Chapter Twenty

 

A week went by and Lucy was thankful the nightmare that had plagued her that stormy night had not returned. She had woken to find Andrew asleep on the chair, having kept his promise to protect her through the night. Now she was in a carriage with Hannah on their way to tea with Eliza. The rain had subsided several days earlier, but the weather was cold and the skies gray.

“I want to thank you again for the new dress,” Hannah said as she brushed the tips of her fingers to the dark blue skirts as if the fabric would disintegrate if she were to touch it with her entire hand. “It is the most beautiful thing I have ever owned.”

“There is no need to thank me,” Lucy replied with a smile. “The dress suits you so well, I am afraid a suitor may ask to court you at our party and that I will lose you as a companion.”

Hannah let out a small laugh. “That is kind of you to say,” she said. “But I am no lady like you. No man will look at me twice, especially if he’s got a title.”

“You hold yourself as well as any lady,” Lucy assured her. “There are many men out there who care nothing for title or wealth, though they might be few.” She added the last with a giggle. “However, you must promise me that, when the day comes and you leave us to join your husband, you will write and visit me.”

“That is a promise,” Hannah said, though her voice held a bit of skepticism, which Lucy could understand. Few women crossed the lines set by class, especially one of the lower class to the upper. However, there were known women who had done so, and Hannah had as much of a chance to have an earl or a marquess fall in love with her as any woman she knew. Unless, of course, he was a man obsessed with his standing in society, of which there were all too many these days.

The carriage came to a stop before a large home with a white stone facade and a wide covered stoop. Lucy had many memories of Eliza’s home, and though they were all from some time ago, it felt like only last month since she had been here last. That strange feeling of emptiness threatened to overtake her, and she took a deep breath to overcome it. She had accepted few invitations and it was high time she accepted her fate and moved on with her life. Yes, she had very few memories of her recent life, but being among old friends and sharing in the latest gossip would be a wonderful relief from hours spent at home fretting over missing memories.

The door opened to a liveried butler, who gave them a deep bow. “Ladies,” he said in a nasally tone, “please come in. Mrs. Treverton is waiting for you in the sitting room.”

“Thank you,” Lucy said as she allowed the man to take her wrap, as well as Hannah’s. Then she followed him through a tall set of double doors to where a group of friends Lucy immediately recognized sat sipping tea.

“Lucy!” Eliza said as she set her tea on a low table. She made her way to Lucy and hugged her tightly. “It is so wonderful to see you.” She glanced at Hannah and smiled. “And who do we have here?”

Lucy reddened. “This is my friend and companion, Hannah Strossburg.”

“Welcome to my home, Hannah,” Eliza said warmly. “Betsy will be late, as she usually is.”

Lucy laughed. “At least I know that some things do not change.”

This brought about a titter of laughter from the other four women who sat waiting for the new arrivals to take a seat.

“I was just telling Eleanor about your accident and subsequent issues,” Eliza explained as she offered Lucy and Hannah a seat. “Tea?”

“Yes, please,” Lucy replied. Hannah hesitated, her hands wringing in her lap, but finally said “Yes” in a quiet voice.

“So, how are you feeling?” Eleanor asked in her high-pitched tone. Lucy often wondered, when others overheard the woman in public, if they searched for the young child to which that voice belonged. They had spoken on several occasions that Lucy could recall, but Lucy never particularly cared for the woman.

“I am much better,” she replied with a courteous smile.

“So, you have regained your memory, then?” the woman asked in a very forward manner that made Lucy feel very uncomfortable.

“Some,” Lucy replied, unwilling to share the intimate details of her memory loss with the woman, “but not all. However, Doctor Cooke believes it will return eventually.” Then she turned to Hannah in an attempt to change the subject. “Hannah here will be looking for a suitor at our party,” she said with a smile. “I would hope you ladies might help me in finding her a suitable beau.”

Nancy Drake, a robust woman who looked much more so than the last time Lucy had seen her, spoke up. “I believe Henry Elbert will be there.” She placed a finger on her chin. “Though, now that I recall, he may not be a man to be trusted.”

“Why is that?” Lucy asked, her curiosity piqued.

“One of his maids is with child, and I heard from Mary Thorne just last week that she saw both the maid and Mr. Elbert sneaking out of the engagement party for his brother not a fortnight ago. Apparently, he had insisted that the girl be at the party because they needed the extra help, but no other servant from Mr. Elbert’s household was asked to serve other than her.” She ended her tale with a punctuated lift of her eyebrows and a single nod to her heard.

Lucy sipped her tea as she listened to the woman speak, her brow scrunched. “So, she already knows the child is Mr. Elbert’s?” she asked.

A few of the other women laughed and Lucy felt her face heat up.

“It is obvious the child must be his,” Lady Martha Sorenson said with a wave of her hand, her tight dark curls bobbing with her head. “However, I heard something even worse.” She looked around the room, and when she leaned in and lowered her voice, the other women also leaned forward in in a conspiratorial manner. “Lord Powell struck his wife not ten days ago, and she fell down the stairs and lost the child she was carrying.”

A collective gasp resounded around the room, but Lucy felt an unsettled feeling in the pit of her stomach. Her last memories of meeting with these women and passing around the latest gossip of members of the ton had been fascinating, but now they held little enjoyment. For several minutes, she listened to a tale concerning Lady Rebecca Hoskins and the loss of her second unborn child, and as she took note of what these women were saying, she found only one thing was true: the woman no longer carried a child inside her. The remainder of the story was based in speculation and tidbits of rumors. Lucy herself did not know Lady Hoskins, but she could not imagine the pain the woman was enduring after such an ordeal. Yet, these women around her had no words of sorrow or sympathy for her condition, but rather continued to speculate aimlessly as to the cause of the woman’s lack of carrying a child successfully to term.

Lucy sipped her tea and found herself sitting silently in the chair as if to hide herself from the discussions around her, wondering if she had been as bad as these women were, and feeling sick to her stomach that, indeed, she probably had been.

***

Andrew looked up at the gray sky as he walked through his gardens. Though it was cold and his surroundings lacked color, the idea of fresh air had been much too tempting. It was in these very gardens that, while courting Lucy, that their love had begun to blossom. They had become new people, so changed from who they were before. Her defiant ways had lessened, and his unsavory behavior had calmed significantly by that time.

He came to a stop before a row of hedges, the small branches bare beneath his hand. One memory came to mind of when he had once told Lucy that there was always a brighter day ahead. Much like the plants, if one could overcome the winter, spring would bring new life. He sighed. How he wished the spring season of their marriage would come and bring new life and love back into it, for the winter they were experiencing at the moment was as brutal as an arctic storm.

With a shake to his head, he knew he must remain patient. Though only a few memories returned, he had faith that more would. Yes, the spring for which he hoped and prayed would return.

“If you hope to see the leaves return,” a voice that reminded him of a lovely violin said behind him, “I am afraid it will be quite a few more months.”

He laughed. Lucy wore a mischievous smile as she approached him, and he wished he had her ability to know the thoughts of others.

“Shall we take a walk before dinner?” she asked.

“I would love nothing more,” he replied as he proffered her his arm. She slipped her arm in his without hesitation, and he reveled in the way she smelled—of jasmine and Eau de Lucy.

They walked in silence, the only sounds the winter birds singing in the pale sun, though they remained hidden more than likely in the large branches of the elm trees where their song would not be disturbed by some unwitting human. “How was your outing?” he asked as they strolled down the footpath. “Did you enjoy yourself?”

She seemed to hesitate before answering. “It was nice to see old friends,” she replied slowly, “but I found a part of me there for which I did not particularly care.”

“Oh?” he asked, his curiosity piqued as to what part of her old self she had encountered. “And what was that?”

Her brow scrunched and she stopped below a tall tree to gather her thoughts. “Though it does not happen often, there are times when women are prone to discuss that which they have heard about others—rumors, I imagine one would say; that is, gossip.”

He stifled a chuckle. “I have heard that what you say occurs on rare occasion, yes,” he replied. “Please, continue.”

“Well, I will not bore you with that which we discussed, but I found myself feeling uneasy listening to some of the women comment on the misfortune of others. When I arrived at Eliza’s house, I was quite excited to share in these tales with my dearest friends as I once had; however, rather than enjoying the stories, I found myself feeling sad. The thought occurred to me that these tales, this gossip, perhaps do more harm than good to the people of whom those stories concern.”

Andrew smiled as he was reminded of a similar conversation in this very garden. Upon learning the truth concerning a rumor about her friend Charlotte, Lucy had realized how gossip could be hurtful, and that many of the tales that traverse the path of rumor are quite often lies, or perhaps mutilations of the truth. It had been the dawning of their newfound love.

“I am pleased to hear you say that the defiant and gossiping woman I once knew is gone once again,” he said as he gazed down at her. “I can see in your eyes that you have, once again, changed for the better.”

Her smile looked radiant as she slipped her hand in his. “It is true,” she replied, “for I feel that a portion of myself has been removed, but it was a part which needed to be left behind. Now I will focus on good things, not torn sleeves or falling off a cliff. The most important thing now is…” She stopped and her eyes widened.

“What is this most important thing?” he asked quietly.

“Us.”

He nodded and his heart soared. Perhaps now, after four long, excruciating months, they were taking a step toward the love they both needed to share.

“In time, everything will return,” he replied as he touched her cheek. “For now, let us go eat; you know I do not like being late.”

This brought on the light tinkle of laughter he loved to hear, and this time, as they walked, she pressed in closer to him and he to her. As they passed another row of hedges which stood bereft of its summer glory, he smiled. As with those empty branches were to the hedge, their spring would come one day and bring life to a rather dreary day.