Chapter Nine
“Gentle is thebreeze that flows through my window and lifts my spirits, for I have been too heavy of heart to raise myself up from the doldrums below me.”
Lucinda put down the book of poetry by a gentleman poet called Barton. Was she open to the breeze? Had she been hovering above the doldrums since the day her father had left her behind? Like a clock whose hands were stuck at midnight, she had not moved, rusted in place.
If her father had known what she had gone through, would he have left her at the first school? If he knew what she had endured? Others teased her for being snobbish because most of them came from merchant-class families while she was a gentleman’s daughter.
Her teacher, Mrs. Wilford, had thought she was too high in the instep, too willful and spoiled. And her hands had paid the price at the tender age of nine. She had learned quickly never to show tears and to keep to herself. They had tried to break her, but part of her had held safe the part of her that dreamed one day her father would come to get her.
The day she was informed her father had died was the day her dream of ever having a life of her own choosing was dashed. Her life was in the hands of others, and they too soon forgot about her.
Now, as she looked around the room that was hers for now? Did she have a reason to hope for more? She had to. There would be no second chance.
Calling cards had been coming in all morning and Marianne had told her to prepare for a parlor full of gentlemen. As she made her way down the stairs, she thought about the kiss Tony had given her right here on the bottom step. The thought of being in the arms of her guardian and never leaving was a tempting one. That wistfulness soon turned to anger. He had rejected her and then left her, like all the men who had come into her life. Her father, Lord Markham, and his son, Captain Markham. How long would it be until Tony left her solely to his mother and sister?
With a sigh, she pinched her cheeks; she took a few breaths then nodded to a footman who opened the door. She sailed into the room, determined to show these men she was worth their time.
“Ah, here she is.” The dowager swept her arm across the room. “These gentlemen have come to make your acquaintance.”
“How lovely.” She curtseyed to the men who thrust flowers and boxes of sweets at her. The dowager signaled a maid to take her gifts away. Tea was poured and a lively conversation started.
“Miss Sterling and Lady Ashton, I would love to take you riding in the park tomorrow, if permission was granted by the dowager of course,” Lord Lumley asked.
Lucinda bit her lip. This is where they would find her education severely lacking. “I fear I do not ride, my lord, but Marianne does.” Lord Lumley bowed, and Marianne replied, “Perhaps, my lord, if Mother approves.”
The dowager put down the teapot and smiled. “I will think on it.”
Lord Calvin asked, “Are you participating in the promenade in Hyde Park this afternoon, Miss Sterling?”
“I am not sure.” She looked over at the dowager who smiled again at the man.
“We are taking in an exhibition this afternoon but perhaps tomorrow if the weather is fine.”
This sort of questioning went on for some time, and Lucinda’s head began to whirl. So many questions. She did notice that Lord Dunstan was not among the gentlemen, and she could not decide if she was disappointed or not.
“Lucinda, why don’t you play for us?” Marianne went to the pianoforte. “I will turn the pages for you.”
If it would stop the endless questions, she would play the spoons. Taking her seat at the pianoforte, she looked through a few songs until she found one that was vaguely familiar. As she played, the gentlemen went quiet.
Marianne whispered to her, “You play much better than I.”
“It is nice to play on an instrument that is not out of tune.” Lucinda played two more songs and then Marianne took a turn to play a song and once they finished, everyone clapped.
“You both play like angels,” one of the gentlemen said.
“Such accomplished young ladies,” said another.
“I am afraid our time is up as we must get ready for our next engagement. Thank you all for coming.” The dowager duchess ushered them all out of the room with a grin on her face. Once the door was closed, she turned and clapped. “You both did so well. I must admit at one stage I thought I might get a headache as they were all talking and asking questions at once. It is time to rest a little before the exhibition. I will send a maid up when it is time to dress.”
Lucinda was thankful for the time alone to sort through her thoughts on the men who had turned up today. None of them were particularly interesting although one or two were quite handsome. She wondered why Lord Dunstan had not come. Hemay have called on another young lady instead. It was not as though she had a monopoly on him.
Why was it that every time she thought of Dunstan, she compared him to Tony? It was unfair as one was the one she wanted but could not have and the other she was not even sure was interested in her.
The dowager was quite put out that Lord Dunstan had not turned up and made a note of it. Lucinda was not sure if she was disappointed or not. She was disappointed that Tony had not been present. She wondered where he was. With Lord Stafford, presumably, doing whatever it was that he did for the man. In any case, he had not been there to do his job for her, which had been to guide her on the men who had graced the parlor.
“Lucinda! Are younot ready yet? The carriage is waiting. Don’t you want to see the art exhibit on Bond Street?” Marianne came scurrying into the room, bonnet in hand.
“Yes, yes of course.” Lucinda put down her poetry book and picked up her bonnet and shawl and hurriedly followed Marianne down the stairs and into the carriage.
