Page 59 of Passion Painted in a Lady's Heart
She liked to make herself out to be a bridge between the aristocracy and the emerging monied classes, something much of the ton found distasteful, even as they were more than willing to drink her wine, and revel in her entertainments. The forecourt was busy, and as Rosalind and her mother climbed down from the carriage, a familiar voice called out to them.
“Rosalind, your Grace, I’ve got the most wonderful news. I’m to be married,” Elizabeth exclaimed, hurrying over, as Rosalind’s mother let out a cry of delight.
“Oh, how wonderful, Elizabeth. Your parents must be so pleased,” Rosalind’s mother exclaimed.
Rosalind was delighted for Elizabeth, though somewhat surprised, too. She and John hardly knew one another, and to be betrothed so quickly was remarkable. But the smile on Elizabeth’s face said it all. She was happy, and Rosalind could not begrudge her that.
“I know how much he loves you, and you love him,” Rosalind said, taking Elizabeth’s arm, as the two of them walked up the steps into the house.
The doors opened into a large hallway, but there was no ballroom at Thornbury House. Rather, the guests were encouraged to mingle with one another in the lower rooms, where liveried footmen circulated with the trays of drinks and refreshments. The doors into the garden were open, too.
But had the weather been inclement, the whole thing would surely have been a disaster. Fortunately, the sun was shining, and the gardens bathed in a pleasant, golden evening light. They were greeted by their host; the pearl clad Lady Thornbury, who congratulated Elizabeth on her betrothal, the news having spread rapidly.
“It’s always the greatest of pleasures to hear of young love blossoming,” she exclaimed.
She herself had lost her husband some years previously, his portrait looking down at them imperiously from the top of the staircase. Elizabeth thanked Lady Thornbury for her kind words, and she and Rosalind made their way into the drawing room, where the furniture had been cleared back to make space for dancing.
Rosalind was hoping to avoid the Duke of Northridge, and she looked around expectantly for any sign of Sebastian. After the upset with Lady Helena, she wanted to assure him nothing had changed between them. She loved him, and she was not about to give up the possibility of their sharing something more, as impossible as it seemed.
“There he is,” Elizabeth whispered, nodding towards the hallway.
Sebastian was standing there with his stepmother, and a man whom Rosalind did not recognize. There was a vague similarity between the two men, and she wondered if perhaps they were related, even as Sebastian had made no mention of any relatives other than his stepmother. As he turned, she caught his eye. He looked embarrassed, even as their gaze lingered, and she wondered what he was thinking, and how he was feeling.
“He looks different,” Rosalind said, as Sebastian turned away, following his stepmother into the room across the hallway.
She did not know what to think, or what to do. Should she approach him? Was he avoiding her through embarrassment?
“Perhaps he’s not feeling well. John said he’d been suffering stomach pains, but there was something else, too. Something about a letter, and proving he wasn’t mad. I think it’s terrible. The uncertainty of it all,” Elizabeth replied.
Rosalind felt suddenly upset, tears rising in her eyes. She wanted to help Sebastian, not be pushed away. Why would he not tell her these things? Did he not trust her?
“I think I’ll go and take the air outside, Elizabeth. You don’t need to come with me,” Rosalind said, and pulling a handkerchief out from her sleeve, she held it to her face, hurrying off through the crowded drawing room and into the garden, not wanting Elizabeth to see how upset she was.
Once outside, she paused, catching her breath and sighing. She felt foolish for her outburst, but it all seemed so unfair. The whispered rumors about Sebastian, his own belief in what was happening, and then there was the Duke of Northridge, too. She did not want to feel jealous of Elizabeth, but now she was happily engaged, in love with a good man, and with a bright future ahead, Rosalind could not help but compare herself.
She had none of those things, even as she desired them. The doors at the back of the house gave way to a narrow terrace, with steps leading down to a garden below, where shrubbery lined walkways extended on either side, with a lawn at the center. The flower beds were in the flush of midsummer colors, and a pleasant scent hung in the air.
No one else was about, and Rosalind made her way down to the lawn, following one of the paths, and pausing at the entrance to what appeared to be a maze, cut into the shrubbery. She wanted to be alone, and she took the path through an archway in the shrubbery, following it in a zigzag, and finding herself in the midst of the maze.
“At least Richard won’t find me here,” she thought to herself, imagining she might hide there for the rest of the evening.
She followed the path a little further, not wanting to get too lost, but enjoying the sensation of finding her way. She had brushed away her tears, feeling saddened by her jealous outburst. It was not Elizabeth’s fault she had found happiness, and to upset herself over it was folly, even as Rosalind did not fully understand Sebastian’s behavior. She wanted to talk to him, but to do so would be to risk the wrath of her mother and the Duke of Northridge.
“I wish he was here now,” she said to herself, imagining the two of them walking together in the maze, walking hand in hand, with no one to see them…
There had been no romance on the banks of the river, no snatched kiss, or heat of passion. Richard was dull, and not possessed of a single romantic inclination. In Sebastian, Rosalind had caught a glimpse of what a lover might be, of what it would be like to be part of one of the paintings she so admired, to feel loved and desired.
To be wanted. A shiver ran through her, and she closed her eyes, imagining herself in Sebastian’s arms, the two of them lost in the maze together.
“He forgot an appointment with the land agent. It was in his diary, and he forgot it. He claimed differently, of course,” a voice through the shrubbery said.
Rosalind opened her eyes, her heart skipping a beat, as she realized she was again overhearing a conversation involving Sebastian’s stepmother.
“When I saw him at Gunter’s, I was very concerned, Victoria. I don’t think he knows what’s going to happen to him, and fancy accusing his uncle in such a way,” the voice of Lady Helena replied.
They were on the far side of the shrubbery, walking along the edge of the lawn, and Rosalind followed, hoping the foliage would be enough to keep her hidden as she listened. Her heart was beating fast, and she strained her ears to hear Sebastian’s stepmother’s response.
“Well, he didn’t accuse him as such, but the implication was there. He suspects something, but it’s all nonsense, of course. It’s him that’s going mad. And perhaps these are the symptoms we have to live with, as sad as that might be to accept,” Lady Soutbourne replied.
