by Abby Ayles
Lucy sighed. “I suppose so. I just... I would like to make sure my friends are doing well.”
“I understand. It is a bit of a shock to you. Perhaps talking to them would help. Shall we visit the Byrds later today?”
Lucy nodded.
Following lunch, Lucy went to the Byrds' home, hoping someone would be in. She did not have much time between the end of lunch and four, when she would need to be home in time to get ready for tea at Lord Jones's house. But she needed to talk to someone and put her mind at ease.
Both Antoinette and Thomas were apparently still staying with their parents for a couple of days. Duke Perry was back in Devonshire on important business and Julia was home with her parents. It would be the perfect opportunity.
Sitting down on the sofa with Antoinette, waiting for Thomas to come and see them, Lucy voiced her concerns. As she spoke Antoinette held little Beatrice Perry, seven months old, on her knee.
Antoinette shook her head. “Lucy, I understand that you had a very bad experience, but you cannot base your every life decision on something one person did to you.”
“I just feel that it is not right, that people can be deceptive...” Lucy said, shaking her head.
“Then who do you think is deceiving whom?” Antoinette asked with a chuckle. “I thought you liked and trusted both my brother and Julia.”
Lucy paused. “But it's not just that sort of deception. What if they are different to how they believe each other to be?” Lucy was half distracted by the baby, feeling a pang of regret that she would never have one of her own. But it was a price she needed to pay.
“I beg your pardon?” Antoinette asked, confused.
“We all put on an impression for other people, so what if they want to marry the impression, and then when the real person is revealed they are trapped in a loveless marriage?” Lucy explained.
“Lucy, you are just focusing on one person again. Do not ruin your life, or anyone else's, on one person,” Antoinette repeated.
“People ruin their lives over one person in marriage, though,” Lucy replied.
Antoinette shook her head in frustration. “It is different. It is... like eating cake. You may take a bite of many different cakes. Some may taste nice, some may taste terrible, some may even make you sick. But eventually you will taste a cake that is absolutely delicious. Would you not order yourself a slice?”
Lucy shrugged. “I suppose. But what if that cake is spoiled inside?”
“That is a risk you take when eating it,” Antoinette replied.
“I do not understand why you would even wish to, though,” Lucy said. “Why not just eat something else?”
“And that is fine if that is what you wish to do. Foolish, but fine. However it is not your place to tell others what cake they want to eat,” Antoinette said.
“Precisely,” said Thomas from the doorway.
Lucy looked up. “Oh, how long have you been there?” she asked. “I am so sorry if you heard me say anything insulting. I did not mean to insult you, I just—”
Thomas shook his head. “I am not insulted, Lucy, I am just confused that someone as old as you are could be so naïve. Do you really believe people get married so quickly as to not find out the things that matter about the other person?”
“Sometimes they do,” Lucy countered.
“But generally they do not. And do you think that in the years we have known one another, Julia and I have not learned the important aspects of each other's character?” Thomas asked.
Lucy shook her head. “I am sorry for doubting. I suppose I should not assume so readily.”
Thomas nodded. “You are correct, but I forgive you. But Antoinette is also correct. You cannot let that one experience dictate your entire life.”
Lucy sighed. Why was it that nobody was willing to listen to her? Were she and Andrew the only voices of reason in the whole of England? Or were they both being as ridiculous as everyone said they were?
“You look like you could do with a break from your day to day life. There are actually some new people in town,” Antoinette said suddenly. “We shall be seeing them tomorrow, if you would like to come.”
“New people?” Lucy asked. “Are they staying or...?”
“Just passing through, though they may buy a holiday cottage. You may find this fun: they are a real Prince and Princess. A brother and a sister,” Antoinette explained. “And we have been invited to see them, seeing as I am a Duchess.”
“A Princess?” Lucy asked. Her only impression of princes and princesses came from fairy tales. “A real Princess?”
“A European Princess, so perhaps not quite as glamorous as an English Princess, but royalty nonetheless,” Antoinette explained.
Lucy was still in slight awe. Her fascination with fairy tales had been repressed ever since she found out about Duke Perry’s betrayal. But now, with the possibility of meeting a Prince and a Princess being very real, she felt her illusions flooding back to her.
Visions of dancing with the Prince took over her mind. Perhaps a fairytale was not completely out of the question after all?
Chapter 9
Lucy had to keep chastising herself for her childish excitement. A princess was not anything completely extraordinary, after all. Plenty of people were princesses, especially in Europe, where one was a princess if they were a king's cousin, niece, or great-granddaughter. Under such a loose definition, even Antoinette might be considered a princess by European standards.
And yet there was still something thrilling about the idea of a princess being in their midst, about that world being something that existed outside of books and songs...
She could not help but wonder whether nearly everyone else actually did live in some fairytale world, and she was simply one of the unfortunate ones who had to suffer to give everyone else their Happily Ever After.
It felt as though everywhere she looked there were people living the sort of life described in her books. They believed in marriage and love and happy endings. They followed their dreams and married their perfect partners. Of course not everyone had such great luck. But it seemed as though only a few were unlucky enough to suffer the fate she feared. And every time her scepticism mounted, something fantastical would happen to taunt her, to tease her with the possibility of an ideal, fairytale ending.
Princes and princesses, what next? Giants? Toads and frogs that turn into handsome young men? Witches?
She rolled her eyes. Lucy had thought that modern society had moved beyond such magical thinking, such superstition. And yet when it came to high society, everyone still seemed to think there was an aura of magic around it. That royalty was more than just people, that marrying up would spontaneously fix your problems, that a title was all one needed in life.
Lucy could not picture life a class below her own, of course. But nevertheless she could still look up a class and realize they still had problems, just like she did. Nothing was fixed just because you got married, or had a bit more money. The quest for happiness was a wild goose chase.
Antoinette had invited her to tea with the Princess, but Lucy had weighed her options and decided her mother would probably rather she spent the time with Lord Jones. Or not. She wasn't sure anymore. It would probably be wiser not to tell Lady Fitzgerald about the situation.
Instead, she made her way home just in time to get changed for tea with Andrew, and set off with her parents. Lord Jones's house was quite splendid. It did not have the woman's touch which Lucy's home, or Antoinette's home did. But, unlike Lady Fitzgerald, who could not stop remarking on the lack of finery, Lucy thought that the more masculine, simple look of the home was rather charming. She would have been more concerned if a bachelor like him spent all afternoon arranging roses like her mother did.
Although she did not want to let it show externally, for fear her parents got the wrong impression, Lucy was oddly excited to be spending some more time with Andrew. He always had a refreshing outlook on things, always had something interesting to say, w
as always prepared to speak his mind when others bit their tongues.
“Have you heard of the arrival of the Prince and Princess?” Lady Fitzgerald asked. “Dutch, I think they are, or German, or something of the sort.”
Lord Fitzgerald nodded. “Indeed, German, I do believe. And both single too, apparently. I have heard that people from all across the country are coming to visit them, even to catch a glimpse of them.
“Yes, I have heard,” he said quietly. “A lot of bother about nothing, if you ask me.”
Lady Fitzgerald appeared personally insulted by Lord Jones's remark. She wrinkled her nose. “Well, it is not every day that one has the chance to meet a princess.”
Andrew shrugged. “I suppose that someone's title does not matter that much to me. They are just people—there are thousands like them on the planet. Nothing special.”
“Well, I suppose if you were invited to see them you would think differently,” Lady Fitzgerald replied.
“Oh, I have been,” Andrew said, “but I decided I would rather stick to my commitment and have tea with my friends.”
Lucy could tell that her mother was torn between feeling flattered and feeling confused and insulted. On the one hand, Lord Jones was saying he had chosen them over literal royalty. On the other hand, he was saying he completely eschewed the social mores of their class. Lady Fitzgerald just smiled politely and sipped her tea.
Lucy then knew she could not let her mother find out about the invitation. Lady Fitzgerald would not say anything to Lord Jones, either out of politeness, or because she believed he was the only man she could persuade Lucy to marry. But if she found out that Lucy herself had also rejected the opportunity to mingle with royalty just to have tea with Lord Jones.
After a few cakes and sandwiches, Lucy and Andrew withdrew to a settee at the corner of the room with their cups of tea, within view, but out of earshot of her parents.
“Are you just saying all this to sound controversial and rebellious?” she asked tentatively.
“All what?” Andrew asked, sipping his tea.
Lucy shrugged. “About how princes and princesses are just normal people,” she said.
“I do genuinely believe it,” Andrew insisted, “although I do also find it highly entertaining to see your parents fretting about what I do and do not do with my time.”
“And you really rejected an invitation to see them... so you could have tea with me?” she asked, blushing a little despite her best efforts.
He nodded. “Of course. I know you. I know you are good conversation, and pleasant company. I do not know them. How could I choose a stranger over a friend?” As he said this he gently rested his hand on hers.
“But that stranger is an unmarried princess,” Lucy insisted, removing her hand away from his. “Do you not hope that perhaps she could look beyond her status and marry you? Is that not every man's dream, to have a perfect wife and be supported by her family?”
Andrew chuckled. “Who could ever think another human to be perfect?” he contested. “No, no, the money I would get from her parents would be a fee, a salary to reward me for enduring her, princess or not. And I am not sure even a princess has enough money and is pleasant enough to make marriage worth my efforts.”
Lucy sighed and nodded. “I completely understand,” she replied. But her heart sank a little at the thought that Andrew, one of the few men who would make marriage worthwhile, was committed to never marrying.
Lucy was committed to never marrying as well, of course. But if there were a man worth marrying, he would be Lord Jones. And so many young women were choosing to marry, or forced to marry, and wound up with the sort of gullible young man who would make their lives miserable. Then again, these women were just as gullible, surely? Only a gullible fool would allow themselves to marry in the first place.
Or maybe that was the trick? Maybe gullible people married gullible people? And, in that case... surely cynics would marry cynics? She locked eyes with Lord Jones. He smiled softly. She blushed.
No. No, this was not an option. She looked away.
Fortunately, before anything else could be said or take place, her parents saved her. “Lucy, we must get going. We have to be in town for seven, and home by eight in time to get changed for dinner,” her mother explained.
“By eight? Will dinner be early tonight?” Lucy asked, standing up and straightening her skirts.
“Oh, we are going to see the Princess this dinner time,” her mother said in the sort of nonchalant way which suggested she was decidedly exploding with excitement on the inside.
Lucy followed her mother's gaze to Lord Jones's face. Clearly Lady Fitzgerald expected him to be jealous, or to make some bitter or angry remark. He just nodded. “I hope you have a fantastic time.”
Lady Fitzgerald sulked the entire rest of the way into town. She had apparently wanted to either invite Lord Jones, or to confront him for being jealous. When he was neither interested in going, nor bitter, she was not sure how to react.
“I simply... I cannot fathom why he would be so careless about royalty,” Lady Fitzgerald said.
Lucy nodded. “Antoinette says that European royalty is sometimes more like being an Earl, or a Duke, though,” she remarked.
“Even so, higher standing than a Baron. I mean... what would anyone think if they were to hear that?” Lady Fitzgerald sighed.
“I suppose he only does it to make people angry,” Lucy remarked.
“A juvenile attitude,” Lady Fitzgerald insisted. “I am not sure we ought to consider him a prospect after all. He has much learning to do before he is ready to marry. Now, you on the other hand are as ready as a young lady ever is. And we shall be meeting a prince, so you will need you to look your best. A haircut is in order, and new shoes.”
She shuddered. This sounded dreadful. Her mother, trying to set her up with a prince? “I am not sure a prince would consider a girl like me,” Lucy said, trying to escape from this preposterous idea.
“Oh, no, as you said, in rank they are more like a Duke. And if Dukes marry the daughters of Barons all the time, you should have no problem with this prince,” her mother tried to reassure her.
“But he is from another country, we would have nothing in common,” Lucy insisted.
“High-class taste is all a man and a woman need to have in common before marriage, you would be fine,” her mother countered.
Lucy shook her head. “And what if Andrew is right? What if they are pompous because of their status?”
“My sweet child,” Lord Fitzgerald insisted, “do not listen to what that man has to say, he is simply jealous of royalty.”
Lucy sighed and followed her mother into the hairdresser. She had only recently had a trim, and was not quite sure what her mother intended her to do. Lady Fitzgerald was leafing through some beautiful sketches of various short hairdos.
“Say, do you know if any of these are currently popular in Europe?” she asked the hairdresser. “Germany, perhaps? I think a worldlier style would suit Lucy...”
“I don't suppose it has anything to do with you wishing for me to marry a foreign prince?” Lucy asked, with a raised eyebrow.
Lady Fitzgerald blushed a deep red. “Now, Lucy, don't be stubborn. We need you to look your very best when you meet them. You are a young, pretty, very eligible young woman, and if you look the part you may be considered.” She paused. “Or at least they may introduce you to some other royals, which would get you a step closer to becoming royalty yourself.”
Lucy sighed in frustration. “I seriously do not believe a prince would marry someone such as myself, that is all.”
Her mother sat down beside her and waved the hairdresser away. “Lucy, you need to understand this now, but you will marry. No matter what you do or say, you have to. And your father and I will ensure this happens no matter what.”
Lucy shook her head. “And I will,” she lied. “But I do not want to marry too suddenly, in case it is someone deceiving me.”
&nbs
p; “And if you are concerned that a man may be deceiving you for our money, what better way of preventing this than by marrying a prince, a man with far more money than we could ever dream of?” her mother insisted.
“But then what reason does he have to marry me?” she asked.
“Men do not only marry for wealth and power. They marry for love, for beauty, for children. You are young, and beautiful, and if only you made a little effort you would be charming again. Even a prince would be glad to marry you,” Lady Fitzgerald explained.
Lucy pursed her lips. “But I am sure there are plenty of pretty, educated, charming, young women who are also princesses, or of similar status. Why would he choose someone like me over someone... more like himself?”
“Nonsense, I am sure you have as good a chance of anyone else,” her mother insisted.
Lucy wanted to keep pressing. But what could she do or say to put her mother off? Nothing she could think of would be enough without being too far. The thought struck her that perhaps that was just how committed her parents were to this idea. They would stop at nothing to marry her, and if she actually stood between them and their chosen husband for her, they would think she was insane.
She watched as the hairdresser began to delicately trim her hair, careful not to shorten it too much more than it already was, preparing it in one of the styles her mother had chosen. Lucy herself had not even seen the style, the cutting had just begun suddenly. Glancing at the book, Lucy winced. None of them looked much good. She preferred the rough, masculine cut she was wearing. But her mother would hear none of it.
They thought they knew best. They thought they understood her wants and needs. They thought they could help her and make her life better, if only she obeyed them to the letter. If she only accepted their choice of men, of clothes, of friends, of parties, of haircuts, then she would be happy and fulfilled. They would never understand her.
It was not a simple phase. It was not a fancy. She was genuinely going to avoid getting married, at any cost. But she had to continue to play along. Because, in their eyes, rejecting marriage was infantile, if not insane. She just needed to carry on as they wanted her to, but manage to avoid marriage, until she was not at any risk.