“What time is it, Mary?” I yawned.
“Just after seven, Miss Amelia,” she replied, adding a spoonful of sugar to my cup of tea.
So I’d slept for three hours. Not enough. Perhaps I’d be able to nap in the coach. I sipped my warm tea, easing out of my covers with cup in hand. A floor below us, Lord Gray’s coughing shook the air. The start of a new day, and perhaps for him, one of his last. My stomach knotted at the thought, and I lost my appetite.
“Amelia?” Clara rushed in, fully dressed, her hair perfectly curled and pinned. Her eyes were as bright as the morning sun, nearly bursting with excitement. “I’ve told Mr. Jones to ready the coach. We must be off if we are to make it in time for dinner at Sir Ronald’s house. Can you believe it?”
“I cannot.” I smiled, despite knowing the truth of Lord Gray’s confession. Any knowledge of our true circumstances would ruin the party for Clara, and she deserved a chance to create a genuine connection with Sir Ronald. Not something forced out of fear for her future. “His home must be magnificent.”
“Oh, I am sure it is. Five floors and two wings, and a library he admires. He even has a room entirely dedicated to yellow, which is his favorite color. And his holding encompasses hundreds of acres of land.” Clara’s eyes brightened as she recalled the details.
My mouth fell open, and it took me a minute to find my voice. “How do you know all of this, Clara?”
“Well, dances and dinners, of course. We escaped to the terrace a few times. And once we hid away under a grand staircase when a certain woman would not leave him alone. He is not overly fond of large parties.”
Half-laughing at my sister whose secrets were more than I possibly could have assumed, I shook my head in amazement. “This is why you’ve been so glum. Did he tell you he would write to us?”
“I am not glum. We are friends, that is all. Miss Wood, I hear, has held his affection for some time. So, no, he did not inform me of his party. But I am happy for the invitation regardless.”
“I see. Well, we shall see if Miss Wood was also extended an invitation when we arrive. It sounds to me like Sir Ronald’s interests may lie in another direction.” I shot her a pointed glance, and she scrunched her nose.
“Please don’t say such things, Amelia. I only want his happiness. Promise me you will not try to persuade him otherwise? Or meddle between us? If Miss Wood is as amiable as I have heard, then I doubt it will do any good. I am thrilled to have been invited at all.”
“Miss Wood,” I huffed. “She sounds plain.”
“Amelia.” Clara shook my shoulders with her hands. “Promise me.”
If only she knew what she asked of me. I could not lie, but I could not make such a promise either. A middle ground would have to do. “I promise to do nothing that would make you unhappy, Clara.”
Downstairs, Mr. Jones informed us that Lord Gray was feeling especially unwell this morning and was unable to see us off. I was unsurprised by his absence, but I also felt a tinge of relief. What would I say to him if these words were my last? I had little to thank him for beyond the sustenance he provided and the roof over my head. Even then, I was not entirely sure I felt grateful for that.
Mr. Jones helped us into the carriage, and just before closing our door, said, “Lord Gray asked me to wish you luck in your journey. Safe travels, Miss Moore, Miss Clara.”
“Luck?” Clara questioned as we rode out of Brighton. “I wonder why he thinks we need luck. Such a strange, peculiar man. I am glad to be away again so soon.”
“As am I.” I sighed, listening to the sounds of the squeaky coach. “I am sure he meant for our travels.” Nothing to do with our uncertain future.
“Yes, but that would imply he meant to be kind, and Lord Gray is the most unfeeling man I have ever met.” Clara tsked. “I will never understand why Mama chose him. After a man like Father. Elevating our status is not a worthy enough excuse to be tied to such a person.”
I could not disagree with her, but I had a sinking feeling that if Clara did not win Sir Ronald’s heart, I could more easily understand marrying for protection, without much say as to whom.
“Be grateful you know so little of the subject to be able to wonder on it.” I gave in to another yawn and closed my eyes. There was something about a ride in a coach, heading far away from Lord Gray with Clara as my companion and the soft sound of Mary’s knitting needles, that was so comforting and so familiar, I fell asleep every time.
We stopped at a small inn for a meal before continuing on our way, but then a few miles outside of Hampshire, Clara sat bolt upright. “My gloves! Amelia, my gloves! I took them off for lunch. I’ve left them.”
I sat up straight. “Are you sure?”
“Yes.” She moaned, covering her face with bare hands. “They were my last short pair.”
I took a deep breath. Our allowance was small, but gloves were a necessity. Clara couldn’t wear evening gloves during the day. “We will have to stop at a shop in town.”
“I am sorry, Amelia. How could I be so careless? Wasting money on new gloves.”
“It is an inexpensive mistake. And easily remedied,” I assured her, though inwardly I groaned too. What would happen when our reticules emptied?
A few hours later, we pulled up to a row of shops lined side by side down a broad street in the middle of a small farm town. Clara had fallen asleep in the coach, and I did not want to worry her. Our hands were nearly the same size, though it would be a miracle if the glove maker could accommodate us on such short notice. I could only hope to persuade him to sell me another person’s order at an inflated cost. Or with a hefty tip in the least.
The store was much larger on the inside than it appeared and looked as though the owner was in the middle of a remodeling. At the front, a clerk sat at a long, rectangular wooden desk, writing in a thick book. He looked up through his spectacles as I approached.
“Welcome, ma’am, I am just finishing this order. I shall be with you in a moment.”
“If you could point me in the direction of the gloves you offer, then I shall wait for you there.”
“Oh.” The man removed his spectacles, uncovering a furrowed brow. “I am sorry to disappoint you, but our glove maker has recently moved his business elsewhere. Unfortunately, I can take no further orders until our new man arrives next month.”
Would luck ever find us? I could handle disappointment, but I could not bear to see it in my sister. “I’m afraid our need is great. I must ask you to sell me anything you have on hand, sir. Anything at all. I can pay you well.”
“Well, we’ve sold quite a lot of his old things already—patterns, samples, and the like—but I think there’s one pair of sample gloves left on the table. Smaller in size, which appears to suit you, and I believe they are a fashionable beige. Just there, on the back corner table. I will assist you in a moment.” He motioned me forward, and I nodded my thanks, hurrying to the back corner of the shop.