“Oh, it’s dreadful, traveling on country roads,” Lady Chase fretted. “Hyacinth? Didn’t you hear me? Close the window, and go to bed.”
Hyacinth sucked in one last desperate breath of fresh air, and then closed the window with a defeated sigh. “I thought you were resting. Indeed, I’m certain you’d feel much better after a long, deep sleep.”
A deep sleep, or a swoon—any form of unconsciousness would do. Hyacinth was an affectionate and dutiful granddaughter, but after hours trapped in a cramped carriage without a breath of fresh air, her patience was at an end.
She hurried across the room and perched on the edge of her grandmother’s bed. “Now, lie back and close your eyes, won’t you?”
Lady Chase rested the back of a feeble hand against her forehead. “I can’t possibly sleep. All that dust and dirt has overset my nerves.”
Hyacinth hadn’t seen a particle of dust or a speck of dirt since they’d left Huntington Lodge, because her grandmother had insisted they seal the carriage up tighter than…well, than a tomb.
Still, she owed her grandmother’s nerves a debt of gratitude. If it wasn’t for their irascibility, they wouldn’t have stopped at Aylesford on their way back to London, and Hyacinth would still be trapped in that coach. If only her grandmother’s nerves would take the good lady off to sleep, Hyacinth would be grateful to them, indeed.
“Have you my vinaigrette, Hyacinth?”
Hyacinth pressed the bottle into her grandmother’s hand, and tucked the coverlet under her chin. “Yes, here it is. Now, go to sleep, won’t you?”
Lady Chase patted her hand. “I’ll try. You’re a good girl, my dear.”
Shewasa good girl. So good—so docile and accommodating.
A sweet young lady, to be sure, and an heiress, of course, but there’s no denying she’s a bit odd, and meek to a fault. Indeed, you will not find a more timid young lady in all of London. It will be so diverting watching her attempt to survive her season, though indeed, it’s unlikely the poor thing will make it through a single ball without fleeing to the ladies’ retiring room and cowering there for the rest of the night.
Was this her own voice, taunting her in her head, or was she simply repeating the whispers she’d heard others murmur behind her back? Hyacinth had given up trying to work it out. In the end, it made no difference.
It wasn’t, after all, as if the voice were wrong.
There was no sense in dwelling on thatnow, when her lungs were one gasp away from giving up entirely.
“You see how fragile Iris is, Hyacinth.” Her grandmother straightened against her pillows as if she’d suddenly caught a second wind. “I doubt she’ll be of much use to us this season.”
Hyacinth’s sister Iris and her husband Finn, the Marquess of Huntington, had accompanied them on the journey to London, and intended to remain in town for Hyacinth’s season. Their other sister Violet and her husband Nick, the Earl of Dare, were on their way from Ashdown Park, as well.
And thank goodness for it, because Hyacinth would need every resource at her disposal if she were going to survive her season. If one was going into battle, her brother-in-law Finn was just the gentleman to lead the charge. Not just because thetonpaid such deference to his rank, but because he was grand, stern, imposing, and fiercely protective.
Finn was, in short, rather terrifying. It was a useful quality, particularly when one must deal with theton. “Finn will be there.”
Lady Chase let out a heavy sigh. “Yes, yes, but men are never much help with such things, though I daresay he’ll prove more useful than either Iris or Violet.”
Her sisters were bothenceinte, and suffered from extreme irritability—ah, that is, fromfatigue. Yes, yes, that was the proper word for it. Even the short journey from Huntington Lodge had aggravated…that is,exhaustedIris, and Finn had taken her away to the privacy of their room as soon as they’d arrived at the inn this evening.
“A child is a blessed event, to be sure, but I don’t see why both your sisters must be blessednow. It’s most inconvenient of them. I don’t doubt I’ll be left to manage your season myself. It’s certain to take a toll on my health, but it can’t be helped, and you know I never think of myself in these cases.”
Hyacinth surreptitiously wiped her hands on her skirts. Her palms went damp when anyone so much as breathed a word about her upcoming season. There was no telling what wardrobe disaster might occur when she found herself trapped in the middle of a ballroom.
Flimsy silk was, alas, no match for sticky panic.
“I know, Grandmother, and it’s your health I’m concerned with at the moment. You need to rest.” Hyacinth tried to keep the desperation from her voice. “Consider your nerves.”
“Yes, yes. I will.” Lady Chase obediently closed her eyes, but before Hyacinth could draw a relieved breath, they popped open again. “That is, I’ll try to rest, but I daresay I won’t sleep a wink. Not a single wink, Hyacinth, until you’re safely married. Another marquess, I think, or even a duke this time…”
Hyacinth watched her grandmother’s lids grow heavier, then heavier still. Any moment now…
Lady Chase’s eyelashes fluttered, and at last, she let out a long sigh. Her head lolled back against the pillow, and the buzz of a snore filled the room.
“Grandmother?” Hyacinth waited, breath held, for her grandmother’s eyes to snap open again, but Lady Chase had succumbed to the laudanum at last.
Thank goodness.
