Page 1 of Lady in Ruby
Chapter 1
Miss Caroline Garland and her best friend, Estelle, were walking in a winter wonderland. Thanks to three days of continuous snowfall, the forest surrounding the home of Hollydell Manor had been transformed into a fairyland of white snow and crystal ice. Snow drifted against tree trunks and icicles hung from high branches, glimmering in the sun.
“It’s so marvelous to be out in the fresh air, especially after being in the laboratory all day yesterday!” Caroline said. Winter was her favorite season. She reveled in the purity of the frosty outdoors, glad to take a break from the work that had lately been consuming her—helping her father create a very particular, innovative chemical formula. Granted, she chose to do it, and granted, the poor weather during the last few days made it difficult to go outside anyway, but still…how nice it was to be free of the vapors and bubbling liquids of the lab for a while.
She wore a brand-new wool pelisse in a rich red, edged with fox fur at the neck. It certainly made the frigid weather more tolerable. She hazarded a glance at her friend, who didn’t have the advantage of fur lining or new, unblemished wool. Estelle’s cloak was in fact the very same cloak she wore at school when they both attended. It was a testament to Estelle’s careful handling of all garments that now, three years later, the cloak was still deep green and remarkably free of holes or stains. It was unspoken but understood by all parties that Estelles position as companion to Caroline was a way for the young lady to have a better life for at least as long as she lived at Hollydell, where she experienced luxury far beyond anything in her childhood.
With a rush of guilt, Caroline asked, “Are you cold?” How thoughtless of her, dragging her friend through this weather!
“I’m fine, truly,” Estelle replied quickly. “I wanted to walk. It’s so pretty outside and it is lovely to breathe fresh air, isn’t it? Houses get so smoky in winter.”
Certainly Hollydell did. Every room possessed a fireplace, and Caroline’s father was fond of telling the servants to put more fuel on. After the holidays, Estelle would visit her own mother in the northern part of the county. That small cottage would be much colder, each log only put to the fire when its previous brethren had gone to embers.
When they reached a clearing, Caroline bent down and scooped up a handful of freshly fallen snow, assessing it with a critical eye for weight and density. “Oh, it’s perfect for a snowball fight!” she exclaimed as she experimentally molded it in her mittened hands.
Estelle wrinkled her delicate nose. “Caro, we shouldn’t! We’re not children anymore. What might someone think if we were seen?”
“Spoilsport,” Caroline accused her friend. “Besides, who will see us here? We’re well off the main road, and this is Papa’s property anyway.”
“But your aim is so much better,” Estelle noted with more honest apprehension, her green eyes wide.
“Fine, no warlike action! I suppose we ought not do that sort of thing anyway, so long as a real war is happening on the Continent. It would be in poor taste. But what shall we do with all this lovely snow? We can’t waste it!” Caroline said, flinging her arms wide.
Estelle smiled. “Is it not enough to admire it?”
“No! Oh, do you want to build a snowman?” Caroline asked eagerly. She dropped her newly formed snowball to the ground and began rolling it into a larger sphere before Estelle could even respond. “Let’s make the most marvelous snowman this forest has ever seen!”
“What will make him marvelous?” Estelle asked, stooping down and gamely sweeping snow into her mittened hands. “All the snowmen I’ve seen are not exactly Corinthians. Rather pudgy and rustic, in fact.”
“Estelle, you’re a genius! That’s just what we’ll make: a snow Corinthian. An ideal snowman!”
“You’ve got marriage in mind again, haven’t you?” Estelle teased, though with a wistful look.
Caroline just laughed, hoping to disrupt any sad thoughts in her friend’s mind. “Marriage is all Mama talks about for me, but I’m sick of suitors. They never want to talk about anything in the least bit interesting.” As an only child, Caroline would inherit the entire estate of Hollydell, which generated an income robust enough to catch the attention of all the local bachelors, and even make some gentlemen venture from the glitter of London all the way out into the country for the opportunity to court her. Caroline, however, was having none of it. She knew her worth, and she was no naive miss. She would marry for love or not at all.
Estelle, on the other hand, had no dowry to speak of. She’d often expressed her gratitude to Caroline, who insisted on Estelle living at Hollydell until one of them got married. All of which was to say, for their own reasons both young ladies were happy to be in the woods, dealing with a man of icy but dignified demeanor…a man made of snow.
They quickly assembled the body, which was remarkably close to human proportions (both Caroline and Estelle excelled in school: Caroline in maths and natural philosophy, while Estelle favored arts and letters). Caroline tweaked the snowy substance of the middle part into an appearance of fine clothing, then used her hands to edge out features on the snowman’s face.
“His mouth looks a little harsh,” Estelle noted with a critical glance. “And the cheekbones are too angled. Not quite friendly.”
“Once the sun comes out, the warmth will soften him up,” Caroline said. “I’m doing the best I can with the tools I have.” Inspired, she retrieved a small comb from her reticule, and pressed it into service as a sculptor’s knife. She scraped it over one snowy cheek, smoothing the surface. “How’s that?”
“Better,” Estelle said in approval, walking a ways off to pluck some greenery from the nearby shrubs.
“There, he’s coming along,” Caroline said, smiling at her snowman. “A little on the pale side, but that’s to be expected! I think his eyes do have just a hint of blue, don’t you? I love blue-eyed men best.”
“It’s just the angle of the light that make the eyes look blue,” Estelle said, ever the artist. “Certainly, his hair is quite white for such a young man. Why, he’s less than an hour old!” She giggled at her joke.
“He may be young,” Caroline said, “but he’s mature in attitude. He knows what he wants and he’ll keep his cool. Until he meets me, of course. Then he’ll melt! Oh, I rather wish he could be real!”
Estelle frowned as she stuck a sprig of winter holly into the snowy brim of the figures hat. “But you say you hate it when your suitors fall all over you and declare their admiration.”
“I despise false declarations,” Caroline clarified. “All the offers I’ve got so far have been for my land, not my heart. I want a gentleman who’s not afraid to really love his wife. Those tales of gentlemen keeping mistresses chill my blood.”
“So all he needs to be is sincere and loyal? In that case, why not get a dog?” Estelle asked.
“He must be much more than that! He must be well-read, and intelligent, and kind. He’d better like dogs and horses and cats, or I’ll have nothing to do with him. And it would be very useful if he were both well-traveled and still wanted to travel, for I’ve never been anywhere and I want to see the whole world.”
