“Nonsense let’s do this today. Now who shall you be, Mr. Giles E. Manley or Mr. Oliver Sherwood? Let’s decide on your pseudonym. I have to say I prefernom de plume,it has quite a flourish. In fact, how about Mr. Featherby. I believe plume is a feather in French.”
And with that Marianne pulled Olivia’s arm to hurry her along as they walked back to Swanbourne Place. Marguerite trotting along beside them.
It didn’t take long for Olivia to write the letter to a different publishing house, signing herself under the hidden identity of Mr. N.P. Featherby.
“That's so funny,” said Marianne laughing conspiratorially. “NP for non de plume!”
By midafternoon the manuscript of Olivia’s book was safely deposited with a different publishing house.
“I’m part of this project,” said her friend, “so if they say it needs to be published ‘on commission’ at your financial risk, then I will be prepared to stand surety. I see no problem though. I loved reading it, as did Jocelyn. We both loved the story and your style of writing.”
“I am so grateful,” whispered Olivia. “I don’t like the idea of your having any risk, but I hope this might give me independent means to leave Uncle Harold’s household.”
“I know. I believe your book will be a success,” said Marianne full of confidence.
She then continued, “However, I also believe you may still find a beau and marry this season. So, tell me more about Lord Marcus Hatfield. I know his mother, as we are neighbors, but the earl is always seen as something of a recluse, and rarely attends social events in the country.”
Should I tell her about our meeting in the woodland glade?Olivia almost did, but something made her hold back.
“I believe he is becoming a friend, that’s all. Nothing more.”
Marianne looked at her with suspicion in her eyes. “I don’t believe you Olivia Sherwyn,” she said simply.
After a lengthy silence Olivia spoke quietly, with heightened emotion in her voice.
“Marianne, look at me. there is no use pretending this doesn’t exist,” she said, and pointed to the side of her face. The jagged, puckered scar ran down her head, close to her right temple and on the hairline of her cheek. As she held up her hair to reveal the scar tissue the small patch where no hair grew was evident.
“I hide this every day. I live in fear of my hair blowing upwards in a strong wind. When that dandy stole my feather the other day, my first thought was what I would have had to deal with if he had stolen my bonnet. Ellen does a wonderful job of hiding it with intricate hairstyles and ribbons, but would a man choose a woman who is disfigured in this way? I think not.”
“I can see how you feel. I was there, remember, in the early days, and when the doctor removed those bandages. Yet, I truly believe you are a remarkable person and character is as important as looks.”
“Marianne, you are my closest friend, but even you must admit that my chances of finding a husband with these scars and no fortune are limited.”
“I will not and cannot believe that,” said her friend in her spirited way.
“Look what happened with Jonathan. He didn’t even wait to see me with the bandages removed.”
“I know and he behaved in a despicable manner, but from what you told me he was more concerned about your loss of fortune than anything else. I still find it hard to believe that he jilted you on the evening of your brother, sister-in-law and the nanny’s funerals.
“I loved him so much, Marianne.”
Marianne twirled her handkerchief in her hands, rolling it into a tight ball. “Sir Jonathan Ellington is and was a weak man, who never deserved you.
“I have one more thing to say on this subject. Your bravery saved the life of Jocelyn and possibly several of the servants. If you had been unable to raise an alarm, then more would have died that night.
“Your actions resulted in that cruel scar on your head and the others on your body. However, would you have preferred to live without those scars, knowing you might possibly have been able to save others, but chose to stay in safety?”
“You know the answer. It isn’t a difficult question,” admitted Olivia.
“You lived with the pain, and the disfigurement, and you are a strong young woman. The stark reality is that without your bravery, Jocelyn would be dead. You have the scars as a result, and I can say with certainty that none of us would choose to have that scar on our face. Yet there is something very noble and honorable in the way you put others before yourself that night.”
Lady Leighton paused, drawing breath. “I have said too much, I hope I haven’t upset you, but, as your friend, I cannot believe that the scar you received that night is going to prevent you from finding love and happiness in life.”
Olivia took her friend's hands in hers, tears streaming down both their faces as her generous hearted friend took Olivia in her arms and held her close.
***
As she lay in bed that night Olivia remembered her friend's words and they helped.
