‘Good morning!’ he beamed delightedly. ‘I do hope I haven’t missed anything?’
* * *
Rotherby House
Grosvenor Square
2nd June 1826
Dearest Jo,
I would have written earlier but Harriet, your intrepid eldest niece, decided to dive head first out of a tree while her younger sister, Louisa, continues to have the most dreadful cold, and even though I have been in rude health, I have been trying to rest! The Lord knows it is hard enough on any day with a young brood, but I find these latter months of being with child quite tiring and Dominic’s attentions beyond nonsensical…
Josephine smiled at Sophie’s new letter, presented by a footman, as she left the drawing room. Her second eldest sister had a distinct knack of writing most directly, with so many anecdotes about her growing brood that Josephine almost felt as though she was in the room with them. Yet this morning her thoughts were distracted, and she could tell by the way Sophie had crossed and re-crossed the letter in a highly animated way, that she had written with some purpose in mind. Swiftly, she scanned the next two paragraphs which described the loss of Louisa’s tooth in a bowl of cherries at the Hamptons’ picnic, followed by a long rambling tirade on the difficulty of keeping a governess, while Harriet insisted on bringing herdear insectfriendsto breakfast, before she got to the point:
And so, dearest Jo, I understand that you are shortly to wed? I was so delighted when I first heard that Dominic had to repeat everything before I could speak a word! It is truly (thrice underscored) wonderful news, dearest, and Lord Huntingly must be a very impressive gentleman indeed to have won the mind and heart of the most knowledgeable and romantic among us…
Josephine sighed as she hurried down the flagstone corridor towards the kitchen door. Her sisters had always known of her desire to marry a real fictional hero– but reality couldn’t be further from the truth. Despite Matilda’s naive protestations, Lord Huntingly couldn’t be any less like the heroes in her books, and presently she didn’t even know if she still had a betrothal left at all. She turned out of the corridor and into the bright sunshine of the kitchen gardens.
Of course, I told Dominic right away that I needed to see you, because who better to advise your bridal trousseau than your beloved older sister with fashionable friends in all the best places? And, of course, Madame Montmartre is wonderful, though I do find she has become particularly revolutionary again of late… but I digress… Oh, do come to London, dearest, for I long to talk of something other than nap times and jelly, and you know I am the most sensible and practical of sisters when it comes to events of consequence.
Josephine suppressed a hundred ready retorts about Sophie’s good sense flying straight out of the window the moment she met Lord Rotherby, as she hurried through the old kitchen archway. Then she scanned the rest of the letter, which comprised of three paragraphs on the absurdities of relaxing one’s corsets when not one dress was designed with a mother-to-be in mind, before tucking it in her pocket and focusing on the task ahead.
She knew exactly where Matilda would be and, as she made her way along the narrow path to the stables, she wondered, not for the first time, at a world that had produced eight such different siblings. Phoebe and Matilda had always been the most free-thinking, although Matilda possessed a fire that put Vesuvius to shame. Sophie claimed to be the sensible one, and yet showed herself to be just as impetuous and headstrong when it came to matters she really cared about. And then there were her four, very distinct brothers: Fred was sensitive and thoughtful, the twins spirited, while Thomas… had always been Thomas.
Which left herself, the quiet bluestocking.
‘I do believe the day will come when someone will ignite that bluestocking flame of yours, and then we will all have to look out!’
Matilda’s words echoed through her thoughts as she crossed the old stone courtyard that led to the stables. She’d never thought herself fiery– most certainly not in the same way as her sisters– and sometimes she wondered at their being related at all. How Matilda could believe Lord Huntingly, with his dubious moral compass, to be in any way superior to Sir Francis, whose only fault appeared to be an enthusiasm for sharing his love of literature, was a mystery of epic proportions.
Without warning, Huntingly’s sudden kiss surfaced amid her thoughts. She’d tried to bury it, but this morning it seemed determined to thwart her. A flush of heat crept across her cheeks, before a further memory of the orangery subdued it. She took a breath, her heart hammering: he knew she was a failure, and she wasn’t sure if he mesmerised or terrified her more. Yet what did it matter now– she was the only Fairfax to scare off a bridegroom before she even reached the aisle.
Closing her eyes against the spring morning, she passed beneath the stone archway to the stables, unable to think about that night without clenching every muscle she possessed. She couldn’t believe she’d spoken her doubt aloud: ‘…and leave my sister to such a fate instead? In truth, sir, I wonder what sort of woman you believe me to be that I could damn her in such a way…’Yet, the thought that he might equate his own shame with hers was almost unbearable.
‘Matilda?’ she called, the cool of the stable an instant balm on her ruffled feelings.
She listened to the quiet air, knowing it didn’t mean her intractable sister wasn’t there, before drawing a deep breath and heading to Misty’s stall in the far corner. Sure enough, as soon as she rounded the last whitewashed pillar she spied the stubborn tilt of her chin.
‘Misty is positively gleaming.’ She offered as she reached the stall gate. ‘Phoebe is so happy with the way you take care of her, Matty.’
‘Ponies over people any day,’ her sister muttered, continuing to brush the patient pony’s coat. ‘They’re far more logical.’
Josephine took a deep breath, wrestling with the impulse to tell her sister she’d only become engaged to Huntingly to protect her, that she was still protecting her.
‘Are you well?’ Matilda asked suddenly, glancing up mid-rub of Misty’s broad back.
‘Yes, of course,’ Josephine assured. ‘You know how the hay irritates my throat sometimes. I just wanted to mention that Sophie has invited me to London, and was wondering if you’d like to come too?’
‘And listen to our dearest sister wax lyrical about Harriet’s and Louisa’sartistic geniusfor days on end?’ Matilda rolled her eyes. ‘I’d rather wear one of her newfangled French corsets, but thanks anyway.’
Josephine chuckled. Sophie was undeniably one of the proudest mothers she’d ever known.
‘I suppose she’s offered to help you with your wedding preparations?’ Matilda queried after a beat.
‘She has,’ Josephine replied, carefully monitoring her sister’s face. ‘If I’m not careful, I may find myself ousted from the entire thing!’
‘Ha, too true!’ Matilda returned drily.
