IT TOOK ALL MARIAH’S SELF-CONTROL not to weep at the party. Charles didn’t return to the ballroom for nearly a half hour after she did, and he didn’t look at her again until they stood by the door to bid the guests farewell. When he finally acknowledged her presence, she couldn’t tell if his expression held anger or contempt. Possibly both.
What a mess I’ve made of things, Mariah thought as she walked slowly back to her room. She schooled her face into a smile. She couldn’t let Sophie know that she’d betrayed their secret … twice. She opened the door and saw no sign of her sister. The bed was made, but a rope was tied to the corner post, and their window left open. Mariah saw a scrap of paper on top of the desk. She hurried over and read it.
She gasped. Sophie was gone. Mrs. Miller seemed like a kind woman, but Mariah could not help but feel a pang of regret at leaving. She would miss this house and all the books inside it. She would even miss Aunt Bentley and the opportunity to learn more about her mother. But most of all, if she was being honest with herself, she would miss Charles. Their talks about books. Their walks. And their adventures together.
She didn’t bother to undress. She climbed into the bed face-first and buried her head into the pillow, finally releasing the tears that had been threatening to come out all evening.
Mariah woke up when Adell entered her room with her breakfast.
“Miss Sophie, you ought to have gotten undressed last night,” Adell scolded, placing the tray on the table beside the bed. “Your dress is all wrinkled. Although, how you manage to get in and out without my help is a mystery.”
Mariah wanted to put the pillow over her head and hide from the daylight, but she couldn’t hide from her feelings for Charles.
“Would you help me dress today, Adell?”
“Of course, miss,” she said. “I’m always willing to help. It’s my job.”
Adell helped Mariah out of her beautiful—but very wrinkled—gown and into a morning dress of light green with a large white collar. After Mariah dismissed Adell, she sat down at the table to sip her hot chocolate and reread Sophie’s letter about leaving their aunt’s house. Aunt Bentley; Mariah cringed when she thought about how Aunt Bentley would take the news of their charade. Mariah knew she would be livid, but would she reject her as Mrs. Trenton had? Or could Aunt Bentley forgive them as she hadn’t been able to forgive their mother?
Mariah felt tears well up in her eyes, but she forced herself not to cry. If Charles was leaving today, then she needed to give Aunt Bentley the miniature for him. Mariah collected all her painting supplies and the art lesson letters from Mr. Ruskin and put them in the old carpetbag she’d brought from the Ellises’. She opened the table drawer and pulled out the small oval picture of her aunt. It was nearly done; she just needed to finish a few details. She dipped her paintbrush in the water basin that Adell had brought for Mariah to wash her face with. Then she carefully opened the black paint, dipped the brush in, and meticulously added the lace circles to the collar on her aunt’s dress.
When she was finished, Mariah washed her paintbrush and restored it to its place among her supplies. She stood up, resolutely breathing in and out. It was time to find out if her aunt knew the truth, and it was time to tell her that she was leaving today.
Mariah found her aunt in the yellow sitting room reading the morning newspaper.
“Sophie,” Aunt Bentley said in surprise, putting down her newspaper. “I didn’t expect to see you until the afternoon. You seemed quite done in after the party.”
“There is something that I need to tell you,” Mariah said.
Aunt Bentley shook her head. “There is no need. Charles has already explained about your invitation.”
Mariah pressed her palm over her racing heart, relieved that he’d kept her confidence.
“Do sit down, Sophie. What are you holding?”
Mariah sat by her aunt on the settee and with trembling hands held out the miniature. “It might be a little wet still,” she said. “Be careful that you only handle the sides for the next hour.”
Aunt Bentley delicately accepted the little painting. “It looks exactly like me!”
“I hope so,” Mariah said quietly.
Aunt Bentley brought it closer to her face and peered at every detail. She then placed the miniature on the side table.
“Thank you, Sophie,” she said. “I see that you’ve inherited your mother’s talent for art. She drew a sketch of me when we were girls, and Mama thought it was rather good.”
“I didn’t know that about my mother.”
“The less said about her the better,” Aunt Bentley said with an icy shift of tone. “She was a disappointment.”
Mariah didn’t know what to say in response and was relieved when the door opened.
“Charles!” Aunt Bentley called. “Don’t stand in the doorway. Come see the miniature Sophie painted of me for you.”
Charles looked from Aunt Bentley to Mariah as he skulked into the room. Aunt Bentley handed the painting to him. Mariah felt light-headed as he sat down between them. He was close enough to touch and how she longed to place her hand on his arm. To express her gratitude for his every kindness to her.
“Very fine,” he said after a few moments of quiet.
Mariah watched his face eagerly, but his eyes never looked in her direction.
Aunt Bentley seemed unaware of their constraint. “I was about to talk to Sophie about her plans to stay with the Millers.”
“I hope I haven’t offended you by accepting Mrs. Miller’s invitation without consulting you first.”
“Not at all,” Aunt Bentley said with a rare smile of approval. “It’s a prudent move on your part to secure a good match.”
“Mrs. Miller was also kind enough to invite my sister, Mariah, to stay with her,” Mariah said, trying to ignore her reddening cheeks.
“Your filial feelings do you credit, Sophie,” Aunt Bentley replied. “It was thoughtful of you to ask Mrs. Miller to include your sister in her invitation.”
Mariah looked down at her shaking hands and clenched them into fists. “Mr. Miller has already gone to Lyme Regis and escorted my sister here to their home in London. I believe she’ll be coming with Mrs. Miller today to fetch me … I’m sorry if our haste causes you any inconvenience, Aunt Bentley. You’ve been so generous to me, inviting me to stay and purchasing my clothes. I can’t thank you enough.”
Charles stood up, walking over to stare out the window. As if he could not bear to even look at Mariah.
Aunt Bentley wrinkled her nose and sniffed. “The Millers are fond of having their own way—which their fortune, of course, allows them to. I’ll have Adell pack your clothes. Did Mrs. Miller tell you a time, or are we to sit around all day at their convenience?”
“I-I’m sorry … I don’t know what time,” she admitted. “But before I leave, I was hoping to pay a short visit to Sir Thomas Watergate and Mrs. Spooner next door.”
“I wasn’t aware you were at all acquainted with those people.”
“We met quite by chance,” Mariah explained. “Sir Thomas is a great artist and has been so kind as to give me some advice on technique. I wouldn’t wish to slight them.”
“I suppose a short call would be adequate,” Aunt Bentley said. “Would you like me to accompany you?”
“No!” Mariah said, almost too quickly. “I mean, I really don’t think that it is necessary. I won’t be there longer than a quarter of an hour, and I’m sure you wish to speak to Charles privately before he leaves for New York.”
“Yes,” she agreed. “There is much to go over about the estate.”
“I’ll miss you, Aunt Bentley,” Mariah said, and was surprised to realize how true those words were.
Aunt Bentley sniffed and blinked several times. It was the most emotion Mariah had ever seen from her aunt; perhaps she was actually fond of Mariah in her own way. “Let us not get maudlin,” she said bracingly. “Pierce, the second footman, will accompany you on your call.”
“Thank you, Aunt,” Mariah said, a farewell hidden in her words. She took a step toward Charles but lost her nerve. “Goodbye, Charles.”
He nodded but didn’t say a word.
Mariah walked down the steps of her aunt’s house, twenty feet to the next house, and back up the steps, Pierce faithfully trailing behind her.
The Watergates’ butler answered their door and ushered Mariah into the sitting room. She was about to sit on the couch when Mrs. Spooner burst in.
“My dear, which one are you?”
Mariah laughed, something she wouldn’t have thought herself capable of an hour ago. “Mariah Carter, ma’am.”
Mrs. Spooner took both of Mariah’s hands and squeezed them. “Sit down, dear girl, I see that you’re making a formal call. With a footman, too! How fancy of you.”
Mariah sat next to Mrs. Spooner and smiled. “I’m afraid that it’s not so much a formal call as a formal farewell. Mrs. Miller has kindly invited both Sophie and me to stay with her.”
“I’ll miss my attic guests,” Mrs. Spooner said with a sigh. “I daresay the only ones I’ll find now will be mice.”
“I’ll miss you, too. Both of you,” Mariah said. “I’ve learned so much from your husband about painting, and so much from you about kindness.”
“Are you going to be staying with Mrs. Miller indefinitely?”
“For a little while; Sophie is looking for an apprenticeship with an inventor and I’m hoping to continue pursuing my art education and find my own employment. I have a small legacy that will keep me.”
“I’m glad that you’re not abandoning your art. Ah!” Mrs. Spooner said, tapping a finger against the side of her nose. “I have some news for you. The Royal Academy of Arts will debut Sir Thomas’s Joan of Arc, and they’ve agreed to display your painting in their gallery as well.”
“My painting?!”
“I entitled it Sisters,” Mrs. Spooner said. “I hope you don’t mind. I’ve a knack for naming things, you know.”
“Mind?” Mariah cried, wiping happy tears from her eyes. “I’m now doubly indebted to you.”
“Off with you,” Mrs. Spooner said with a warm smile. “Say farewell to your uppity aunt and go stay with the Millers. I’ll see that Sir Thomas sends you an invitation to the debut.”
Mariah gave Mrs. Spooner one last hug, then returned to her aunt’s house. She took off her hat and quickly climbed the stairs. When she opened the door to her room, she saw the housekeeper, Mrs. Kimball, and Adell standing by a trunk. Mrs. Kimball gave her a curt nod and Adell bobbed a curtsy.
“We’re all done packing your things, Miss Carter,” Mrs. Kimball said. “Come, Adell.”
With another nod, Mrs. Kimball left the room, Adell trailing behind her. Mariah lay down on the bed. She could feel fresh tears rising but willed them not to fall.
It was time to go.
This house was not her home—it never had been. Charles didn’t love her, and she didn’t need to be loved by him. She had herself, she had her sister, and she didn’t need anyone else. Mariah fell into a fitful sleep and was awakened by a smart rap on her door.
“Come in.”
Adell gently pushed open the door. “Lady Bentley would like you in the front sitting room, miss.”
“Thank you, Adell,” Mariah said. “I’ll come immediately.”
She straightened her red curls, tucking one strand of hair behind her ear. Then she sighed and walked the familiar path down the hall to the grand staircase and onward to the sitting room. She could hear the squeak of the front door opening—Sophie was here.
Her aunt was sitting on a sofa with a book in her hand—which she was not reading. Charles was still standing by the window, his face shadowed by the light. His complexion almost looked gray, the same color it had been when he was sick.
“Sit, Sophie, and look employed,” Aunt Bentley said brusquely. “We don’t want the Millers to assume we waited all day for their arrival.”
Which, of course, they had. Mariah sat down in a chair, just as the butler opened the door to the sitting room.
“Mr. Miller and Mrs. Miller,” Mr. Taylor said, “and Miss Carter.”
Mariah sighed in relief, but still felt her color mounting. She stood and shook hands with Mrs. Miller, who smiled at her, then looked over her shoulder to see Sophie and Mr. Miller. Ethan stepped toward her and bowed over her hand. Sophie threw her arms around Mariah and squeezed her tightly. Mariah pulled back and saw that Sophie was glowing with happiness in a borrowed gown.
“Miss Mariah Carter, allow me to introduce you to your aunt, Lady Bentley,” Mrs. Miller said with a knowing smile.
Sophie smiled and curtsied to Aunt Bentley, whose eyes were as large as coins.
“My goodness, child,” she said. “I had no idea you were so exactly the same.”
“We may look alike, Aunt Bentley, but we are not at all the same,” Sophie said with a wink at Mariah.
“Miss Carter,” Ethan said, taking Sophie by the elbow and turning her toward Charles, “may I introduce you to my cousin, Lord Bentley.”
Sophie curtsied. “Lord Bentley.”
“Miss Carter,” Charles said blankly. He took her hand and briefly bent over it.
Mrs. Miller kept the conversation going for a quarter of an hour, before Aunt Bentley called for the butler and instructed him to have “Miss Sophie’s” things brought down and put into the carriage. Mrs. Miller thanked Lady Bentley for a lovely visit and went to wait for the rest of the party by the door. Sophie and Ethan followed behind her.
“I hope to see you soon, Aunt Bentley,” Mariah said, surprising Aunt Bentley by embracing her. The older woman stood stiffly for a moment before softening and patting Mariah on the back.
Mariah turned to Charles and held out her hand. After a moment of hesitation, he took hers; his hand shook a little.
“I said some words last night that I’m sorry for this morning,” she said softly so that only Charles could hear. “I hope you prove everything you’ve set out to prove, especially to yourself. But most of all I hope you find happiness.”
Charles didn’t say anything. He bent over her hand before letting it go.
Mariah walked to Sophie and gratefully allowed her sister to put her arm around her waist. They left the house and entered the carriage, Ethan and Mrs. Miller seated on one side and Sophie and Mariah seated on the other.
“What a relief that’s over,” Mrs. Miller said, as they pulled away from the Bentleys’ house. She smiled kindly at the sisters. “Now, Sophie, introduce me properly to your sister.”
“Mrs. Miller, this is my sister, Mariah,” Sophie said with another of her dazzling smiles. “She’s a very talented painter and has all the sensibility I lack.”
Mariah blushed as Sophie and the Millers laughed.
“Mariah, I’m delighted to formally meet you,” Mrs. Miller said. “And I’m thrilled to have you stay with me for as long as you wish. All of my daughters are married, and I find myself quite without any female company. You’re doing me a great favor.”
“Thank you, Mrs. Miller,” Mariah said with a sniff. “I hope I won’t be a burden for too long.”
“You couldn’t be!” Mrs. Miller insisted with a wave of her hand. “I am delighted to have you for a companion while you pursue your art.”
Mariah looked into the woman’s face and saw only sincerity and caring. Her own eyes began to water; for so long she’d craved the love and attention of a mother figure. Sophie quickly supplied a handkerchief for her sister and gave her a one-armed hug.
“I would like very much to be your companion,” Mariah said wetly.
Mrs. Miller beamed. “There’s just one thing. I insist that my companions have only the most stylish of clothes, so I’ll have to take you both shopping for your own wardrobes. And I daresay each of you will like to select clothing that reflects your own unique personality.”
“Are you sure?” Mariah gently teased. “Sophie will want to purchase trousers.”
Everyone in the carriage laughed.