Page 15 of On a Midsummer Night
“Yes, I know.”
She hadn’t meant to say the words with such pride, but Beth couldn’t help herself. For the first two years, she had meticulously worked on her craft and perfected her style, and finally dared to share her work with her parents. They had been amazed by her talent, so much so that Beth later learned her father had sent several of her sketches to his old friend Lady Jersey. The countess had been enamored and promptly asked Beth if she could design other cards for her, offering to pay a tidy sum. Naturally, Beth had agreed, for how could she not? She was passionate about her art, and now she had a wealthy benefactress who wanted to pay her for it.
“Are you . . . the artist who draws all those beautiful cards?” Lucy asked, her eyes as wide as guineas.
“Once Lady Jersey began sharing them, I was inundated with orders from printers to design more. I’ve been doing it ever since.” Beth shrugged. “Greeting cards have become all the rage, and I’ve been very blessed to be a part of it.”
“That is amazing, Beth.” Lucy dropped her gaze to the sketch she held in her hand. “You are amazing.”
“Thank you,” she murmured, satisfaction wrapping around her chest and squeezing tight.
“When do you even have time to create such lovely scenes?” Lucy held up a drawing she’d done of a wildflower-filled meadow. “Mother has our social calendar so full that I feel one day blends into the next.”
“I awake early, while the world is still asleep, and draw.” Beth extracted a sketch from the pile. “I drew this one the first morning I was here. It’s the view from the front door of the manor house in Wales.”
It was of rolling greens hills, dotted with meadow buttercups and purple crocus as far as the eye could see. And on the horizon was the sea, the bluest of blue, so blue that Beth had never been able to replicate it with paint. As it was, it was impossible to do the Welsh landscape justice with her array of art tools, but she liked to stare at the sketch, nevertheless. She could almost taste the salt in the air when she looked at it.
“You’ve made a fortune doing this, haven’t you?” Lucy whispered the words, her eyes darting to the door as if concerned they would be overheard.
Beth stared down at her art. “Large enough that if I wanted, I could purchase a townhome here in London all for myself and live in comfort.”
“Why don’t you?” Lucy threw her arms wide. “If I had the means to, I would leave this house and never come back.”
“Because I wanted to know you better.” Beth drew her into a hug. “We are cousins, yet we have spent our whole lives apart. When your mother extended the invitation for me to join you this season, it sounded like an adventure. And it has been.”
A gut-wrenching, emotional adventure, but then hadn’t she grown bored of her life in Wales?
Lucy exhaled. “I suppose it has been. And it would not have been possible without you here with me.”
An uncomfortable lump formed in her throat, and Beth’s throat bobbed. Leaning her cheek against the top of Lucy’s head, she said, “You’re so young. There’s no harm in spending a year or two simply enjoying life here in London without worrying about securing a husband. It’s not as if you need to marry immediately.”
“That’s true, although I know Mother would not see it that way.”
No, Aunt Meredith certainly would not.
“And what of you?” Lucy raised her brows. “Seeing as how you’re wealthy now, do you not wish to marry?”
Inexplicably, Beth’s cheeks went hot, and she ducked her head. “Oh, I–I would love to marry someday. To spend my life with a man I respect and admire, who admires and respects me in turn. I thought I might have that at one point, but it wasn’t to be.”
“You’re speaking of Mr. Newell?”
“No.” She shook her head. “I never loved him. I entertained his courtship because another broke my heart.”
Lucy frowned into her eyes. “Who?”
Beth licked her lips. “It doesn’t matter. But the situation taught me that sometimes love hurts and never has a chance to be.”
“I’m sorry, Beth,” her cousin whispered, leaning into her side.
“Don’t be. I learned a good deal about myself.” She bit her lip for a moment. “And after witnessing my parents’ love grow and deepen, and the ways in which the other’s strengths compensate their faults, I realized I won’t settle for anything less.”
Lucy was quiet for a spell, picking at the stitching on the coverlet. When she finally spoke, her voice was wistful. “I’ve only ever witnessed the cordial relationship my parents have. They seem more united by a shared interest in improving their social standing than any love or affection for each other. I always assumed it would be the same for me.” She met Beth’s gaze. “Which is why a match with Mr. Ramsgate made sense.”
The harsh words Henry had uttered in the Andersens’ garden assaulted her. Henry had all but admitted that respect and a life of comfort were all he would be able to offer a bride, but Beth now knew her cousin wanted more.
What was forcing Henry to secure a bride as quickly as possible, even with his own heart against it? If she discouraged her cousin from continuing her association with him, she risked hurting and alienating him forever. But could she condemn Lucy to marriage just like Uncle Charles and Aunt Meredith’s?
Fanning her finger over the hairs at the end of her braid, Beth tried to think of an appropriate response. She felt as if she were teetering on the edge of a cliff, and one wrong step would send her crashing to the rocks below.
