Page 2 of The Heiress's Daughter
He snorted. “Expect me to celebrate that? Commiserate, more like.”
Clarissa didn’t know whatcommiseratemeant, but it didn’t sound good. “I’ve got a new dress,” she said in a small voice. “And pretty new shoes, Papa—see?” She showed him.
He didn’t even glance at her. “Waste of money. Nothing will ever make you look pretty.”
Clarissa swallowed.
Mama said from the doorway, “She’s just a child, Bartleby. Must you be so harsh? It’s her birthday.”
He snorted again. “What’s to celebrate? A useless girl child, and plain as a stick.”
Mama came forward and took Clarissa’s hand. “I’m sorry, Bartleby. I have tried and tried for a son, and I’ve failed you, I know. But it’s not the child’s fault.”
“There’s nothing of me in that child.”
Mama gasped. “Bartleby! I swear to you I never ever—”
“I know that, you stupid woman. Who’d have you? If itwasn’t for the money—Ah, here it is.” He pulled a document out of the drawer, folded it and slipped it into his pocket. He turned, glanced at the two of them standing side by side in their matching dresses and made a scornful noise. “Look at you—both as ugly and useless as each other. Now get out of my way, I have a party to get to.”
Clarissa glanced up at her mother. Mama’s mouth quivered. She stretched out a hand to him. “Take me with you. Please, Bartleby, I haven’t been away from this house for years.”
Papa snorted again. “Takeyou? To a stylish ton party? Don’t be ridiculous! As well take a barnyard sow to a soirée. Now, out of my way, woman.” He brushed roughly past Mama, snatched his hat from Maddox, climbed into the waiting carriage and drove off.
Mama stood as if frozen. “A barnyard sow,” she whispered. A tear rolled down her cheek.
Clarissa squeezed her mother’s hand. “I think you look lovely, Mama.”
But Mama just shook her head. “There’s a present for you in the library, Clarissa. I’m going to bed. I have a headache.” She turned and climbed the stairs slowly, as if every bone in her body ached.
Clarissa watched, wishing she knew what to do. Mama was always like this after Papa had been home.
After a while she went into the library. She found a wrapped box on the table under the window. In it was a doll, a beautiful doll with golden hair and bright blue eyes. She was wearing a dress that matched Clarissa’s, even down to the tiny pink bows around the hem of the dress, and the little white slippers with tiny roses on the toes.
Clarissa stared at the doll. Golden hair in perfect ringlets. Blue eyes. Clarissa’s hair was plain dull brown and her eyes weren’t even a proper color; they were a strange greenish brown, that sometimes looked green and sometimes brown.
The doll was beautiful. Clarissa wasn’t. She looked just like Mama, everybody said so.
A useless girl child, and plain as a stick…both as ugly and useless as each other.
She put the doll back in the box and went outside. It didn’t matter if she got her shoes dirty now. Her birthday was over.
Chapter One
London 1818
Clarissa Studley sat in the summerhouse, gazing out through windows blurry with rain. It had been raining all night and the garden was soaked, the air filled with the fragrance of rich earth and drenched flowers. If only she could make a perfume as magical as that…
She sighed. The paper in front of her was still blank. She’d come out to the summerhouse in the garden, intending to pen her regular weekly letter to her old nanny, who lived retired in the country, but her mind simply wouldn’t settle to it.
It was the morning after her sister’s wedding to Leo, Lord Salcott, and Clarissa had passed a sleepless night.
She and her sister would no longer be together—not in the same way—ever again. Of course, they’d see each other frequently: when she returned from her honeymoon, Izzy would live in Leo’s house, which was just across the garden.
But at the end of the season, Izzy and Leo would go to live on Leo’s country estate in Hampshire, and then who knew how often Clarissa would see her sister? Oh, she wassure they would invite her to come with them, but Clarissa had no intention of playing gooseberry in her beloved sister’s marriage.
No, face facts. From now on she was essentially on her own. Of course there was old Lady Scattergood, Leo’s aunt, with whom she currently lived, and Mrs. Price-Jones, the chaperone Leo had hired for her, and Betty, her maidservant, whom she’d known from childhood. But fond as she was of them, they weren’t the same as a sister.
So, her old life was over and a new way of going forward had to be embraced.
