“Wait here. I’ll go see if Miss Burghley is taking visitors.
If Frederica were home, she’d help. Ester fidgeted, but her bold friend would know what to do.
The man came back down the long hall of polished mahogany floors and detailed, gilded trimmings. His shiny, powder-blue livery held nothing to Clancy’s uniform. “Follow me, Miss Croome.”
Musical scales filtered to her, happy loving tunes, but Ester grieved too much to be moved. She focused on her slippers, which now appeared worn and old. Nothing like a fairy princess, as they had looked a week ago.
The butler escorted her inside to the music room, where Frederica practiced her pianoforte. The man held open the door, and Ester went inside.
Frederica lifted her spry head. The music stopped. She stood up from the polished chestnut instrument and floated to Ester in an emerald silk gown with epaulette braiding about the sleeves, a dress Ester had designed.
“If you are going out, Miss Burghley…I’ll…”
Her friend was at her side, holding her up as the tears fell. “Templeton,” she said, “bring some tea and a hair brush.”
The man looked at her as if she’d lost her mind.
Ester surely had.
The grandfather clock moaned thirty after seven, and she trembled. Bex could be dying from an angry mob, and she didn’t know where or how to save him.
Helping Ester to the sofa, Frederica sat beside her. She gathered her in her arms and just rocked her. “When you’re ready, tell me what happened. And who I have to bribe to go beat the tar out of Bex. Lousy actor. I should’ve told him so. How dare an actor answer my advertisement.”
Shaking her head, Ester wiped her eyes. “He’s a great actor, but I don’t know where he is.”
Frederica smoothed her hands on the velvety nape of the indigo sofa. “Tell me what has happened. Did you marry? Did your parents stop you? Are you sure I don’t need to have someone beat the tar out of him?”
Though, she didn’t know about the last one; maybe a good shaking was all that he needed, Ester waved her hand. “Slow down. I’ll tell you everything. Yes, Bex and I married. Yes, my parents caught us. They are the ones who insisted we go through with it, then they disowned me.”
Her brow crinkling with questions, Frederica popped up. “You’re married, so you successfully eloped. Your parents were there? I don’t see the problem. Was Bex mean to you? Was he violent? Do I need to tell my father?”
“Frederica, you’re not listening. Oh, why doesn’t Theodosia live in town, not hours away. She’s easier to talk to about these things.”
Frederica’s lips turned down like she’d bitten beetroot or a turnip. “Our friend doesn’t need to be upset right now.”
“Why?”
She waved her hand across her mouth as if she’d given away a secret. “I’ll tell you later, but first tell me very clearly and precisely what has happened.”
“Bex and I married. He’s kind and funny and never laid a hand on me except to kiss me. He’s dreamy at it. The best kisser, all I could want, but he doesn’t understand the danger he faces. There’s a reporter who wants to destroy him, and tonight he’s attending a rally.”
Folding her lean fingers together, Frederica said nothing for at least a minute. “You came here looking like a drowned rat not because he left you, or was mean to you, but because he went to a rally.Hmmm. A man given to speeches went to a rally. Shocking.”
“You don’t understand. He can be hurt tonight, and no will be there to help him. I’m not there to protect him.”
Frederica went back to her pianoforte. She flexed her fingers and plunked at the keys, doing her scales higher and higher. “Perhaps you should go there.”
Ester put her hands on her head, squashing her bonnet and making more of her shaggy chignon sputter out. She didn’t care. Concern for Bex’s safety had her near tears. “I don’t know wherethereis. I came here because I didn’t know what else to do. I thought you could help me reason. Maybe I should’ve stayed in Cheapside.”
“You live in Cheapside now?” Frederica made a harsh bang at the keyboard. “I don’t know if that is an elevation. Nineteen Fournier is a palace in comparison. Ester, you came here because you want action. You want Bex. Let’s go to the rally and find him. It’s at the Serpentine at Hyde Park.”
Shocked, Ester raised her head to the coffered ceiling. “How do you know this?”
“An old friend of my father’s. He’s an earl. I met with him today because the duke asked me to. The rally was all he could talk about.” Frowning deeply, she shook her head. “I think he thought that attending the abolition rally would impress me, since I am mulatto with a Blackamoor mother.” She plunked another horrid note that haunted and rang with finality. “Abolition is a worthy cause, but why not talk to me about poetry and dancing, something light and fun, like I’m a potential match or a friend. The earl won’t do. I’ll have to place another advertisement. I’m trying not to fret, but I’m running out of time to find a husband.”
Walking to the piano, Ester smiled at Frederica. She put a palm to her shoulder. “You will find the perfect respondent to your advertisement. It will happen. You’re meant to be happy.”
Her friend started playing again. This time it was a bittersweet melody. “Father is dining with Miss Stevens again. An engagement will come any day.”
