Tempted by Curiosity

by Angeleke Kaldis

  “Right. The coach dropped me off in London, I found the sketchpad that I was looking for, I bought a blueberry tart with some change, and then I walked around a park until it was time for me to get back onto the coach for Hertford. Marcella, you’re going to love London in the afternoon. It’s simply wonderful.”

  “I’ll hold your word to it.” Marcella replied gingerly. She seldom agreed with the what Lydia thought was wonderful.

  Lydia scrunched up her nose when she heard Marcella’s tone of voice in her reply “I know that you rarely ever concur with what I find fascinating. I’m well aware that I don’t fit in amongst my own family. I can’t talk with Lucinda or Bernice the way I can talk with you, and it’s blatantly obvious that you’re Flora’s favorite. I have nothing going for me here in Hertfordshire. London feels like the right place and setting for me.”

  Marcella could not believe the intense emotion that was coming out of Lydia right this very moment. She had just said that she felt like an outsider in her own home, with her own family. This wasn’t right.

  “Do not speak like that Lydia Rose, you are a Stansfield. You are our family, you’re my darling sister, and we all love you just as you are. You fit in just fine here.

  Lydia rolled her eyes as she sat back in her chair and crossed her arms over her midsection, “Fine is not enough Marcella. I feel as if I am the black sheep of this family. I don’t feel like I fit in here, but when I was in London everything there just felt so right to me. As if being different was okay. For that slightest moment when I was in the city, I thought about willingly cutting off all of my hair and selling it to start a new life in London on my own.”

  “Don’t even think about it Lydia, your hair is a part of who you are. You are a unique young woman with a wonderful life waiting for you. Why don’t you understand that?”

  “I understand enough about the world to know that Grandfather is dead, mother is unhappy, father’s a drunken gambler, Lucinda is a flake, Bernice is oblivious to reality, Flora lives in a fairy world, and you seem to think that you’re so wonderful that you can’t even fathom the idea of why you’ve been chosen as the lamb sacrifice.”

  That felt like a slap to the face, not once but twice over. A slap garnered to redden both cheeks, and it hurt like Hades. Marcella was ready to explode with a venomous reply, but she reeled her ferocious nature back.

  “Did that make you feel better? Putting your anger onto me when all I have ever been is a loving sister to you? How dare you insinuate such things about your family, and excuse me if happen to treat Flora like a daughter. A part of me acts like a mother to her because our mother can’t, as she is too busy with so many other responsibilities. As for Lucinda and Bernice, they are gentler souls compared to us. They live in a bubble world because they are afraid of what reality could do to them. I know Grandfather is dead, mother misses Scotland, and father is a selfish prick, but at this moment in our lives, I cannot do anything to solve those problems yet. I am the first sacrifice Lydia, and I don’t want to be, but I have no other choice in the matter. This is my duty as an eldest daughter, and as an older sister to you.”

  “I know that Marcella. I’m sorry to spew such hurtful things towards you about you and everyone here, but this has all been building up inside of me for a whole year. With you going away, I will be utterly lonely. I will have no one to talk to, or anyone to confess my sins to, and you’ll be in London. The rest of the lot here will be in some sort of utopian land that I can’t seem to find the door to. I’m lost.”

  Marcella got up from her chair and bent over to hug her sister, “I know how you feel, more than you could ever imagine. If I could bring you to London with me you know that I would. A part of me wishes that they would’ve sent us together, but we both know that someone has to hold down the fort here while I’m away, and that someone is you.”

  Lydia hugged her back with tears in her eyes, “I will try my very best Marcella, but I’ll be eerily miserable the whole time.”

  Marcella pulled away slightly to look into her sister’s eyes, “You have to promise me something. No more sporadic trips to London, or anywhere outside of Hertford for that matter. At least not when I’m away.”

  Lydia nodded, “I can promise that. As much as I loved wearing those trousers, that wig bloody hurt.”

  They laughed about Lydia’s use of profanity and then Marcella had to ask, “How was life as a brunette?”

  Lydia smirked, “If you must know, I felt quite serious. I caught sight of myself in a mirror in one of those fancy dress shops, and I hardly recognized myself. My eyes popped way too much with a darker hair color. I will say this though, a part of me really missed seeing this monstrosity on top of my head.”

  Lydia motioned to her massive hair and Marcella snorted, “You call it a monstrosity, but I’ll always call it a masterpiece.”

  Lydia beamed at that compliment.

  They both took a quick look at the clock on the mantelpiece, seconds later it sounded.

  “Lydia, as much as I love you I need sleep, but before you go I need you to promise me something.”

  Lydia rolled her eyes, “Oh alright. I know that you’re mentally exhausted from today. What is it that you would like me to promise you?”

  Marcella took her hands and said, “Promise me that you will never change who you are in order to fit in. I know that I am not going to fit in easily in London, but I will try my best. I need you to stay true to yourself, no matter what. Promise me this?”

  Lydia grinned, “That’s it? For a second there, I thought you were going to ask some major request of me.”

  “Lydia, I mean it.” Marcella retorted.

  “I promise never to change, at least not while you’re away. Even though a shorter hairstyle might be in my future, it is a lot easier to handle.”

  Marcella shook her head, “Goodness me Lydia. May the man whom you marry have enough vitality to keep up with your everlasting sass.”

  “From your mouth to god’s ears dear sister. Goodnight Marcella.”

  “Goodnight Lydia.”

  They hugged once more by the bedroom door, and then Lydia left Marcella’s room like a thief in the night.

  Chapter 3

  A few days later, Lord Ernest Stansfield finally returned home. It was late in the afternoon, and it was time for a spot of tea. Lady Rowena had led her daughters right into the parlor so that they could spend time with their father.

  It was time that Lord Ernest Stansfield told them exactly what he had been up to these last few weeks away from home.

  As they entered the room one by one, they saw their father already sitting down in his favorite chair. He looked washed up, his thinning hair looked neatly combed, but a part of him looked as if he’d been dragged about by a carriage.

  The girls all settled into separate parlor chairs around their father. Lady Rowena then sat down to the right of her husband, and made sure that Marcella had sat down right next to her on her own right-hand side.

  Lady Rowena opened the conversation, as any matriarch would. All the girls were anxious to hear about their father’s whereabouts and his trip. It was a mystery, but not one that was filled with excitement and folly. This mystery was one that bordered the lines of dread and trepidation.

  “My dear husband, it is so wonderful to have you back home. Pray tell, how was your trip to London?”

  Lord Ernest settled back into his larger than life comfy green upholstered chair and looked at his wife, and then his daughters, as he said, “The fortnight that just passed was rather hectic, and quite eventful. I bought a few shares in a couple of up and coming railroad companies that look promising. I also gambled away a few thousand pounds at this new establishment, if one could call it that. Before any of you say anything, I do want you to know that if I had never gone to that establishment of sorts that I most likely would’ve never ever met your cousin.”

  They all looked at him with doe-like expressions on their faces, he then continued, “My heir p
resumptive, you know the one from Ipswich.”

  Marcella’s eyes widened even bigger as she listened to her father relay his trip to London. She knew that this so-called new establishment that her father was referring to was most definitely a gambling hell, or worse. It could’ve been a bawdy house, which was just distasteful for a married man and a father of five daughters.

  She knew that her father wasn’t that clever when it came to covering up his activities in the city with eloquent words. So Marcella did what Marcella knew best.

  She quickly caught her father off-guard and asked him, “Father, who exactly is this cousin and why was he in a gaming hell?”

  Lord Stansfield continued speaking with much ease, “Marcella, I never said it was a gambling hell. It was more of a Gentleman’s club, if you will. Your cousin was simply playing a few table games, and I happened to join in on one of those games. He was doing very well at first, and I decided to try out my luck as well.”

  Marcella did her best to keep her tartness at bay, but she was far too curious about who this mysterious so-called cousin was, “By all means father, please do explain who this cousin of ours is.”

  Lord Ernest’s temples began to perspire as he spoke, “Of course dearie, I apologize. He introduced himself as Mr. Benedict Coll of Ipswich who is to inherit the Stansfield’s Estate in Hertfordshire. I was absolutely gob-smacked by the man’s profession that I bet far too much, and I lost quite poorly.”

  Lydia cringed at their father’s admission of losing more money, and Marcella began to wrangle her hands. They hoped that was all that had happened in London, but then their father proved them wrong.

  “After that awful stint of a game was over, I decided to introduce myself to Mr. Coll. He didn’t seem at all shocked by my revelation as his relation. He even said that he had heard about our family through Lady Stanton, who everyone in England knows to be a well-known socialite, and as we know, a paragon of upper-crust society.”

  Marcella wished that Lady Stanton, for once in her life, would just keep her big mouth closed. Now, the Stansfield’s had to deal with Mr. Coll. All because he had learned directly from Lady Stanton that he would be inheriting their fortune.

  How unfortunate for them, and very fortunate for him. To learn that he was a distant cousin, and now that he would be inheriting both a home and a fortune?

  Mr. Coll was a lucky lecherous prig.

  Lydia huffed out her frustration and murmured to Marcella on her left, “Well would you look at that, just another money-hungry man who is most likely so lousy under the duvet that his left hand is about to fall off from overuse.”

  Marcella stifled a laugh, but then nudged Lydia to be quiet with her right elbow. If their parents had heard what Lydia had just said they’d both be in very big trouble.

  Lady Rowena looked at them both with a threatening glare in her eyes. Lucinda saw the looks exchanged between her mother and her older sisters from across the room. So she asked her father a question, in order to change the subject, and hopefully give her sister’s enough time to gather themselves.

  “Father, when will Marcella be going to London for her season?”

  Marcella looked over to Lucinda and smiled kindly at her. Lucinda winked back at her when no one was else looking in her direction.

  Lord Stansfield recalled what he had originally wanted to say by snapping his fingers, “Oh yes! Thank you lovely Lucy. As your mother requested, I had a delightful evening with the Pinkerton family at their townhome in Kensington. I have made suitable arrangements so that Marcella can live with them during her season. I’ve also been looking into acquiring a townhome of our own in London so that when Lydia and the rest of you girls finally reach a proper debut age, you can live in your own residence for your future seasons.”

  Lydia rolled her eyes hard, she was done with this beating around the bush nonsense, “The question was, when will Marcella be going to London, father?”

  Lucy had already asked that same question, but their father was taking his time in answering it.

  Lord Stansfield looked directly at Lydia and frowned at her, “You have no patience child, and that is one of the reasons why you will be staying here in Hertfordshire. Marcella, you will be leaving for London tomorrow morning so that you may become acquainted with the Pinkerton family. They will be sponsoring you this season.”

  “Yes, father. Tomorrow? That’s so soon.” Lydia frowned, and then looked away from their father with sadness in her eyes.

  Marcella was starting to understand Lydia’s feelings about their own family now. She could tell that Lydia was trying her best to keep her emotions checked, because this was not moment to lash out at their father. Marcella reached out and squeezed Lydia’s left hand.

  Lydia looked up at Marcella and gave her a look, a look that suggested that she would put her pride aside just this once.

  Lady Rowena clapped her hands, “Now that that is settled, I will be helping the maids pack the rest of Marcella’s things for London tonight. Girls, I think it would be best if the rest of us left the parlor so that your father may have a quick word with Marcella.”

  Lydia, Lucinda, and Bernice nodded in agreement and got up to leave right away, but then Bernice looked around and realized that someone was missing. Flora was absent, nowhere to be seen.

  Bernice looked all around the room once more and then asked, “Mother, do you know where Flora is? I thought that she had joined us in the parlor for tea earlier.”

  The Stansfield’s all looked around the parlor to find her. Lord Stansfield heard a purring sound and looked under his chair to see where the noise was coming from. He looked behind his chair and found Flora curled up in a little ball on the floor with a copy of Jane Austen’s Pride and Prejudice nuzzled up to her chest like a teddy bear would be.

  Jane Austen was one of the Stansfield’s girl’s favorite authors, and now that her publications were finally revealing Austen’s name on all the copies of her work it was extremely significant to have a piece of the late authors literary career residing on the bookshelves of their home library.

  Lord Stansfield crouched down on the floor near his youngest daughter, and caressed her head gently saying, “Flora, my precious little flower. Wake up dear, we are going to have supper soon.”

  Lydia rolled her eyes at another one of her father’s sentiments to one of her other sisters. He never called her his lovely, his dear, or even his darling. Could be jealousy, or was Lydia just a menacing child who nobody wanted? She didn’t want to ponder that thought any longer, so she walked out of the parlor alone.

  Flora blinked awake, smiling up at her father, “Are we going to have baked apple dumplings after supper tonight? If not, I will be going back to my kip now.”

  Everyone in the parlor laughed, Bernice kneeled down on the floor next to Flora and said, “Of course we’re having baked apple dumplings. They are father’s favorites, and cook has a sweet spot for him.”

  Lord Stansfield looked as if he was surprised, but slyly smiled as he shrugged lightly. Lady Stansfield smirked at her husband as he said reassuringly, “Girls, cook has known me for many years, she’d ought to know what my favorite sweet is. She is a part of our big family after all.”

  Marcella thought that if Lydia had heard father refer their cook as a part of their family she would’ve fully lost all of her marbles. He spoke well of the cook, but couldn’t do so of his own flesh and blood. Everyone was treated like family around here, except for Lydia.

  She was a Stansfield, there was no doubt about that. Perhaps it was her desperate urge to breakaway from her family that forced a rift between her and them. Only time could truly heal all wounds. No matter how deep they were. Marcella was able to see Lydia in a new light now, and it troubled her to the core.

  A footman came into the parlor to announce that supper was ready, and then he added that Lydia had already started eating without them. Marcella frowned at the rude footman, he could’ve kept that last part to himself.

&n
bsp; Lady Stansfield murmured, “That child will put me in an early grave, if only she could be more of a lady.”

  With that comment, her mother and all three of her younger sisters left the room, leaving Marcella to have that quick word with her father.

  “Marcella, I know that this may have come as a shock to you, and that you may have some reservations, but you have to go to London. You have to take part in the season, you must my precious girl.”

  Marcella nodded, “I know, father.”

  Lord Stansfield looked nervous as he rubbed his sweaty hands together and asked, “Do you have any questions for me? About…well, anything really?”

  Marcella looked her father right in the eyes and said what had to be said, “No, I have nothing. Nothing at all. I want nothing to ask you, nothing from you, and I hope to God that you find your old self while I’m gone because this family needs you now more than ever. You understand that, don’t you? You are not alone in this world. You have us, and we are your family.”

  Lord Stansfield took his daughters hands in his own and said, “I know what you must think of me, and I want you to know that it will indeed get worse before it gets any better, but I will do my best to fix it all.”

  Marcella cringed at that admission. How could she hope for the best and expect the worse when the worse was already here and any hope she had was far out of sight?

  Was this the father that she had looked up to as a little girl?

  What had happened to this man?

  Marcella pulled her hands free from her father’s hold and said, “I think it’s time that we joined the others for supper now.”

  With that said, Marcella stood up and turned away from her father. She then walked out of the parlor, and towards the dining room.

  Once inside the dining room she sat her stone-like face and stiff body down between Lydia and Lucinda, who both looked up at Marcella with questioning glances and then stared at each other for a good minute.

  When Lord Stansfield walked into the dining room he looked indignant, but he took his seat at the head of the table and motioned for the footman to pour him some wine. They all started eating once Lord Stansfield took his first bite of mutton. All that could be heard throughout the room was a slight clink or clank of cutlery hitting a bowl or a plate.