Anna perked up, her eyes widening. She opened her mouth to say something, but Olivia cast her a pleading look, silently saying,“Do not speak for me, or I might lose the courage to speak for myself.”Anna immediately closed her mouth again, waiting patiently.
“What sickness?” Phoebe jumped up from the chair she had been occupying, hurrying over to touch her hand to Olivia’s brow. “You do not feel feverish. A little clammy, but that is to be expected after what you have endured. When my little sister rolled her ankle, she perspired all the way through her day dress.”
Olivia took Phoebe’s hand and held it for a moment. “Ladies, I do not know how it has come to pass, but… I am falling in love with him. I have tried to prevent it, tried to hate him, tried everything I can think of, but this… contagion will not relent.” Her breath hitched. “There was a moment in the woods where I thought he might kiss me, and… I found that I wanted him to. Of course, I resisted that feeling, but it now aches far more than this wretched wrist.”
Three of her four friends stared at her as if she needed to be wielded away to an asylum immediately, while Anna clasped her hands together and sighed, gazing at Olivia with a look of such happiness that Olivia did not know if she should say what had to be said next.
“But, before you convince yourselves otherwise, I am still determined,” she went on. “I understand that what I am feeling is fleeting and is a trick of the mind to lure me into the institution of marriage, where it will be too late to escape. Nor am I too blinded by these feelings to ignore what manner of man Evan is. A rogue, a rake, a scoundrel, and unlike my mother, I will not trap myself with someone who will tire of me in a season. I will not be sentenced to breaking my heart time and again, watching the clock, wondering when my husband will return, while knowing he is out there with some other woman, doing goodness knows what.”
Her friends clustered around her, the bed creaking as they all clambered onto it, surrounding her with affection and support. Although, Olivia could see that Anna was disappointed.
“As we know, it is almost expected for a husband to take a lover or more,” Olivia continued haltingly. “Society forgives it, and so we are expected to, but I will not put myself in such a vile position. My heart is not for breaking and, as such, I cannot allow any man to have it, for even if Evan was not a renowned rake, he would be careless with it; that is a man’s nature. Yet, I do not know what to do. Due to these unexpected feelings, none of what I planned, whatweplanned, will suffice. I cannot pretend; I cannot even be near to him, for I lose all sense of reason and purpose.”
Anna raised her hand. Olivia was about to ask for her silence, but Anna hurtled on regardless, saying softly, “But what if he loves you? Thereisstrength in love, no matter what you all think.”
“I think that would be worse,” Olivia confessed, prompting Anna to furrow her brow in confusion. “If he were to love me, if I were to love him, would it not be the most agonizing pain when that love shattered?”
Anna pursed her lips. “Why be pessimistic?”
“You know why,” Olivia replied. “I wish I could hope as you do, I wish I had the optimism that givesyoustrength, but all of that was dashed for me at twelve years old.”
It was a story that her friends had heard many times, in fragmented pieces, until the whole picture had been formed for them. At twelve years old, attending a Christmastide Ball at the residence of her mother’s dearest friend, Olivia had witnessed what no child should have to see. She had gone in search of a raspberry ice, sneaking underneath the tables in the refreshment room so she could swipe as many as she pleased.
By chance, she had poked her head out to see if anyone was around, eager to steal one of the cream cakes she had spotted, when she noticed two people standing in the mouth of the narrow servants’ corridor, a short distance from her hiding place. They must have thought they could not be seen, thanks to the heavy velvet drape thatshouldhave concealed the entrance, but the weighted hem had caught on the leg of a chair, offering a glimpse into that shady corridor.
Olivia might have left it at that, thinking it nothing more than a grown-up peculiarity that did not concern her, when she heard a familiar voice mumbling, “My wife and daughter will be visiting family this coming Saturday. Say you will join me? Say you will grant me the gift of your presence, for I will not sleep until I have possessed the dream of you?”
Olivia’s mouth had fallen open, her eyes widening in horror as she caught sight of the gentleman’s face. Her father’s face. But the woman standing with him, his arms around her, was not Olivia’s mother.
“Nothing could prevent me,” the woman had replied, giggling.
Olivia wished she had looked away, but it was akin to watching a rider fall in a horse race; she could not tear her gaze from the terrible sight. As such, she saw her father crush his lips against those of another woman, kissing her in a way that Olivia had never seen him kiss her mother.
A gaggle of ladies had entered the refreshments room at that moment, jolting the sordid pair apart. The young woman her father had kissed covered her sinful mouth with her hand, stifling a laugh as she hurried off down the hallway. A few moments later, Olivia’s father followed.
If she had known what she had discovered later with the help of her friends about marriage and affairs and the blasé attitude of gentlemen toward the vow of fidelity, perhaps she might have held her tongue. Perhaps she might have understood that such things were simply not spoken about. But, at twelve years old, all she knew was that she was supposed to tell her parents when she saw that someone had done something wrong. Naturally, she realized she could not go to her father, but her mother had to be told.
Later in life, Olivia wondered if she had somehow hoped that her mother would be able to explain it away as nothing at all: a misunderstanding. Instead, when Olivia found her mother in the powder room and informed her of what she had seen, her mother just stared at her reflection in the mirror, muttering, “This is our lot. All men are like this.”
That night, Olivia had heard her mother and father arguing in the drawing room of their residence. A not uncommon occurrence, but never so loud or furious. Then, Olivia had heard the slam of the front door… then crying, wailing through the hallways from her mother’s strained throat, left alone in her marital home while her husband rode off into the arms of another woman.
Over the years, while eavesdropping or listening to the gossip of the maids, Olivia had learned that the lady in the servants’ corridor had not been the first and was not the last. Her father seemed to change his mistresses and lovers with the seasons, and all her mother could do was accept it, feigning ignorance with every “business venture” that took Olivia’s father to London and Bath and Bristol and Manchester and Edinburgh, among many others.
Remembering the nights she had spent at her mother’s side, watching her hold back tears, or the mornings where she had seen her mother force a smile and wave off her traitorous husband, Olivia was suddenly overwhelmed with fatigue, her heart aching as much as her shoulder.
“Might you leave me?” she asked, looking to her friends. “I am tired from the hunt, and I would rest awhile before the physician arrives.”
Leah, who had barely said a word, smiled sadly. “Sleep well, dearest Olivia, but do not dream of him.” She sighed. “I promise you, what you are feeling is not real. Do not let him ruin you.”
Olivia wished she could believe her friend, wished it was that simple.
“We will reconvene later,” Matilda said. “In the meantime, we shall draw up a new battleplan for you. If you cannot trust yourself to be near him, have no fear; we shall act on your behalf.”
Phoebe leaned over and pressed a kiss to Olivia’s sweaty brow. “I shall ask that a tea tray be sent up to you. There is very little that a cup of tea cannot remedy, and it will surely help you to rest.”
“Thank you,” Olivia whispered.
As the three true spinsters made their way to the bedchamber door, Anna lingered, and as she bent closer to Olivia’s ear, she said, “I believe itisreal, what you are feeling, and… I think you would be a fool not to seize happiness with both hands. Love is a rarity. It should not be ignored when it comes along.” She paused. “For some, it never will.”
