She would do better to remember that and simply bring flowers to Claudia’s grave each week.
With that she shoved the list rather violently back into its hiding place, fumbled to replace the backing on the jewelry box and locked it. Then she went to her bed, blew out the candle and threw herself under the covers.
But sleep did not come easy. And when it did, it was filled with thoughts of confronting enemies and entering into scandalous affairs. Of being bold and daring and changing her life…for better or for worse.
The next morning, as Marianne sat at the breakfast table on the veranda in the morning sunshine, her thoughts continued to turn, against her will, toward her friend’s damnable list. When she had readied herself for the day, it seemed the jewelry box mocked her from her dressing table, reminding her both of its secret and her own cowardice.
Before she could work herself into too much of a tizzy, her aunt Beulah stepped out onto the veranda and settled her frail frame onto the seat across from her.
“Good morning, my dear,” she said with a warm and genuine smile.
“Good morning, Auntie,” Marianne said, doing her best not to sound as absent as she felt.
It was an unusual arrangement that she shared with her aunt, but one she truly enjoyed. As an unmarried woman, Marianne would normally be expected to remain in her brother’s home under the never-ending protection of his watchful eye. But as it became more and more clear that she would likely never marry, she had been able to convince Finn, with much effort, that she could live very pleasantly in a townhouse with their great-aunt as chaperone.
Her dutiful brotherhadargued against it for a while, but in the end…well, though he tried to act properly when she was around, Marianne had no illusions that he lived as a choir boy or monk. Without a spinster sister in the house he had afforded himself as much increased freedom as he had given her. Finn gave her a generous living and she didn’t have to answer to anyone about where she went or who she saw.
Except for Aunt Beulah, who often did not pay attention. After all, it wasn’t as if Marianne was getting into any trouble.
And her mind turned treacherously to that blasted list once more.
“You look tired, my dear,” her aunt said as she sipped her tea. “Did you not sleep well?”
Marianne blinked in surprise at her aunt’s observation. “N-No, I’m afraid I didn’t. Thoughts of Claudia kept me awake.”
Which was true, though not only in the way her aunt would assume.
Beulah’s mouth drew down in sadness. “Ah yes. It is hard to lose a friend, especially at so young an age. I have lost a great many in the past few years, but then I am nearly eighty and at a point where I expect such things.”
Marianne nodded slowly. Yes, her aunthadlost a few companions from her group as her age advanced. She had escorted Beulah to many of the funerals…and as with Claudia, there were few mourners for spinsters. Those who came did not seem to grieve overly much. Occasionally a favorite niece would cry or a sibling would seem touched by their loss, but for the most part there was often a sense of…relief. Like the deceased was a troubling obligation better left undone.
Marianne set her tea aside and shook her head. “Have you ever wished…” She trailed off.
Her aunt’s eyes came up and she looked at Marianne sharply. “Wished?”
“Nothing,” Marianne said with blush. It was too humiliating to say out loud.
“No,” her aunt pressed as she leaned closer. “You wanted to ask me something. I’d like to hear it.”
Marianne shifted uncomfortably. Though she liked her aunt and didn’t mind sharing a home with her, they had not ever had deep discussions. Certainly, they’d never aired their thoughts on their shared lot in life.
“Haven’t you ever wished for…more?” Marianne whispered. “More than just being?—”
“An old maid?” her aunt asked, and then broke into a surprising burst of laughter. “Of course, my dear. Do you think any girl dreams of being alone, living on the charity of family until her death where hardly a soul will mourn?”
Marianne flinched, but her aunt seemed oblivious to the fact that she had touched upon her niece’s very heartache. “No, I suppose not,” Marianne said with a sigh.
“At one time, I wished for children and marriage, even something so foolish as love.” Her aunt shrugged. “But after a time, I came to realize that these things were never meant for me. Now you…” She smiled and it was warm. “Youcould still have a chance.”
“Oh, I don’t think so.” Marianne shook her head.
Her aunt took a sip from her cup. “Your debut and the years following it were disastrous, I know. Your mother’s passing and the things that preceded it?—”
Her aunt stopped and Marianne looked at the table with as much focus as she could manage. Her mother had always been an emotional person. Her father would often hiss about her hysteria, though Marianne had never felt it went that far until the horrible series of events that led to her untimely death. She flinched just thinking of it and pushed those thoughts aside so that they didn’t overwhelm her.
Still, by the end of her debut year, the damage was done, both personally and in Marianne’s fruitless search for a groom. It was only her late father’s good name and her brother’s calm handling of the entire situation that allowed her continued invitation to any events even now.
“Well, let’s just say the deaths of your parents,” her aunt finished softly. “Those things were out of your control. But a nice widower looking for a mother for his children might very well be the perfect fit for you. It’s been long enough that he could very well overlook the past. And there is nothing wrong in settling.”
