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“An old friend of my mother’s is coming to Bath,” Mother said that night. She kept her eyes on the hoop in front of her. “We shall have to invite her to dinner, do you not think?”
It was an innocent enough statement. But I had learned to look beyond such statements.
“Certainly,” I said, piercing the fabric with my needle. “I do love conversing with older ones. They have such excellent wisdom to share.”
Mother hummed a note. “Mrs. Forrester will be here with two of her grandchildren.”
Ah, as I had thought. I tried to believe Mother would have been hospitable if this Mrs. Forrester hadn’t been accompanied by a single grandson, but I wasn’t entirely sure. Most dinners now included someone my parents considered eligible.
Why couldn’t I have an eccentric great-aunt who would bestow a vast inheritance on me and I could be an independent lady?
“How lovely she is able to travel with family,” I commented, pulling my thread taunt. “Will this be their first time in Bath? Has she come to take the waters for a medical reason? Or is she simply looking for the company of society?”
“Yes, and I’m not sure,” Mother answered, keeping pace with my questions. “But you must be sure to show her grandchildren about town. It would be a gracious thing to do.”
“Oh, yes. I do know all the best shops to visit.”
Huffing, Mother sent a glare at me. “While I’m sure Miss Forrester will appreciate that, I doubt young Mr. Forrester would find such excursions to be to his taste.”
So, there was only one Mr. Forrester. Well, that was better than I had thought.
“I’m sure Miss Forrester and I shall enjoy each other’s company immensely,” I said. I paused to study my work, frowning when I noticed I had pulled a few stitches too tight and the fabric was bunching. “Is she out?”
“Naturally. Mr. Forrester is about your age, I believe.”
I hadn’t asked about Mr. Forrester. “How nice,” I said, keeping my tone neutral. “Do you know if Miss Forrester is musically inclined? If she is, I will be glad to add her to our musicale program.”
“You will have to ask her when you meet,” Mother said impatiently. “Your grandmother didn’t give me Miss Forrester’s list of accomplishments or a list of her likes or dislikes.”
No, but I was willing to bet there had been a detailed account of Mr. Forrester’s prospects. “I look forward to meeting them. I’m sure anyone whom Grandmother enjoys will be charming company. When shall they be arriving?”
“In the next day or two. I thought perhaps a picnic would be an excellent way to become acquainted.”
“An interesting notion,” I remarked. One which I was not going to encourage. Who else would we invite? “Perhaps the Forresters are not inclined to going on a picnic? I think we should wait until we meet them before we start making any particular plans.”
Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Mother shake her head. “There’s no need to pretend ignorance, Grace. You know as well as I that I think Mr. Forrester would be an excellent match for you. He is of good family and is the firstborn.”
“You think any single gentleman would be a good match, Mother. That is the problem. Any gentleman who is over the age of one and twenty and is unattached is acceptable in your eyes.”
“Now that is not true!” Mother exclaimed. “Mr. Ingram is unattached and I have never tried to arrange a match for you with him.”
That was true. However, at the same time... “You brought Sir Anthony, a widower with a fifteen-year-old daughter to dinner six months ago,” I said defensively. “He is closer to Papa’s age than mine!”
“He is a respectable and wealthy gentleman,” she defended. Mother’s voice went up several octaves. “Your future would be secure if you were the wife of a baronet. You could bear him an heir and then would be assured of a home for the rest of your life.”
“Now, now,” Papa said, straightening up from where he had been dozing in his chair. “Never say you two are quarrelling.”
“Grace is being unreasonable,” Mother said promptly. “She just refuses to see that I am doing my best for her.”
A headache was forming behind my eyes. “That’s not true at all. I understand your wish for me to be married, and that you are doing your best to achieve that objective. I have never said I wouldn’t pursue another courtship, but not until I am certain of the man’s character!”
Mother huffed. “As if I would introduce you to someone unsuitable!”
“Now, Grace, you know your mother and I are concerned about you,” Papa said, his tone placating. He removed his spectacles. “Most girls of your age have married. We would see you as happily situated.”
“It won’t be long before you are labelled as a spinster, if some have not already begun hinting at it,” Mother added, more harshly than I’d ever heard her before. “Then, your golden hair and fine eyes will have been for nothing! Who will have you? Do you wish to be a burden on your brothers?”
My hand began to tremble, so I set my needle down. Never had she spoken so bluntly or so cruelly. “I would—I would hope, I would be of some use to Alexander and Carolyn,” I said, dropping my gaze. “Unmarried aunts usually help with children, do they not?”
“Do you not want better for yourself?” Mother demanded.
“Now, let’s all take a moment to calm down,” Papa cut in as he stood up. “I know you both to be reasonable ladies. Take a moment to breathe. You’re both overtired.”
Mother pursed her lips. Carefully, I set my embroidery hoop aside. “Perhaps you are right, Papa,” I said, putting my threads away. “I believe I will go to my room now. Good night. Good night, Mother.”
Only my father bade me goodnight when I stood up. I kept my head up as I left the sitting room. “Honestly, John, she has allowed this grief to go on too long!” I heard Mother say as I closed the door.
Pressing my hand over my mouth, I rushed up to my room. Tears blurred my vision as I stumbled to my bed. When I could muffle my sobs in my pillow, I did so. “Oh, Jonathan!”
How could I look to the future with someone else? I rocked back and forth. I wanted nothing more than to have someone’s arm around me, to have someone understand my pain. I curled my hand, feeling the metal of the ring I always wore on my finger. It was the only thing I had to remember Jonathan by.
How could I think of someone else when my heart still cried?
Long after everyone in the household went to their beds, I sat and cried. I cried for my loss, the future that would never be, and for the smile, I would only ever see in a tiny portrait.
At least when I was alone, no one told me I had to move on.
****
IN THE MORNING, IT was as though the incident hadn’t happened at all. Nothing was said about the disagreement between me and my mother. She was entirely focused on the arrival of the Forresters.
We were invited to the Forrester’s first dinner party. As soon as I stepped foot into the drawing-room, I was introduced to the young Mr. Forrester. Mother’s instinct for manoeuvring showed itself as she drew Papa away to speak to another guest, leaving me alone with the young gentleman.
Thankfully, Mr. Forrester was good-natured about it even as he asked if Mother was attempting to be a matchmaker. He assured me his affections were engaged elsewhere and then offered to get me a drink.
I was able to breathe a little bit easier as he went to get me a glass of sherry. Mother would be immensely disappointed when she learned the truth, and I wondered how long I could wait before I told her. It would be nice to have a bit of time before she focused on her next victim.
Before I could make up my mind, more guests were announced. Mr. Cedric Johnson, who had been Mother’s prospect for me a month previous. He was followed by two gentlemen I did not know: Mr. John Ward and Mr. Lucas Bywood.
More introductions were made. Mr. Forrester handed me my drink and then fetched one for Mr. Bywood. And that was how I found myself with two of the single gentlemen in the room and a tedious conversation.
Mr. Bywood asked if I had been in Bath long and seemed surprised when I said I had lived there all my life. He asked for recommendations for what a newcomer to the area might do, only to be disappointed when I gave him the usual answer of shopping and taking the waters.
Our hostess entered, causing a much-needed distraction. In a matter of minutes, we were all going into the dining room. And much to my dismay, I was seated between Mr. Bywood and Mr. Johnson.
The only way it could have been more tiresome was if the widowed baronet were at the table. If he came for tea and cards after the meal, I would claim a headache and leave. My patience could only take so much.