“She has sent me a small trunk of items as well.”
Rowena exhaled, relieved that her mother had not forgotten their dear friend.
It was silly of me to worry. Of course, Mama provided for Betsy. She loves her ever so much.
Betsy, the only surviving child of Lady Hazelshire’s closest childhood friend, had been made an orphan ten years prior when a devastating fire robbed her of her entire family. Lady Hazelshire, loyal to her friend as she was to all those she cared about, had taken her in and raised her alongside Rowena, Catherine, and their brother, Charles.
“That is wonderful. You must show me later. We can pick out our Promenade dresses for when we are in London.”
Betsy smiled and nodded, “We shall. Although I imagine Lady Hazelshire intended the new wardrobe to assist me in finding a position, more so than to go for strolls in Hyde Park.”
Rowena swallowed hard. She knew Betsy was right. While she had been raised alongside them, she was not of noble birth and the time had come for Betsy to find a position for herself. Perhaps as a teacher or governess.
The thought of her friend leaving made Rowena incredibly sad. Of course, she knew that she would soon be leaving the family home as well…as soon as her father found her a suitable husband. She sighed. Rowena disliked change, but she knew very well what her place within the family was, just as Betsy knew hers.
“Rowena, do not look so Friday-faced. The London Season is upon us,” Catherine broke Rowena out of her sadness, excitement in her voice. She was presently squatting down beside a bed of orange roses, pulling the blossom toward her, and inhaling the scent with her eyes closed.
“Does this not smell divine? And the color matches my dress ever so well. I shall like to cut one and put it in my hair. Don’t you think that would be marvelous?”
Rowena shook her head. A strand of her rich, dark brown hair fell into her face.
“I would not dare. You know how Papa is with his roses.”
Catherine scoffed.
“You are such a goody good, Rowena.” She set out to break one of the roses off, making sure not to poke her skin with any thorns, and wedged it behind her ear. “Papa won’t find out. He is in London, anyhow.”
Suddenly, her sister’s blue eyes took on a dark expression. “I cannot believe we were not invited. It is a scandal, I declare.”
Rowena and Betsy exchanged a glance, each suppressing a grin.
“I would not go so far as to declare a scandal, sister. If every member of every aristocratic family in England went to the wedding, they would have to hold the wedding at outdoors in St. James’s Park instead of Carlton House. Indeed, Charles and Margaret were lucky to get invited alongside Papa and Mama.”
Catherine shook her head and rose. “Faith, Mama and Margaret best memorize every detail. I shall want to hear it all the moment we get to London.” She looked down at her hands, pouting. Rowena was struck by how young her sister looked. She was seventeen now, a woman already, but still her face still had a child-like quality to it, especially when she was upset.
“I am certain they will,” Rowena said and ran her hand along her sister’s spencer in comfort.
“I know I should not say so, but I am ever so envious of Princess Charlotte,” her sister’s voice slipped from matter-of-fact to dreamy. “They say it was love at first sight between her and Prince Leopold. Can you imagine?”
Rowena sighed. She could not. She’d never dared to. She knew very well that as the oldest daughter she would be expected to marry whoever her father chose for her. And, as much as Lord Hazelshire loved his daughters, he would choose someone who would benefit the family and who increased their influence and wealth. Not someone who fit his daughter’s romantic fantasies. Although she thought it wise to keep these thoughts to herself. Her sister was slipping into a melancholy mood as it was.
“I am sure it is wonderful. And I know you will find someone to love soon, Lady Catherine,” Betsy said, giving the younger girl an encouraging nod. Instead of being encouraged by the comment, Catherine simply sighed.
“I would need to have my coming-out ball first, of course. Otherwise no man will even know I exist.” She looked from Rowena to Betsy and back.
“Cathy–” Rowena reached toward her, but Catherine removed her hand and shook her head.
“It is quite alright, Rowena. It cannot be helped. I simply must be patient.” She rubbed her temples. “I feel as though I am coming down with a rather nasty headache. I shall rest for a while, but I will see you at dinnertime, I am sure.”
Without waiting for a reply, Catherine walked away toward the house.
* * *
“I feel ever so dreadful, Betsy,” Rowena said as she and Betsy walked along the lake which lay just beyond the rose garden. “It is my fault she has not had a coming-out ball yet. And it is my fault she has not yet been able to even look for a match.”
Rowena shook her head, her delight at the arrival of the beautiful gowns now a distant memory.
Betsy looped her arm through Rowena’s.
