CHAPTERONE
Cornwall, England
“Frederica? What are you doing?”
Frederica froze at her aunt, Honora’s voice. She waited a beat to see if Honora would find her then continued to tidy up the ashes from the loose fire.
“Frederica?” her aunt cried again.
Frederica kicked the fire screen back into place, brushed the ash off her skirt, then turned to greet her aunt who was now hastening in through the doorway.
Her rather eccentric aunt appeared, with her hooked nose lifted high and her hair pulled tight across her head. She was a strict soul; at least, that had been Frederica’s initial impression of her though after a year of living in Honora’s house, she saw her aunt rather differently.
“Were you cleaning again?” Honora raised one perfectly plucked eyebrow and placed her hands on her hips.
“No,” Frederica said in innocence. “Maybe a little,” she confessed, when Honora simply raised that eyebrow higher. “I like to help you, Aunt. You need some help in this house.” She reached behind her and adjusted the coal scuttle beside the fire.
“Hmm,” Honora murmured, not sounding convinced by the idea as she wrung her hands together.
Frederica was so grateful to Honora for her help this last year that offering a little help with the cleaning seemed like the very least she could do. One year ago, when Frederica had fled London with Charlotte’s help, she had managed to come to her aunt in Cornwall.
Honora, a distant aunt for she was really her father’s cousin, had offered to take Frederica in at once when she heard of her plight. Honora knew what it was like to have a scandal hanging over her head. She had suffered a similar scandal when she was young and had also fled to the countryside to escape the whispers.
Honora claimed to be happy as she was, but Frederica was not always convinced. She sensed some loneliness in her aunt and a need to have people with her. It would explain at least why Honora seemed to involve herself in every charitable thing that was passing in the local villages. It wasn’t just about helping others, but it gave her a sense of community, too.
“Enough cleaning. Come, come, there is something I need your help with.” Honora beckoned her out of the room.
Frederica followed her aunt into the adjoining drawing room, looking longingly back at the book she had been hoping to read though she knew she would have to abandon it now. As she entered the drawing room, she found herself being thrust into the nearest chair by her aunt.
A cup of tea was pressed into her hand then a slice of thick strawberry and cream cake was placed into the other.
“Eat up,” Honora urged though Frederica wondered how exactly she was supposed to eat when both of her hands were taken up with holding things. “Do you not like it?”
“Of course, I do. Thank you, Aunt,” Frederica said gushingly, trying her best to juggle the teacup and cake as she watched her aunt bustle around the room.
More cakes were quickly presented in front of Frederica, and she saw her aunt had catered for an entire party rather than just the two of them. With sadness, Frederica chewed slowly, wondering how much Honora longed to have guests to talk to.
“Now, tell me what you think of these.” Honora opened large white boxes which had been placed on an ottoman nearby. “I had them made by the village seamstress. There is to be an assembly at the end of the month and a gathering for our charity work in the spring. What do you think?”
She held up the first gown to her shoulders. It was very pretty with an excessive number of ruffles.
“I think —”
“Maybe there are too many ruffles. Yes, you’re right. How about this one instead?” She picked up a sage green gown and held that up to her shoulders.
“It’s —”
“Too green? Hmm, perhaps you’re right about that too.” As Honora rifled through the gowns, Frederica tried to hide her laughter by taking another bite of cake.
It charmed her to see how often Honora would long for her conversation then talk over her in her excitement and not really notice that Frederica hadn’t said anything at all. Frederica wouldn’t change her aunt for all the world.
It was pleasant to have someone so excited about her company. It was in sharp contrast to the parents Frederica had left behind.
She couldn’t even concentrate on the next dress Honora held to her shoulders as she thought of her parents.
Since the night she had fled her parents’ house, she hadn’t been back home, and they had not searched for her here. Plainly, her father either thought she wouldn’t travel all the way to Cornwall, or he thought so ill of his own cousin, he did not consider for a minute that Frederica would wish to see her.
Whatever the reason for not searching this house, Frederica was grateful for it. Her home with Honora was a warm and pleasant one, even if it meant missing two people she longed to see most desperately — Dorothy and Charlotte.
