Finding Bliss

by B L Bierley

  During the hostess’s retelling of the event, Bliss composed herself as best she could. It would take every ounce of her strength to get through the dinner with the evil Lord Westford looking at her like a prized treasure to steal. Bliss let the visions come without flinching even at the worst ones and ate her meal with minimal delay as each course was presented.

  Lady Westford invited them to stay for cards and sherry as soon as they stood up from the table. Bliss knew she looked dreadful despite all her efforts to remain stoic. Luckily Eric noticed. He graciously declined the offer and insisted that they postpone the rest of the activities until a future date.

  Eric obviously wanted to make light of the fact that Bliss was altered since the meal commenced, making excuses and apologies for it being his own fault that they were having to leave so early. Lady Westford insisted that they come back some evening before the ball and join them for a round of whist. Bliss gave her best smile and assured the woman that she would be in touch soon.

  Knowing, from the clearest of the visions, what she needed to do, Bliss made an odd declaration to the room as they were leaving.

  “I’m planning to take in some sights near the museum later this week. My maid is so fond of walking when the weather is still fresh from the rain, so we’ll probably go on the next sunny afternoon. But any day other than that would be a wonderful evening for cards,” Bliss explained succinctly.

  She didn’t hide the pointed stare toward Lord Westford, though for all it meant neither Eric or Lady Westford made note of it. Bliss recognized the moment the man’s plans began to finalize in his mind, because the visions became as crisp as independent scenes from a play.

  The butler handed Bliss her umbrella and told them that the rain appeared to have stopped. Eric looked at Bliss and asked if she wanted to walk to the carriage to clear her head a bit before they rode back to Whisper Chase. She agreed absently, trying to organize her own plan for the day she would see Lord Westford again.

  As they walked, Eric asked her repeatedly if she was feeling unwell. Bliss didn’t give him any false smiles. When they were several steps from the front door, Bliss raised the umbrella and opened it just in time to prevent them from being soaked to the teeth by the surprisingly abrupt shower of rain.

  Eric looked mildly amused at her as he hovered underneath the waxed fabric. He took the handle and carried the umbrella the remainder of their walk toward the carriage without saying a word. Behind them, Bliss could feel Lord Westford’s eyes boring into her back as she walked away.

  Bliss waited until they pulled up to the drive of Whisper Chase to speak to Eric again. She swallowed her worried tears and prayed silently during the drive that she could make her case strongly enough to get his cooperation.

  Everything was coming to a pinpoint now. Any mistakes could have very costly or devastating effects. She fought with her own composure and made her request.

  “Eric,” she began with a trembling voice, “if you’ve ever been my friend or cared at all about me, you will call upon me this coming Tuesday once the holiday has passed. Make sure you say hello to Aunt Pen that day. I’ve got so much I need to tell you, but it will have to wait for that day. I’m extremely tired now, and I must go inside without inviting you in. Will you promise me you’ll come Tuesday? It’s very important to me,” Bliss explained while keeping her voice as steady as she was capable.

  Eric gave her a look that spoke of doubts, but for the first time in his life he agreed with her.

  “I will be here before noon, barring any medical emergency that delays me, of course. I hope you rest well. If you need anything at all during the night, send for me at my boarding house. Mrs. Meaghan Taylor is the proprietress. She is used to waking up surgeons at odd hours, so don’t hesitate.” Eric gave her a warm smile of concern, and Bliss felt some of her chilling terror abate.

  “Thank you, Eric! It means so very much to me to hear you say that. Good evening,” Bliss added.

  Without giving it any forethought at all, she kissed him goodbye. Eric sat still as a statue until her lips left his. Disappointed in his lackluster efforts, she exited the carriage. The tears began to fall before she reached the first step, but nothing could have made her turn back and reveal her pain to him.

  If that was to be her last kiss, then it was pathetic. But at least she was brave enough to make the move she knew in her marrow that Eric never would.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Eric, Bristol, April 1811

  The weekend passed too quickly for Eric. Easter didn’t have any effect of people’s illnesses or accidents. Eric was the surgeon working for the hospital that Sunday evening, and on Monday morning his fatigue proved a worthy opponent.

  When his first patient of the day arrived, he was surprised to find out that it was none other than his newest client, Lord Westford.

  “Good morning, my lord. I truly didn’t expect such an honor so soon. I hope that you’ve not caught the spring fever that is going around this year?” Eric offered a hand to the man in greeting, bowing respectfully over the handshake.

  “Oh, no, this isn’t a medical visit, I’m afraid. My wife wanted me to personally invite you to our house this Thursday for cards. We’re delighted with your young friend, Lady Bliss. My wife believes the girl is a singular beauty and is interested in her prospects. I have a nephew—an earl in waiting. Celia thinks young Lady Bliss would be an excellent match for him, and she’s already schemed up a way to get the pair of them together in a social setting,” Lord Westford remarked casually.

  Eric wasn’t entirely convinced whether it was the man’s information or his tone of voice that rubbed him wrong. But the idea of this man playing matchmaker didn’t fit his first impression in at all. Eric took a moment to think of the best way to respond.

  “I’m afraid that is unlikely, Lord Westford. Lady Bliss is a Penwood, you know. A duke’s daughter destined for a marquess at least, I would imagine. I’m not sure her family would welcome anything less for one of their daughters.

  “And I also have it on good authority that the eldest Osterburg Marquisate heir is being considered for her. But cards would be a welcome distraction. I’ll be sure and pass along the invitation.” Eric replied lying with a smile that he knew didn’t reach his eyes.

  Victor was not who the Osterburg’s were aiming to match up with Bliss, but Eric felt the need to squash this man’s designs immediately. Something about the man in front of him was wrong. He couldn’t quite put a finger on anything substantial, but the idea of Bliss being around this man made Eric’s skin prickle.

  The realization of Bliss being considered for marriage by anyone made him sad for reasons he wasn’t able to understand either. Not that he harbored any delusions of having her for himself, especially since Bliss warned him of his own upcoming marriage without mentioning herself.

  His mood was less important than the affect it obviously had on Lord Westford though. The man flushed an angry red, and his temper showed in his steely gaze. Eric wondered momentarily if he’d somehow offended the man, but he quickly realized he didn’t have the good sense to care.

  “Well, this was not the reception I had hoped for my wife’s news. But I suppose that cannot be helped. I’ll leave you to your work, sir,” said Lord Westford with an uncalled for amount of acid. Eric bowed quickly as the man rose from the examination chaise and stormed from the room without acknowledging the respect.

  Eric laughed darkly and wondered how the man’s constitution was on a normal day. If he reacted to trivial nonsense like that every time, Eric feared the man’s heart would suffer. In an odd way it made him reconsider billing him for the pea retrieval. He was having a fair amount of difficulty trying to work in the cost for the feather trick anyway.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Bliss, Bristol, April 1811

  Given the number of possibilities for how her life would change on Tuesday, Bliss didn’t sleep nearly enough over the weekend. Variations of the possible outcome would appear
the moment she made a conscious decision to do anything differently. Every time she tried to change the outcome by changing her mind, the death toll would rise.

  If she ran back to Cardiff, Lord Westford would end up killing dozens more people in his attempts to locate her. If she stayed at Whisper Chase, Lord Osterburg’s household would be the scene of a gruesome massacre. If she confronted the man, he would kill her rather than allow her to escape and expose him. None of these outcomes was acceptable to her.

  The only true solution was the kidnapping. Bliss would have to let the man believe that he had control of her. It was the only way to protect the others and have any chance of survival that suited her. Lord Westford would need to be defeated, and she would need Eric’s help, or else her life was over ... quite literally!

  More importantly there was no room at all in this plan for error. The part that was most confusing was that Bliss knew if she failed, or if Eric was somehow too late, she would drown.

  Bliss never had liked ponds or lakes. Her fear of sailing was not linked to the motion sickness suffered by most women aboard freight ships or schooners. Her true fear was falling overboard into the fathomless deep without knowing where she might end up or what mysterious creatures might be lurking to nibble away at her arms and legs. So the distress of her possible death sprouted directly from the involvement with water.

  The rolling coin and the red cloth visions came back. The cloth was there, and she could smell wax and dust. That fit in nicely with the museum’s dusty rooms, which she saw with more and more clarity once her decision was made.

  Bliss also held it as certain that in order for her future to become clear and sure she would have to endure a fair amount of trouble and mistreatment. But Eric needed to be willing to put aside his fear and trust his instincts, and more urgently to trust hers.

  The coin was the most disconnected piece of the puzzle. It could be a loose minor detail that was affected only by chance. The water and the cold feeling of death lingered just before the coin, though. Why would the coin be important if she were already dead?

  Bliss pondered this carefully. Perhaps it was to give her hope? Then why would her survival still appear linked directly to how Eric behaved? What about his demeanor in the face of adversity? Bliss was certain of his loyalty to her, she could see the way she affected him in his actions even when she only saw them in visions.

  His discouraging Lord Westford against a marriage and even lying about the possibility of a betrothal between her and Victor was the most amusing. Bliss knew that Eric knew for a fact it was Maxwell her uncle had indicated as a possible intended match for her!

  Thoughts of how to orchestrate her kidnapping warred within her. She decided to involve as few people as possible. Pauline would be the only person in any immediate danger that she could see. But Bliss figured out the solution before the Easter holidays were ended.

  Now all that remained was for her to leave the necessary clues for her aunt and uncle so that they wouldn’t try to find her too soon and cause an unwanted shift in her future. She planned every known step like a well-choreographed French ballet. Her execution of every malleable detail could leave no room for doubt.

  It wouldn’t be the first time she withheld information from the people who loved her in order to get them to trust her with her decisions. But it was the only time since she was very young that her certainty was being truly tested.

  On Tuesday morning, Bliss awoke and carried out her business as usual, with a few minor tweaks. Following breakfast, she wrote a few letters to her brothers and sisters, nothing cryptic or final, just a little advice to each of them in case her future made it impossible for her to share anything else they couldn’t live without.

  None of their futures as she saw them would be the same if her life ended. So the advice was given rather blindly upon faith in the hopes that the soothing comfort of a last letter was there for each of them.

  To her parents, she took a little less liberty. To them, she merely asked if they were coming to the ball on the weekend. She reminded them to pack extra clothing knowing that with any scenario except the one where she survived they would not want to go home right away.

  The closing farewell nearly made her weep. Saying anything too pointedly sentimental might put her mother on her guard. The last letter she wrote was to Eric. It was the shortest and simplest of all. A mere note, really. She was planning to give it to Aunt Pen to hand over to him the minute he arrived.

  After lunch Bliss prepared for the museum walk. She put money in her reticule, six shillings and a few pence, along with one of her calling cards. Next she chose her outfit carefully. The dress needed to be very ordinary and nondescript. It would be imperative that no one remember her or what she wore.

  She selected a drab light grey muslin afternoon dress with very little adornment and a simple chemise, no corset. That part was not negotiable. The absence of her corset might actually save her life. Her stockings were deliberately thicker than usual for spring. Lastly she chose her best wrap and selected her least favorite pair of shoes.

  As soon as everything was decided, she dressed meticulously before preparing herself to face Aunt Pen.

  Penelope was in the office discussing the details of the ball’s menu with the cook and the housekeeper. Bliss knew her aunt would be embroiled in a dispute over the need for a seventh course. It was the best time to tell her about the walk. She interrupted and saw Penelope heave an uncomfortable stretch and excuse herself to speak with Bliss.

  “Aunt Pen, forgive me for interrupting your planning. I only needed a moment to tell you that I am going for a walk with Pauline. We’re planning to walk all the way to the museum in town. I’ve heard they are featuring a bust of the First Duke of Suffolk that is the envy of the collection,” Bliss explained before her aunt could get in a word.

  “Did you want some company? I can continue this discussion later if you like? I know exactly the statue you’re referring to. They say he was a handsome fellow, you know!” Penelope said with a yawn. Bliss shook her head eagerly.

  “We’ll be fine. Besides, the ball is merely days away now! And we’re likely to be later. We might even dine at one of the local restaurants if Dr. Benchley is able to join us. Incidentally, if he should come here first, would you give him a message from me?” Bliss handed her the insignificant piece of folded and sealed parchment as if it wasn’t the last letter she might ever give to her love. Then she swallowed carefully and continued her instructions.

  “It’s nothing personal just a few details about our walk that might make it easier for him to find us. Now remember! Don’t over-work yourself, Aunt Pen. Dr. Benchley said for you to rest and recuperate. The more you do that, the easier the ball will be.”

  Bliss arched a brow at Penelope, and, to her credit, the older woman blushed at the reprimand.

  “Perhaps I will just finish up here and take a nap? I’ve rested more than usual every day, and yet I still feel completely worn out!” Penelope sighed. Bliss patted the woman’s shoulder in farewell, rather than hugging her and therefore completely breaking down.

  Pauline grumbled about the later hour of departure, complaining that the weather was too damp and chilly in the afternoons and evenings. She even worried aloud that the humidity might give them a cold. Bliss told her that was nonsense and had her put on sturdy shoes for walking so she wouldn’t get blisters.

  Pauline agreed to the sturdy shoes and carried her reticule and Bliss’s. It made her curious that they walked slower than normal. Pauline was kind enough not to point it out, though. Bliss figured her maid wouldn’t really mind the leisurely pace.

  When they reached the edge of the town square, Bliss noted that in order to reach the museum you had to bisect a large botanical garden park. Several stone benches lined the straight, long pedestrian walkway, which split into two separate paths as soon as it reached the building.

  The western path went along the Avon River and circled back to the main street near
the bridge. It made an odd path around a heavily wooded section. The trees in that section cut off the view from the park. You could only see the river if you were on the main street or standing on the steps of the museum.

  The crowd was thinner than Bliss expected. There were several couples and a few smaller curricles traveling along the walkway as they approached.

  Bliss noticed her face beginning to feel flushed with the warmth of the thicker stockings and the extended walk. Pauline noticed and began searching for a fan in her own reticule. It was exactly what Bliss hoped for. The clock struck half past four.

  “Dear me, it’s a lot hotter than I expected given the month. I didn’t realize I might get so over heated! Pauline, could I please trouble you to catch one of the street carts? I would absolutely love a dram of lemon water or perhaps an ice if you can find one? And get one for yourself as well. I have some spare pence in my bag. Take it along in case you need more money. I confess I have no idea of the economy of Bristol!” Bliss informed her bewildered maid.

  Bliss pointed to a bench several yards ahead in the walk, “I’ll wait right over there for you.”

  “Yes, Lady Bliss. I’ll hurry as much as I can. I wonder if anyone would be upset if I cut across this little stretch of lawn? I don’t see anyone else doing it, but it might not be forbidden. Oh, never mind. I see a sign over there to mind the grasses. Okay, well, I will return as soon as I can. Have a rest, you do look rather flushed. Do you want my fan?” Pauline continued to ramble.

  “No, just be careful and hurry back. And watch out for cutpurses! I hear they love to take reticules from unsuspecting maids. Pay attention to your surroundings and keep them close to your middle and you won’t have any problems,” Bliss warned.