“Jocelyn will do as I say. You will both return to Silverton.”
“You cannot deprive Jocelyn of being presented at court. You know that Lady Leighton will sponsor and chaperone her throughout the season. It’s arranged.”
He continued to glare at her, still crimson with anger. “You have disobeyed me, niece. I stipulated that you needed to join Jocelyn in her season. I even agreed to the Viscountess sponsoring her. Then I find you had no intention of attending any events and seeking a husband.”
“Uncle. I cannot do this. You cannot make me attend balls and recitals alongside Jocelyn. One or two perhaps, but a whole season?”
“You are the elder. Propriety demands that you have a season alongside Jocelyn. I know she is your niece, not your sister, but there are less than four years’ difference in your ages. I’ve also said before, and will say again, that you must endeavor to find a husband. I speak out of concern for your welfare and future security. If you do not engage in a season, it will be too late. You will be an old maid on the shelf.”
Olivia stared at him, furious as his brutal words fell heavily on her shoulders. Tears welled up in her eyes, as she struggled to keep her composure.
I will not cry in front of him. I will stay calm.
“Uncle, I beg you to reconsider this plan. No one will want me, I could attend a hundred balls and it would make no difference. I see the looks on people’s faces. I remember the Duchess of Denver recoiling in horror and whispering behind her fan to theMarchioness of Wilmslow. I wish it was different with all my heart, I wish I didn’t carry these scars.”
“Nonsense, niece. You exaggerate as always. The disfigurement is nowhere near as bad as you maintain. I hardly notice those scars, and your maid arranges your hair in such a way that hardly anyone can see the disfigurement, unless they look closely.”
How can he say that?she thought to herself.My skin is tight and taught. When I look in the mirror I see puckered skin, raised red scars under my hair, which stand out against the fairness of my complexion. I am repulsed by my own appearance.
She looked up at her uncle and spoke quietly and calmly, pushing down the anguish she felt at his lack of understanding for her situation. She was not only scarred, but being made to feel guilty for feeling grief at her changed appearance.
She almost pushed back her hair to show the bald patch and the wizened skin, always disguised by her looped hairstyle with a variety of ribbons and headdresses, which Ellen had collected over the last three years.
“You are wrong uncle, wrong in so many ways. I wish to live quietly, away from the glare of society. However, I cannot deprive Jocelyn of her season. If you insist, then I shall join her at events.”
He had won. She had admitted defeat. She glanced at her uncle and saw no triumph on his face, only intense weariness.
Perhaps he truly thinks he is doing the right thing. Who knows? I’ve never thought him cruel. A miser, and a controlling personality, but not deliberately cruel.
He stood up and came out from behind his desk. He patted her on the shoulder. “I knew you would see sense eventually,” he said. “Now, tell Mrs. Jennings we are ready for dinner. Where’s Jocelyn? She has such a tendency to be late.”
At that moment the door burst open and there stood Jocelyn. “I’ve been looking for you everywhere,” she said brightly. “Mrs. Jennings says that dinner is ready, and that Cook is concerned the partridge will be dry if we don’t eat soon. Apparently, the gamekeeper has sent the partridge down from Silverton and Cook has been braising them all afternoon.”
Observing, almost as an outsider, Olivia noticed that her uncle seemed genuinely affectionate toward Jocelyn.
“We can’t have dry partridge,” he said, with almost a laugh in his voice.
Olivia looked at Jocelyn with pride. Jocelyn looked at her uncle and then at Olivia, “You’ve been arguing again, and I suspect it is about my coming out season,” she said. “I’m right, aren’t I?”
“The matter has been settled,” said Uncle Harold. “Olivia has agreed to attend all your events alongside you.”
“Have you Olivia?” asked Jocelyn with surprise. “Are you sure?”
“Of course, it’s all settled,” agreed Olivia, seething in silent fury at the tactics of her uncle in manipulating the situation.
There’s no way out for me,she thought.Uncle insists that I try to find a husband, but it’s a lost cause. In the end he holds the power as my guardian. I wish I could find a husband as the idea of living here with him, after Jocelyn has left, fills me with despair. Why can’t I just live somewhere on the Silverton estate with quiet dignity.
The idea of living in a society, where people talked about her disfigurement behind her back, made her feel nauseous. She would do it for one season, for Jocelyn, but no more than that.
The evening passed quickly enough. The partridge was not spoiled, Cook triumphing again with her presentation of the meal. Olivia excused herself as soon as politeness allowed, leaving Jocelyn talking with Uncle Harold.
Half an hour later she heard a faint tap on her door and Jocelyn’s voice calling her name. “Olivia, are you awake?”
Opening the door, she smiled at her niece. “I’m not asleep. My conversation with uncle has put me out of sorts. I’d like to write, but the words won’t flow.”
“I knew you were upset,” said Jocelyn gently. “I didn’t want you to be on your own.”
They sat together in front of the small fire in the grate. Silent companionship was what Olivia needed, and having Jocelyn’s support helped to mend her mood.
