A Trick of Mirrors

Chapter Two

Chapter Two

“I expect you to do as well, if not better, I’m sure,” Lady Blakemore said. Bel could tell from the strain showing through her aunt’s eyes how difficult a conversation this was for her. One did not discuss such things. Bel knew that, and if it weren’t for her need to keep her aunt’s attention on her rather than on her sister, who was probably even now sneaking in through the kitchen and up to her room, she would never have had the nerve.

“Do you, indeed?” Bel gave a little giggle. “I pray you are right! I would like nothing more than to live in such a beautiful home with a large staff. I don’t know what sort of dowry Papa was able to manage for me. Do you think I might… And well, that is to say nothing of the prospect of falling love. Did you, dear Aunt, fall in love like Mama did? Oh! Or is that too personal a question to ask?” She put a hand to her mouth and widened her eyes. She truly did not wish to offend her aunt in any way.

Lady Blakemore’s lips pursed, but the corners of her mouth lifted into a smile. “It is indeed a personal question, and if I were anyone other than your aunt… However, I understand you have been raised in a small society where such topics may not be out of bounds. Mine was not a love-match like your mother’s, however, Blakemore and I are very attached to one another. One need not fall madly in love like your parents did to make a good marriage. Please do keep that in mind.”

“Yes, ma’am, although… Is it very bad of me to want a love-match, do you think?” She now spoke from her heart for she wanted nothing more than to fall deeply, madly in love like her parents had. Bel saw their love every day in the way they looked at each other. She wanted a man to look at her the way her father looked at her mother, even after twenty years of marriage. She hoped she could find someone to smile at her in just that way.

Her aunt seemed to take pity on her as she gave Bel a true, understanding smile. “It’s not bad at all, I just don’t know that you should get your hopes up. Your mother has specifically said in her letters that she would like you to make a match this season so they may bring out your sister next year. Sadly, as you know, your parents simply cannot afford to have you both out at the same time.”

“I know.” Tears pierced Bel’s eyes. “There is nothing I wanted more than to be brought out with Bee, but…”

“I understand. Naturally, the two of you are very close.” Lady Blakemore gave Bel’s hands a squeeze before letting them go.

The commotion downstairs had died down. Bel hoped her sister was now safely hidden away, and she could relax some.

“We are, indeed, very close,” Bel agreed as she followed her aunt to the sofa to sit down.

“However, you will, I’m certain, manage without her these next few months. In fact, you’ll probably be so busy you’ll hardly have a moment to miss her,” Lady Blakemore said, resuming her seat.

“I will take your word for it, my lady. And, oh, I am so looking forward to all the parties and balls, drives in the park, and outings to the theatre. Mama told me all about the wonderful things she did when she made her debut,” Bel said with a giggle. “She said there would be many gentlemen to dance and speak with. And of course, I so look forward to making new friends among the ladies as well. Oh, and clothes! Please do tell me we’ll be able to go shopping? Mama said I would have money to buy some new gowns.” Bel could have gone on and on with all she was looking forward to, but Lady Blakemore smiled and shook her head.

“You must contain your excitement, my dear. It is very sweet but so very provincial. I do hope your Mama has taught you what is appropriate conversation and what is not?”

“Yes, indeed,” Bel said. “She said that you were extremely, um, particular when it came to one’s behavior, and I would need to absolutely be on my best behavior at all times.”

Her aunt gave a little laugh. “Why do I have a feeling your mother used a different word than ‘particular’? Difficult, perhaps? Horrid?”

Bel bit her lower lip. “I should not say,” she whispered.

Her aunt gave her a look from under her eyelashes. That, coupled with a little smile, had Bel giggling. “I believe the exact word she used was ‘hard-nosed’,” she admitted.

Aunt Claire laughed, much to Bel’s relief. “Yes. Well, I suppose that is deserved. I am rather hard-nosed, or as you so politely put it, ‘particular’ when it comes to a young lady’s behavior. I have a reputation to maintain, Isabel. I am known for keeping to the rules and expecting others to do the same. When we leave this house or have guests in, I expect you to be a model young lady, is that understood?”

“Yes, ma’am,” Bel said, nodding. This was nothing new or surprising. Her mother had told her as much.

“You are to be careful of your conversation at all times, no matter with whom you are speaking. When you open your mouth, you not only represent yourself but our entire family. And just as importantly, that includes your sister. If you are rude or unkind, society will expect Beatrice to be the same. You are the one forging this road. If you behave well and say just the right thing, you will have an easy time of it and smooth the way for Beatrice to follow, do you understand?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“For example, you must not respond with ‘yes, ma’am’ but ‘yes, my lady’ or ‘yes, Aunt.’”

“Yes, ma’—my lady.”

Her aunt nodded. “Very good. You’ll get used to it.”

“I do expect I will, but you will please excuse me the first few times I make a mistake, Aunt?” Bel asked, hoping her aunt wasn’t actually as hard-nosed as her mother had said.

“I shall. And that was very well said.” Aunt Claire nodded approvingly. Bel did her best not to bounce in joy or clap her hands as she normally would have done at home. Instead, she continued to sit demurely with her hands clasped in her lap and simply allowed her happiness to shine from her eyes.

“Your enthusiasm, when displayed just so, will be appreciated,” her aunt said.

“Thank you, ma’—my lady. I am doing my best. It’s not easy to hide my feelings. I’m not used to doing so.”

“I understand, but a lady is always demure.”

Bel opened her mouth to say that she wasn’t sure if she would always be able to hide her feelings, but just then a maid appeared carrying a tea tray. Now for the real test, Bel realized. Could she pour tea and serve it with grace? Well, at least, in that she knew she would excel. And by now Bee must be well hidden away.

~*~

Edward Pike, Viscount Conway, followed the butler up the stairs, and waited while he was announced before walking into the drawing room of his sister’s stately London home.

“Conway!” Elizabeth practically screeched.

He didn’t even have time to bow before he was nearly thrown backward as Elizabeth hurled herself into his arms. He was forced to take a step back but managed to keep them both on their feet. Laughing, he pulled her tight and gave her a good squeeze before letting her go and pushing her away to get a good look at his little sister.

Her rich, brown hair was piled attractively atop her head and her brilliant blue eyes—exactly like his own—were beginning to have a light starburst of lines at the corners. The deep violet dress she wore brought out the pink in her cheeks and lips and was quite flattering.

“You look well. Older, but not in a bad way,” he said critically, looking her up and down.

She gasped. “Older! You should know better than to comment on a lady’s age.”

“Oh, come now, you’re what? Seven? Eight and twenty, now?”

She frowned at him. “You know very well I am to turn thirty next year. I am precisely eleven months younger than you.”

He chuckled. “Yes, I know, but truly you hardly look older than the girls just making their come out.”

Her lips turned up into a smile. “That’s much better. It’s a complete lie, but it’s the right thing to say.” She took another step back and said, “And let me look at you.”

He held his arms out and turned in a slow circle so she could admire him from all sides. “Old is what I am but not quite decrepit, yet.”

“Not at all.” She paused as she examined him. “Thinner,” she determined, putting a hand to her chin.

He shrugged. “It’s what happens when you don’t eat so much for a while.”

“Why haven’t you been eating?” she asked, the frown returning to her face as she dropped her hands to her sides.

“Come now, Elizabeth, you know why.”

“Do you not eat when you are sad?” she asked gently.

“No, as a matter of fact, I don’t. I’m afraid I haven’t had much of an appetite for some time.”

“I’m so sorry, Edward. Come, sit down.”

He followed her to the stylish gold damask sofa. She took his hands as they sat next to each other. “Tell me.”

His eyes burned for a second before he blinked to clear them. It had been too long. He shouldn’t still be feeling this way—or so he’d been telling himself for the past six months or more. He tried to put on a brave smile, but he wasn’t sure it worked. “The end was… She lingered…and in such pain,” he whispered, his voice not quite working right.

“Oh, Edward, I am so sorry.” Her beautifully expressive brow creased in sorrow. She’d always been so empathetic. He appreciated that about his sister. “Was it cancer? Did the doctor’s say?”

He could only nod; his throat had closed as it always did whenever he thought of his dearest Angelica.

“You were together for so long. What was it, three years, four?”

“Five,” he managed.

“But you never married…”

“No. But now, of course, I wish for all the world we had.” He sighed. “How I wish I had let her know how much I loved her. I mean, I told her, but marrying her… It would have meant so much more.”

“It certainly would have been more of a statement, but what would society have thought?” Elizabeth asked, getting straight to the heart of the matter—the one thing that had kept him from making his arrangement with Angelica formal.

“I should have… I should have been strong enough to ignore them. But I wasn’t. I allowed other people to dictate my actions, and she died never…”

“It’s all right, my love. I’m certain she knew how much you cared for her.” She gave his hands a squeeze.

“I hope so.”

“I know you, Conway. I know that you would have made her feel loved and cherished whether you were married or not.”

Conway caressed the back of his sister’s hand with his thumb.

“Have you been able to sing? To even go to the theatre since then?”

He could only shake his head. Just the thought of going back to where he and Angelica had spent so much of their lives made him nauseated. “I couldn’t,” he whispered. He cleared his throat.

“I mourned for her… I could do nothing for the longest time.” He paused and looked down at his hands. “For months, I could barely get myself out of the house. After that, I did nothing but wander the city. I thought of coming back sooner, but I wanted to stay close to her. I felt her there…in Venice. It was hard to leave but finally…” He sighed and looked back up at her. “Finally, I realized that I had to. I needed to come back.”

“Of course you did! My goodness! You’ve got to start your life over, and you’re going to. Being here is wonderful and you are going to be a new man in no time. You mark my words. We’re going to go out to parties and to the theatre and engage in all manner of activities. You will be so busy you won’t have time to even think of her.”

“No, it’s too soon.”

“It is more than past time. It’s been two years, Conway. You are not only going to re-enter society, my dearest, you are going to dance and have fun and, perhaps, even meet a wonderful young lady who will make you happy.”

He could only laugh at her optimism. “Oh, how I’ve missed you,” he said from his heart. He pulled her into another hug. But as they separated again, he said, “But you haven’t told me how you are doing. Has it been difficult since your husband died? You must miss him terribly.”

She gave him a sad little smile. “We were never in love, you know that. He married me because I was young.”

“I’m sorry, but now you have Matthew,” Conway said, giving her a warm smile and hoping to see her smile return as well. “How is he? He’s…what, three years old now?”

Elizabeth laughed. “Four!”

“Four? Really? Already?”

“Yes. I’d call for him, but he’s napping just now,” she said.

“No, no, don’t disturb him. I’m sure I’ll see him later.”

“Yes, you will. Most definitely. I can’t wait to introduce him to his uncle.”

“But he does have an heir, doesn’t he? There’s an older child as well, from St. Vincent’s first wife, no? I seem to remember you writing about your stepson,” Conway asked.

“Yes, although Paul is hardly a child. He is, however, a sweetheart. I don’t know how I would have gotten through all of this without his support.”

“Is he here in town with you?”

“Yes. Happily, I convinced him to come. Everything is going to become quite wonderful again, I can feel it.”

“You and your feelings,” he said, laughing. “Very well. We’ll see.”

“You will give it a try—re-entering society?” she confirmed.

He sighed, knowing that to argue with Elizabeth would be futile. She would simply keep pestering him until he agreed to do things her way. “Very well. I’ll try.”

~*~

Claire was enjoying a brandy with her husband that evening before bed as they always did. It was a lovely tradition they’d started on their wedding night and had never stopped. Initially, Blakemore had suggested the drink to calm Claire’s nerves when faced with the prospect of what was to come—such an innocent, naïve thing she’d been. It had worked so well, they’d continued doing it every night. For the past seventeen years, they’d enjoyed the time together just relaxing and talking about their day.

Now, Blakemore sat back in his favorite chair by the fireplace, cradling his glass in his hand. He wore his breeches and shirt but was barefoot and allowed his collar to hang open, revealing the blond hair that sprinkled across his chest. “So, what do you think?”

Claire finished swallowing the sip of liquor she’d just taken. She, herself, was completely ready for bed. She wore her dressing gown, and her hair had been braided for the night. She toyed with the ribbon holding the end of her braid together as it lay in her lap. “I’m sorry to say Isabel is exactly like her mother was at that age.”

“Is she that silly of a girl? I don’t know that I got that impression,” her husband said, narrowing his pale blue eyes, clearly thinking about her niece further. They’d met at dinner.

“She seemed so to me, although, I have to admit she is more capable of holding an intelligent conversation than Lily ever was. It must be her father’s influence.”

“I do rather like Kendrick,” Blakemore said, relaxing his forehead again.

“Yes, despite the fact that he is so enamored with my sister, he is quite a reasonable, thoughtful man—quite intelligent.”

Blakemore chuckled. “Indeed.”

“Well, tomorrow I will take Bel, as she likes to be called, to the modiste. The Duchess of Warwick will join us.”

“Excellent. I’m certain she’ll be a good influence on the girl.”

“Precisely. She also has an impeccable eye for fashion. One could not go wrong eliciting her opinions.”

“And then you’ll begin taking her to parties?”

“Yes. We’ll get a gown or two to start her off, just so she has something to wear to the first couple of events—they usually have something half finished that they will simply adjust to her.”

“Do you think she’ll take? Are silly girls in fashion?” he asked with a little laugh.

Claire couldn’t help but giggle. “They are always in fashion. I don’t quite understand it myself, but men seem to enjoy a girl who has very little brain of her own.”

Blakemore really laughed at that. “There is a certain type who does, yes.” His eyes twinkled suggestively. “I, myself, never was. I prefer clever women like you.” He set aside his drink and stood.

Claire laughed but allowed him to help her to her feet. “Oh, Blakemore—”

He didn’t give her the opportunity to finish her sentence before he caught her lips with his own. He pulled her against him, his hard wall of muscle now slightly softened with age but still masculine enough to send tingles of pleasure straight down to Claire’s toes. There was no more talk after that, and the rest of their drinks were left abandoned by the fire.