by Joyce Alec
“I can imagine,” Charles murmured, beginning to feel his heart swell with compassion for her. “That must have been very trying.”
“And those who were once my friends,” Miss Jones continued, as though she had not heard him, “chose to no longer spend time with me given that I had been lifted into a higher situation. We moved to a better part of town, into a much grander house—and I could no longer maintain the friendships I once had.” She sighed and dashed a hand over her eyes, before turning around so that she would not have to look into his face. “It was almost a relief to come to England, even though I will be honest and state that I did not really wish to do as my father asked.”
Charles reached out before he could stop himself and grasped her arm, tugging her gently back toward him. Miss Jones turned back to face him, her eyes wide with surprise, but Charles did not let go. Instead, he ran his hand down her arm until he found her fingers, holding onto them gently and praying that she could feel just how much he wished things had been different for her.
“And then you came here and found much the same struggle as you had in New York,” he finished, aware that she had been close to tears. “And to a gentleman who showed you very little sympathy or consideration.” He sighed at his own poor behavior and looked deeply into her eyes. “I am truly sorry for the part I played in that, Miss Jones. I deeply regret it.”
For a moment, her face remained expressionless. And then, with a long breath, the corners of her mouth began to lift, her eyes began to warm and, to his utter delight, she pressed his fingers with her own.
“It seems that we have an understanding of society that we can both share,” she said softly, as the air seemed to sparkle around him. “And I appreciate your apology, Lord Allerton. It means a great deal to me.”
Charles smiled back at her, feeling his heart begin to fill with such a deep sense of affection that he suddenly had the urge to pull her into his arms—an urge so strong that he had to physically force himself to remain where he was. Any thought of speaking of the arrangement with her father went completely from his head. All he wanted to do was be close to her.
“Look,” he murmured, glancing above to where, he noticed, there hung a mistletoe bough. He saw her glance up toward it and smiled to himself, wondering if she knew what it was. “It is mistletoe, Miss Jones. If you permit me a kiss, then I will take a berry from the sprig.” Smiling warmly, he felt his heart quicken, wondering if she would permit him to kiss her cheek. No one would make a remark or start a whisper about them, for such a thing was expected at Christmastime and, besides which, they were very soon to be married.
“We—we should go to sit with the others.”
Miss Jones was blushing now, her cheeks colored pink as he realized that they had simply stood looking at each other for some moments. His heart dropped to the floor, before throwing itself back up to his chest as she moved just a little closer.
“I think, perhaps, the next time we see such a bough, I will be more prepared, Lord Allerton.”
The promise in her eyes made him catch his breath. He could not look away, and felt his heart thundering like the pounding of a thousand horses’ hooves.
“I hope you will be, Miss Jones,” he murmured as she turned away from him just a little, making him realize that almost all of the guests had moved through to the music room, meaning that both himself and Miss Jones were some of the only few left. “You can be quite certain that I will not miss such an opportunity should it present itself again.”
She smiled at him then, her expression open and her eyes freed of any sort of suspicion or doubt. It was one of the most beautiful smiles Charles had ever seen and he basked in the joy that it brought him.
“I look forward to it, Lord Allerton,” she said quietly, putting her hand on his arm and allowing him to lead her through.
10
In the last ten days, Alice reflected, she had certainly felt a good deal closer to Lord Allerton than she had ever done before. He had been kind to her, considerate, and certainly seemed to want to know her better, given what he asked her and how well he listened thereafter. They had talked a good deal and she felt as though she knew the gentleman’s character to be good.
Except, she considered, as the maid put the finishing touches to her hair, there still came these notes.
She had received one every day since the very first one had arrived—and on some occasions, had received one in the morning and one in the evening. They all said much the same thing and Alice had tried her best to steel herself against the pain that would come when she finally read the note, but it always sliced through her heart regardless of how strong she strived to be. She could not tell who was writing the letters, of course, but her heart and mind still turned toward Lord Allerton. It was not the sort of thing a gentleman such as he would do, surely, but the notes were so very specific and so very dark in their sentiments that she did not know where else to lay blame.
This was made all the more difficult by the fact that she could not help but feel a good deal for Lord Allerton. Her regard for him was growing steadily and her affections for him becoming so strong that they were beginning to turn into something new. Something much more profound and something that she was not sure she wanted to explore further until she could be quite certain about where these notes were coming from. She had not spoken to him of them as yet, fearing that it might bring a wide chasm between them that they would then be unable to cross. She was to be married in only a few days’ time, and yet there was still so much that needed to be spoken of.
“I shall have to do so this evening,” she murmured to herself, startling her maid who thought that she had some complaint over her hair. After reassuring the girl that all was quite wonderful, Alice regarded her reflection in the mirror and prayed that Lord Allerton would consider her well presented enough for this evening. She would have to find a moment to speak to him about the notes and, given that he had not yet answered her question, about whether or not there was an arrangement between himself and her father, should she choose to return home. That question had still dogged her mind the last few days but, again, she had not wanted to ruin what was between them by speaking of it to him. Then again, she thought, getting to her feet and smoothing down her gown of light blue, she could not marry the gentleman without knowing the truth. It had to be discovered, had to be known, before she could give her heart to him fully.
Will you tell him of your affection for him? Of your love?
The thought sent a spiral of heat up through her and into her face. She did not want to admit, even to herself, that she cared so deeply for Lord Allerton, but the truth could not be hidden. Perhaps if the matter of the notes and the arrangements came to light, then she would feel that she had the freedom to speak of such things. Otherwise, she decided, with a slight toss of her head, she would not.
“You have a note.”
The sharp, unwelcoming voice of Lady Fossett screeched through Alice’s bedchamber, and Alice had to bite back a retort about the lady coming into her rooms without even so much as knocking.
“Thank you,” she murmured, as graciously as she could, taking the note from Lady Fossett as the older lady looked Alice up and down. Turning it over, she saw that the note was, as the others had been, sealed with wax but held no other mark. Sighing inwardly, she broke it open and quickly scanned the words, not wanting Lady Fossett to see any reaction on her face whatsoever.
‘Your passage has been booked for the day before Christmas. You are to return to America. This family does not want you. Make sure you are ready.’
Her breath caught and she turned away from Lady Fossett, trying hard to keep her face impassive. Her passage? Had Lord Allerton already ensured that she was to return to America, even though they were to be married the day after Christmas? Surely it could not be!
“Is something the matter?”
Lady Fossett’s voice was as hard and as cold as ever, but Alice fancied that she could hear a slight note of tr
iumph in the lady’s voice. Anger began to burn through her, chasing away the coldness that caught at her heart.
“Did you do this?” she asked, spinning around suddenly and waving the note in Lady Fossett’s face. “Is it you who has been sending me these notes?”
Lady Fossett looked startled, only for an icy coldness to sweep over her expression. “I do not know what you are speaking of, Miss Jones.”
“These notes!” Alice cried, giving no consideration to the way she spoke or acted. “The notes I have received almost every day since I have arrived. The notes that tell me that I am unwanted, that I ought to return to America! Tell me, Lady Fossett, whether or not the notes are from you.” Breathing hard, she stared at Lady Fossett, tears burning in her eyes and her hands shaking as she held out the note.
Lady Fossett said nothing for some minutes. Then, with a small sniff, she lifted her chin and lifted her shoulders in a small shrug. “If these notes state the truth, then what does it matter who wrote them?” she asked in a quiet voice. “You must know by now, Miss Jones, that we think you a most unsuitable match for Lord Allerton. You are aware, of course, that he has only sought you out because of the money you bring with you—and because no sensible young woman would marry a gentleman with so little funds.” She sniffed disdainfully. “I am surprised you have not taken heed of what is contained within.”
Alice’s breathing became ragged and she began to shake violently, her anger beginning to fade away but being replaced with a deep, mournful sorrow and despair. “Then you did write them.”
“I did not,” Lady Fossett answered with a small smile that bit down hard on Alice’s heart. “But I agree with what is written within.” Reaching out, she snatched the note from Alice’s hand and turned away, reading each word before Alice had the chance to react. Knowing she could not easily grab the note back, given that Lady Fossett would claim to be injured in some way, Alice was forced to remain exactly where she was, hating that tears were beginning to streak down her face.
“Interesting,” Lady Fossett murmured, glancing back at Alice before throwing the letter onto a nearby chair. “Very interesting indeed. If that is true, then that should tell you precisely what my nephew thinks of your presence here, Miss Jones.”
“It is not from Lord Allerton,” Alice breathed, refusing to let herself believe it. “It cannot be.”
Lady Fossett laughed cruelly, as though Alice were being nothing but a fool. “You think a gentleman cannot pretend affection when he wishes it?”
“I do not believe Lord Allerton to be a liar,” Alice replied, as firmly as she could. “I cannot.” She looked steadily back at Lady Fossett, her tears drying on her cheeks. “We have shared too much for him to have arranged such a thing.”
Lady Fossett arched one eyebrow, her voice quiet but seeming to fill the room. “Then who else would have done such a thing, Miss Jones? There is obviously a reason for him to have done so and whilst he might be willing to marry you, it is, perhaps, not his preference.” She shrugged, turning toward the door. “He is to gain from your departure, of course. So who would blame him if he sought to free himself from you?”
Alice stared at the door, breathing hard as Lady Fossett walked through it. It felt as though her world was beginning to crumble around her, as though the hope she had begun to feel was now being broken into tiny pieces. Lady Fossett had thrown so many things at her that she now began to doubt everything she had thought and felt and hoped for. Lady Fossett had said, quite clearly, that Lord Allerton would gain something if she were to leave for America. Lord Allerton himself had refused to answer such a question—mayhap because he did not want her to discover the truth. Perhaps Lord Allerton had made such an arrangement. Perhaps he did feel as Lady Fossett said—desperate to find a way to keep some of her money but without marrying her.
“But why, then, would he show me such affection?” she whispered, suddenly feeling very weary as she sank back down into a chair. “Why would he share such intimate conversations, such smiles and laughter with me, if he meant none of it?” Her head began to ache as she dabbed at her cheeks, her thoughts swirling about her and filling her with such confusion that she wanted to scream aloud. Nothing made sense. Nothing Lord Allerton had said or done helped her to know the truth of his feelings.
Your passage to America.
Her breath caught and she rose quickly, ringing the bell at once. Her hands trembled as she clenched them in front of her, waiting with agonized anticipation for the arrival of the maid.
“Yes, Miss Jones?”
“Have someone sent to the docks,” Alice said quickly, ignoring the astonished look on the maid’s face. “Tell them to find out all they can about my passage back to America. And then they are to come to the Duke of Sussex’s townhouse and ensure I receive the information required.” This evening was the duke and duchess’ Christmas ball, and up until some minutes ago, Alice had been eagerly anticipating the wonderful evening ahead. Now she felt nothing but dread.
“At once, Miss Jones,” the maid mumbled, giving Alice another slightly concerned yet surprised look, before melting back into the shadows of the hallway. Alice sniffed and made her way back to the dressing table, looking at her reflection again and seeing that the calmness that had been there before was now gone completely. Wiping at her cheeks, she sniffed indelicately and tried to lift her chin. Her eyes were red-rimmed, her cheeks pale, and her mouth turning down. She could not hide her sadness or her confusion, it seemed. And perhaps, that was for the best.
“You are very quiet this evening, Miss Jones.”
Alice looked up at Lord Allerton, her heart aching painfully as she did so. Beside him, Lady Fossett regarded her with a supercilious look, which Alice did her utmost to ignore.
“There are some matters that weigh heavily on my mind, Lord Allerton,” she told him, refusing to so much as glance at Lady Fossett. “That is all.”
“But there is so much to be glad for,” he answered, sounding concerned as his eyes searched her face. “Christmas is but two days away, and thereafter, we are to be wed.” He smiled at her but Alice could not return it. “Your trousseau is prepared, the townhouse is ready for your arrival, and I myself am greatly looking forward to welcoming you into what will then be your estate.” His hand reached out toward hers and she gave it to him willingly, as the other guests moved around them. “You will be a countess and I will be the happiest man in all of England.”
I want to believe you, Alice thought to herself, hearing Lady Fossett’s snort of evident disapproval. But I cannot.
“Good evening, Lord Allerton. Miss Jones.”
It was with relief that Alice turned to greet the Duke and Duchess of Sussex. The duke smiled warmly at them all, welcomed each one in turn, and then asked Lord Allerton if he might wish to make a toast later in the evening. Lady Fossett was pulled away by another of her acquaintances, and Alice was then drawn into the duchess’ company.
“You look pale this evening, Alice,” the duchess murmured as the two men continued to talk. “Is something wrong?”
Alice swallowed hard, forcing her tears back. “I do not wish to make a scene,” she answered miserably, “but there is a good deal troubling me and I…” She broke off, feeling a lump beginning to form in her throat and forcing it down. “I wait for news, that is all.”
The duchess frowned, her gaze one of concern. “What news, might I ask?” she enquired softly, so that Lord Allerton would not hear. “Of Lord Allerton, mayhap? Or has Lady Fossett made you feel unwelcome again?”
Not quite sure whether she had the strength or the fortitude to speak of all that she knew, Alice drew in a long breath and, in halting tones, told the duchess all that she could. Lord Allerton did not hear a word, still laughing and conversing with the duke, whilst the duchess continued to listen carefully, hanging onto Alice’s every word.
“That is grave indeed,” the duchess murmured, putting one hand on Alice’s arm in what was a comforting gesture. “But surely y
ou cannot think it is Lord Allerton himself who has arranged this?”
Alice shook her head, her voice hoarse. “Who else could it be, Susanna?”
The duchess said nothing for a moment or two, her eyes filled with worry and confusion, glancing from the duke to Lord Allerton and then to Alice.
“It cannot be Lord Allerton,” she insisted, drawing Alice away from the two gentlemen and beginning to walk with her through the crowded ballroom. The guests parted so that they might walk without interruption, evidence of the duchess’ high standing. “He cares for you, Alice, I am sure of it.”
Alice shook her head, sorrowfully. “I want to believe it,” she said hoarsely. “But if news comes that my passage has, in fact, been booked, then I will have no other choice but to reconsider my future here.”
The duchess shook her head, frowning hard. “There is more at play here,” she murmured, looking back at Alice with a sharp gaze. “Lady Fossett has made it quite clear that she does not want your company here nor does she think you suitable for her nephew.”
“But she says she did not write the notes,” Alice protested weakly, aware that such an argument was foolish indeed. “And she did look surprised at the mention of my passage to America being arranged.”
The duchess’ frown only deepened. “That does not mean that she is, in any way, free of any responsibility,” she answered firmly. “I would not think that—”
“Miss Jones?”
The sound of Lord Allerton’s voice reached Alice’s ears as she turned around, seeing him near her, his face concerned.
“You did not forget we are due to dance the first dance together, I hope?” he continued as the duchess smiled quickly and dropped Alice’s arm. “They are about to begin.”
Alice took in a long breath, opened her mouth to speak—only for something to catch her eye. It was a footman, who was heading directly toward her with a firm look in his eyes.
She knew at once what his intention was.