by Rose Pearson
Oliver’s ears pricked up at once. He had met the Earl of Stockbridge on one or two occasions before, given he was an Earl and had taken time for both business and pleasure in London as so many of the rich, titled gentlemen did, but he had not known he had a niece to take care of!
“And I am Mrs. Peters,” the lady finished, her gaze steady and a little grim. “Companion to Lady Amelia.”
“I am very glad to make your acquaintance,” he said with as much charm as he could muster. “But I must insist you permit me to take you to a seat so that you might rest, especially after what I have done.”
Lady Amelia blinked, paled just a little, and then regarded him carefully. “You have done nothing, Lord Montague,” she stated, confusing him all the more. “But I thank you for your concern and wish you a pleasant evening.” Saying nothing more, she turned away from him at once and began to walk again with her companion.
It was only in watching her that Oliver realized what Lady Amelia had meant. The limp was there again, as pronounced as ever, but not of his doing. His embarrassment flared all over again, making him realize he had done nothing to hurt the young lady as he had first thought but that this was something that had already occurred some time ago. He was not to blame, then.
“I see you have met the young Lady Amelia,” said a voice in his ear. Turning, he saw Lord Marston standing there, a young lady on his arm and a broad smile on his face. “I have to invite her, of course, given her uncle’s title as well as her standing in society, but I fear she will have no enjoyment from this evening.”
“How could she?” the young lady on Lord Marston’s arm asked, shaking her head pityingly, although her eyes were sharp as she watched Lady Amelia walk through the crowd. “What a shame. It would be better for her if she had remained at home. No one is going to be interested in her, of course.”
“Of course,” Oliver found himself saying, as Lord Marston shrugged, throwing aside the matter quickly.
“You must find your partner for the cotillion, which is due to begin in a moment,” Lord Marston stated as Oliver turned his head away from watching Lady Amelia. “Do tell me you have someone, Montague?”
Oliver shrugged, sighed, and rolled his eyes. “Unfortunately, I do,” he muttered, thinking of the uninteresting Miss Riley. “I must go in search of her.”
“Indeed you must,” Lord Marston grinned, looking into the young lady’s eyes and patting her hand. “For this is only the start of the season, and we must make the most of it!”
“You are quite right,” Oliver agreed, pushing away the last traces of embarrassment that clung to him as he thought of Lady Amelia. “I should go and find Miss Riley, and thereafter, I shall secure the rest of my dances for this evening.”
“Just not with Lady Amelia,” the young lady said, her voice heavy with mirth. Lord Marston laughed aloud and pulled his companion towards the dance floor, leaving Oliver with a slightly heavy sensation in his heart that he could not quite explain.
Putting it down to the realization that he was first to dance with Miss Riley and had not yet found any other suitable partners for the remaining dances, other than her sister, Oliver set his shoulders and began to search for Miss Riley. Lord Marston was quite right. This evening was to be enjoyed, and Oliver was quite determined to do just that.
Chapter Three
The first week of the season dragged by. Amelia found each engagement to be more trying than the last for, as the ton grew more aware of her presence, she found herself to be the object of their attention whenever she even stepped into a room. Mrs. Peters had, of course, been as firm and as determined as ever before, helping Amelia through the muddy waters that surrounded her and giving her more courage to remain steadfast in her resolution not to allow the ton’s whispers to affect her outwardly.
Inwardly was quite another matter. Amelia could already feel the weight of their disdain on her shoulders, knowing they did not think her suitable to be a part of the ton. They did not allow imperfection. Such things were pushed from society one way or the other—just as she would be in the end. Their whispers, their gossiping, and their laughter would bite at her until she finally turned away, unable to take any more of their mockery.
“Ah, Amelia.”
Amelia turned away from the window at once, blinking back tears and seeing Mrs. Peters coming towards her, a small smile on her face.
“You must get ready at once,” she said, not saying a word about Amelia’s current lack of composure. “We are to call upon a lady I met only yesterday.”
Amelia blinked, steadying herself just a little. “A new acquaintance?”
“Indeed,” Mrs. Peters replied with a quick smile. “I heard of her from another companion, who heard about her from…well, I do not know where, and I have decided you must meet with her at once.”
“I see,” Amelia murmured, not entirely understanding what her companion meant. “And why must I do so?”
At this, Mrs. Peters beamed at Amelia, her face lighting up. “Because this lady is not only rich, titled, and has standing in society, but she also has a willingness of spirit that speaks of kindness and compassion. I am certain she will be more than happy to aid you in the same way as she has agreed to with two other young ladies.”
There was very little in this short explanation that Amelia understood. In fact, she was so puzzled that for a few moments, she did nothing other than look at Mrs. Peters, waiting for her to explain herself further. When Mrs. Peters did not, Amelia let out a long, heavy sigh and shook her head.
“Very well,” she said with a small shrug. “I presume the lady is expecting me?”
“She is,” Mrs. Peters replied quickly, gesturing for Amelia to walk towards the door. “I was bold and introduced myself to her at the soiree last evening.”
Amelia gaped at her companion, not moving an inch. “Why would you do something so improper?” she asked hoarsely, her heart beginning to beat frantically. “The lady will think I am very rude, indeed!”
Mrs. Peters shrugged, reached out, and grasped Amelia’s arm gently. “I do not think she will,” she replied, beginning to guide Amelia towards the door. “She seemed quite understanding, and when I explained why I wished to set up a short introduction, I must say, Lady Smithton seemed to understand at once, even if she was a little surprised.”
Amelia wanted to groan aloud, not quite certain what had taken place but fearing her companion had overstepped in one way or another. She knew nothing of this lady but feared, already, there would be a bad impression of Amelia and her present circumstances.
“She will not think ill of you nor look down upon you,” Mrs. Peters said reassuringly. “She is very kind indeed and has had trials of her own. Her husband passed away when they were not long married, although his death has left her very wealthy and, as such, entirely independent.”
Amelia shook her head in disbelief, looking up at the staircase and groaning inwardly at the challenge that lay before her. Having to climb them to reach her bedchamber was one of the few things that truly irked her. She had asked her uncle to consider moving one of the bedchambers below stairs to help her with her limp, but he had steadfastly refused. Thus, she always had to climb them when the occasion required her to change, as it did today. Gripping the handrail with one hand, she clutched at it tightly before hauling her body up the stairs one at a time, trying not to put weight on her painful leg. If she did so, then a shooting agony would course up through her, making her catch her breath and wince. Her leg had never been the same since the day she had fallen from that tree all those years ago, and Amelia did not think it would ever improve. Her pain came daily and was something she had been forced to come to accept.
“Lady Smithton has, from what I understand, become willing to help two young ladies who have very few prospects and who will soon be considered too old to marry,” Mrs. Peters continued, walking slowly beside Amelia and not hurrying her in any way. “I am quite certain she will be able to help you also if you ask
it of her.”
“Help me?” Amelia muttered, sweat beading on her brow as she tried to hurry forward. “What do you mean, Mrs. Peters?” She gritted her teeth and continued to make her way up the final few steps, desperate for the relief that would come when she reached the very top.
Mrs. Peters waved a hand, knowing all too well that Amelia did not want her help when it came to the staircase but remaining by her side regardless. “I do not know precisely what she will do,” she said with a quick shrug. “But it will be of greater help to you than I can be at this moment, I am certain of that. After all, she was wife to a Marquess, whereas I am nothing but a mere companion!”
Swallowing hard, Amelia held back her worries and fears, keeping them hidden behind her lips. She could not understand why the rich widow of a Marquess would wish to have any involvement with someone such as herself, but it seemed Mrs. Peters was quite confident that the lady was more than willing. It did not make particular sense to Amelia herself, but if there was to be even a flicker of hope she would make a success of this season, then did she not have to take every opportunity presented to her? Did she not have to try her utmost to do whatever she could so that she would not fail entirely?
“You have nothing to fear,” Mrs. Peters murmured as they walked together into Amelia’s bedchamber, with Amelia needing to sit down at once so that her leg would give her a little relief. “Lady Smithton is shrewd but kind. I know she will be willing to listen to everything you have to say—and you must tell her everything.”
“Everything?” Amelia repeated as Mrs. Peters walked to the wardrobe and threw back the doors, clearly searching for something that would be both appropriate and elegant for Amelia to wear. “What can you mean?”
Mrs. Peters’ voice reached her, a little muffled, as she thrust her head further inside the wardrobe. “You know very well what I mean, Amelia! You tell her about your father’s illness, your uncle taking on the title and the responsibility for you, about the dictate by him that you must find a suitor by the end of the season, and about your limp and how society treats you because of it. You must tell her of your hopes, your wishes for the future, as well as your fears. Tell her everything, Amelia, and tell her the truth. Only then will she be able to see you are truly in need of her help.”
***
Almost two hours later, Amelia found herself ushered into a very grand drawing room. It had beautiful furnishings that caught her eye everywhere she looked, with delicate touches that spoke of elegance and refinement. It appeared Mrs. Peters had been quite correct in her judgment that Lady Smithton was substantially wealthy!
“Ah, Lady Amelia,” came a kind voice, and Amelia turned to see a tall, youthful-looking lady walking towards her from the other end of the room. “And Mrs. Peters. How glad I am to see you both.”
Amelia dipped into a curtsy as best she could; her leg paining her, but she forced herself to do it anyway. “Thank you for agreeing to see me,” she stammered, not quite certain what else to say. “I will admit this has come as something of a surprise.”
Lady Smithton laughed and threw Mrs. Peters a glance. “Your companion was very persuasive indeed,” she answered, which made Mrs. Peters flush just a little. “Although I am very glad to make your acquaintance, Lady Amelia. Please, do sit down.” She gestured towards three chairs cloistered close towards a small fireplace, which was empty, with a carved stand set in front of it for decoration. “And I shall have refreshments sent in at once.”
Amelia, grateful to sit down, moved as quickly as she could, feeling her shame begin to creep up out of her soul all over again with the awareness that Lady Smithton could see her limp very clearly.
“Pray, do not be embarrassed,” Lady Smithton murmured, surprising Amelia with her awareness of what was going on in Amelia’s heart. “You have nothing to fear from me, Lady Amelia. I will not shame you nor whisper about you nor spread rumors or gossip, as I am certain so many others have done before.”
Amelia sank into a chair, waiting for Lady Smithton to do so also before she spoke. A quick glance towards Mrs. Peters confirmed the lady was expecting her to speak honestly, as she had been encouraged to do only a short time before.
“I—I am grateful for that, Lady Smithton,” she said, looking back at the lady and seeing the smile on her face that reached to her eyes. “You are quite right to suggest the ton are less than willing to overlook my limp. Their whispers grow quite overwhelming at times.”
Lady Smithton nodded, the smile fading from her face and being slowly replaced by a look of displeasure. “I quite understand,” she stated, firmly. “I have had a great many rumors chasing after me since my return to society—mostly surrounding the reasons behind my husband’s death, which some might like to implicate me in—so I well understand your struggle, Lady Amelia. You can have complete confidence in me. I shall not treat you as the beau monde have done.”
“I am delighted to hear it,” Amelia replied fervently. “I am short of understanding and compassionate acquaintances, Lady Smithton, so this has come as a very great relief.”
“But of course.” Lady Smithton made to say more but was prevented by the maids entering the room with trays stacked high with various delicacies. Amelia was astonished by the sheer amount presented, whilst Mrs. Peters began to smile in wonder.
“Please, help yourself and allow me to pour the tea,” Lady Smithton said, waving a hand towards the many different cakes, small pastries, and other treats. “And do not feel you need to fulfill any sort of propriety. I find I am vastly hungry around this time in the afternoon, and there is still a good length of time until I am to dine again!”
Amelia, seeing how Mrs. Peters did as Lady Smithton asked, took only a moment or two to follow suit, shooting a quick glance towards Lady Smithton out of the corner of her eye and thinking she was, in fact, quite different to any lady of quality she had met before. Perhaps there was a way for Lady Smithton to help her in her desire to find a suitor.
“Now,” Lady Smithton said once the tea had been served. “Mrs. Peters has become aware that I have offered to aid two young ladies who are nearing spinsterhood.” She gave Mrs. Peters a quick smile, a slightly teasing note in her voice. “Although quite how she has heard such a thing, I cannot say!”
Mrs. Peters did not look in the least abashed, saying nothing but smiling broadly.
“Therefore, I believe she hopes I can aid you in a similar fashion, Lady Amelia,” Lady Smithton continued without hesitation. “I presume your difficulties come from being seen only for your limp?”
There was not even a momentary pause as she spoke of Amelia’s limp. That was, Amelia decided, fairly refreshing, for Lady Smithton spoke forthrightly and did not once refrain from speaking of what might be seen as a delicate matter.
“I fell out of a tree when I was twelve years old,” she began by way of explanation. “My leg has never been the same. It is my own doing, I suppose, although—”
“I would not hold such a thing against you!” Lady Smithton interrupted, in evident surprise. “And nor would I be unwilling to help you because of it.”
Amelia smiled, feeling more and more encouraged. “I am very glad for your kindness,” she said quietly. “For not everyone sees the occasion of my accident as you do.” Pausing so that she might push back her sudden flood of tears, which had come from the simple kindness shown by Lady Smithton, Amelia drew in a long breath. “My uncle has taken on the title once carried by my father. I was late to the season given first my father’s illness and then my year of mourning. Last season was my debut, but it did not go particularly well, and no gentleman showed me any interest whatsoever—much to my uncle’s dismay. I must now find a suitor this year, but I cannot think there will be any more success this year than I had at the last. I am not changed in any way; my limp has not improved, and the ton is all the more eager to point out my struggles to anyone they can. Gentlemen do nothing but tease me, and not once have I been asked to dance.” A faint blush crept into h
er cheeks at the questioning look in Lady Smithton’s eyes. “I can dance some of the dances, Lady Smithton, but only if they are slow and do not require a great many steps.”
“And we are always concerned a gentleman’s feet might be heavy and could step on Lady Amelia’s foot, making her pain all the worse,” Mrs. Peters interjected, as Lady Smithton nodded in understanding. “But the beau monde appears to believe she is quite useless when it comes to dancing.”
Amelia’s face clouded at the truths that came from Mrs. Peters’ lips. It was just as she said, but still, the pain of it struck her heart, hard. “Do you think there is any hope, Lady Smithton?” she asked, fearing this would all come to naught. “Or am I to resign myself to my fate?”
Lady Smithton frowned. “You have no need to even consider the idea that there is no hope, Lady Amelia,” she stated, making Amelia’s heart flare with furious hope. “There are plenty of gentlemen who care nothing for such things and who have no intention of behaving as arrogantly or as callously as the gentlemen you have met thus far!” She sighed heavily and shook her head. “It displeases me there are so many gentlemen and ladies who behave in such an uncouth and uncivil manner. For whatever reason, they appear to flock together and grow in number when even a small matter of interest reaches their ears.”
“I could not agree more,” Mrs. Peters said, looking at Amelia with a hardness about her eyes that betrayed her dislike of the ton. “Lady Amelia has endured a great deal, and I have been seeking some way to encourage her.” She turned her attention back to Lady Smithton. “Are you able to help us further, Lady Smithton? Lady Amelia has no one to turn to, for both her parents are gone from this earth, and her uncle does not care to involve himself as he ought. I have done my best, but it is very little in comparison to what someone with such strong standing in society might do.”