“Oh, Amelia. I would never fault you for the narrowmindedness of men and their antiquated thought processes. I’m so pleased for you that my heart is full.”
“That means so much.” Amelia gave her a spontaneous hug. “What new book is that you’re reading now?”
Joanna froze as her sister pulled away. Looking over her shoulder at her bed she could see the duke’s book had been halfway uncovered by the blanket. Turning back to Amelia, she waved her hand. “It’s an illustrated treatise on what women should learn. I just started it this morning. I’m fairly certain I’m not going to enjoy it.”
Amelia pouted. “Poor Joanna. An opened book is a finished book for you. I hope it’s not too tortuous.”
“I hope not as well.” She grimaced.
Amelia strode to the door, her step quick with her excited energy. “I probably won’t see you the rest of the day, but I’m still planning on attending the lecture with you on Friday. I hear that Sir Davy is a most charming gentleman as well as an intellectual.” She smirked before slipping out the door.
Charming? In other words, a pleasure to gaze upon. Joanna shook her head and turned back to the table. Pouring herself more tea, her pleasure over Amelia’s news dimmed. That her sister thought she’d be disappointed bothered her. Had she become too militant? Her whole purpose of discussing women’s equal intelligence was to open minds, not cause nervousness or fear. Her sister’s revelation had her revaluating her approach. From now on, she would refrain from speaking about her favorite subject when among those who knew her views well.
Pleased with her decision, she added cream and sugar to her tea and took a sip. If Belinda had still been alive, she would have pointed out such a flaw in the gentlest of ways. Joanna sank into the chair. Bea’s death at only twenty had hurt them all. She had been the heart of their family. She smiled fondly. The four of them had determined their roles at a very young age based upon their interest. All of them sitting on the floor in the parlor, waiting for Mother to read them their favorite Christmas story.
She had quickly claimed to be the intellect of the family, though at barely ten years old, she was hardly such. Her father, in her estimation, truly held that place of honor. Amelia spoke next, telling them all that she would be the creator because she could draw. Though at the time, her drawings were much like any seven-year-old’s. Mariel, as the oldest, and already twelve, decided that she must be the practical one to keep the creator and intellect in check. They had laughed at that.
It was then that Belinda had asked what she should be. Even at the age of eight, she worried about them all and thought she had no strength that defined her. There was silence as they all pondered what her designation should be as if their whole world hung in the balance.
At that moment Mother strolled in with the Christmas story and asked what they were about. When they explained they still must decide on Belinda’s role, Mother smiled. “Why, she is the most obvious of all of you. She practically shines with her strength. Every one of us gravitates to her for it.” They stared at Belinda as if she were more a mystery than the Sphinx in Egypt.
She’d been determined to solve Bea’s mystery. After all, she’d claimed to be the intellectual. As she gazed at Belinda, it finally made sense. “Love!” She’d burst out with it, pleased she’s been successful.
Mother nodded. “Indeed, Belinda is the heart of our family.”
Joanna would never forget the look on her younger’s sister’s face as she accepted that she was of such key importance to them all.
And yet years later, she had been unable to save her sweet Bea, their heart. Wiping at her moist eyes, she took another sip of tea. “I wish you were still here.”
As the scattered sunlight dappled through the wispy curtains on the widows to the south, Joanna rose. Mother had said there was no use focusing on the past when much awaited them in the future. She moved to her dressing table to pull her hair from its braid and face the day. About to sit, she caught sight of the book on her bed in the mirror’s reflection.
Her interest in it had cooled, but she did need to lock it away. Dropping her robe, she quickly prepared herself. She brushed her hair, braided it, and twisted it up with a ribbon, leaving one long curl to lay against her collarbone. Donning her chemise and stays, she tugged them tight enough before taking a petticoat from the shelf of the armoire and putting it on, followed by her bright peach morning dress.
She had much planned, from helping Mariel embroider a wedding gift for a friend to accompanying mother to the milliner for the purchase of a new hat. There would be very little time for reading until later in the evening…maybe. Taking one more look in the mirror to make sure she was presentable for her family and any callers they may receive, she grabbed up the book and headed down stairs.
As it was still fairly early, she doubted anyone would be about. Stepping into the family library, which was half of their collection, she started across the room toward her special cabinet.
“What do you have there, my Joanna?”
Startled, she placed her hand to her chest. “Father, you surprised me.”
Joseph Mabry, Marquess of Wakefield, unfolded himself from the wingback chair in the bay window. His thick chestnut hair liberally streaked with gray had been combed, and his rounded chin shaved for the day. His gray eyes lit with curiosity as he stood and held his hand out. “Come, let me see what new precious treasure you have discovered.”
She swallowed, her face heating at the thought of him opening the duke’s book. As hard as it was, she feigned nonchalance and started toward him. “I’m not sure it would be of interest to you. In fact, you may have already read it.” She stopped before him and held out the book.
Her father took it, holding it close to read the title.“Educating the Feminine Species?”He looked at her. “Does the author not know that ‘female’ is not a species?”
She shrugged. “That’s what I thought. I plan to read it later this week if I have time.” She held her hand out for the book, hoping her father would hand it back. “Until I know whether it will add to what I know or not, I thought I’d put it into my cabinet.” She grimaced. “If it’s terrible, I’d rather no one else be exposed to it.”
Her father chuckled and hefted the large tome. “I hope it’s not that poor. That would be a waste of good ink and paper.”
She waved the hand she held out then dropped it, her heart in her throat. “It could always be used as a base for a plant or a bust.”
“That’s my Joanna, always thinking.”
He handed the book back to her, and she let out an audible sigh as she grasped it once again, her heart finally slowing to a more normal pace. “I will read it cover to cover and give you any new details worth sharing.” Holding the book against her chest, she turned the conversation. “How was your Deliberation Club meeting last eve?”
Her father picked upThe Timesfrom the table next to his chair and held it up. “The paper was far more interesting. I’m afraid Lord Hennings couldn’t stop talking about a new bill being discussed in parliament and Lord Randolf became fixated on the color spectrum.” He shook his head. “I fear I may need to invite more gentlemen to join us if I am to have any stimulating conversation whatsoever.”
