Page 41 of The Proposition
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She had written to her sister twice already while in London, but on the fifth day of her visit she couldn’t help it, she wrote Honora again.
My dearest Nora,
Words cannot express how much I miss and need you. I know I begged you to join me here in the last letter, but I will beg you again. Oh, Nora, though it seems like all is calmness and tranquility, inside me it is chaos. Today I chose the fabric and lace and ribbon for my wedding gown. A gown for a wedding that must not be! Tansy was consumed with delight, and soon I must break her heart, and Mother’s heart, and tell them that it is all a great farce. What I have learned about my intended is so unspeakably terrible that I dare not write it down here. It concerns another woman and a matter of utmost privacy, and I may never be able to tell you the details of what occurred. Suffice it to say that you must imagine he has done the worst possible thing, and then think of something even graver.
In a fortnight it will all come crashing down around my ears. There is an assembly at Almack’s and that will be the night when he is unmasked before the whole of society as a liar and a scoundrel. Until then, I must make him believe that I am more in love and more devoted than ever. I should hate to do it, but sometimes, Nora, I confess it gives me pleasure. It has become a little game to see how much I can grow his attachment to me before it is severed altogether. Now he wants our money, but perhaps I can coax true feeling from him.
How do you fare? And how is father? I so worry about him when I am not there. It must be miserable indeed to spend each day alone with our mother. I am sure she is all talk of London, and I am all talk of London, and now you are attacked from all sides. Selfishly, I hope it convinces you to come to me. But if it is not too terrible there, then you must stay and be happy, and keep yourself in good cheer and health. I have not yet delivered your letter because I am a lacking sister, but I promise to see it safely to its destination tomorrow. It has rained all morning, and I fear it will persist until evening.
Please be well, and do not worry about me at all. I am not suffering, and I feel quite safe and happy with Tansy and William. You will be very proud of me that Mr. Ferrand is not mentioned at all in this letter. I hardly think of him when he is not near.
Very well, I occasionally think of him. But only the right amount.
I remain your loving sister,
C
Clemency carried the sealed letter down to the front hall and found Mr. Bagshot’s long-suffering valet, Langston, who greeted her with a swallowed sigh. That was fine. She could hardly begrudge him his frustrations, with her sending letters almost constantly, and to the same recipient.
“Yes,” she said with a shy smile. “Anotherletter.”
“Of course, Miss Fry,” he said, taking the letter and the coin she had brought for the posting.
“Last one,” Clemency murmured. “I promise.”
“Very good, ma’am.”
Langston pivoted on his foot and strode swiftly toward the front door. He was already through it when Clemency noticed that he had dropped a small sealed letter in his wake. Hurrying after him, she scooped up the message, adjusting the veil under her bonnet, for she had been readying herself to join Tansy on a walk through the neighborhood. That would have to wait, she realized, finding that fate had just intervened in her plans.
The letter had come for Turner Boyle, but it had not been opened and was marked to be returned to the original sender. It had come from Mr. Connors, and his London address was listed there too.
Voices echoed from the hall near the kitchen, and Clemency shoved the little square of parchment into the neck of her dress and pretended to rebutton her gloves just as Tansy arrived, dismissing her maid as she swept into the foyer.
“Shall we go?” asked Tansy. Lady Veitch had clearly sent over gifts of friendship, dressing Tansy like her own doll in Indian silks. The vivid magenta frock did suit her, Clemency thought with a sigh.
“Might it wait? My stomach is unsettled from breakfast.”
“Nonsense!” Tansy hooked their arms together and marched toward the front door. There was no sign of Langston as the girls left, and he had apparently failed to notice the dropped letter. “A turn about the neighborhood is exactly what you need. There is the most darling park not far from here, with a willow tree and a bench; it is where William proposed to me.”
Clemency shifted, trying to urge the letter deeper into her muslin gown, concerned that the shape of it wedged against her corset would be noticeable. Nodding, she used her left hand to untuck her fichu and then drape it awkwardly across her bosom, hoping for better concealment. How in heaven was she supposed to concentrate on what Tansy was saying when that thing was burning a hole through her undergarments?
“I should like to see the spot,” Clemency said, finding that it was now a fine day, though a bank of clouds to the south looked to threaten rain again. “I hope I can be as happy as you and my brother, as happy as Honora was with Edwyn.”
“WithEdwyn?” Tansy almost squawked. She whipped her head around to stare at Clemency, veering left out the drive and steering them down the sidewalk toward a patch of green and trees a block north. “I only knew them together briefly, but I never had the impression she was quite content with him.”
“But they were very much in love!” Clemency replied, drawing down her brow. “What could possibly make you think otherwise?”
Tansy looked into the distance, her lips twitching to the side as she mulled over the question. She fussed idly with theribbon on her bonnet, also pink, to match her new gown, passing it over and over again across her palm. “I rather considered her resigned, not content. Truly, it shocked me to see how long she chose to wear widow’s weeds. I thought perhaps she would be eager to marry again and find a better match.”
“You are wrong,” Clemency declared, growing a little angry with her, the letter in her gown almost forgotten. “There is no better match for her; I admire the love they had for each other.”
“I suppose you must be right, dear,” Tansy said with a shrug. “You have her deepest confidence, still…Ah well, it matters not. Honora will prove me right or wrong, eventually.”
“I do not think she shall ever marry again,” Clemency told her. She hadn’t meant it to sound like a warning but it did. Her most protective side emerged where her older sister was concerned. “That is how deep the wound runs. And while we speak of her, I promised to deliver a letter to a friend of hers in town, might I take the carriage there after our walk?”
“Another letter! You are positively brimming with correspondence, my dear,” Tansy waited until two carriages had passed and then pulled Clemency across the road. Only a few children, watched by a hawk of a governess, played in the modest wedge of nature preserved in the city. Over a low hedge and charming stone wall, Clemency saw a few well-tended clumps of daffodils and tulips, as well as the aforementioned willow, bench, and a duck pond. “You may have the carriage, but only if you tell me more of thisfriend.”
