Miss Fitzwilliam's Christmas Redemption

by Lydia Pembroke

  Still, she refused to leave this meeting without something to show for it.

  “Might you at least help me to secure a proper introduction amongst the elite of London, so that I may move on with my life?” she asked, dabbing her eyes with her handkerchief. “I should think it the very least you can do, after all of the trouble you have caused me.”

  Her tone was colder than she had intended, led on by her aching heart. He shifted awkwardly beside her, his expression perplexed.

  “Perhaps, you should look at your new situation in a more positive light. Here, you may have more than you ever had before. Indeed, thanks to your aunt’s employ, you need never be beholden to a man, if that was what you wanted. In that way, you are far more fortunate than many young ladies, who may be forced into marriages they do not desire. True, your status in society may have altered somewhat, as there was no engagement to Edward, but that is by no means the end of life. Think of it as a new chapter, instead.”

  She stared at him in disbelief.

  “How can you say such things to me?”

  It was clear that he did not think an introduction into polite society would be of any benefit to her here, which made her stomach sink like a stone.

  Is this to be it for me? A milliner’s assistant?

  “I wish you well, Miss Fitzwilliam, that is why I am saying such things. However, I meant what I said — you and I can never meet again. I come to London often, but I will not make a repeat of this visit. I am sorry for all the pain I have caused, but we must go our separate ways now — our lives have taken different roads, and they are no longer destined to cross.” He stood and dusted off his trousers. “Please, forgive me.”

  Without another word, he turned and left the prayer chapel, leaving Letitia bent double on the ground, praying to God to help her turn back the clock.

  For she did not know how she was to survive what was to come, with her heart so broken.

  Indeed, she did not know if it could continue to beat.

  Chapter Seven

  Letitia walked home in a daze, her eyes red and puffy.

  Passers-by gave her curious looks as she wandered, but she paid them no heed. She no longer had the strength to care for others’ opinions. Her gaze drifted across the thin layers of snow that had gathered the previous day, though no more flakes had fallen. The wind was bitter, the sky clear and crisp, but she could not enjoy the wintry feel of it, the way she usually would.

  It would be Christmas soon, and she would spend it apart from her family, with nobody but Agnes and Rosalind for company. That notion sent her deeper into her depression, bringing back memories of Christmases past. She pictured glazed, bronzed roast goose and plump, honeyed ham, all set upon her plate with golden potatoes and rich, meaty gravy. The food had always been excellent, yes, but it was the laughter and chatter that filled her heart with glee. All around the dining table, her family would smile and be merry, discussing the year just gone. For the past three years, Phillip and Edward had joined the Fitzwilliams, or they had gone to the Gillingham’s’ residence for festive celebrations.

  This year, I will have little to look forward to.

  Arriving back at the Belgravia townhouse, and hauling herself up to the second-floor, she was halfway to her chambers when Agnes stopped her. Letitia had not expected her aunt to be home so soon.

  However, when she glanced at the clock in the hallway, she saw that it was almost six — she had been walking for the better part of three hours, without even realising it.

  “And where have you been?” Agnes asked pointedly.

  “I cannot speak of it,” Letitia replied, too weary to argue.

  Agnes frowned.

  “Is it something to do with Lord Tetherton?”

  Letitia looked up, her eyes brimming with tears.

  “How could you know that?”

  “Your mother sent word that he would be in London this week, and advised that your paths should not cross,” she explained solemnly. “With you being unwell, I had hoped it might be enough to keep you apart. After all, you were safely tucked away in here, and he was out there. I ought to have known that you would attempt to meet with him.”

  “It was by chance, Aunt. Truly, I wish had not seen him again,” she sobbed quietly. “It hurts more than I thought possible.”

  Agnes’ expression softened, as she walked over and put a gentle arm around Letitia.

  “You should not have lied to me, you do realise that?” she said, her tone still hard despite her sympathetic look.

  “I am sorry for it, Aunt. I will not do so again.”

  “Perhaps it is the city, stifling you somewhat,” Agnes mused. “Yes, I think we may go and visit a friend of mine for Christmas, if you would care to accompany me? She has a lovely residence in a rural town called Upper Nettlefold, where the people are friendly and there is not so much hustle and bustle — the perfect place to forget foolish young gentlemen and their propensity to break fragile hearts.”

  Letitia looked into her aunt’s eyes with overwhelming gratitude.

  “We may truly visit this place for Christmas?”

  “If you would like to, I will make the arrangements. Cordelia has already offered the invitation, but I had yet to accept,” Agnes explained. “With you being here, I did not know what might be appropriate. Now, I see that we must get you as far from London as possible, so you might restore your wounded soul. My friend, Mrs. Cordelia Hardcastle, is to hold a festive Ball, so I imagine it will be a case of the more, the merrier.”

  Letitia forced a smile onto her face.

  “I think that sounds like a splendid idea, Aunt.”

  She could not help but be cheered by the prospect of a festive excursion, somewhere far from London and St. Alban’s, and the memory of Phillip Gillingham.

  Yes, perhaps this Upper Nettlefold will be kinder than London has been. For, though she had entertained grand visions of her move to the city, she had come to realise that she would always be a small-town girl at heart.

  Here, she would always feel lost.

  Chapter Eight

  Percy looked up from his work, hearing the rattle of carriage wheels go by on the cobbled street outside. Snow had plagued the town of Upper Nettlefold for much of the day, though the morning’s rain had meant it refused to stick. Still, Percy thought it looked rather splendid, the snowflakes tumbling down like buds of cotton.

  Why must everything return to fabric with you? he chided himself, with a smile.

  With so many orders to complete, he had been able to think of little else. Hats and bonnets and fabrics and designs had quite taken over his existence. Indeed, his hands were raw with bending and shaping the accessories, his thumb bearing the scarlet pricks of countless needlepoints. He frowned as a figure stepped out of the carriage and hurried into the bakery nearby. He caught a glimpse of her for a mere second, but the memory was vivid. Her face was very familiar.

  “The older lady from the milliner’s shop,” he said aloud, to the empty shop. “Mrs. Hepworth, was it?” He tapped his chin in thought, quite unable to believe his eyes.

  Keeping his gaze fixed on the window, he waited for her to return. This time, there could be no confusion. It was definitely Mrs. Hepworth, from the millinery in London. What could she be doing here? He had half a mind to step out and see which way the carriage went, but he did not wish to appear strange to these newcomers.

  If nothing else, Upper Nettlefold prided itself on its welcoming nature, and he did not want to go against that. However, as the carriage lingered a moment longer, he tried to peer through the small window of the vehicle’s door for any sign of Letitia — the young lady from the sketch in the back of his design book.

  The carriage pulled away before he could see anything, though it did not stop him from hoping. If they were staying here, he vowed to discover if Mrs. Hepworth had brought her niece. If they were merely passing through on their way to some other place… well, no harm done.

  He had not appeared stra
nge to anyone, which was always useful. A smile tugged at his lips as he sat back down and returned to his work. If she were here for Christmas, wouldn’t that be something of a miracle? After all, Christmas was a time when such things were possible.

  ~~~~~

  The carriage pulled up to the front of Hardcastle House some five minutes later, with Letitia staring up at the grand old building. She had not expected her aunt’s friend to be in possession of a property such as this.

  Indeed, the women she was encountering were quite upending her former ideas of what ladies were capable of. None of them seemed to need a man at all, which surprised and appalled her in equal measure. She admired them, but she did not desire future loneliness, not if it could be avoided.

  With a slight spring in her step, Letitia followed Agnes into the house, whilst the driver brought in their luggage. She gaped in wonder at the dark wood of the hallway, and the striking pictures that lined the mahogany walls. It was refined yet welcoming, with only a slight undercurrent of stark simplicity. Truly, she already preferred it to her aunt’s bare apartments.

  “Agnes, my dear, I trust the journey was not too awful?” Cordelia Hardcastle cried, as she hurried up the hallway to embrace the newcomers. She was a fearsome, stern-looking woman who reminded Letitia a great deal of her aunt. Indeed, the two might have been sisters, or cousins at the very least.

  “Long and dreary, but we are here now,” Agnes replied.

  “It is splendid to have you here,” Cordelia said kindly. “And this must be the latest waif, Miss Letitia Fitzwilliam?”

  Letitia curtseyed awkwardly.

  “A pleasure to meet you, Mrs. Hardcastle.”

  “What a dear little thing,” Cordelia mused. “I do hope you will find your stay here comforting. There is no better place to chase away the cobwebs.” She cast Letitia a conspiratorial look, letting her know that she and Agnes had conversed about Letitia’s current situation. Letitia did not mind too much, for at least it saved her an uncomfortable conversation about her being there, and not with her family.

  “Have you a full house this festive season, Cordelia?” Agnes asked, glancing over the proprietor’s shoulder.

  “Ah, you know how I am with my girls. A good worker is always welcome, regardless of circumstance,”

  Cordelia replied, gesturing to a gaggle of young ladies who had gathered in the corridor beyond. One stood out to Letitia — a girl about her age, with dark curls and eyes of amber-green. She stood at the front of the group, though she did not appear bold enough to be the leader.

  Agnes smiled.

  “Yes, a girl accepted by Cordelia Hardcastle is accepted by all of Upper Nettlefold.”

  Letitia’s ears pricked up at that notion.

  “Is that true?”

  “It is, my dear girl,” Cordelia replied, with a half-smile. “I am well respected in this town, and if I approve of you, then the rest of the townsfolk have no choice but to follow suit. Indeed, it will be most of these girls’ first Ball next Saturday, and I am hoping to find eligible gentlemen for every single one.”

  “Not that there are too many around here,” one of the other girls muttered a little too loudly. Cordelia turned, shooting her a warning look, but Letitia found her utterly remarkable.

  “You will forgive my eldest waif and stray, Miss Liza Baker; she forgets herself from time to time, but she means well.”

  “Yes, we must not speak of gentlemen like that,” the girl with the eyes of amber-green murmured, flushing awkwardly.

  “Eh, I don’t know what you’re griping about, Ruth Hampson!” Liza shot back. “You’ve got your eye on the most handsome one there is. Don’t think we don’t know about your fancying for Robert Tanner. We’ve all seen the way you make doe-eyes at him.”

  Ruth nudged the younger girl in the arm.

  “Hush your noise, Liza, that is none of your concern.” Ruth’s cheeks had turned a vibrant shade of pink, her gaze dropping in embarrassment. Despite not knowing this young lady at all, Letitia felt an instant affection for her. She seemed shy and understated, though her appearance would have suggested greater confidence.

  “Who is Robert Tanner?” Letitia asked, unable to stop the words from coming out.

  “A young gentleman from the town,” Cordelia replied tightly, evidently wishing she did not have to discuss it. “A pleasant man with wonderful ambitions. Indeed, I do not think it will be long before he journeys to Bath to make his fortune, alongside his father. He will not remain in Upper Nettlefold, if my suspicions are correct, though his mother would see him stay here and find a good wife. Such is a mother’s duty.”

  Ruth’s eyes widened with sorrow as she listened to the words that Cordelia spoke. Indeed, Letitia suspected that had been the purpose in Cordelia saying them, for it was clear that Ruth was not to get herself involved with a man such as Robert Tanner, no matter how pleasant he might be.

  The subtext was glaringly obvious: You, Ruth Hampson, are not the sort of good wife that he is looking for. Letitia wondered why that might be, but she did not dare to ask.

  “Not that he notices you anyway, Ruth,” one of the other girls jeered, shoving her in the ribs.

  A third girl nodded.

  “Probably best that he’ll be leaving fairly sharpish, then you can stop your pining for a man who doesn’t even know you exist.”

  Cordelia whirled around and glared at the group.

  “Ladies, enough. You all have duties to attend to, so I suggest you continue with them. My guests do not wish to hear you prattling on about useless nonsense. Now, off with you all!”

  They scattered like rats in an alleyway, leaving Letitia and her aunt to settle in to their new surroundings. Already, Letitia felt as if she could breathe easier, Hardcastle House was nowhere near as oppressive as the townhouse in Belgravia. This may be a merry Christmas indeed, she thought, with a faint glimmer of hope.

  Chapter Nine

  “Do you think Robert Tanner will be at the Ball next Saturday?” Ruth asked wistfully, as she mended some clothing in the drawing room of Hardcastle House.

  Letitia happened to be passing the doorway when the young woman spoke, attracting Letitia’s attention. Another of the young ladies sat in the drawing room, a cheerful, bonny girl named Marjorie.

  “Even if he is, you would have to speak with him for him to notice you,” Marjorie replied wryly. “You cannot expect him to know of your existence if you stay huddled against the wall in silence. Truly, if you continue on in such a manner, you may actually become invisible.”

  Letitia felt sorry for Ruth, who evidently had strong feelings for this young man, Robert Tanner. In the days that had passed since her arrival at Hardcastle House, she had frequently heard the other girls laughing and teasing Ruth for being infatuated with him, though he did not appear to know she was alive. Somehow, it had brought out a sense of empathy in Letitia, for she could understand the pains of unrequited love.

  The scars of such a love still lay across her heart, as yet unhealed. Besides, she knew how it felt to be overlooked by people — she might not have had so much trouble gaining the attention of gentlemen, but the ton did not know she existed. They could breeze right past her without seeing or noticing her.

  “Letitia, there you are!” Agnes called from the top of the staircase, prompting Letitia to wince.

  Ruth and Marjorie would know that she had been eavesdropping.

  “I was just on my way to the kitchens, Aunt,” she replied innocently. “Did you require my assistance?”

  “No, I thought we might venture about the town today,” Agnes said. “With the Ball coming up, it might be pleasant to browse the shops for accessories. I know that you brought a few of your finest gowns, but a festive ribbon or two might be a nice addition.”

  Letitia smiled, feeling cheered.

  “That is a splendid idea, Aunt.”

  “Then fetch your warmest clothes and be ready in fifteen minutes,” Agnes urged.

  She was already
dressed in several layers, a woollen scarf wrapped tight around her neck, her cloak pinned in place with a pretty gold brooch.

  “Yes, Aunt.”

  Not wasting a moment, she hurried up the staircase to the apartment she was sharing with her aunt, and dressed quickly for the inclement weather.

  A snowstorm was due, but Letitia was excited for such a flurry. Upper Nettlefold was a pretty, quaint rural town, which would look all the more adorable when covered in a blanket of dense, fluffy snow.

  Less than ten minutes later, Letitia and Agnes set out from Hardcastle House and crossed the town square. They walked at a leisurely pace, making their way down one of the main streets, browsing the elegant shop windows.

  “A shade of crimson would look spectacular against your complexion, Miss Fitzwilliam,” Mrs Mary Merton enthused, as soon as they entered her shop.

  She was the local seamstress, and Cordelia had already warned Agnes and Letitia of Mrs. Merton’s adoration for gossip. Indeed, news had already found its way to most of the locals, that newcomers had arrived at Hardcastle House. It made for a warm, but rather peculiar, welcome, with most of the townsfolk already knowing of them before they had even been introduced.

  “Thank you, Mrs. Merton,” Letitia replied, though she knew that deep crimson washed out her already-pale complexion.

  Jewel tones were more to her taste, though she did not like to say so in front of the woman.

  They left shortly afterwards, with no orders in place for any gowns. Mrs. Merton had quite harassed them through their browsing of her designs, and the gowns she already had in the window, to the point where they had been forced to make their excuses and exit. They walked on down the road, heading in the direction of the Nettlerush Tea Rooms for some afternoon refreshment.

  After their encounter with Mrs. Merton, they needed some relaxation. However, halfway down, Letitia found her eye caught by a sign — Timmins Fabric and Bonnets. The name rang a distant bell, though she could not recall where she had heard it before. She had come to a halt in the middle of the street, seeking to peer through the window display into the shop beyond. A gentleman stood behind the counter, though he had his back to her.