An Offending Note

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As soon as the door of her room closed, the smile on Gwen's face vanished like it was never there before. Her cheeks ached and her lips felt numb from all the smiling. She flexed her jaws in hope to relieve the tension. The day had been beyond tiring.

The ball was still very much underway when they left for Rosethorn Hill. As much as she was weary of the falsehood, she couldn't say much as she must keep the show of enjoying herself. But not Beth, who had had her fill, as with Lucy by her side, they convinced Aunt Marrily and Uncle Fitzwilliam to listen to their pleas and leave early. Through the course of the ball, Gwen had lost count of the number of gentlemen she had danced with, and was immensely glad when she had been gestured over. She was glad to leave.

She walked over to the armoire and began to remove her dress. First the dress fell, pooling at her feet then the corset, and every other underwear. She wore her night garment, wrapped a shawl around her shoulder and sat on the foot of the bed, her eyes kept outside her window.

Lord Claymoir had asked her permission to send a note on the morrow and she had agreed. He had been polite and he was quite the gentleman. A great conversationalist too, one with sincerity. She had seen it in his eyes, when he had kissed her knuckles at the end of their dance. He could very much become her husband, she thought, a thin smile on her lips. She could already see herself as his wife. Lucy was beside herself with joy too. Lord D'Averette promised to call on her at Rosethorn Hill.

The day had started out with mixed feelings, and ending with none at all. It was Beth's birthday and the anniversary of Eric's death. Beth had, since her eighteenth birthday, refused to celebrate another. It was fitting that no one would talk about it but celebrate her in their own way, she for one was glad Beth got to smile, howbeit small or false.

Unable to sit still, Gwen walked to the table. She simply sat and let her mind roam. The ride back had been easy. After the initial discussions of the ball, it soon quietened down as everyone was tired, but pleased. She had closed her eyes, pretending to be asleep as she didn't want to be involved in the conversations any longer. It was the same, Aunt Marrily requesting of their performance at the ball, Beth repeated rejection of marriage and Lucy's glee at Lord D'Averette visit.

Her roaming mind travelled back to Carlisle Crest, ruminating over the dances and conversations that occurred in nearly six hours, the gentlemen she danced with and those she never wanted to speak to ever again. She thought of the lady that stood by the Dowager Duchess's side for the greater part of the night, saluting guests as she was.

The ball had been in honour of the Duke of Carlisle and his affianced, if the words of the gossips by the window could be held accountable. The Dowager Duchess had gifted them a ball, and though the Duke had been absent the entire night, it still was a grand gesture.

Gwen groaned quietly, completely jealous. She was neither jealous of the lady for the title nor the wealth her new status would bring, she was jealous because the lady had a prospect; a husband and it was all she could think of. She gave a silent congratulation. Her lashes fluttered when she blinked. The lady did look familiar though. Gwen was sure she had never seen her before.

Life was interesting.

Her thoughts returned to the ballroom and stayed with the lucky lady. How easy it must be to live her life without demons of the past chasing frantically after her. She was sheltered and protected by her family and their wealth, and soon she would be protected by her husband, his wealth and title.

Life truly was interesting.

Gwen's eyes, unlike her mind, remained in the room and it settled on her clothes on the ground. She should pick them up as Aunt Marrily would not be pleased, neither would Beth. With reluctance, she walked over to pick them up, and as she did, a paper fell from the pocket of her gown. She retrieved it and moved towards the candlelight, abandoning her clothes yet again on the floor.

It was a note from Lord Claymoir!

Quickly, she seated herself, eager to know the content of it. How was the note in her pocket? When had he put it there? He asked for a rendezvous for the next day and was already sending her notes? She almost smiled. He really must be infatuated with her. He could not be as patient as he led her to believe.

She unfolded it.

It read:

'I enjoyed our dance and the discussions that accompanied it. You are an interesting woman and I hope to meet with you again.'

She smiled sincerely.

'I have a room at White's, exclusive to my name. You agreed to meet me tomorrow. I shall wait for you there. I trust you are a woman of smartness and one of a clandestine nature. You shall be rewarded handsomely.'

Gwen could not feel her heart beating anymore. The closer to the end of the note she got, the more devastated she was. He was asking for a rendezvous of illicit thoughts and deeds! Was that all he saw in her? Her body? Had they not shared a great conversation at the dance? Did he not say he enjoyed her company? Was this the company he enjoyed? His hands on her body? Gwen closed her eyes as the thought for it was insulting.

She suddenly could not catch her breath. She stood up and walked over to lay on the bed, covering herself up with the covers. Had she been born to be a mistress? She questioned. To continually receive unholy prepositions or no prepositions at all? Would she remain a source of disgrace to the Fitzgerald name? Would she never wed?

The tears flowed. Hot and uncontrolled onto the pillow.

Beth had received a note too. A rider had been waiting upon their steps as they arrived, with a note from Carlisle Crest. She was being invited to breakfast. Gwen cried again. She had never been invited as such. Why could she never be invited for promenades and breakfast?

Why could she not be espoused to someone for marriage?

Why was her life as such?

How much longer must she endure it?

She blinked, pushing away the teardrops that were marring her vision. Perhaps marriage was not in the stars for her, she thought. It was an earnest possibility for there was no other explanation for the constant humiliations she received from men of the gentry she thought of as gentlemen.

Gwen sniffed, cuddling herself in the covers. Maybe she was overreaching. Maybe she had used up all her luck staying alive and wanting more was simply chasing after waterfalls. She should have died as a child but did not, perhaps it was all her life's luck that had been used to keep her alive.

She inhaled deeply and exhaled just as strongly.

More than ever, she missed Eric. She missed him so much. He would have provided the right words, words of comfort, of hope, words right enough to keep her going. How greatly she missed him.

Eric had made her a promise, after the debacle with the Cossingtons. At her request, he had promised to teach her to fight when she was grown enough. Gwen sniffed again. She would be eighteen soon and he was no more to fulfil his promise. Fresh tears welled in her eyes and pooled at her pillow.

She could never tell of this note, at least not to Aunt Marrily or their mother. it would kill them, but if she kept it to herself, she might implode and die herself. Beth! She would tell it to Beth alone.

Without caring for a moment's loss, Gwen ran to Beth's room and climbed into bed with her.

Beth stirred. "Gwen?" Her lashes fluttered, warring with sleep. "Is all well? What are you doing here?"

Gwen could not say a word, she simply hugged her elder sister and let herself find comfort and solace in her embrace. Beth wrapped her hands around her and kissed the crown of her head. "Whatever it is, it will get better."

She was not sure but was too tired to argue nor tell of her sorrows. How was Beth to understand the pain of always being seen as a mistress? Of the dread that one day, she might succumb to the pressure and agree to be the mistress of a wealthy man?

She cried and Beth did not let her go.

That night as she fell asleep with tears streaking onto her sister's arm, she made an earnest prayer: that her husband would suddenly appear, sweeping her away from all the pains and shadows constantly chasing after her.