“You didn’t!”
Her mother gave her an odd look. “Of course, I did. He seems a personable fellow. And, with our financial demands…”
She didn’t need to say anything more. Hestony bowed her head. Of course! How could she even think to refuse to help her family?
“Hestony?” Her mother frowned at her, sounding worried. “Hestony? What is it?”
Hestony couldn’t think of anything to say, so she said nothing. Her throat was closed from all the unsaid, unsayable words that choked it. Turning her back, she ran up the stairs to her bedroom.
“Hestony!” her mother called after her, clearly dismayed. “What about the party? Are you not going to speak to the seamstress about your gown?”
“I don’t want to,” Hestony whispered under her breath, closing the bedroom door and leaning against it, her eyes shut, tears soaking her cheeks. “I don’t want to.”
She felt herself slip down to sitting, her back against the door. She had her eyes closed, and she tried to hold back her sobbing, but she couldn’t keep it back.
“Hal,” she whispered. “Hal…”
She covered her lips, trying to stop crying. Her mother was likely right. Hal would forget her. Why should he not? A dandy like himself would not want for heiresses and duchesses to court! He would be better off without a penurious nobody like herself. She had to convince herself of that. She had to do what her mother had made so clearly-obvious was best.
Could Hal really turn his back on her so easily? She didn’t think it could happen like that. She recalled his kisses, how he’d looked into her eyes. Her heart ached.
It wasn’t possible that he’d just forget about all that, was it?
But she had to believe it. She had to do as her mother had suggested was best for them all. She closed her eyes, recalling that conversation in London. They had no money left – and that meant that, before too long, they would lose everything and be forced to live on charity: unless she could save them.
“It is about time I accepted her advice.” Mama was only thinking of what would be best. And Lord Osburne was best.
Hestony stood and made herself go to the window, looking out over the grounds. The sun had gone again, and the late summer rain settled in swathes over the lawn. She watched it sadly, feeling the desolation of the landscape as if it was inside her.
A knock sounded at the door. “My Lady?”
Hestony sniffed, reaching for her handkerchief. She hurriedly dried herself and bit her lips to bring some color back, hoping she didn’t look too obviously sorrowful.
“Judy! I’m coming…”
She opened the door and came face-to-face with Judy. She had a gown over one arm. Her brown eyes took in Hestony’s sorrow. “My Lady…I’m sorry to disturb you. Mrs. Parks was here, and she sent up this dress. If you could try it?”
Hestony shook her head sorrowfully. The dress – cream silk in a brocaded design – was just another thing that she knew they couldn’t afford.
“Is she waiting?” she asked.
“She’s in the anteroom.” Her lady’s maid nodded.
“Fine,” Hestony said resignedly. “I’ll try it on. If you could help me undress?”
Her maid nodded and came to help her. Judy was a friend, and close enough to understand Hestony’s mood. She seemed to sense she didn’t want to discuss it. Hestony let her help her out of her day-dress and into the fine evening gown. She looked at her reflection. She had her hair down, and it matched the cream silk perfectly. Her face was an expressionless mask, eyes damp. She thought she looked like an artfully-painted doll.
There’s no animation in my face, no joy or spark.
“It looks good,” Judy assured her. “It fits well?”
“It fits very well,” Hestony said sadly. It was no real surprise – it had been cut off a pattern that had been sewed for her three months ago. “If you could inform Mrs. Parks, and return it again?”
“Yes, straight away.”
Hestony let Judy help her out of the dress. When she was done, she sat down at the window, looking out across the field. She had no idea what to do, and she didn’t feel the faintest inclination to do anything, as it happened. If she could have, she would simply have sat there and watched the rain on the heathlands forever.
“Hello?”
She whipped round as somebody called through the door. There were only two people who would knock at her door without requiring a servant to announce them first. One was her mother, and the second was Emilia.
“Hello?” Emilia called again.
“Emilia!” Hestony called back. She jumped up from the seat and opened the door. Her cousin was standing just outside it, eyes big.
“Hestony? Are you alright?”
Hestony frowned. Her heart instantly filled with concern for her cousin. She was three months with child. She shouldn’t be so flustered. “I’m well, cousin,” she said at once. “What is it?”
“Luke came back from a ride, and he seemed very concerned. He said Hal was…peculiar. He questioned him, and he said his preoccupation was about you.”
Hestony felt her heart sink. So Hal was upset by her? She couldn’t blame him. She supposed somehow, she’d caused this. Her mother was right – she had entertained Lord Osburne’s company. She hadn’t thought that she’d managed so effectively that the fellow would really express interest, but if she had, then she should be pleased.
Except that by so doing, I’m upsetting Hal.
She tried to convince herself that Mama was right – that his disconsolance was temporary. She had to believe that! If she imagined that enacting her duty was going to cause him pain she wouldn’t be able to do it – and she had to. Her mother’s life, and hers, depended on it.
“I believe that, to a certain extent, I have caused distress. But I am sure it will be of short duration.”
“Hestony?” Emilia sounded upset. “What happened? You’re not yourself.”
Hestony simply looked away. What could she say? She wasn’t herself. Until this was all resolved, she wouldn’t be herself. Perhaps she should change altogether? Try and become somebody Lord Osburne could accept?
“I am disconcerted,” Hestony said in a small voice. “By some bad news. Tomorrow, I will be more myself.”
“Bad news?” Emilia asked.
“It’s nothing too bad,” Hestony demurred, worried that Emilia would ask her about it. Somehow, she felt defensive, as if the request Lord Osburne made was something she ought to keep secret – something that was somehow her fault and somehow shameful. Even though Mama was pleased with her.