Prologue
London,July 3, 1816
So endsmy very first London Season. While uneventful for myself, the same cannot be said for others. There were great matches, love stories, broken hearts, disappointments, and more gossip than any one person should be forced to endure in a full year, let alone the four months I suffered.
My older sisters had an enjoyable Season, and I do understand their perspective as they danced and were courted. Further, they became reacquainted with friends they’d made in earlier years and took delight in many outings.
As for my brothers, I quickly learned that they came to London for an entirely different form of entertainment, and one which had nothing to do with thoughts of courtship. Further, it did not take long to realize that the flirtatious attention that a certain widow bestowed upon my oldest brother had nothing to do with her wish to remarry. This is all supposition, of course, and based upon conversations I overheard. Ones that I wish I hadn’t heard, and given the sensitive nature, I willnotbe asking my brother for clarification.
Though many would deem my first Season “uneventful”, I disagree. I have a deep sense of accomplishment at having nearly filled this journal with my observations of the 1816 London Season, much like the gossip rags that report the scandalous and noteworthy news of others. However, mine are more honest, or at least I’ve strived to be, as I try to understand why people behave the way they do. Some are led by their hearts, others by their minds, and the third group – by fortunes, or lack thereof.
Society and their interactions can be remarkably interesting, and awfully disappointing, but my world has expanded now that I’ve finally spent time away from the family estate and small village that had been the whole of my existence these past eighteen years. For that alone, I do look forward to returning to London once again and to take in the sights, visit the museums and theatres, and continue to observe.
While I believe that I’ve come to understand the motivations and personalities of those who intrigued me most, there are two such individuals for whom I’ve not quite determined their motivations.
The first being is Lady Violet Claxton. Lady Violet is one of the few people who was familiar to me prior to my first Season, but the acquaintance was not a close one. Though she attended several of the same entertainments as myself, she often did not remain with her family or friends. Instead, at the first opportunity, she disappeared into the gardens. I followed a few times, out of curiosity, but she was not meeting a lover as I had feared. Instead, she seemed to take great interest in the plants and bushes and simply enjoyed sitting alone with the blooms.
Perhaps Lady Violet is here because she was forced to attend. Or perhaps she simply finds these entertainments tedious, though I cannot fathom why. She’s quite lovely with an even temperament, and certainly does not lack confidence. Further, she is sought after, and bachelors gather to sign her dance card almost as soon as she arrives. It should be noted that Lady Violet rarely grants such requests, which has me questioning—why does she prefer roses over bachelors?
The other person of interest is Lord Emory Talbot, Viscount Ferrard. He is the heir to the Earl of Lovell, nearing the age of seven and twenty, and the eldest of eight siblings. Though he has the duty to marry and produce an heir and a spare, he barely showed any interest in doing so. My brothers have informed me that no gentleman is ever ready to be leg-shackled, and they will retain their freedom for as long as possible. I’ve learned that Lord Ferrard prefers lonely widows over actresses, and he does not keep a mistress, as he avoids any form of commitment, no matter how temporary the duration. I’m also certain it’s best that I don’t have this private knowledge either. However, it’s information that was said within my hearing, and impossible to ignore.
The Wallflowers, who remain at the side of the ballroom, silent, and many hopeful, are apparently invisible since discussions are carried on in our presence as if we weren’t even there, which is how Lord Ferrard became a study.
His motivation at the beginning of the Season seemed quite clear to me, as he was known to be a rake and did not try to hide the fact. I wouldn’t have needed to hear such gossip to have come to that conclusion on my own. Several times I witnessed him leave a ball on the arm of a lovely widow. Sometimes he returned an hour later and sometimes he did not.
However, in the last month of the Season it appeared that Lord Ferrard had lost interest in lonely widows. Instead, he turned his attention to the various ladies and misses who were above reproach. He took turns about the room, and danced often, though I rarely saw him dance with anyone more than once. I had assumed that he’d turned his mind to marriage, but he didn’t spend enough time with any one miss or lady to cause one to believe that he may be considering a courtship. What caused him to suddenly turn his attention from widows to misses?
All in all, even though I did not end this Season with a grand betrothal, I am not disappointed. In fact, I’m quite satisfied.
Perhaps I’ll recall more of what I observed and record it within these pages. Or, perhaps I’ll create stories for those who have left me to wonder, such as Lady Violet and Lord Ferrard. Perhaps one day I will even write brilliant novels the likes of which E. B. Weston pens. After all, what else is there for a wallflower to do but observe and take note.
Chapter 1
Laswell,Devon, England, December 27, 1816
“Measles!”Mrs. Harley exclaimed from the front parlor.
Lady Violet Claxton grasped the railing of the stairs as alarm rushed through her being. It was a common disease, that she well knew, but it could also be deadly—a harsh reality that she had become painfully aware of as a child, and why she suffered such an irrational response at the mere pronouncement of the disease.
“Yes,” a deep voice answered. “Did he have the rash before he left your home yesterday?”
Was that Dr. Talbot?
Violet tilted an ear toward the door as she slid one slippered foot onto the next step, quietly and slowly edging her way to the landing, thankful that the stairs were thickly carpeted so that none could hear her approach.
“He had the sniffles, if I recall,” Mrs. Harley answered. “And a slight cough. Mrs. Buckley sent him to his bed following the Christmas festivities and when his duties were complete.”
Mrs. Buckley was the housekeeper and diligent in her duties, even though the Harleys had few servants, as this was a modest household. Well, it was modest compared to Violet’s home, Forester Hall, a sprawling manor that had been the estate belonging to the Duke of Arscott for nearly two centuries.
“Is anyone else within your household ill?” Dr. Talbot asked.
Violet had had few encounters with Dr. Talbot since he’d arrived in Laswell to take over the medical practice of the now retired Dr. Pierce. While he was a handsome fellow, it was Silvia Harley, her dearest friend, who suffered from the certain signs of attraction when he was near. On the authority of female acquaintances in London, the certain signs were a racing pulse and heart palpitations. As Violet had yet to be attracted to any gentleman, she had not suffered from such symptoms, thus she must trust in their experience.
“Not that I’m aware,” Mrs. Harley answered.
Violet stepped onto the white and grey marble entry of the entrance hall and twisted around the corner just enough to see into the parlor, bright from the sunlight reflecting off the stark white walls. All the rooms within the Harley household were equally bright, decorated in yellows, peaches, whites, and lavenders, as Mrs. Harley detested dark colors since she deemed them depressing.
“Perhaps I should ask the housekeeper,” Mrs. Harley suggested.
