Page 26 of The Pureblood Daughter
Adelina lets out an aggravated sigh, barely repressing the urge to scream. Her dress is too tight, the room is too hot, and the ticking of the clock standing in the corner is nearly enough to drive her mad. She grabs the letter from the settee and skims it before crushing it in one palm.
“Rose!” she snaps, then storms out of the room to find her lady’s maid and demand a filling meal be prepared at once.
Something is most certainly thematter with me.
Adelina is seated at her vanity, and she leans forward to examine her countenance more closely. The dark circles beneath her eyes appear deathly in the candlelight, and the pale blue veins beneath her skin are more visible now than she recalls them being even a day before. Her head throbs with pain, and even her teeth are tender, which only served to further inflame her over dinner. Lord Gray is not home—he’s likely off at one of the gentleman’s clubs he frequents—so Adelina and her mother sat at opposite ends of the table, neither willing to yield. The silence was only made more suffocating by the pain in Adelina’s gums, which feels as if her third molars are coming in again.
Adelina sits back from the mirror just as a sharp rap sounds at the window.
I told Rose to open the window, Adelina thinks, her frustration sudden and unreasonable. It seems everything Rose does is nettling to her lately.
She stands, the lacey hem of her nightdress falling about her bare feet, and crosses the cool hardwood floor to the closed window. Unlatching it, she pushes the window open and finds Celeste perched in the elm tree outside, yellow eyes wide in the dying light. The sight of her soothes the irritation swirling through Adelina’s veins, and she releases a sigh of relief.
“Come,” she says to the owl before stepping away from the window.
Celeste glides into Adelina’s bedroom on silent wings and lands on a hand-carved bedpost. A feather drifts to the floor as Adelina reaches confidently for the parchment tied delicately about Celeste’s leg.
“Thank you.” She reaches out and runs her fingers over Celeste’s silky head, a small smile pulling at her lips. The owl remains on the bedpost as Adelina moves to sit at her desk and holds the letter up to the gently flickering candlelight.
Miss Gray,
I trust you received my letter this afternoon. Hopefully your mama did not withhold it from you. I’m not nescient of the distaste your father has for my family, nor the effects it’s likely had on you. For now, I can only apologize and hope that perhaps one day you will come to understand.
Assuming you did receive my correspondence, I wish you to know I will not be at the opera tomorrow evening. I’d much prefer a quiet eventide at the lake while the upper orders are otherwise engaged.
Should you find yourself inclined to meet, you’ll find me at the water’s edge shortly after nightfall.
Yours,
—TR
Adelina lowers the letter and catches her lower lip between her teeth to keep from grinning.
“Genius,” she whispers, then tosses her dark hair over her shoulder and turns to Celeste. “He’s a genius, Celeste.”
The owl tips her head and blinks slowly, perhaps in concurrence.
“Of course, you already knew that, didn’t you?” She turns back to her writing desk and pulls the candle closer before retrieving a fresh sheet of parchment and her quill.
If he’s a genius, then I most certainly must be mad, speaking to a bird.Adelina glances back at Celeste, half expecting the owl to be scowling at the insult.
Adelina takes a deep breath, dips her quill into the inkwell, and begins to write.
My Lord,
I did indeed receive your letter, and now I’ve you to blame for the quarrel with my mother. She’s innocent in the whole mess, of course. I’ve been temperamental of late.
My father has forbidden me from seeing you, though I’ve no inkling as to why. Perhaps I’d understand if only you would elaborate on the mysterious relations between your family and mine. I’ve missed something, clearly...
Sitting here now, I believe I feel a headache coming on. Should it continue, I’ll most certainly not be in attendance at the opera. But perhaps an evening lakeside would ease my anguish. The summer nights have a way of healing many discomforts.
—A. Gray
Adelina reads back over her letter, then folds the paper in thirds, then in half, and seals it with wax. Rolling it up, she ties it with ribbon and secures it to Celeste’s leg.
“You’ve become a dear friend, Celeste,” Adelina whispers, “even if it does mean I’m going mad.”
The owl hoots softly, then spreads her winds and soars out the open window and into the night.
