Page 11 of A Lovely White Christmastide
“Is Mr. Kaye not the handsomest gentleman you have ever laid eyes on?”
“How can he be when you have already matched me with Lord Bingham?”
More giggling ensued and Julianna proceeded to talk until Beth could not hold her eyes open one moment longer. It was nice hearing her sister’s excitement over the prospect of the coming weeks, but Beth found herself more inclined to believe this party would be as unremarkable as any other. They would enjoy themselves, but she had little hope they would walk away with anything more than a handful of good memories.
At least she hoped they would be good. The last thing she wanted for Julianna was to have a negative experience that mirrored her own. No one needed memories that painful.
Morning came far too quickly, yet when Beth rose, Julianna was already in the process of dressing.
“Be a dear, Bethie, and tighten my laces, please.”
“You are up early.” Beth lifted the blanket and cold air rushed in. She dropped the blanket back down. “How are you up, and in your shift no less?”
“Now who is complaining of cold?” Julianna smirked, then picked up the fire poker and stirred the smoldering coals. “I wonder why no one has come to start the fire this morning or at least bring us more coal?”
“The innisquite full.”
Julianna crossed and sat on Beth’s side of the bed. “That is true.”
Beth reached out of the covers and deftly pulled at the laces on her sister’s short stays until they were snug. “There. Now would you mind explaining to me why my perpetually cold sister is up and nearly dressed already?”
“No reason.”
The blush on Julianna’s cheeks said otherwise. Beth tsked. “You know you are a lousy liar, Jule; you might as well admit it is because of this infatuation you have with marrying us both off.”
“It is not an infatuation. It is a worthy goal. Do you want to live under Father’s rule forever? And what of his pursuit of the Widow Westwood? You?—”
“The Widow Westwood? You cannot be serious. Father would never pursue someone half his age, and I highly doubt she would accept him.”
Julianna stood. “You cannot be that blind, Bethie. What other reason could he have for visiting Westwood House so often? Have you not seen the way he looks at her? All the times she has dropped by to have tea with us? With all the pointed attention in both directions it is only a matter of time.”
Beth pulled the covers up to her chin, using them as a shield against Julianna’s words, but the blankets could not keep out the truth. Pieces of past conversations floated about in her head. Father wishing Mother had given him a son. Mrs. Barkerpointing out the Widow Westwood’s youth and gentility. Even the widow herself asking more questions than usual about their home and property. It all made sense now… and it hurt.
Father had promised Beth a home after the scandal with Edward. Perhaps scandal was doing it a bit brown since only their two families knew the depth of their attachment, but there had been a certain amount of expectation. His desertion of her had left its mark both publicly and privately. She never wanted to give her heart away for anyone else to damage. Hayworth Hall would have to be her home forever.
But if Father married the widow, she would be displaced. She’d been in charge of running Hayworth Hall for as long as she could remember, and now she would be demoted to that of a stepdaughter, basically a visitor in her own home. Certainly Widow Westwood would want her and Julianna out as soon as possible to make way for her own three children and any others that might come.
“It is not so bad,” Julianna said with compassion in her voice.
Beth focused on her, noting the same pitying expression her sister had worn when Edward had first told her he had married someone else. She hated pity.
Sitting up, she threw off the covers. “What is not so bad? The cold? It is quite chilly.” She grabbed her stays, pulled them on, and gave the laces a good yank.
“Here, let me help.” Julianna reached out, but Beth stepped away.
“My laces are long enough for me to place them quite easily myself, thank you.” Tying them off, she grabbed her wool petticoats and began layering, hoping the abundance of them would ward off the chill. Unfortunately, she needed Julianna’s assistance when it came to her traveling attire; the buttons were placed in such a way on the back that she could not reach themall. When the dark blue dress was in place she turned to help her sister button her lighter brown one.
The dresses were cut almost identical with long sleeves that puffed a bit at the shoulders and high collars meant to ward off the cold. Perhaps they were not the most fashionable of dresses, but they served their purpose.
“You cannot run from the truth forever, Bethie.” Julianna slipped into her thick wool spencer. “Fatherwillmarry. Most likely before the season even begins. Do you really want to take orders from a stepmother who is young enough to be your sister?”
“Stop, Julianna.”
“I am only speaking the truth.”
Beth picked up her fur-lined muff, pushing away thoughts of being reduced to a governess for younger siblings who did not even exist. It was a ridiculous idea. Her father would never force her into servitude. But what would she do for the rest of her life?
Instinctively Beth’s hand came up to rub the silver heart-shaped locket her mother had given her before she died. The action brought calm when life became too overwhelming.
