Peter coughed audibly, and Georgiana cast him an equally sharp stare.
Beatrice sat lost in thought, as though contemplating her own engagement, what it would be like, and how she would react.
“Do tell us your parents’ story, Miss Moore.” Georgiana cleared her throat. “Theirs is the only one we have not yet heard. I am sure it is most intriguing.”
I became acutely aware of Peter shifting in his seat behind me. Knowing he was listening made the story even harder to tell. My parents did not have a love story like the Turnballs or even the Demsworths that, though arranged, at least resulted in happiness.
“Oh, no, it is not exciting,” I said, sitting straighter and rubbing my hands on my skirts. A pit settled into my stomach, just like it did every time Lord Gray brought up my father. “They met one night at a ball, just like many before them and many since.”
“I do love a good ball,” Beatrice added dreamily.
“Go on. There must be more,” Georgiana pressed. Her voice was too eager. It was as though somehow Georgiana saw my discomfort, knew the words on my tongue were not easily shared, and yet she willed me to speak. Willed me to admit that my parents’ marriage did not happen out of love or even arrangement. She couldn’t know of something that had happened so long ago and so far away from here. Still, I would not give her the satisfaction of embarrassing me. I could not hide from the truth. One way or another, it would find its way out.
“They shared an accidentally public kiss,” I said, staring straight into her eyes. I would not tell her that they’d only just met. That Father barely knew her. That both their hearts were hurting that night, both searching for solace in a friend.
“How scandalous,” Georgiana breathed, looking about the room. “How humiliating.”
“Georgiana,” Peter said low, almost warningly.
It was then that I realized that Lady Demsworth and Mrs. Turnball were watching me with interest. What would they think of my admission? No matter what Lord Gray’s position was in society, Clara and I would never be able to escape the truth of our parents’ scandal. At least this way, I could control how the story was told.
“Perhaps for them it was. But they married, and I have much to thank them for, so I find no humiliation in the admission,” I said, forcing a smile.
“Of course not.” Lady Demsworth’s eyes were kind, her voice soft. “It seems to me that whatever scandal resulted was well worth a few months of gossip. You and your sister are a delight.”
“Indeed,” Mrs. Turnball said with just as much kindness.
Georgiana’s sharp gaze grew contemplative as she searched the faces in our circle. “Truly? Is there no consequence for scandal?”
Beatrice fluffed out her skirts. “I find their story to be quite romantic. Two people in love who couldn’t help themselves. In the end, what is a few months of gossip compared to a lifetime of happiness?”
Happiness. How I wished that kiss had given my parents some semblance of it.
Georgiana chewed on her lips, quiet and uncommonly reserved. The fire crackled in the hearth, warming me from afar. I couldn’t remember the last time talking of my parents had resulted in such a feeling of fullness, of strength. They once had to make impossible choices. If only they were here to guide me now.
Conversation continued as our circle opened to include the remainder of our company. More stories were told of worse scandals than my parents’, including embarrassing proposals and courtship stories famously repeated in gossip circles. Lady Demsworth caught my eye, and I wondered how we’d come to have such a strange, casual conversation tonight. Who was her mysterious friend? Was he in this very room?
That night as I lay in bed listening to Clara’s even breathing, I thought of Father’s old stories from my childhood. He’d tuck Clara and me in our beds and tell us his version of when he first met our mother.
Couples twirled and laughed amongst the crowd that night. He’d asked twenty ladies to dance, but every card was full. Then a brown-haired woman with rosy lips and loose curls wearing a stunning periwinkle dress walked through the open doors. She’d looked like she was searching for someone, but to no avail. He’d walked right up to her, having not even been introduced.
Might I have the next set with you? he’d asked, praying she would not question their lack of acquaintance. She agreed and took his arm, and he’d never felt so perfectly alive. After their first dance, and another, followed by a drink in a cozy corner in the room, Father was smitten. They stole away to an upper balcony where they’d thought themselves quite alone, and he’d kissed her there against the railing.
But they hadn’t looked down, and a large party cooling off from the heat of the ballroom bore witness to the scandal. Father was trapped, and Mother was ruined entirely. They’d had no choice but to marry quickly and quietly.
Father’s estate was situated far from London in a little town in the country, and Mother had to choose to find her happiness there.
Had they found love, like Father so adamantly insisted they had? Or was their love story one-sided? Lord Gray told an entirely different story of Mother’s intentions that night. And I supposed I would never know for sure.
Chapter Nine
I quickly ate my eggs and toast the next morning, hoping to slip from the breakfast room unseen. The ladies planned to gather in the drawing room, but I had no intention of joining them, nor of making myself available for Peter’s afternoon call any earlier than necessary. If I abandoned the party and hid myself well enough, he’d never find me, and I could return just in time for a late afternoon walk. Something quick, easy, and that would hopefully keep me free of further embarrassment. We’d not specified that our afternoons need be planned, and even if Peter searched for me early, how could I be to blame for his poor hide-and-seek skills? It was a foolproof plan.
Snatching my bonnet and satchel, I slipped through the entryway and out the front door.
My feet carried me outside beneath the clouds to a mighty oak tree about a half-mile east of the estate. Carefully, I maneuvered around its massive roots that broke free of the earth and surfaced like tentacles.
At last in the comfort of the tree’s shade, I sat upon the mossy earth with my back at the trunk, facing away from the house. I could not be more hidden unless I scaled the tree to a higher level. If only I could have reached a limb.
Here was the solitude I craved. When was the last time I’d sat alone with nature as my only companion? I pulled out my sketchbook and pencils, looking around for a subject to draw. I hadn’t the skill to draw anything too complex, but I could manage a flower. I chose the bushy yellow weeds that grew along the earthy floor.
After a few pages of sketching, and several attempts to draw a likeness of the birds that perched on the tree’s lower branches, my hands grew tired. Securing my book in my satchel, I leaned back against the rough bark. The sun streamed through the leaves, warming my face. I closed my eyes to fully appreciate the moment.