“I told him I needed time to consider it. I feel warm towards Ethan. He has kept seeking out my company, despite all the gossip swirling around about our family. I never expected any proposals in view of the impact of the scandalmonger.”
“That seems sensible, to tell him that you needed time to think about it,” agreed Olivia.
Jocelyn nodded. The carriage had slowed down, and they could hear rain drumming against the roof of the barouche.
“It’s so strange. I’ve often thought about the day when someone would propose to me. He tried to make it romantic and special, and I should have felt joy and happiness. Olivia, I expected to feel thrilled and excited at the prospect of marriage and we both know the Marquis is rich, considerate, and he must admire me a great deal.”
“And …?” prompted Olivia.
“I felt numb and uncertain what to say. I don’t love him. But, in view of this scandal, I know I may never receive a better offer, and I do not wish to spend my days living in uncle’s household. My choice may very well be between being Marchioness of Hastings, with my own establishment, or living quietly at Swanbourne Place and Silverton House,” admitted Jocelyn.
Olivia felt tears welling up in her eyes at this sad, sorry state of affairs. Although she was in no way responsible, she somehow felt that she was the cause of Jocelyn’s predicament.
“You don’t love Lord Hastings?”
“All I know, Olivia, is that when I was with Colin… Lord Ludlow, that I felt an excitement. I looked forward to his visits and I felt an emptiness when he left. I hoped, I expected that he would propose. He had certainly hinted that he wished to be with me forever. Yet he left so suddenly and I’m in a strange sort of limbo, wondering if he will return,” confessed Jocelyn.
“Of course he will return. His mother had an accident, and it was thought she was near death. As soon as he can leave her I’m sure he will return to London,” Olivia reassured her.
“I know, and most of the time I believe what you say. His letter was brief, but he was about to set out on a journey, and he couldn’t have known if his mother would be alive or dead when he arrived at Granville Hall.”
“Then keep believing that,” asserted Olivia.
“The trouble is… my difficulty is that he may have left because of the gossip. Look what happened to you with Sir Jonathan. Youwere in love and engaged and one day, in the midst of our grief, he called and jilted you,” said Jocelyn.
“It really isn’t quite the same. You mustn’t worry. Remember, I had also lost my fortune and my looks. He knew about the scars, and I believe my disfigurement was a significant reason for him withdrawing from our engagement,” replied Olivia.
As Olivia was speaking, she was feeling a wave of disappointment as she had been certain that Lord Ludlow was a perfect match for Jocelyn. She knew she mustn’t let that color her advice to Jocelyn.
“The difficulty is that I can’t know. All I could think was that I needed time and space to think. I explained we were due to visit Belvedere Abbey and I would give him my decision on my return.” Jocelyn paused briefly. “I may accept him. I am truly confused about what to decide.”
“You should have time to think at Belvedere Abbey. It sounds as though that’s exactly what you need at the moment. You can settle your feathers at the Abbey.”
“I have something to share with you too,” confessed Olivia. “I saw Jonathan yesterday.”
“Really?” gasped Jocelyn “Did he call?”
“No, I don’t believe uncle would welcome him at Swanbourne Place. I met him in the street outside Grover’s haberdashery. It was pure chance.”
“What did he say to you?” Jocelyn was now the one who was curious.
“Very little. Formal greetings, followed by enquiries about our families. It was all over within a couple of minutes,” Olivia told her.
“How did you feel?” Jocelyn continued her questioning, obviously eager to know all.
“Very strange, if I’m honest. For a second or two it was almost as though I stepped back in time. I soon realized, though, I no longer felt the same way about him.”
“I’m glad. He caused you immeasurable distress, at a time when you needed love and comfort from your fiancé,” said Jocelyn.
“What I can share, is that he never once looked at me, he could not take his eyes away from my hairline and the place where I have the scars,” Olivia told her.
“That’s dreadful,” exclaimed Jocelyn.
“I’m not sure he was even aware of what he was doing. It does reinforce what I always believed about his reasons for abandoning me after the fire.”
“It’s brave of you to share it with me,” said Jocelyn, taking Olivia’s hand and holding it.
As the carriage trundled out of London, and along the turnpike towards Longhamsted, Olivia experienced a mixture of anxiety and excitement. She remembered the journey last autumn, and as always, her thoughts went back to the day she had spent with Marcus in the woodland glade. Cendrillon. He’d called her his Cendrillon.
