Page 1 of The Marquess's Imperfect Brid
Chapter One
Grace Farraway entered the music room of her family’s home, smiling softly as she stared lovingly at the pianoforte. It was blurry, but she had memorized its appearance, shape and feel since she was a young girl. Besides her younger sister, Anne, her lady’s maid, Juliet Gateley and her dearest friend, Millicent Hughes, the pianoforte was her dearest friend.
Indeed, it might well be her one true love, especially with the turns her life had taken and life-changing circumstances that were outside her control. And truthfully, part of her felt that she could live with that. Between music and her volunteer work at the orphanage, Grace typically felt as though she had a perfectly rounded, fulfilling life.
She gingerly touched the left side of her face and neck, making her way through the familiar room with ease. The comforting softness of tufts of fur against her ankles, which Grace did not need to be able to see right then to know their colour, helped Grace feel steady as she headed for the shiny black bench of her beloved instrument. She took her seat, waiting with a soft giggle for her feline companion to hop up beside her and join her.
True to her loyal, affectionate nature, Lady Whiskers landed on the bench beside Grace with a delicate thump. She rubbed against her mistress, patiently waiting for a gentle rub in the spot where her chest met her belly. Most cats did not like humans touching them on their undercarriages, as to allow access to their bellies was to make themselves vulnerable. But Lady Whiskers, while she loved ear scratches and chin rubs, much preferred to show her stomach for the best rubs in her special, top-of-her-belly spot. At least, with people she trusted.
Grace complied with the white, short-haired cat’s silent request, laughing again as the animal rolled on her side in an exaggerated fashion with her show of affection. The two-year-old cat had been a gift from Grace’s parents one year after a terrible accident. Grace spent a long year recovering and coping, feeling worse and more hopeless with each passing day. But even as an eight-week-old kitten, Lady Whiskers began giving Grace support and comfort, and all the love Grace could have hoped for during such a trying time in her life. It was because of her cat that Grace began to hope again. She was also the reason that Grace began playing music again, even though she had been told that she would never read music again.
After the ritual of pre-music petting was finished, Lady Whiskers jumped softly down from the bench of the pianoforte and curled up just beside Grace’s feet, which were placed expertly on the pedals. With an impeccable memory of the key and note locations on the instrument, Grace placed her hands in the position to play “Sonata in C minor, Hob. XVI/20” by Franz Joseph Haydn.
Grace immediately lost herself in the minor chords of the piece, each note echoing the scars in her soul. Those were the only scars that the world could not see, yet they were the most cumbersome. She found relief from her woes in her charity work, her loyal feline companion and her family. But nothing soothed the flair of her fears, hurt feelings, self-consciousness and shame like expressing those emotions through music.
The notes swept her so far away from her present self that she almost did not hear the music room door creak open. Grace took a deep breath, feeling the person entering rather than seeing them, and she smiled softly.
“Good day, Anne,” she said, not missing a note as she addressed her younger sister.
Anne clasped her hands together with a soft pat sound, andGrace could feel her sister smiling at her.
“Your playing is enchanting as always, Sister,” she gushed, her expression radiating admiration. “May I sit and listen for a little while?”
Grace opened her eyes, looking at her sister. The dimmed vision in her left eye could not make out any more details of Anne than of her vague outline, the light chestnut of her wavy hair and the brightness of her pastel green day dress. She nodded, closing her eyes once more as she gave her sister a doting smile.
“Of course, darling,” she said. “Stay as long as you like.”
She listened as her sister situated herself at the chair just in front of the pianoforte. Then, she slipped into the music once more. However, a moment later, images flashed through her mind, causing her hands to falter on the keys. Her eyes flew open, but she did not see the room around her. What she saw was much worse.
The carriage jolts horribly from one side to the other, causing the world around Grace to spin wildly. She vainly thrusts her hands out above and around her, her fingers seeking purchase in any surface that will allow herself to grab onto something and hold on as tightly as she could. When her hands meet nothing but air, she tries to scream. But her voice, much like her fingers both in the present moment and in her memories, is failing her.
Just as she manages to fill her lungs with air, there is a sharp pain in her left shoulder. She has slammed into the front of the coach, her arm banging against the wood separating her from the driver’s bench. She tries to slap the wooden panel, but her hand is yanked away as her whole body takes flight. The world seems almost to stop as time becomes impossibly slow.
The next sensation Grace feels is an explosion in her head and face. It feels as if something is stabbing out her eyesand ripping off her ear simultaneously, all while setting the left side of her head on fire. The sensations are overwhelming, and darkness begins to cloud her vision. At last, Grace hears screams. But in the seconds before she loses consciousness, she understands that they are not coming from her. They are coming from outside the carriage, as if at the end of a long, empty tunnel. And yet, they ring so sharply in her mind that they leave her paralyzed with fear and anxiety. They fill Grace’s mind so that she can think of nothing else. Except the pain… the excruciating pain throughout her left arm, and the entire left side of her face…
“Sister,” said a muffled, tunnel-echoing voice. “Sister, come back to me.”
It took Grace’s vision a few seconds to refocus and her awareness to return to her. She was no longer in the carriage which had wrecked and left her permanently marred and impaired, both aurally and visually. She was safe in the music room of her childhood home. And the voice, which was clearer now that it had moved to her right side, was that of her beloved sister.
“Grace, darling,” Anne said again, snapping Grace the rest of the way out of the horrid memory of her accident. “Are you well?”
Grace nodded, smiling weakly as the color slowly returned to her face. She reached for her sister’s hand, realizing that her own were trembling. Anne reached to take her hand, but Lady Whiskers jumped up in her lap, rubbing her arm furiously with her head as she always did when Grace succumbed to those bouts of anxiety and panic.
Grace took a few deep breaths, stilling her shaking hands by burying them in the animal’s white fur and concentrating on her sister’s beautiful features.
“I am fine, Sister,” she said. “I just got lost in thought for a moment.”
Anne frowned, her brow furrowing as she gently squeezed herself into the bench beside Grace.
“You were thinking of the accident again, were you not?” she asked softly.
Grace nodded, even though she knew that Anne already knew the answer.
“I was,” she whispered as her throat tightened. “I understand that it has been three years. But sometimes, it feels as though it was only yesterday. Even my face still aches every once in a while, as though the bandages are still in place and the wounds are still seeping.”
Anne put her hands over Grace’s and gave her a sympathetic smile.
“I cannot imagine how horrible it all must have been for you, sweet Sister,” she said. “And I am equally ignorant about how awful it must be to relive such a traumatic incident repeatedly. ButI wish for you to understand that my affections for you remain unwavering, regardless of the countless times it occupies your thoughts or the distress it may cause you. You may confide in me your every concern, as often as you require.
