Friends: It's been almost a year since I've updated. What is there to say? Life happens, losing a job, getting a new job, hating that job, wishing I could write more, trying to rekindle the feeling that made me start this story to begin with….Reading lovely comments and Facebook posts (thanks for letting me in the group, ladies! You're so kind. But I'll remain anonymous best I can :))
The Dryden-Parker families returned to London in early February, in time for the St. Valentine's Day ball, properly held a week before the actual date, by the Duke of Norfolk and his family at their London residence.
"I so wish they would hold it at Arundel Castle. I've been just dreaming of visiting for ages." Marianne sighed, looking out her carriage window at dreary, muddy London. The two Sussex-bred ladies had oft shared their girlish daydreams of being whisked to the keep at Arundel Castle, by a dashing heir to do…well, they weren't quite sure what they would do, but the prospect was thrilling all the same.
Theresa scrunched up her nose as she looked at the city, seeing new-to-her streets as they wound their way to the square where Sir Sidney Parker's townhome was. Propriety dictated that they follow their mother to live in her new marital home, but she was not pleased. The only London home she'd known was Grandmother Caroline's, which truly belonged to Anthony now, and besides, she'd almost never spent this much time in town. When her father had been alive, they returned to Yorkshire after Twelfth Night.
"I agree, and why hold a St. Valentine's Day ball the week before? It makes not a bit of sense." Annabella concurred with her sister.
"Of course it does–" Junia started to squeak out, before Theresa clapped her hand over her little sister's mouth. Best that their new "sisters" didn't know that reason just yet.
"Don't mind her. You two should count yourselves fortunate that you've been invited at all. I doubt you've ever dined with a Duke before." Theresa smiled in such a sickeningly sweet way, it was almost revolting.
Annabella stuck her tongue out at her step-sister.
"Charming." Theresa rolled her eyes and pulled her little sister close, looking out the window herself. She wished so many things, but most of all that she was far away from here. If this had been two years ago, she thought, she would be snug before the fire at Middlesmoor, in the small drawing room, her father and mother going over accounts, Anty on the last days of his school holidays, playing cards with Junia and Helen, while she read. She was reaching to feel that again, reaching out to feel that warmth and happiness.
In the next carriage before them, Sidney and Charlotte sat with her two bookended children, Anthony the eldest, and Helen the youngest. Sidney began to feel more at ease as the streets became more familiar, and his townhome was in sight.
"I hope nothing was broken in the translation of your belongings. It will take some time to settle of course, but I'm sure you'll make short work of it." Sidney smiled across the carriage at Charlotte, who sat with her youngest in her lap.
She shot him a look, eyes widened and mouth pursed. Helen did not miss the meaning of her stepfather's words.
"Mama, when shall we return home?" Helen asked.
"Soon, dearest." Charlotte murmured into her daughter's hair.
"I hope you will come to think of this as your home too, Helen." Sidney offered, his voice filled with a father's warmth.
A tone that was ignored.
"When shall we go to our real home?" Helen pressed.
"Probably at the start of Lent and my term, right, Mother?" Anthony said, his voice half-yawning as he awoke from his nap in the seat beside Sidney.
"I will return to see you settled, of course, Anthony. But Sir Parker and I have yet to discuss it fully." Charlotte answered.
"But what about Shrove Tuesday in Scarborough!" Helen whined.
"Please, dearest. We will talk about it later, after we've all unpacked and had a rest."
Sidney listened to this exchange between mother and children. He knew that this was a tricky situation for Charlotte; who longed to return to Yorkshire but felt pressure from her mother-in-law, Caroline, to not make the Abbey their primary residence.
The carriage jolted to a stop, and Sidney looked out the window to the familiar sight of his London home, Ithaca House, so named for a certain Greek myth that Sidney was drawn to. It had been purchased shortly after Eliza's disappearance, and unlike their Sanditon home, did not feel haunted by her memory.
"Welcome home, Lady Parker." Sidney smiled, as he helped his wife out of the carriage and she looked up at the brick home before her.
"As if." Anthony muttered as he exited behind his mother.
"It is not what I expected." Was the first thing Charlotte said, taking in the wrought iron fencing, the tall windows, the dusky shade of the brick.
Sidney momentarily panicked. What if she didn't like it? He thought of the furnishings, expensive, but classic, in his opinion. The library, the bedchamber, the dining room where he and the girls shared their meals. What if she hated them all?
"I mean, it is better than what I had thought. Classic." She looped her hand through her husband's arm and leaned into him softly, reassuringly.
"I'm glad. And I hope you know, any changes you wish to make, you need only ask and it will be done." Sidney replied.
"I sincerely hope not." Marianne proclaimed, marching up the path from where the other carriage had stopped, in tandem with her sister.
"Of course, I would never change anything important to you, my dear. I may not want to change anything at all!" Charlotte made a nervous attempt to appease her step-daughter. She had the sense that these Parkers, like their father, could see right through her artifice. It was chilling.
The response was only a raised eyebrow from both Parker girls. An arch and subtle sneer, without actually disfiguring their pretty smooth faces, that was distinctly inherited from their mother. The Parker girls walked into their home, comfortable on their own turf. Though the Sanditon house had always been another home to them, this was where they felt most at ease. This was where the majority of their lives had been spent. If their Father had wanted to make a grand introduction of his wife to their home, they did not care. They had a ball and a Duke's son to prepare for.
It saddened Sidney's heart more than he could say. The two young ladies he loved best in the world, at odds with the woman he had always wanted. As their bonneted heads disappeared behind the oak door, he wondered what he could do to mend this.
He turned back to face his wife and her children, assembled about her like a mother hen and her chicks. And then, he had what he believed to be a stroke of genius.
"I think what everyone needs is an expensive trip to the modiste."
For once, Sidney just might have been absolutely correct in his diagnosis and prescription. Sometimes, a girl simply must shop.
The day of the Norfolk Ball had arrived. Sidney and Charlotte had permitted their four oldest children to attend. It was to be Anty's last hurrah before returning to Ampleforth and his Lent term.
Attitudes toward the event were mixed as the family descended the staircase and awaited their carriage.
First down, was Sidney, who was the picture of anxiety. He knew the Duke of Norfolk from reputation mainly, and had seen him in the House on occasion. Upon the passage of the Catholic Emancipation Act, he'd been sent a rather fine bottle of port from the old Duke, and he was very old, as a token of appreciation for his support. For that, Sidney was grateful because it was merited. He had done a good turn for the Duke and his kind and had been rewarded. But this invitation he had not earned or been born into. It was only because of who he had married and the influence of Charlotte's mother-in-law.
Sidney did not consider himself to be a weak man or unable to appreciate the merits of a good, strong woman such as his wife. But every person has their point of pride, and it bristled his ego to be invited for Charlotte's sake alone. Oh, to be a man.
Next came his over-eager progeny. They wore complementing gowns of ivory, befitting their age and virginity, but not entirely matching as young children are made to dress. The shopping trip with their step-mama had gone so pleasantly they almost forgot they loathed her. Almost. Wearing blossoms fresh from the greenhouse in their golden hair, they were the picture of English beauty. Annabella and Marianne were both ecstatic at the prospect of meeting so many eligible, noble young men. Their upbringing had afforded contact with many good families, but never so highly placed as this in the home of the Earl Marshall.
Charlotte trailed her stepdaughters, one hand holding Theresa's gloved hand, and the other in the crook of Anty's elbow. The three dark-haired Drydens cut a fine figure, Tere in a pearlish pink that complemented her flushed fair cheeks and raven hair. She too, wore flowers in her hair as befitted an unmarried woman. She'd soon be fourteen, and looked more like her father every day. Theresa, though fond of dancing and fond of the Howard family, was most looking forward to seeing her dear friend Minna Lyons, who was back in England for a social season with her sister Anne. The Lyons' girls' father was a diplomat and the whole family was living in Athens currently. Strictly speaking, at twelve and thirteen, Minna and Theresa were too young for a true ball, but with the families being such old friends, allowances were made.
Charlotte had much to be thankful for that evening, as she admired the silken skirts of her dress trailing down the steps at Ithaca. As a new, if not young, bride, she had leapt out of mourning eagerly. Tonight she donned an olive green dress with creamy trimmings and wore pearls that dropped just above the first hint of cleavage she'd allowed in public in years. Her heart was glad, having successfully completed a first trip to the modiste with all her daughters, and even had managed a smile from Marianne at luncheon that day. Tonight would be around so many dear, old, friends, and she treasured the fact that she was being welcomed back into their fold. She prayed that a splendid evening would help Sidney turn his heart toward her Church.
Lest we forget about Anthony, with his impending return to school and the lackluster culinary options awaiting him there during Lent term, his mind thought only of the cakes and meats and wines he'd try tonight. The wines would have to be secretive, but he was confident he could manage it with the help of Harry Howard, grandson to the current Duke.
As usual for the size of their family, two carriages were required. This time, one for Sir and Lady Parker, and the other for the children. Spirits remained as they were upon arriving at Norfolk House. Charlotte was greeted by many familiar faces as she passed through the collonaded entrance, and the rush of warm air that soothed her made Sidney feel like he was suffocating in his tailcoat and collar. The only thing that refreshed him was the sight of his wife's decolletage, and watching her bodice heave upwards as she breathed…
The sharp rap of a fan on his shoulder brought him back to reality.
"Eyeing your supper most hungrily I see." Intoned a raspy, female voice. Sidney's eyes practically bugged out when he saw it was none other than Caroline Dryden, the mother of the late Earl of Leyburn.
He bowed hastily.
"Madam, I must thank you for securing this invitation, I'm beyond honored to be here this evening." Sidney rushed, in his most political voice.
"Spare me the flattery, Parker," Mrs. Dryden began, "It was none other than your wife's good reputation and the esteem widely held for my son among the Catholic gentry that led to your inclusion."
"Nevertheless, I am most humbled."
"Hm. Quite." Mrs. Dryden said dryly. Her attention then turned to her grandchildren.
Well, Sidney thought, That could have been worse.
Meanwhile Charlotte greeted friends, kissed cheeks, and accepted glasses of wine from eager, younger gentlemen, Sidney noticed. Ironically, it made him quite pleased with himself and his acquisition of such a highly regarded wife. He suddenly began wishing for the evening to speed along so he might give her a similar token of praise.
While the married Parkers not so subtly lusted after one another in a crowded ballroom, their children made mischief of their own. Anty had indeed found covert drink thanks to one Lord Henry "Harry" Howard.
"Really, Anty, you shouldn't." Tere hissed from behind a potted fern, Minna Lyons peeking out from behind her.
"Oh, don't be such babies." Annabella declared, practically pushing Minna to the side and reaching a hand out for her step brother to hand her the glass of Madeira.
"Quite right. Babies." Marianne copied, making eyes at Harry Howard.
Harry only smirked, patted Minna's just-shoved arm, and walked off to where his mother, the Countess of Arundel, was calling him.
"Who was that?" Marianne asked, to no one in particular.
"That was Harry." Came Theresa's reply, in a tone not unlike her grandmother's.
"And who exactly is Harry?"
"An old friend." Anty offered.
"His title, his status, you nitwits."
"If you must know, he is a Lord. His grandfather is a Duke." Minna contributed.
"Will he inherit?"
"Someday, after his father does, yes."
"Introduce us."
Theresa sighed.
"I don't know, Marianne. I don't think you two would suit."
"How? He is an Earl's son. I am a knight's daughter. What could possibly not suit?"
Theresa decided to comply. Things had been going well between the Parker and Dryden girls for a few days now, and she relished the peace it brought her household. Waiting until Harry returned with more wine, she introduced her step-sister and her brother's friend.
"Lord Harry, this is our stepsister, Miss Marianne Parker, and her sister Miss Annabella Parker." Tere gave the formal introduction.
"A pleasure, ladies. Miss Marianne, might I have a dance tonight?" Harry rushed out quickly. Harry, who never wasted a chance to dance with a pretty girl.
"But of course my Lord." Marianne simply beamed.
Harry once again took his leave, this time with Anty in tow, likely to collect more dancing partners.
Some time went by, and the hour at which the Parker and Dryden children were to be returned to Ithaca House drew near.
"One thing you should know, Marianne," Theresa began, "About Harry and his family–"
She was cut off, as Marianne waved her fan about, "Not now, Theresa, they're beginning the next set, I must claim my dance before we leave."
"Isn't that the gentleman's responsibility?" Minna queried, from behind the same fern.
Marianne just stared at her, as if she didn't even know Minna had been there.
"Marianne, please, I don't want you to presume anything with Harry."
"Presume what? You speak in riddles." Marianne rolled her eyes.
Theresa seeing a chance to, shall we say, get even, changed her course of action.
"Give him your thoughts on religion. He's a most keen religious scholar, they say. And against the Catholic Emancipation."
"You're an odd creature. But I will."
With that, and a swish of her ivory skirts, Marianne whisked across the ballroom to claim her dance with a bemused Harry. Annabella sulked in the corner, where she sat with Theresa and Minna and Anthony.
Theresa watched with keen interest as the dance began. Small talk, pleasantries, as one partner often trades with the other. As the dance continued, she observed Marianne's demeanor grow more lively, and Harry's too. For a moment, she worried that her advice would not be taken.
Then, Sir Sidney and her mother appeared before her, blocking her view.
"It's time for you all to begin the journey home. The carriage is ready outside." Sidney declared over the children.
Theresa and Anthony listened, and then turned to look at their mother for confirmation. She only nodded her assent. They made their goodbyes to Minna, while Annabella eagerly got up and made a beeline for the exit. She'd not enjoyed the same success tonight as her sister, and was eager to be home and in her warm bed already.
"What about?" Theresa asked, not quite finishing her thought.
"Marianne will join you in the carriage directly, once her dance is over." Charlotte, reading her daughter's mind, replied.
The family continued to the door, with Theresa craning her neck to see Harry's face. She could have sworn his expression had changed from flirtatious to thunderous, but before she could truly ascertain the truth, her cloak was about her and she was in the carriage.
And then Marianne, her velvet cloak in hand, appeared in the doorway to the chaise. She climbed in with a huff, tripping over her skirts in a rage, and as they began to rock down the cobblestones of St. Jameses, she bellowed:
"You might have thought to mention that LORD HARRY is none other than Lord Henry Howard, our host's grandson, and that the Duke of Norfolk is a CATHOLIC. You humiliated me, Theresa! You told me to give him my thoughts on religion when you KNEW I would offend him!"
"You did not give me the slightest chance to tell you! You set off chasing him across the ballroom before I warned you. Besides, you deserved it. Treating us, your own step-siblings like an annoyance and a burden, when we are the reason you could be here at all. You might show more honor."
"Honor! What do you know of honor?"
"More than you! And what idiot doesn't know that the Howards are the most senior noble family in the country, and everyone knows they are old Catholics! If you paid any attention in school you would have known, you who boast about your greater knowledge of propriety and society than we do."
"You know nothing of the kind of ridiculous education we are afforded, you who had priests and your mother and private tutors. We are sent to a silly girls school with no deeper subjects than compliments in French and dancing."
"I think you're as much at fault for your ignorance as your father. Clearly such blindness to reality and intelligence runs in your blood."
"Stop the carriage, driver!"
"What are you doing?"
"Get out."
"What?"
"Get out of my father's carriage, now."
"How dare you? Can't you see the darkness outside? It would be entirely unwise for me to get out."
"I don't care, this is a Parker carriage and you clearly believe you are so above us. So get out or Annabella and I will throw you out. And Anty too!"
Someday this will get a heavy revision…but for now, we will just post. Cheers!