He inched toward her, his grip on Timothy slight but secure, showing him to possess a skill with handling children. Perhaps he was just naturally gifted, because what man of his station had such experience?
"This isn't a public place. And I won't break your confidence. You should know this by now."
She should. He hadn't told her family of their twice meeting in the woods, and even now looked at her with a mixture of warmth and understanding.
He placed Timothy beside her. "I'd never do anything to disparage you."
Gaia folded her arms about Timothy and pulled his head to her chin. Memories of the boy's first words pressed upon her heart, mixing with the lingering ounce of dread from seeing him hang on to the fleeing horse. Her voice dropped, almost breaking in the whistling wind. "Blocks; I used blocks and hummed the letters."
"Blocks?"
"Wooden ones with bright colors. That and songs kept his attention. Soon he tried to imitate me. His mouth would open, and he'd mimic my lips. That's when I knew. I knew he could learn to speak."
He took the reins from her fingers, his strong hand warming hers. "Colors, songs. I think I’ve got it." He nodded, with eyes drifting to the left as if her little story answered an unspoken question. "I'll lead us back."
With a short tug, he made the horses move behind him. The duke's straight posture appeared as if he led an army. What had this man been battling, and what was he fighting now?
Soon the rooftop of Chevron Manor appeared between the trees. In another ten minutes, they'd be back to her family. Her stomach knotted. If she didn't ask about the only other black she'd ever seen, she'd never have the chance. Leaning forward, she held tightly to Timothy, her only anchor to what was real, to what mattered. "The servant you sent..."
"You mean Albert." The duke pivoted, his sea-blue eyes widening as his posture stiffened. "What about him? He was at Chevron the day you ran off. Did he upset you?"
"No."
"Was it his race that offended you? Your father thought it pretentious to send him, but I think his sensibility has less to do with over-handedness and more to do with the servant."
Yes, the man who she thought was her father had a problem with anything that reminded him of her mother's failings. Well, wasn't she also a daily reminder? Gall, hopelessness, all flooded her lungs. It took at least thirty seconds to learn to swallow again. She peered up and caught the duke's gaze, but couldn't hold it. No one could know the feelings of shame pressing at her. Would she always be helpless to the stains of the past?
"Miss Gaia, you have a question." He wrenched at his neck. "Tell me the reason you ran from Chevron shortly after meeting Albert."
She stopped counting the lacings on his boots, and lifted her countenance. "Are you a slaver? Is the manservant a slave?"
A smile bloomed in his eyes then spread to his curling lips. "An abolitionist's spirit runs in the Telfairs. Good. No, Albert works for me. He is a paid servant like others on my staff."
That wasn't her angst. Mr. Telfair probably wanted to banish all of the blacks to the Caribbean or Africa, or wherever else they came from. She balled the tanned fingers holding Timothy in place. If she'd been as dark as the duke's manservant, or hadn't proved to be as useful to Timothy, the heir of all the Telfair entailed estates, she'd be banished, too. The man she'd always called ‘Father’ didn't love her.
Her horse started moving again. The duke pulled the pair up the last hill. It was for the best. No need to let him know how distant his station in life was from hers.
As they came within the last hundred feet, she could see a carriage stopping at the house. Out popped a tall, rounded figure. Aunt Tabby? Yes, it was her mother's best friend, and Mr. Telfair's sister. That must mean Julia had returned. "Let's hurry. My aunt and sister have arrived from London."
Julia's thin, blurry outline bore a pretty pink pelisse. Oh, hopefully she made a match, and it was to someone as noble and strong as the duke or as kind as Elliot. Before her thoughts could clear, a tall man leapt out. The gait, the short stride... Whimple? The man donned a small domed hat, so typical of unfussy Elliot. Oh, no. It was he.
Gaia's heart beat wildly. He wasn't supposed to see her yet, not without her new dress, not looking wild from chasing after Timothy.
"What's the matter, Miss Telfair? You've put harsh lines on you pretty forehead again."
She let her shoulders slump and fought the urge to pin her dangling curls. "I look horrid, and we've more guests. I wish I could run."
Timothy wiggled and gripped the horse's reins, whipping them around as if to make their mount move. "Run. Run. Run. Elliot here. Wh.... Whimple."
Part of her so wished the beast would sprint back to the grove of trees. Her cheeks burned hot enough to fall off.
The duke smiled, but, thankfully, didn't turn or draw Elliot's attention, though the devilish curve of his mouth implied mischief. "Haven't you had enough of running? At least I'm here, so you won't have to go looking for me."
She glared at him. It wasn't funny to be unrequited in love. It hurt, cutting up all her insides.
The duke waved a palm. "Now, don't go sending your misery prayers my way. I've my fill already, and now old Magnus too." He lifted Timothy and plopped him again on his shoulders. "Well, the sooner we get you and your brother inside, the sooner you can attend to your guests and ease your stepmother's frown. Your father seemed at peace, knowing you were chasing after this young man." He paused for a second, his face and tone sobering. "A great many responsibilities befall you. You probably haven't the time for another project, not that your father would spare you."
Something very sad sounded in his voice. After all the trouble she and Timothy had caused, there had to be a way to convince Mr. Telfair to not be so suspicious of such a kind man. "Come to the Hallows' Ball at the week's end. Pillars of the community impress not only my family, but the neighbors, too. That may change minds."
A sparkle returned to his eyes, like moonlight beaming on the waves. "A pillar is a hard thing to aspire to, but I could try. Now, let's get you down."
Before she could protest, his hands were about her waist. His firm index finger and thumb squeezed a rib as he hoisted her in the air. Her breath caught; not from the power of his arms, but from seeing Elliot linking hands with Julia, towing her sister into a kiss.
CHAPTER FIVE
The Hallow's Ball
FRIDAY, THE WEEK'S end, and Gaia still hadn't finished hemming her new dress. If she went to the Hallows' Ball at all, this gown needed to be finished. Yet what was the point? Elliot had again chosen someone else, not Gaia.
Her pricked fingers stung a little less than the cuts in her heart. How could Julia do this to her?
Though her sister never claimed a beau, she never lacked for attention. And when things went badly, who was there to bolster Julia's confidence? Gaia cried with her when she was jilted. Did sisterly loyalty mean nothing?
Maybe she didn't know the misery growing in Gaia's bosom. Julia wouldn't flirt with Elliot if she did. That must be the case. Julia would never be this cruel. And anyone could be taken in by the blue of Elliot's eyes.
What if it was too late, and Julia and Elliot were in love? Could Gaia stand near the couple at the wedding chapel, and wish them happiness? Her stomach twisted, remembering Cousin Millicent flaunting her engagement to him.
Panting, Gaia flung the gown onto her mattress and started to pace. God, how do I do this? Have I missed my chance because I don't stand up for myself?
What if there were no chances? Maybe God's gift was the respectability of the Telfair name, and skin that didn't scream her secret. Her face fevered, and that old heart shriveled within. "I should be grateful."
However, only anger filled her veins; anger at her mother for dying and not being able to explain, anger at the lies and the need for them, anger at the engulfing revelation that this was all someone like her, a mulatto, could attain.
Needing cool air, she opened the window. The evening air wafted
coconut scent inside, kissing her nose. Peering down, she saw tiny buds and a couple of blooms on the spiny gorse edging the wall. The plant decided to blossom now, the day of the Hallows' Ball. Maybe it was time for Gaia to flower; a future of her own choosing, the hope for which couldn't be gone. The duke thought she was pretty. Could Elliot think her pretty, too? What would happen if she grew as bold in her speech with him as she was with the duke?
Tonight she'd dance with Elliot and find a way to tell him her heart. She and Elliot enjoyed books and learning and the outdoors. Gaia would make an excellent botanist's wife. Elliot was a man of logic. He'd see this if presented the facts. Surely, reason would triumph over Julia's pretty face.
A few taps on the threshold made Gaia turn. The light pounds had to be Julia's small hands.
With a sigh, Gaia went to the door and opened it.
Julia swished back and forth in her fashionable cream gown, with violet threading upon its square neck. Her long, light blonde hair was coiffed with tiny flowers, and twisted into a thick braid. She looked like a goddess.
Gaia swallowed the small bit of hope stuck in her throat. Julia's beauty would win.
Her sister stroked Gaia's chin. "Sarah said that you would be going to the Hallows' Ball. Your first outing; you must be nervous."
Leaning against the door, coddling the crystal knob in her hand, Gaia nodded, but words couldn't form. It was hard to, with the self-doubt flooding inside.
Julia tapped her slipper and folded her hands together. "I thought you might need some help readying."
Licking her dry lips, Gaia backed into the room. "I still have more sewing to do."
"Sarah says you've been working on a dress. May I see?" her words were soft. Her gentle brown eyes looked as if they concealed tears. "I missed you."
Gaia missed her, too. Other than Seren and Julia, no peers had made Gaia feel loved and valued. "A month gone in London is too much."
Julia came forward and wrapped Gaia in her arms. Sisterly love had to come before anything, even Elliot.
Soon tears and flailing arms cleared as they each stepped away, swiping at cheeks, wiping eyes.
"Well, let's have a look," Julia sauntered to the bed and picked up the rose gown. She arrayed it about Gaia and positioned her in front of the mirror. "This color will make you look so well. You will stand out. With all eyes on you, are you ready for that?"
Laying the gown over her arm, she pivoted to Julia. "What are you talking about?"
"The snickers of our friends; you've heard how they talk about me, about anyone different."
Gaia's feet chilled within her slippers. "What are you saying?"
Julia's eyes grew big. "This rose color will draw attention, with everyone else in white or cream gowns. Just prepare yourself for the scrutiny that comes with it."
Anger churned in Gaia stomach. Forgiving her sister for attracting Elliot was difficult, but to make Gaia self-conscious was horrendous. Maybe the girl's shed tears were a trick. "You don't want me to stand out. You want me to hide."
"I want to spare you. The talk can be cruel to anyone different."
Forcing air into her lungs, Gaia let the dress flutter to the floor and sought her sister's eyes. There wasn't cruelty in them, but something genuine, almost fearful. This wasn't about Elliot. She knew. Of course she knew. Six years older than Gaia, she had to have known.
A thousand questions filled her head. Who was Gaia's father? What was he like? Did mother love him, or was it lust? Gaia licked her lips. "Julia—"
Aunt Tabby pattered inside. "Girls, you must not dawdle." The woman picked up the gown from the floor. "This will not do. It will make your face look red and coarse. No." She marched to the closet and pulled out a tired, light-grey, off-white frock. "This is what you will wear."
One of Gaia's old gowns. She would blend with the whitewashed walls. No one would see her.
"Gaia, now hurry. Delilah's girls, my dearest friend's girls, must look well tonight." Aunt Tabby grabbed Julia's hand, towing her from the room.
When the door thudded closed, Gaia let her shoulders sag. What excuse could she come up with to avoid going, that wouldn't disappoint her stepmother? Only the image of Sarah prostrate, begging Mr. Telfair to give permission to allow his less-than daughter to go, filled Gaia’s mind. She couldn't disappoint her. What was another day of being ignored?
A tug on her skirt made her turn.
"He'll see." Timothy, who must've snuck out of his favorite hiding spot underneath Gaia's bed, picked up a piece of the thread and let it float to the floor.
She bent and kissed his forehead. "If only that were true."
When the carriage stopped at Southborne Hall, the Hallows' home, Aunt Tabby pressed against the window. Then, she sat back as if the sight of the decorated estate were commonplace. Maybe it was to a devoted London-dweller, but not for simple county folks, and definitely not to Gaia.
Her first outing. Her first ball. Her palms moistened beneath her tight white gloves. Aunt had brushed Gaia's frizzing curls into a neat chignon. She couldn't stop her feet from tapping on the floorboards.
Her heart beat hard as she scanned the lanterns hooked to iron posts lighting the cobblestone path of the front drive. Smaller lights stood on every other step, offering a welcoming atmosphere. The sandstone brick looked brighter and richer because of them.
In this light, the bare bit of her arm glowed, just like Julia. If only she could believe she was just as good. Maybe veiled in the moonlight she was.
Julia bit her lip and fretted the lace handle of her fan. Why was she nervous? Her hair was coiffed just so, with pearl pins enwrapping her fair locks. Surely, some man other than Elliot would see the beauty in the girl's chestnut eyes.
Aunt descended first and straightened the lines of her moss- green gown. Her chocolate gloves made her thick arms look like a Sycamore tree, but an elegant one.
A liveried servant in his shining light-blue coat held his hand out for Julia. She gripped it and floated from the carriage. Her cream gown with rose embellishments about the waist made her look like a garden after the first snow.
Casting her gaze upon her old gown, a pass-down from one of aunt's daughters, Gaia's palms became wetter. Staying hidden within the dark interior of their carriage held some appeal.
Sarah squeezed Gaia's hand. "It's not about clothes. Don't look for God's approval from others. He has made you special. And his plans for you are special." She towed Gaia from the safe bench and up the stairs to the gleaming entry of Southborne.
The sweetest music flowed down the long gallery framed with Roman columns. Party-goers, the elders of the community, and every eligible maiden lined the passage. The crush of people felt thick. The humid air dampened Gaia's forehead. Sarah's hand tugged on hers, and they trudged deeper, until arriving in the main ballroom.
The music sounded clear, each note no longer muffled by a multitude of conversations. Near the head of the room, men in dark tailcoats plucked long bowstrings across violins, as flautists whipped their obsidian instruments to a jaunty tune. The fine polish of the wood reflected the diamond light of the high chandelier onto her spectacles and the carved trim spanning the ceiling.
Chalked floors made a star pattern similar to the constellation of a Christmas sky. The multitude of revelers spun and orbited about the tables of refreshment.
A few of her sister's friends stared and pointed in her direction. Frowning behind fans, the young ladies didn't seem to share her enthusiasm. Gaia almost laughed. No longer could any of them make her feel more unworthy. Her mother's secret outdid them all.
Massive fluted columns lined the ends of the room, each decorated with garlands of the blooms. Her nostrils filled with lilac. The sweet smell blended with the musk of candle wax from the collection of torches set in the corners of the room.
Adjusting her spectacles, she lifted her gaze to the mesmerizing crystal chandelier. Before she could stop herself, she twirled around. The hem of her skirt whirled and floate
d before settling back to her ankles. Despite everything, this was her first formal ball. Surely she could forget her inadequacies and the snide girls to enjoy a little bit of the evening.
The set finished, and couples parted. Seren tilted a fan in Gaia's direction. As if she'd held a wand, a gentleman wand, the girl drew two more men to each side, each taller than the next, and attired in onyx tailcoats and creamy waistcoats and stockings. Grabbing a separate hand, each man tugged her back for the next dance. She withdrew her palms, swept into a curtsy, and kept moving until she stood in front of Gaia.
Seren hugged her, wrinkling the front of her snow white gown. A damask ribbon of a lighter purple hue edged her collar and sleeves. With her hair pulled into a bun, and tiny crystals lining the circumference, she could be a princess. A perfect favorite for Prinny, if he dared socialize in the country. Yes, Seren would dazzle any court.
Her friend nodded. "Welcome, Mrs. Telfair, Mrs. Monlin, Julia, Gaia, welcome. Mr. Telfair? Will he be joining us this evening?"
Sarah stroked the falling feather of her headpiece. "Not tonight, but he sends his regards."
Dimpling, as if the absence of the Telfair patriarch gave a license to foolishness, Seren grabbed Gaia's arm. “May I steal this young lady away?"
"Certainly. Look, Mrs. Monlin, there are free chairs in the corner." Taking Aunt by the hand, Sarah fought through the thick press of neighbors, to the seats. Julia smiled then followed.
Tugging at her sleeves, Gaia lifted her head and hoped her painted smile covered her nerves. Everyone else was so wondrous and appointed. Unlike her, they all fit into this world. "Does my shaking show?"
A wrinkle set on Seren's forehead. "You look very pretty, Gaia, but where's the gown you've been working on?"
"My aunt didn't think it suitable. And I don't want to embarrass the Telfairs, or you, my dear friend."
"Smile, and the world can't stop you." She linked arms with Gaia and took her to the refreshment table.
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