Yet it was.
“Hugh surprised me,” Elinor managed, averting her eyes and tucking a lock of hair behind her ear. “But Christmas itself was as chaotic as it ever was. Shocking number of engagements, though.”
“Perhaps I should go to your estate next Christmas,” Amelia said with a laugh, though Edith caught the tension in her voice as she said so.
She hadn’t thought Amelia Perry was particularly searching for a husband, though it did seem to be on the mind of every other young woman in Society. Perhaps Amelia’s melancholy was a broken heart, but who would have done such a thing? There had never been any indication of a suitor for her, as far as Edith knew, unless she had missed something during her time away in Derbyshire.
“Amelia,” Georgie suddenly began, lacing her fingers across her lap, “Edith has a question to ask of you, which is why we asked you here.”
Amelia’s eyes widened, and she looked at Edith expectantly. “Yes, my lady?”
Edith smiled at the girl, shaking her head. “Lass, don’t ‘my lady’ me. Edith is fine.”
“Edith,” she corrected with a quick smile, “if you insist.”
“I do,” Edith replied with a wink and a smile, “especially if you come to stay with me.”
Amelia’s smile froze, and she blinked once. “I beg your pardon?”
“I would like to have you stay at my home with me,” Edith replied. “I am there alone but for my servants, and it would be best for all concerned if I had some company for a time.”
Again, Amelia blinked, her mouth beginning to gape open.
Poor thing, this was such a strange request, and possibly harmful to a reputation, given Edith’s situation. Why would she agree to stay with her? She had a perfectly lovely home in London, far nicer and more elegant than Edith’s home could ever be, let alone actually being in a livable condition. She barely knew Edith, and…
“When can I come?” Amelia suddenly said, looking brighter and more like her old self than she had yet. “I would love to stay with you; are you certain?”
That was certainly unexpected.
Edith blinked unsteadily, her heart stopping in shock. “I am if you are, but are you sure, lass? Ye’ve no’ seen the state of my house, and…”
Amelia shook her head firmly, cutting Edith off. “If you can live there, Edith, I can live there, I vow. I’m not nearly as fine as I look, and I am desperate to be away from home.”
“Well, that’s simple enough,” Charlotte commented with a laugh. “I’ll go see about a tea tray.” She rose and exited without another word.
Edith bit her lip, staring at Amelia with some concern. “Do you need to check with your parents, Amelia? I live in Cheapside, and the situation is not… I dinna ken why I’m asking. The more I consider the idea, the worse it gets!” She pushed up from her seat and began to pace. “I canna do this to you, or to anyone. It’s too horrid, too much. I dinna ken why I agreed…”
“Edith!”
She stopped as Grace stepped directly into her path and grabbed her arms. She met her friend’s eyes helplessly, panic and regret welling within her.
“I canna ask her to do this, Grace. It’s not right.”
“None of this is right, Edith,” Grace insisted, her voice as firm as her expression. “None of it. It’s not right that you are in it, either. You have Owen at the house. Bringing Amelia in may make things more bearable until we find a more permanent solution for you.”
Edith shook her head slightly, tears welling. “I have to tell her everything. She has to know what she is risking.”
Grace gave her a firm nod. “All right. Then tell her everything.” She took Edith’s arm and led her to the seat beside Amelia, then gestured for the rest of them to follow her out of the room.
Without a word, they did so, leaving Edith and Amelia alone in the drawing room together.
“This is a little worrisome,” Amelia murmured as she turned towards Edith. “Are you all right?”
Edith exhaled slowly, blinking away the tears of her panic and trying for a smile. “Well enough. It’s just… Amelia, my late husband’s cousin wants me to be his mistress. He calls frequently to renew his addresses, and while he has yet to make advances towards me there, he has made advances elsewhere. He controls my finances, as well. I do not live in finery, and my continuing to refuse him may make my situation worse. I dinna want to bring you into this unawares.”
There was no change to Amelia’s expression, then she reached for Edith’s hand and squeezed tightly. “If you can live in it, I can live in it, Edith. You shouldn’t have to face it alone, and if I can help in any way, I will.” She finally smiled, albeit ruefully. “I don’t mind telling you, but I’ve had a disappointment, far beyond what I thought I would. My mother, sweet though she is, will not leave me in peace, and the reliving of it all makes everything hurt more.”
“I can imagine,” Edith said softly, her mind racing back to her more innocent days in Scotland when she had romantic dreams and imagined beaus. Had she ever fancied a lad enough to find her heart broken in that way?
The only heartbreak she could recall was that of being betrayed by her family and forced down an aisle she would have fled from.
A cold shiver raced down her spine, and she shoved the dark memories away.
“Perhaps,” Amelia continued, “in staying with you, I will find the healing I need, and in helping you, distract myself from it all.” She smiled further still, looking bright again. “It sounds as though we are both suffering in some way. We might as well suffer together.”
Warmth spread from Edith’s chest out into the tips of her fingers, and she felt hope for the first time in ages. “I will confess to ye, lass; it will be lovely to have a friend in my home.”
Amelia nodded, her eyes bright. “And it will be lovely to me to be of use again. Shall I come tomorrow?”
Edith laughed once. “Aye, if ye please! I’ll have a room ready for you.”
“Finally,” Charlotte announced, entering with a tea tray in her hands, the others trailing behind her. “I’ve been hovering out there waiting for you both to agree to it. Now, can we please discuss the articles this week? Amelia, would you like to write as a guest? Sterling ladies, perhaps you might consider working together on something? Anything, really.”
Chapter Eight
A meeting of men is shrouded in mystery from ladies such as we. One can only imagine what is discussed in such goings-on, and whether it really should be such a mystery at all.
-The Spinster Chronicles, 16 June 1819
“It’s not that bad.”
“It is.”
“Tony, it’s not.”
“Cam, it is.”
“I can assure you, it’s not.”
“It is,” Tony Sterling insisted, flicking the ends of his cravat for emphasis. “It’s the most ridiculous bit of frippery I’ve ever seen. What was wrong with how I wore it before?”
Camden Vale exhaled heavily, turning the glass in his hand against the surface of the table. “I don’t care. It doesn’t matter. Is your wife pleased with it?”