Page 1 of Presenting Miss Letitia (Once a Wallflower 1)

Chapter One

Hawkshead Village, Cumbria

February 1816

Uncle Alford replaced his quill in the standish and looked up at Letty from his desk and the neat pile of letters concerning vicarage affairs. “I have received a letter from your Aunt Edith.” He leaned back in his chair and formed a steeple with his fingers while his serious gaze rested on her.

“Have you, Uncle?” Letty bit her lip as her heart began to beat faster. Were her prayers to be answered? She wished her uncle wouldn’t pontificate. He was very sweet really, and she was terribly fond of him, but he sometimes made her want to scream in frustration. She tamped down the urge to hurry him along, impatiently yearning to hear if an exciting life beyond this small, slow-moving village awaited her.

He cleared his throat. “You know my feelings about this matter, Letitia. I would prefer you to remain here and marry someone from the village. What about the squire’s son, young Geoffrey, up at the Grange? You seem to be as thick as thieves. You’ve known him most of your life. No nasty surprises there.”

“Geoffrey isn’t much older than I am. He has no wish to marry for years. And it will certainly not be to me!”

“Men marry young in these parts,” her u

ncle persisted with that mulish look he wore when some parishioner failed to listen to his advice. “A good life awaits you here. Why throw it away for a little glitter? London is not as marvelous as you seem to think it is, for—”

“Uncle?”

“Yes?”

“Does this mean that Aunt Edith has offered to chaperone me? For the whole Season?” The last words ended in a squeak. She clutched her hands together and counted to ten.

“It seems so.” He raised a shaggy gray eyebrow. “It appears from the look in your eyes, you are determined to go. I must say that I am disappointed.”

She smiled at him across the desk. “It is just for one Season. I’ll be home again in a few months. I’ve wanted to go to London since I turned eighteen, and I’m almost nineteen now. Before you know it, I will be too old!”

“What nonsense!” He pushed his spectacles up his nose and picked up Aunt Edith’s letter, perusing it. “Apparently, you will require a new wardrobe. Your aunt believes it should be purchased in London. I would have thought the seamstress in the village, Mrs. Millichamp, would be more than capable of making you a few gowns.”

Letty laughed. “No, it won’t do. I shall need many items one can only purchase in London, a ball gown, evening gown, and day wear, hats, gloves and shoes…” When he raised a hand to shush her, she came around the desk to kiss his cheek. “Surely you want me to look smart? Not like a country mouse?”

Her uncle coughed and waved her away. “Now, now, none of that. You won’t get around me with your feminine ways. But well…naturally…” He reached for his pipe and took several minutes to fill it. Then, he sat back and puffed thoughtfully as the air filled with his favorite blend of tobacco, while she hovered, her stomach doing flips. “Very well, I can see you are set on the idea. I don’t see why we can’t spare a little from your inheritance, which I’ve invested for your future. I accept you shall want to appear quite the thing.”

Letty gasped. “Uncle Alford! Thank you!”

“I shall write to my sister immediately and advise her that if the weather permits safe travel, we will be arriving in three weeks. Naturally, I shall accompany you. I must book tickets on the stagecoach.”

“There is no need, Uncle. I am perfectly able to go alone.”

“Nonsense. The curate will take over while I’m gone. A change is as good as a holiday they say.”

Letty left him to his letters and climbed the stairs to her bedchamber. She put on her sturdiest half-boots, warm pelisse, scarf, and a velvet bonnet, then pulled on woolen gloves. Outside in the garden, snow covered the path and piled up against the fence. She walked down the path to the vicarage front gate, opened it, and picked her way over the hard ground through a copse of trees, taking a shortcut she often used.

The front gates of the Grange, the home of Squire Varney, was a mile farther on by road. Walking briskly, her breath misting in the still air, she climbed a fence. The Grange appeared in the distance, a long two-story brick dwelling with ivy growing over the walls. Smoke rose from its four chimneys. Letty took the well-worn path to the stables. Despite what her uncle believed, there had never been anything remotely romantic between her and Geoffrey Verney. They had been friends since she came here at the age of seven after her parents died. Geoffrey was five years older than her. He had taught her to ride, as his father, who was master of the hunt, had many fine animals in his stables. She was confident Geoffrey would be as excited as she was by her news.

She trudged along, head down, traversing deep, ice-covered potholes. Her uncle’s opinion of London was exaggerated. Why, everyone flocked there to visit the theatre and the opera and the parks. Her close friend, Jane Ormsby, told her all about it after her trip two years ago. But she had not found a husband there. She had returned to the village and married Gordon, the local solicitor.

Uncle Alford had not visited London for years, so he might well have the wrong idea entirely. Letty hadn’t traveled far from Hawkshead village since she came here to live, but she was sure, as long as one learned where one might go, and where one shouldn’t, the city would prove to be most exhilarating.

She reached the large stable block. Horses hung their heads over the top of their boxes to neigh a greeting, their breaths misting the air. The resident goat darted across to butt its head into her hand.

“Oh, I am sorry, Julia. I’ve brought nothing for you,” Letty said regretfully.

“Your hat will do.” Geoffrey looked up but continued forking hay, moving steadily, his stocky body making light of the work. Finally, he threw down the fork and smiled a welcome. “What’s brought you out into the cold and away from the fire?”

Her excited breath drew in the familiar smells of dusty hay, feed, and manure. “I am going to London! My Aunt Edith is to chaperone me for the whole Season!”

He wiped his brow with his forearm. “Oh? You’ll be finding a husband then.”

She sidestepped Julia as the goat tried to push Letty off her feet. “I might. And I might not.”

“That’s what these Seasons are for, isn’t that so? It’s a marriage market. They get a look at you, and you get a gander at them.”

She stared at him, dismayed by his critical tone. “It’s not because of that. There are balls, and dances, admittedly, but I will also see the London sights, the Tower, and Astley’s Amphitheatre. I am to be presented to the queen!” After Julia gave up and wandered away, Letty picked up a piece of straw and shredded it with her fingers, watching Geoffrey out of the corner of her eye. “We are so far away from everything here. I am rusticated!”

He nodded at her. “I daresay.”

She frowned. “Aren’t you happy for me? I always wanted to ride in Rotten Row.”

He smoothed back his fair hair. “Of course. If it’s what you want, Letty. But I don’t think any place would come close to living here. Not for me at any rate.”

“I love it here, but it’s so quiet nothing ever happens.”

“The Thompson’s just had twins.”

She laughed. “Exactly! But I was not born here as you were, Geoffrey. As you know, my parents came from Richmond in Surrey, which is quite close to London.” She watched as he worked for some sign he understood. “And my great-great-aunt fell in love with a pirate!”

“I’m familiar with the tale.” He grinned and shook his head, then picked up the fork again. “Then I hope you enjoy London. A little excitement is good, I’ll wager. But it’s a dangerous place, and you can’t wander about on your own as you do here. Take care.”

---