Chapter 8
Esme sailed through the doors of the orangery fifteen minutes late.
With the help of Welles, Mary's maid who'd accompanied them to the frolic, Fifi had hobbled down the main stairs to meet her cousin. Fifi sat waiting in the small nook created by her aunt's bowers of roses. Though it was May and uncharacteristically grey and chilly this season, in the glass-walled summer house, white and pink roses blossomed with an earthy fragrance that soothed Fifi's nerves.
"Forgive me for being late, Fee." Esme approached, her golden hair perfectly set, her jonquil yellow gown a complement to her pink complexion. "Mama had me talking with Cook about the refreshments for tomorrow's wedding breakfast."
"I'm certain everything will be superb. Your cook is very talented."
"She is." She sighed heavily and advanced a few more steps. "I'm glad you agreed to meet me here. And I'm sorry you're missing the festivities in the village."
"I'm not sorry. I didn't wish to go."
"Oh?" She appeared sad at that.
Fifi lifted her injured foot. It was not that she was vain, but that she hated to be unable to act of her own accord. "I dislike my inability to get around."
Esme perched on the edge of a chair, her dark brown eyes soulful. "When I broke my arm last year falling from my horse, I suddenly understood why our Mary does not go too many places."
"Calling attention to oneself for all the wrong reasons, eh?" Fifi said nonchalantly.
"Exactly." Esme considered her hands in her lap. "In many ways, that's what I wanted to talk about with you."
"Calling attention to oneself?"
"Yes. For the wrong reasons. In the wrong ways."
Fifi had thought Esme competitive, urged on by her mother.
"I was a fool, striving to be other than I am.” Esme rushed on. "I wanted to be like you. Competent. Strong. Resourceful."
Fifi stifled her urge to laugh, but her cousin was quite serious. "I assure you, Esme, whatever you saw was not strength."
"Mama told me it is."
That brought Fifi to sit taller in her chair. "Esme, if your mother saw me as strong, it was afaçade."
"That I do not believe. Mama has not told me details. She has shared with me her own thoughts and fears about what you endured at home. Today, I wish to leave behind the many things I did wrong as a child. One of those is trying to compete with you. Oh, the others, too, but mostly you. I thought you superior in all things. French, arithmetic, tapestry, card games."
Fifi snorted. "Esme, believe me when I say that French and tapestry are useful skills. Cards, not at all!"
"You did not accept me."
"Oh, now that is true. And for that, we must make amends to you. We were too critical. A clan of young girls. By shunning you, then ignoring you, we urged you on. It was also very childish of us. And wrong. I am long overdue to admit it and I hope to bring it up with the others so they can make amends as well."
"That is not necessary, Fee. I came today to make my peace with you. I want to begin my new life with a clear mind."
Fifi reached out and took her hand. "I know you will."
"And as for Northington, I want you know that I never flirted with him or continued our relationship because I knew you favored him."
"That's good for your sake and his."
"Mama did tell me that you cared for him and she wondered if you would be angry at my betrothal to him. I hope you're not."
"No, Esme, I'm not. Truly."
"Did you care for him?" She looked fearful that was so.
