started on the darning?”
“I’d like to talk about—”
“Not now, dear.” Her mother gave her a gentle nudge toward the stairs. “We’ll listen to your stories this evening, after the work is done.”
And just like that, the full head of steam that Bonny had built up dissolved into nothing. She tromped up the stairs, changed into a house dress, and went looking for Margot.
Her sister was on her knees in their small kitchen garden, planting seedlings.
“Bonny!” Margot jumped to her feet and threw her dirt-caked arms around her sister’s neck. “I missed you! Did you have a marvelous time? Did you go to any plays? Did you see fine ladies wearing gigantic hats?”
“No plays I’m afraid. But the hats were remarkable. I saw feathers in colors I don’t have names for—not to mention gems and flowers and ribbons that could steal your heart—”
“Oh, stop, stop! I can’t bear anymore!” Margot reeled away, clutching her chest. “Just imagining the splendor will make me faint dead away!”
“Then I probably shouldn’t tell you I made a friend who knows Queen Victoria.”
“No!” Margot covered her gaping mouth. “Really?”
“She’s the Queen’s ward,” said Bonny. “I think they se
e one another rather often.”
“Oh.” Margot slumped back against the wall with a dreamy sigh, eyes rolling heavenward. “I can’t believe it. Bonny! That’s amazing!”
“I’m sure you’ll meet her eventually,” Bonny said, then immediately felt guilty. She’d been invited into the home of two people she hardly knew—and the Gainsways had only tolerated her for Cordelia’s sake. Their hospitality probably wouldn’t extend to a second unwanted guest.
“Once you’re married,” said Margot in a bright but dismissive tone that Bonny knew well—a cheerful way to end a conversation that had veered into fantasy. Good things would come but not yet; until then, she’d wait.
And wait.
Bonny sighed and went inside to pick up the darning. She was the only person in the house capable of patching stockings, which ripped with a truly dispiriting regularity. She managed half the accumulated stockpile before her fingers went stiff, and then her father came home from work and it was time for dinner.
By the time she sat down to eat with her family, London seemed a world away. The bright sense of possibility she’d experienced with Olympia and Tess, the prospect of worlds opening up to her if only she’d chart a path into them, simply didn’t make sense at the end of an ordinary day at home.
Margot had dozens of questions about the sights and the shops. Bonny found that she hated answering them. She hadn’t been tromping around London with a Baedeker in hand, enjoying her leisure. Describing Tess and Olympia was even worse; the more she talked, the more they seemed like figments of her imagination. It was simply too good to be true, wasn’t it? A pair of heroic rescuers with the funds and the connections to grant all Bonny’s wishes.
She grew more and more irritated until she finally burst out with, “I want to go back. I want to call off my engagement and go back to London.”
Her mother dropped her cutlery with a discordant clang. “You want.” She laughed harshly and repeated, with real contempt, “You want.”