CHAPTER 2
MARIANNE
December 20th1816
Juliet, how I miss you. How I miss Saint Catherine’s. Tonight I must go to a ball. It is dreadful. I have not even seen my sisters yet. I cannot believe that I left the convent six weeks ago, and I have only now arrived in London. My aunt insisted on taking me to Edinburgh first so I could attend a few dinners amongst the society she knows there—to ease me gently into society, as she said. After that, she took me to Brighton, which was not entirely unreasonable since we used to live there. She had me outfitted with an entirely new wardrobe, which is far too gaudy for my taste. I have come to miss our gray scratchy dresses. I know we complained so much about them, but I miss them now.
I am sitting presently in a gown I know you would make fun of most severely. It is a pastel green gown with puffy sleeves and a ribbon sash—a sweet contraption under my bust designed to attract gentlemen, I know it. The silk slippers are alreadypinching my toes, and the earrings dangle from my ears in such a way that Sister Bernadette would call most indecent.
How do you fare, my friend? Your last letter sounded rather more subdued than usual. I know Christmastide is approaching quickly. I have gifts to send to you—and also one to Anna. She sounds ever so miserable. I am not supposed to say ‘ever so.’ My aunt tells me that it is the speech of commoners. But yet, at Saint Catherine’s, everybody said it.
A knock on the door sounded, and Marianne placed her quill down.
“Marianne, are you not ready yet?” her aunt said, opening the door without waiting for an answer. “You should not be writing letters right before we go to a ball. What if you spoil your gown?”
“I suppose then I would have to change into one of the other ten gowns hanging in my armoire.”
“Ungrateful, are you not? Gratitude is also a Christian virtue. Did they not teach you that at the convent?”
Marianne looked down. It was true. She had been so upset over having to leave the convent that she had not been on her best behavior. Her aunt Eugenia was trying her best for her. Her mother had died a long time ago, and her father, even when he was living, was more occupied with seemingly throwing the family’s entire fortune out of the window than focusing any attention on his daughters. Aunt Eugenia had often rescued them when her father’s ventures had left them with expenses toscrape together. Things had improved much under her care, and that of Marianne’s sisters’ husbands.
Her sister Evelyn had married her husband Nathaniel, a duke in his own right, four years ago now, and he had righted the ship. Things had only improved after Rhys, Charlotte’s husband, had joined forces with Nathaniel and his set. Together, they had achieved much—not just for the Langley estate and their own, but also for society. They were good people, kind-hearted, and yet, in their presence, Marianne always felt like a gray mouse—insignificant.
“You are right,” she said. “I beg your pardon. I am simply nervous about attending the ball—I feel quite out of sorts,” she admitted. Her aunt placed a warm hand on her shoulder.
“Do not fret. It shall be wonderful indeed. And Evelyn and Charlotte will be there—and Nathaniel and Rhys.”
“They will?” said Marianne.
“Of course. I meant it as a surprise, but since you are quite so Friday-faced, I thought it might be best to tell you now. They are eagerly awaiting you. And then next week we are all going to Evelyn’s home for Christmas, where we will be for several days. After that, we will look seriously into finding you a husband.”
Marianne nodded, knowing that there was no point in arguing with her aunt. Before she knew it, the carriage had stopped outside the home of one of society’s fine ladies. Her aunt escorted her inside, but Marianne was immediatelyoverwhelmed by the pomp and circumstance—fine ladies walking up the steps, some of the older ones in their taffeta gowns which crinkled as they walked. Once inside, the smell of perfume and beeswax was overpowering. It was quite the crush. Champagne glasses clinked, and laughter drifted out from the ballroom as music filled the air.
Marianne took a deep breath, held it, and then pushed it out. But before she could really steady herself, a body collided with hers.
“Marianne! Marianne!” said her sister Evelyn, pulling her into a hug.
“Marianne!” Charlotte joined in. Her sisters surrounded her, and the three stood together while Aunt Eugenia clicked her tongue and mumbled something about decorum. However, when her sisters released her, Marianne saw that her aunt was smiling.
“I cannot believe you are back—finally! It has felt like forever. I severely chastised Aunt Eugenia for taking you off to Edinburgh and Brighton, removing you from our sight.”
“It was not frightful,” Marianne replied. “I loved it.”
Aunt Eugenia sighed. “Girls, I shall leave her in your care. Do try to talk her out of this notion that the convent is the best thing to ever happen to her, for it most certainly is not.”
The three sisters walked into the ballroom together, the two eldest on either side of Marianna. It was not quite so daunting for her this way.
“Did you truly think that the convent was a good place?” Charlotte asked, raising an eyebrow. “I cannot imagine it—to be locked away and have to pray so many times a day and work in silence...”
“I know you would not be able to work in silence,” Evelyn commented with a chuckle.
“I most certainly would not,” Charlotte agreed. “In any case, I never understood why you did that to yourself, Marianne?” she continued.
“I have never known such peace and tranquility as when I was at Saint Catherine’s,” Marianna said with a smile. “And being here does not make me regret it. In fact, I wish I were back there. I would much rather weave baskets amongst unwed mothers and nuns than mingle here with this rabid society—not the two of you, of course,” she added hastily.
“Weaving baskets,” Evelyn said, “can be worthy work. We did that not long ago—the women’s society did, and we sold them at market to raise funds for the orphanage. But to do it for life? I cannot imagine.”
Marianne pressed her lips together. “I would like to go back. I have not told Aunt Eugenia, but the truth is I have thought about taking my vows.”
