“I know. You were lost in your music, as always.” He pulled a chair beside the instrument and sat. “I hoped to have a conversation with you if you can spare the time.”
“Of course, Papa. I was just playing a little, that is all. I will confess to being surprised at seeing you, as I was not expecting you to return from London until the day after tomorrow.”
“I have returned early and with good cause. It is why I wished to speak to you.” He paused and she braced herself as she could never tell if her father was being serious or mischievous. When he spoke again, it was with some hesitation. “The three of us are to go on a journey.”
Her face lit up then. “A journey? I know you received a letter from our uncle, Lord Dorset, earlier today. I also received one. Are we to visit him in Shropshire?”
The mere thought of visiting their aunt and uncle, the brother of her late mother, at their estate in Shropshire delighted her. Their estate was home to a lovely vineyard and located in a valley surrounded by beautiful rolling hills.
She would spend hours upon hours walking, often without seeing so much as a single person. Even when she did encounter a resident of the village, everyone was always pleasant, nobody looked at her with the horrified expressions she was so familiar with.
If only I could explain to anyone how much that means to me. But then, what I really love about Shropshire is how close I feel to my mother. She grew up there, her spirit lingers in every corner. I can feel her presence beside me wherever I go. Shropshire is the only place on earth where I can truly feel at peace and remember her as she was: happy, cheerful, and loving. Oh, Mama…. What I wouldn’t give for one more walk in those hills with you.
She could not wait for another visit there and looked at her father, ready to inquire for details, but then she saw the expression on his face.
His eyes, as blue as that of his daughters, had a look of reluctance in them. The same look he always had when he was about to disappoint her.
“We are not going to Shropshire, are we?”
He shook his head. “Not right now. I am sorry. I have spoken to your uncle about your spending Christmastide with them and he has agreed. But for the time being, I’m afraid our journey will take us elsewhere.”
She tilted her head to one side and waited.
“We are to go on a visit to the Duke of Goldclaw’s estate.”
“We are to go to Portsmouth?” Ruth exclaimed with some dismay.
“You truly are a marvel. I never could memorize all of the Peers of the Realm and their home estates.”
She shrugged. Their governess always took great care in teaching both her and Sophia the titles of all of the most important and influential dukes, marquess, and earls. In their society, it was considered becoming of a young lady to be able to recognize and place any high-ranking lord they might encounter. Less importance was placed on viscounts and barons, but Ruth could name all of those as well.
It was because of this knowledge that she’d known at once that visiting the Duke of Goldclaw meant a visit to the seaside town of Portsmouth.
She did not much enjoy visits to the seaside as it was always crowded. People stared at her as though she had escaped from the Royal Menagerie in London.
“We are Ruth. It is a lovely town. You will enjoy it.”
She shrugged. “Sophia will be delighted. You know how much she loves the sea.”
Her father nodded regretfully. “And I know that you do not. I am sorry. Alas, it is an invitation I could not decline. For…” He looked away, fixing his gaze to the family portrait above the fireplace. She turned, looking at the same painting. It had hung in the same place since she was a child, although she’d developed a habit of not looking at it at all. She did not like to be reminded of the life they once had before the terrible fire changed everything forever. She did not like to see her mother, smiling and happy, and so full of life. And she did not like to look at the beautiful young girl she’d once been before the fire robbed her of it.
When he looked at her once more, he cleared his throat. “We are to meet with the Duke’s son, the Marquess of Rotham, to discuss the possibility of a union between our two families, should romance happen to bloom.”
Ruth nodded. “I am sure Sophia will be pleased. For it is Sophia who is the candidate for marriage, I assume.”
“Not necessarily, Ruth. The Duke would like to meet you both and… nothing is set in stone. The Marquess is not in a terrible rush to marry, but if it all works out and he takes a liking to either of you…”
Ruth shook her head. “Papa… Do you really believe a man faced with selecting between Sophia and I would choose me?”
“I am sorry, Ruth. Do not fret. Even if he chooses Sophia, we will find you a husband, too. One day soon the matchmaker will find the perfect match for you.”
“Of course, she will.” She said the words without any conviction, as she had none. The matchmaker, a kindly older woman named Mrs. Stewart, had been trying to arrange a courtship for Ruth for two years now. Not that Ruth ever had any hope for success in the matter. She was quite resigned to ending up on the shelf. After all, who would want someone like her? Someone as disfigured as she was. Without noticing she was even doing it, her hand traveled to the left-hand side of her face. An angry raised red scar started from just under her left eye and traveled all the way to her jawbone. She did not remember emerging from the wine cellar with her hair alight. Nor did she remember how the governess had put it out by rolling her in the grass. She had no memory of any of it. Not until she woke days later in terrible pain and with a ghastly mark on her face.
So terrible was it that there were no mirrors anywhere in their home, but she still knew what it looked like. She could not help looking at her reflection in the backs of the polished silver spoons. No, nobody would marry her. Not for love, anyhow. Suddenly her father pulled her out of her thoughts by placing his hand on her wrist.
“Never forget that you are beautiful in your own way. You have the biggest, kindest heart of anyone I ever met. You are smart, you are accomplished in music and the arts, and you have a beautiful singing voice. All desirable qualities in a Lady.”
“And yet, if ever I find a husband it will not be due to any of them. It will be due to your wealth and title. My husband will not be a man who cares for my playing of the harp or the piano, or my ability to read Latin and Greek. It will be a man who is in need of elevating his family in society by way of marrying a Duke’s daughter. Or it will be a nobleman without a sixpence to scratch together, in need of your wealth.”
