Page 3 of On a Midsummer Night
Squaring her shoulders, Beth reached for the piece of parchment again and studied it with pursed lips. Although she had drawn dozens of such scenes over the last few years, she still approached each one with all due care. Originally her perfection had been for her edification, but now it was because someone paid her to make her sketches flawless.
A muff would do, she decided. Picking up the pencil again, she tucked her lip between her teeth as she carefully outlined the muff and then added in texture and details until what was once awkward was now sleek and stylish.
Beth sighed, holding up the sketch to the soft sun beams shining through the drapes. “Perfect.”
Setting the drawing aside, Beth extracted a fresh sheet of parchment, her quill, and an ink pot to pen a letter to her parents. After a lifetime spent at her mother’s side, not having her close to ask advice of or seek comfort from these past four months had formed an ever-present knot in Beth’s gut. Their frequent exchange of letters helped, and Beth wrote to both her mother and father on all matters of her life in London. Their words of insight and love had made Beth feel less alone since she had come to live with her aunt and uncle for the season, but that pain of homesickness had not yet waned.
A sudden knock made her jerk in alarm, and she quickly slipped the sketch and her other supplies into the center drawer of her escritoire. After hastily wiping away ink smudges from her hands, Beth tossed the soiled handkerchief on the desktop. She took a moment to swipe the loose curls back from her face before she called, “Come in.”
The door creaked as it swung open to reveal her cousin, Lucy, wrapped in an oversized robe, her long blonde hair plaited and resting over her shoulder. In this state, fresh from bed and without her mother’s overbearing touch, Lucy looked so young. Like an innocent girl, not long from the schoolroom. Lucy was only four years younger than Beth’s two and twenty, but she often felt more like Lucy’s governess than her cousin. And watching Lucy interact with her peers and mingle in society impressed upon Beth how much she had changed since her debut season. The carefree Beth she had been then still lurked inside her, but time had helped her mature, and she was certain it would do the same for her cousin. But hopefully, without the bite of heartache that she had experienced.
“You’re up,” Lucy said, closing the door behind her and walking forward to lean against a bedpost. “I know you like to wake early, so I don’t know why I’m always surprised.”
Beth turned about on her seat to face her cousin. “I used to sleep in quite late, but when my father retired, I found I liked to wake early with him and enjoy a cup of tea. He wouldn’t say much, but being with him was a calming start to the day.”
“I’ve noticed that Uncle Phillip is a quiet person.” Lucy cocked her head. “Not that I’ve spent a great deal of time with him, but he seems so different from my father, for all that they are brothers.”
“Indeed.” Uncle Charles was assertive and opinionated, often dominating conversations, and it had taken Beth a bit of time to become used to his lordly personality, especially after years spent with her reserved father.
Reserved but loving. Lud, how she missed her father’s calm, gentle presence.
Clearing her throat, Beth lifted a shoulder. “You’re quite different from your brothers, and Oliver is as different from me as night from day.”
Lucy frowned. “I cannot think of the last time I saw Cousin Oliver. Do you suppose he will visit soon?”
“I’m not sure. In his last letter he mentioned he was in Bath working on the travel lines.” Beth smoothed her hands over her thighs. “He assured me he’ll pay a visit when he arrives in London.”
“Father has offered to have him transferred to the London office numerous times, but Oliver has always declined.”
Of course, he had. Although Uncle Charles was a Great Western Railway board member, Oliver had never used their family ties to advance his career, likely because their father, Phillip, had not been close with Uncle Charles for most of Beth’s life. Their relationship soured even more after her father retired, and her mother explained the estrangement between the two brothers as a culmination of unresolved issues from years prior. Whatever those issues were seemed to have been put to rest when her father and Uncle Charles had met in Bristol last year. Several months later, Aunt Meredith had extended an invitation for Beth to spend Lucy’s debut season with them in London. But even after the brothers had reconciled and Beth had come to London, Oliver had not disclosed his connection to Uncle Charles to his peers.
Beth suspected this chafed at her uncle’s pride.
“Oliver has said he enjoys working in Bath,” Beth offered.
Lucy quirked her mouth. “Perhaps. But Father has extended multiple invitations for him to dine with us over the years, and he never has.”
Beth swallowed a sigh, for the intricacies of familial ties and history could be hard to explain, and Lucy’s confusion made it clear her parents had left her completely ignorant of the estrangement. Yet Lucy’s easy acceptance of Beth had made them close friends, despite how Aunt Meredith could be condescending and rude.
Many times Beth had wished she had not accepted the invitation to come to London, but then she remembered her parents’ excitement for her. They had argued that she’d sojourned in the Welsh countryside for long enough, and the time had come for her to engage with young people her age again. Three years ago, Beth had been quite social, delighting in attending soirees and balls and whispering with her friends about gossip and charming men. That was before her broken engagement, though. When she had been naive and innocent. Now the thought of returning to her old exploits left her cold.
Beth looked at her cousin now. Lucy was as young and naive as Beth had been. It had not taken her long to feel a strong desire to protect her cousin from the heartache that could come during one’s debut season.
Rising to her feet, Beth then looped her arm through Lucy’s and directed her toward the door. “Who understands the minds of handsome young men of good fortune and breeding? I’m sure Oliver has a sound reason for declining Uncle Charles’s invitations, and hopefully, we will be graced with his presence soon.”
“That would be lovely.” Lucy leaned into her side. “I long to have a visitor without worrying if my mother is mentally tallying his annual income and familial connections to see if he would make an acceptable husband for me.”
Beth’s lips twitched around a smile. “I would wager Aunt Meredith is like any other mother who is determined to see her daughter launched into society with great success.”
Lucy stopped and looked up at her. “Was Aunt Annalise the same way? Surely not if she allowed you to break your engagement to that politician in Bristol.”
Silas Newell. He’d married a young woman named Christine, whom Beth had once counted as an acquaintance. From what she’d learned through letters from her friends in Bristol, Mr. Newell and Christine now had two children, and Mr. Newell’s political career was thriving. Beth was happy for them, and even happier it was not her life. She had never loved Mr. Newell—for how could she when she was still mourning the loss of the man that she’d believed would be her future?
Remembering herself, she shook her head. “My mother never had great plans for me outside of the ones I had for myself. She wanted me to be content, in whatever form that took.”
Although she held her tongue, Beth could see written across her cousin’s face the longing, the resentment, the resignation Lucy felt toward her mother’s machinations. Aunt Meredith was determined that Lucy would secure a marriage proposal her debut season and had made no qualms about the kind of husband she thought her only daughter deserved—and it did not matter if Lucy felt the same. In many ways, Aunt Meredith treated Lucy like a living, breathing doll: dressing her daughter in the fashions she fancied, not at all concerned about Lucy’s tastes; dictating who her cousin could be friends with; determining what activities would occupy her day, and directing how she navigated her world. And Aunt Meredith seemed to believe that Beth would support her in this, often treating her as if she were a servant or a poor relation whose sole purpose in the household was to see to Lucy.
Beth had smothered any number of smiles whenever Aunt Meredith shared a questioning or oftentimes snide comment about breaking her engagement to Mr. Newell. Her aunt had even hinted she was bound for the spinster shelf, but such a future no longer concerned her. In the three years since she had severed the engagement, Beth had found success and a great sense of fulfillment in her art, but her extended Dalton family had proven themselves undeserving of such disclosures about her activities. Perhaps she would tell Lucy someday.
