Page 91 of Pursued Beyond Treachery
Time. It always came back to that measurement of life.
Over the last year she’d learned just how much could change in a single moment. Losing her mother, gaining a season, realizing John’s love, and then losing it had all been brief glimmers in the grand scheme of life. But they had changed everything.
She sat up in bed. It was time to face each of those moments.
Last night Miss Harris had stroked her hair and promised her that all would be well and Melior had tucked her in as she’d blubbered out all her troubles. She’d laid every burden down at their feet and Lady Upton had listened from a nearby chair.
Her fear of disappointing her family and adding to their financial burden, her aunt’s threats and the worry that she’d carry through with them, even her concern that John would never be able to forgive her for forcing him into a marriage—that if he married her, he’d grow to hate her so much that he’d banish her to one of his other estates.
The last thing she remembered was Melior promising that she’d feel better in the morning, to forget her troubles, and rest. Her soothing alto voice had lulled her to sleep.
If only she could feel that peace now.
Half an hour later, a little maid crept in to stir her fire and Susannah sat up. The maid let out a squeak of surprise.
“Sorry, miss. I’m only here to fix your fire. I’d not meant to wake you.”
“It’s not your fault. I was already awake.”
“I see. Can I get you anything?”
“I know it is early, but is there someone who might be available to help me dress?”
“Yes, miss. Lady Stanford’s maid is already up and breaking her fast. I’ll send her up.”
“Thank you.”
True to her word, the maid finished the fire and had Baylor up to help Susannah in less than ten minutes. However, after dressing in her morning gown and sitting for her hair to be styled, Susannah wondered what to do next. It was not even seven in the morning.
Baylor straightened the dressing table in front of her.
“Is it too early for a breakfast tray?”
“No, miss. What would you like?”
“Some toast and an egg would be nice.”
“Coffee or tea?”
“Tea, please.”
At a quarter past seven, the tray arrived and Susannah nibbled on toast as her mind continued to spit out scenarios of doom. Eventually she gave up on breakfast, her stomach churning too much to swallow another bite.
A light knock sounded on her door and she answered it.
“A visitor to see you, miss,” the housekeeper said.
Susannah glanced at the clock. Eight o’clock. “At this hour?”
“Yes. Do you want me to send her away?”
Fear crept up her spine. Had her aunt come to fulfill her promises? She could not ruin her much more than she already was, so only her father’s debts hung in the balance.
“W-who is it?”
“Miss Martha Guthrie.”
Miss Martha? “Anyone else?”
