“I’m in no hurry to see him again. It was traumatic to hear those evil words circulating around the ballroom, and then feel better after talking with Lord Hatfield. I would prefer not to see anyone for a day or two while I work out how I feel about it all.”
“You need to see him again soon, Olivia. He might fall in love with you,” said Jocelyn.
“Josie, stop that now,” protested Olivia.
“If he hasn’t already,” Marianne added quietly. "I suspect he is another who is coming to terms with, err, unexpected feelings.”
She walked over to the clothes and picked up a redingote and held it up in front of her. “I love these new coats, but I admit my preference is still for a warm woolen hooded cloak.”
The rest of the day passed pleasantly, and the piles of clothes gradually reduced long before Uncle Harold returned.
***
As the candles were lit for the evening, Olivia felt exhaustion creeping in. The ball had lasted all night, she had slept for no longer than three hours, and was now struggling to keep her eyes open. A knock on the door made her jump and Millie entered, offering her a silver tray with two letters.
“Mrs. Jennings says these arrived this morning but got missed with all the upheaval after the ball, my lady.”
“Thank you, Millie. I hope you’re not too tired.”
“No, my lady, it’s all been very exciting.”
Olivia smiled as the maid left, turning the letters over in her hands.
She knew that one must be from the new publisher, and it must be a rejection, as it was only a few days since the manuscript had been left at the publishing house.
This is ridiculous. If it is a rejection, then you can try again and write other books in the future.
She took off the seal, the bright red stamped sealing wax glinting in the candlelight. She looked down expectantly.
No, far from it. They want to publish my book.
She stood up and took a deep breath, feeling a little dizzy with the excitement.
They want to publish my book...the words were still there on the page.
A contract for Mr. N.P. Feather would follow within days.
How much easier it seems to be for a man to get a book published than a woman,she thought with irritation.
If necessary, she could ask Viscount Leighton to sign the contract in proxy for her at the publisher’s office.
Her heart was light as she held the letter close. Her book in print. It was not only a dream come true, but a possible route to independence from Uncle Harold and his continual pressure to find a husband.
I wonder if Jocelyn has retired to bed yet. I must go and tell Marianne and Charles my news first thing tomorrow.
She put the other letter in her bureau, intending to look at it in the morning. It looked like a routine letter from Crabtree and Watts, her family solicitors.
She pulled on her robe with Belgian lace edging and went to find Jocelyn. She simply had to share her news with someone.
Jocelyn and Mrs. Jennings were sitting together in the housekeeper’s parlor sewing. Although a housekeeper, Mrs. Jennings was a distant cousin and had spent long summers at Silverton while growing up. She had taken on the mantle of housekeeper after a short marriage and the loss of her husband at the Battle of Trafalgar in 1805.
“Olivia,” called Jocelyn. “I thought you’d retired for the night.”
“I had, but then Millie brought the letters and… my book is to be published.”
“That’s wonderful!” cried Jocelyn.
“Exactly the sort of good news we needed to hear,” said Mrs. Jennings. “I’m delighted for you.”
