She didn’t flinch. “An accident?”
“I will keep it covered. I assure you, no one will know.” Panic was creeping into my voice.
Mama watched me out of narrowed eyes as she stepped forward and pinched the tip of one gloved finger. She pulled, and the glove slid slowly off my hand. First she saw the scars, then the missing fingers. Clumps of torn fabric fell to the ground.
She jumped back, throwing the glove to the floor as if it were a poisonous thing. Her face contorted in disbelief and revulsion. She covered her mouth and turned away, as if she expected to be sick, and squeezed her eyes shut. “How did this happen?” Her voice was a scratchy whisper.
“I was attempting to handle fishing traps…and it was a disaster.” I struggled to hold her gaze. That was the short version of the story.
She rubbed her forehead, facing the back wall, and peered at me from over her shoulder. “And why, pray tell, were you doing such a thing? I did not raise you to behave with such foolishness.”
“Yes, I was foolish. A man challenged me to it, and I accepted. He never thought I would, and he felt dreadful about it. But it is over, Mama. Nothing can be done to change the past.”
“A man? A dirty fisherman, was it?” She turned around, and her eyes flickered to my hand again. She grimaced.
“No,” I said in a firm voice. “He was a gentleman.” Speaking about James made a shard of grief stab me.
Mama shook her head forcefully. “Well no one will have you now, that much is certain.”
Her words hit me hard, and panic began to flood through me. “No, Mama! I will keep my hand hidden!”
“For how long?” she snapped. “I will be ruined all over again if society should learn I am the mother of a—adeformedchild.”
It was a blow to my chest, a deep, throbbing pain in my heart. How had I ever imagined she would understand and accept me this way? How had I been so naive and foolish? The silence hanging in the air burned me to my bones.
Blinking back tears, I stooped to the floor and picked up my glove. “I will keep it hidden forever,” I said in a quick voice. “Gloves are worn most places. It shouldn’t be so difficult.” I slipped the glove over my hand again and Mama’s shoulders seemed to relax a little.
“But how will you write? How will you stitch and draw? And you cannot even play the pianoforte!” Her voice rang shrill in the air, and when she looked at me, it was as if doing so was an arduous task.
“I will prove it to you, Mama. You’ll see. I will court Mr. Webb and hide my hand. We will not mention that I ever knew the pianoforte!” I felt like I was grasping at smoke in the air. Nothing I said to reason with her seemed to work.
“Have you considered how you will excuse yourself from performing at parties with people who knew you before? They will expect you to play for them.” She was fanning her face.
I froze. I hadn’t thought of that before. “We will—we will think of something. Perhaps I am resting my hands for a performance for the Prince Regent?”
She scoffed. “Who would believe such a thing?”
I bit my lip, my mind racing.
As if searching from something she had forgotten, Mama’s eyes darted around the room. “Where is Clara?” she demanded.
My eyes rounded and the words came spilling out. “She stayed. She is marrying Lord Trowbridge.”
For a moment I thought Mama would faint. Her eyes flew open in surprise and she clutched her chest. Then a slow smile formed on her face. “I never would have thought it possible,” she whispered. “Clara. Clara a countess? Hah!” She paced the black and white tiles. She turned to face me, a wild excitement in her eyes. “When society hears of this I shall be praised to no end. I managed to secure my plainest daughter a match with an earl!”
I opened my mouth to speak, but stopped myself.You did nothing. He loved her.
“Why was I not informed of this sooner?”
I swallowed. “It was recent news, the letter would not have reached you before I did.”
Mama seemed satisfied with my reply and continued her pacing. “How did she do it?”
“Pardon me?”
“How did she win him instead of you? Surely your hand deterred him from you, but Clara? How did she win him?”
I wasn’t sure I was hearing her correctly. Had I really spoken that way before? I frowned. “It was not a competition, Mama. She didn’t wish to marry him. At least not before falling in love with him.”
