He has the family fortune now, master of this house and the estate in Bedfordshire. He withdrew my allowance when he became earl and resents every penny which is spent. My uncle is a miser.
“She must be married,” he continued. His words echoed around the room. Stark and devoid of any emotion.
“She?” Olivia queried, knowing full well that he meant Jocelyn, but disliking the way he spoke about her dear niece, who was just nineteen years, and only now emerging from her own grief at the loss of her parents.
“Of course I mean Jocelyn. The chit needs to be married. You may consider me a rich man, but I can’t afford to keep the two of you forever. You must begin to prepare Jocelyn for a season in London, in the spring, and l will expect her to find a husband within months.”
He really means this, thought Olivia. Although she knew that Jocelyn would be delighted at the prospect of coming out and having a season in London, the motives of her penny-pinching uncle were misguided.
“Very well, uncle. You realize there will be considerable expense? Every young lady of thetonmust have a ball and a suitable wardrobe, including a dress for presentation at court.”
“I have included that in my calculations,” he retorted. “Much as I hate to see such a waste of a good shilling, I know it is necessary to get the girl out of my house.”
Olivia nodded. However, her uncle hadn’t finished.
“The same goes for you too. You’ve been moping about long enough. You might be penniless, but you are the daughter of an earl. You’ll find somebody to offer for you, if you make an effort.”
“But uncle, surely in view of…” she hesitated and didn’t know how to proceed. She felt tears welling up and forced them back. She would not let her uncle see how much his words were hurting her.
“I can’t return to society,” she said. As she replied she realized her hand was rising to touch the side of her face, so she pulled it back down, clasping her hands together tightly.
“Nonsense. You can and will return for a season, indeed you must accompany Jocelyn to all events. You can’t stay under my roof forever, and you must make a match. There is no other way for a lady of your station in society.”
“I could perhaps find a position as a companion, or governess,” she suggested, almost inaudibly.
This time he banged the table so hard that the quill pen flew off the table and ink scattered across his dress shirt.
“Damnation!” he snarled, “Now, look what you have made me do.”
Olivia gasped. She sat still, rooted to the chair, hoping this would soon be over.
“The daughter of an earl cannot be a governess or companion, don’t be so ridiculous. You will find a husband. There must be someone who will have you.” He began to dab at the ink with a piece of paper, but the stain on his desk only grew worse.
“Now get out of my sight. Ask Jennings to call for my manservant as this shirt is covered in ink.”
“Very well, sir.” She paused, reluctant to continue. “Might I remind you that I leave tomorrow to visit my friend, Lady Leighton, at Leighton Manor, and that I will be gone for several weeks. However, as soon as I return, I will ensure that Jocelyn is prepared for her first season and, if you insist, I will join her at events.”
“If you meet someone while staying at Leighton Manor that would be excellent,” her uncle mused, speaking to himself. “It will save me the cost of a season.”
Suddenly, his mood changed, and he looked calmer. He had a plan and he had put it into action. “Please convey my regardsto Lady Leighton. I hope she will visit with us at Silverton Hall, when the restoration is completed in the spring,” he said gruffly.
“Of course, uncle, I’m sure she would be delighted,” Olivia said, relieved at the change in mood.
“Enjoy your visit, niece,” he said, almost grudgingly. Olivia smiled, knowing how difficult it was for her uncle to say pleasant things. It was his way, there was generally no malice in his actions, though recently he had become obsessed with household expenses.
She stood up, curtseyed, and made her escape, feeling the weight of the heavy oak door as she pushed it open. She could see Mrs. Jennings, hovering in the hallway and smiled wearily at her.
“I’ll bring you a nice pot of tea. There’s a fire in the small morning room,” said Mrs. Jennings, returning the smile.
Olivia nodded her thanks and found sanctuary in the elegant room, which her sister-in-law, Mary, had decorated in pale blue and silver, her exquisite taste evident throughout the townhouse. The window looked out onto a quieter part of the garden where it was pleasant to sit and take tea on a summer’s afternoon.
She made herself shake off the mood of despondency at the idea of having to endure a season in London. It was several months ahead, and entirely possible that her uncle would change hismind. Maybe she could attend a couple of balls and recitals and then fade away from society again. It had been her choice to live quietly at Swanbourne, and she did not regret it.
Olivia had accepted her changed status, and the loss of her inheritance upon the death of her brother. It had resulted in her losing her beloved fiancé Jonathan, with his family estate deep in debt, his mother had ordered him to end their engagement.
Within a few weeks Olivia had lost her older brother Frederick, her sister-in-law and friend Mary, plus the man she loved and had expected to marry.
In the midst of coping with her own grief and disfigurement, she threw herself into caring for her sixteen-year-old niece, Jocelyn, who had lost both her parents in such a sudden and untimely way.
