by Emma V Leech
In case the gossip has not yet reached your ears, I shall inform you that I am not to marry Cassius. Lottie, however, is. I admit it was something of a shock to my system, but I think perhaps it is as it ought to be. They are clearly very much in love, which Cassius and I never were. I cannot pretend otherwise.
I admit I am still all at sea, but I shall rally soon enough, no doubt.
However, far more interestingly your mysterious Comte Louis César and his brother are at the heart of the latest scandal at Holbrook, not that anyone outside of the family knows. So, in return for my giving you every minute detail of what happened, I must insist that you reply to this letter at once and tell me everything you know!
―Excerpt of a note from Lady Elizabeth Adolphus to The Right Hon’ble Phoebe Carmichael, The Countess of Ellisborough.
17th July 1838, Holbrook House, Sussex.
Lottie gathered her nerve as she stood outside the door to her sister’s room. Though Eliza had certainly thawed towards her, they had not had the opportunity speak privately, or perhaps the opportunity had been there, but neither of them had been quite ready to take it. Now Lottie knew they must address the lingering tension between them, for fear that it would fester and damage a relationship which she prized above anything. She raised her hand and knocked, waiting until Eliza called for her to enter.
Lottie found her at the window seat, staring out at a day that had dawned misty and damp and threatened to bring rain.
“I brought that book back,” Lottie said, holding out a novel that Eliza had lent her some weeks ago.
“Oh, thank you. Did you like it?”
Lottie hesitated and put the book down on the bedside table, perching on the edge of the mattress. “Actually I… I haven’t read it yet only I wanted an excuse to come and see you.”
Eliza stared at her. “You needed an excuse?” she repeated.
Lottie looked away from her sister’s wide-eyed gaze and smoothed out her skirts nervously, discovering her palms were damp. “Yes.”
“Why?”
“B-Because I wasn’t sure you’d want to see me,” Lottie said, appalled to discover her voice quavering. Her bottom lip trembled.
“Oh, love!” Eliza surged to her feet with a rustle of skirts and rushed to her sister.
It was quite awkward to sit closely without crushing both of their voluminous skirts but neither of them cared. Eliza embraced Lottie, who burst into tears, throwing her arms about her sister with such relief she felt a weight had been lifted from her.
“I’m s-so sorry, Eliza,” she wept, as Eliza thrust a handkerchief into her hand, for of course Eliza had a handkerchief ready for such an occasion. Lottie always lost hers. “I hate myself for making you unhappy.”
“Oh, no. Oh, Lottie, don’t. I’ve… I’ve been pettish and spiteful, and I’m quite ashamed of myself.”
Lottie gave her nose a forceful blow and sat up, regarding her sister. “Don’t say that! Mama is so proud of you for speaking your mind.”
Eliza snorted. “Speaking my mind is one thing, and I must admit… oh, Lottie, it is so liberating to do so. I never realised… but never mind that. One does not need to be unkind to be truthful, only I was so very angry.”
“With me,” Lottie said, nodding.
“No! Well,” Eliza said with a rueful sigh. “If I am being honest, then yes. Yes, I was angry, but only that it seemed you were keeping secrets from me. When I thought about it, I realised I had no right, when… when I have been doing the same.”
Lottie sniffed and sat up a little straighter, regarding her with interest. “You have?”
A flush of colour tinged Eliza’s cheeks and she and got up, moving to the chest of drawers and taking out another clean handkerchief.
“Here,” she said. “You’ve mangled that last one.”
“Thank you,” Lottie said, wiping her eyes and giving her nose another blow. “But what secret, Eliza?”
Eliza hesitated. “Tell me what happened with Cassius. Tell me everything, and… and I shall tell you my secret in return.”
This time Lottie blushed, heat crawling up her neck and scalding her cheeks. Eliza smirked at her.
“And well you might blush, you dreadful creature. I was never more shocked to find those drawings of you in… in… well, in the altogether! How did you dare? I cannot imagine ever having the courage to do such a thing.”
Lottie giggled. “It was my dare.”
Eliza gaped at her. “Charlotte! You never took your clothes off for a dare!”
Lottie crowed with laughter at the outrage in her sister’s eyes. “No! Well, at least, not just for the dare, but it gave me a reason, the courage to do it. But I wanted to, Eliza, I… oh, my dear. I have such a lot to tell you.”
Eliza climbed back onto the bed, and the two of them sat very close as Lottie explained everything that had happened since they had arrived at Holbrook. As she spoke, all the restraint and resentment that had grown between them fell away, and it was as if the past days had never happened. By the time Lottie had whispered the most delicate of details of what she’d experienced in the past few days, Eliza was round eyed with wonder.
“Good heavens,” she said, staring at Lottie. “Truly?”
“Truly,” Lottie said, grinning at her.
“Good heavens.”
Both of them were pink-cheeked and, when Eliza caught her sister’s eye, they burst out laughing. They laughed and laughed until they were clutching at their corsets and begging for mercy because everything hurt.
“Oh, my,” Lottie said, wiping her eyes. “Stop it. I shall do myself an injury if you set me off again.”
“Serves you right for lacing your corset too tightly,” Eliza observed, to which comment Lottie stuck out her tongue. Eliza replied in kind.
“Oh, Eliza, I have missed you.”
“And I you, Lottie,” Eliza said, reaching out and taking her hand. “Let’s never be so angry with each other again.”
They sat in happy silence for a moment until Lottie remembered their agreement.
“Now then,” she said, fixing Eliza with her most piercing gaze. “Tell me everything.”
“Oh,” Eliza said, suddenly looking awkward as she traced a finger over the pattern on the bedspread. “Well, there’s really not a great deal to tell, only… only….”
“Yes?” Lottie said, bouncing with impatience.
Eliza sighed and flung herself back onto the mattress. “Oh, Lottie, I’m such an idiot, but… but I think I’m infatuated with a man who despises me.”
Lottie gaped at her.
“Not really,” she said. “You can’t mean…?”
Eliza nodded sadly. “Yes, I can. I’m the worst ninny, but I cannot get him out of my mind, and then Papa went and forbade me to speak to either of them and—”
“Mr Demarteau,” Lottie said, wondering how on earth Eliza could fall in love with a man she not only barely knew, but who had been nothing but awful to her.
Eliza nodded. “And don’t ask me to explain, for I swear I cannot. I am not a foolish, fanciful creature. I have never dreamed of knights in shining armour, or a Prince Charming… which is just as well, for he’s none of those things.”
“No, he’s not. Indeed, I think he’s dreadfully intimidating.”
“I know!” Eliza wailed. “He’s wicked and dreadful, and every time I think of him I get the oddest sensation, low in my belly, and I go all hot and it’s hard to breathe.”
“Oh, dear,” Lottie said faintly, wondering how her sensible sister had got herself into such a pickle.
“Quite,” Eliza said.
They sat in silence as Lottie digested this.
“I’m not sure you ought to do anything about an infatuation of this kind,” she said, feeling dreadfully anxious on her sister’s behalf.
“Well, and what could I do anyway?” Eliza demanded with a huff. “It’s awkward and hopeless, especially now Papa is so furious with them both, and Louis César is supposed to be the
respectable one! After that scene with Madame Lafitte, I shall be lucky to get within a mile of him, let alone his brother. Though perhaps that is for the best.”
“I think it really is, Eliza. You want to accomplish something with your life, remember? Think of all the plans you’d made, all those charitable organisations you wish to set up, not to mention the Chartist Movement. You had plans to marry a duke or a marquess so you had influence enough to get things done, and Mr Demarteau is barely tolerated in society. He’s illegitimate, and barely respectable. If he and his brother weren’t so handsome and intriguing, and Louis César wasn’t so charming, they’d never be received.”
“I know!” Eliza exclaimed, so irritated that Lottie knew she had considered this herself.
“Well,” she said soothingly. “You are unlikely to see him again for some time. Perhaps it was just an eccentric episode. Like the summer Fred wouldn’t eat anything red. The feeling might have worn off by the next time you see him.”
Eliza cast her a doubtful glance. “Perhaps.”
They both looked up at the sound of a knock on the door. Their mother strode in.
“Ah, perfect,” she said, beaming at finding them together. “I’m so pleased you’ve made up. You have made up, haven’t you? I’m not missing broken china or pointy objects hidden under the pillows?”
Lottie rolled her eyes. “Yes, Mama.”
“Excellent, and don’t you roll your eyes at me, young lady. We need to arrange this wedding, and the sooner the better, it would seem, if what Eliza says is true… and when exactly did you take your clothes off, you wicked girl? And if there was anything more than posing for a drawing going on, you’d best tell me at once.”
“No, Mama!” Lottie went hot and cold in quick succession and was not entirely soothed by the obvious amusement in her mama’s eyes.
“Oh, do stop looking so missish,” the duchess said with a tsk. “You love each other, so something was bound to happen. But, Eliza, do not think for one moment I condone such behaviour, for I do not.”
“Mama!” Eliza said, outraged by the way her mother was wagging an admonishing finger at her.
“Well,” the duchess said thoughtfully. “It seems you are both more like your dreadful mother than anyone supposed, so I think we had best be prepared. Lottie, you were foolish, but Cassius is at least a gentleman, and someone to be relied upon. Far too many men are not, as unhappy women discover to their cost too often.”
“I’m not stupid, Mother,” Eliza replied, sounding impatient and unsettled by the conversation.
“Indeed, you are not, but the cleverest women can get themselves into tricky situations when desire raises its head. Just ask your soon to be mother-in-law,” she said, winking at Lottie.
Eliza glowered, looking surprisingly mutinous. “There is no danger of that, as my only suitor has been sent away in disgrace.”
“Your only suitor,” her mother replied with a snort. “Just you remember, my girl: a man who marries you, owns you. Not only your money, but everything. Your clothes and belongings become his, your body is no longer your own. If he wishes to beat you or lock you in your room, he is at liberty to do so and no one can stop him. You need to be very certain before you give yourself into his keeping. I’ll admit Louis César would be an unholy temptation to any woman, but you need to know a man’s soul as well as his heart before allowing yourself to trust him.”
“Yes, Mama,” Eliza said, serious now.
They knew Mama had good reason for fearing for them, for she had seen first-hand the dangers of a bad marriage. Her father had abused her mother and made her life a misery. No. No man could be taken at face value. Lottie felt a tremor of unease as she looked at her sister and considered the ill-mannered Mr Demarteau. They had already seen that he was capable of violence. Was this the kind of man her lovely, kind-hearted sister should take an interest in? No, certainly not, and Lottie must do all in her power to ensure Eliza did not fall prey to any foolish notions about him.
Their mama had not been joking when she had said a speedy wedding was in order. By midday they had a date, two weeks hence, and had agreed the wedding could take place at Holbrook House. Many of their friends lived close by, and as the family was already in residence, it seemed pointless to go elsewhere. They had begun the invitations list and arranged a visit to a new modiste that Matilda had discovered, and was quite enamoured of, to discuss the trousseau and the wedding gown.
Lottie had fretted at first, wondering if Eliza would resent all the fuss and excitement when it ought to have been for her, but she seemed genuinely happy and eager to join in. It seemed, at last, that everything would work out for the best.
“Thank goodness the rain has stopped,” Eliza said, looking out of the window after they had fortified themselves with tea, and some tempting platters of good, strong cheese served with tart green apples and plums. “I do believe the sun will show itself too. I shall go for a ride and get some fresh air, I think, for all this plotting and planning has given me a headache. Will you come?”
Lottie yawned and stretched, knowing some exercise and fresh air would be a good idea, but pondering that she’d not seen Cassius all day and that she had promised to visit him down at the summerhouse.
Eliza laughed before Lottie could answer. “Never mind. Go and see him before you faint with longing. You know, I realise now what a lucky escape we both had. I have never craved to be with Cassius in the way I can see you do. There is nothing the least bit romantic between us, and it is only now I appreciate the difference. Papa was right. Marrying your friend is not perhaps a bad thing, but there needs to be more than that… I need more than that.”
“Yes,” Lottie replied, quite grave in her reply. “Yes, you do.”
Eliza nodded, gave Lottie a wry smile, and hurried away to get changed.
Chapter 18
Dear Diary,
I am so relieved that everyone is happy again. Cassius and Lottie are to be married! It is so exciting, especially now Lottie and Eliza have made up, and Eliza holds no ill will towards either her or Cassius. All is right in the world and they will be married here at Holbrook which means we can stay longer. The perfect summer. The twins, Ashton and Vivien are staying too, which is wonderful, for Ash is such fun. I do adore him. I only wish Louis César would come back, perhaps even Mr Demarteau for they added a little excitement, perhaps because they are new and unpredictable. Life is always more thrilling when one has no idea what will happen next.
―Excerpt of an entry to the diary of Lady Catherine ‘Cat’ Barrington, youngest daughter of the Marquess and Marchioness of Montagu.
17th July 1838, Holbrook House, Sussex.
“Like this?”
Cassius felt his breath catch as Lottie tilted her head as instructed. The sunshine which had begun so tentatively once the clouds had cleared was now hot and fierce and caught the thick tresses of her hair, burnishing them like old gold and illuminating her profile. She looked like an angel. It sounded trite, so much so he could hardly bear to say it out loud, but it was true. Looking at her hurt his heart, made something inside him ache with tenderness, with the desire to love and protect her always. Unable to resist the temptation, he went to her, bent his head and kissed her, just a soft press of lips that was still a mistake as it left him restless and short of breath.
“Perfect,” he said, moving away with difficulty. “In fact, could you be just a little less perfect? My desire to paint you is being overridden by other, less wholesome yearnings.”
“Really?” she said, her eyes lighting with interest. “That sounds fascinating.”
“It is, but you must stop being fascinated, for your mama only allowed you to sit for me alone on condition I had work to show her when she comes to see us later. If I have a blank canvas for my allotted two hours, we shall both be in the basket.”
“Oh, I don’t know. She was remarkably sanguine about me having taken my clothes off for you.”
Cassius blanched. “Well said.
Knowing she is aware you did that, and so your father likely knows too, has focused my mind wonderfully. Now sit still.”
Lottie gave a regretful sigh, and Cassius scowled at her. How he would get through the next two weeks he could not fathom, but then… then they would be married. His father had given them a beautiful old house in Aylesbury. It was a fine Tudor mansion which the earl had extensively remodelled and was luxurious and comfortable, and the gardens were magnificent. The idea of being able to live there whenever they returned from their travels was enough to make Cassius feel he truly was the luckiest fellow in the world. So, he would be good, and ensure that Lottie was just as she ought to be when she walked down the aisle of their private chapel.
For the next half an hour, Lottie did as he asked, and did not fidget or complain, and he progressed nicely with the drawing.
“It’s awfully hot in here,” she said with a heavy sigh, trailing a finger slowly down the side of her neck.
Cassius paused, his pencil suspended in mid-air as he watched that languid hand trail down the elegant column of her throat, along her collarbone, to the neckline of her gown. It paused at the hint of décolletage, drawing his eye there as his breath hitched. The wicked digit then trailed back and forth over the tops of her breasts as she drew in a deep breath and sighed again, wistful now.
“Lottie,” he said, a warning note to his voice.
She turned melting eyes upon him, all innocence. The devil.
“What is it?”
“You know very well. Stop it.”
Lottie pouted, but resumed her pose. Cassius concentrated on capturing the lush curve of her breast, the way the soft muslin of her white gown hugged her form. The dress sat low on her shoulders, revealing a great deal of creamy skin. Cassius swallowed, took a breath, and carried on. He followed the swanlike neck, to ensure that stubborn chin was quite as determined on his canvas as it was in reality, and moved onto study her mouth. His focus faltered as a little pink tongue darted out and wet her lips. The pencil hovered, close to the canvas but not touching it. Cassius cleared his throat but made the mistake of looking into her eyes. Those great big blue eyes captured his, expressive with such blatant invitation his skin prickled all over, and then he looked back at her mouth to see the corner twitch, just a little, and he was lost.