The Brahmin Ball (A Sweet Historical Romance Novella) (Brahmin Brides Book 1) (6 page)

Chapter Ten

“Clara,
do
something…stop that girl,” hissed Miriam.

“It’s too late,” Grace repeated in a whisper. She watched in horror as Garrett’s face blanched in shock, and he raised his head, glancing around the room.

His eyes locked with hers, full of disappointment. He looked away, then ran a hand over his face, and motioned to a passing footman. After whispering a message into the footman’s ear, he nodded in Grace’s direction. Then he dismissed the footman, gave Felicia a squeeze on the shoulder, and guided her toward the doorway that led to the front stairs.

“We should go,” Madeline stated. “Mother, let’s get our wraps and leave. Don’t make us suffer through any more of this, please.”

“My dear, it’s your last chance—”

“The chance has passed, it’s too…” Madeline trailed off as the footman Garrett had spoken to approached them.

Grace reached out, clutching Clara’s hand as the footman addressed her.

“Are you Miss Grace Barstow?” he inquired.

“I am.” Grace could hear her voice shaking.

“I have a message from Mr. Garrett Gladstone. He wanted to extend his apologies, but he will be unable to—Miss? Are you alright?”

She felt the blood drain from her face as she let go of Clara’s hand and backed away, shaking her head. “No. I can’t. Please…” She simply couldn’t bear hearing the kind of false excuse Madeline had been subjected to. She blinked back tears as she whirled around and strode away, keeping her head down so no one could see the tears that threatened to fall.

When she reached the stairs, she could hear Garrett’s voice below, asking a footman to fetch his carriage driver. She whirled, ducking around a corner into an alcove, where she let the tears fall.

It’s not fair!
She had lost so much—first Winston, then her father, then their fortune. Soon they would leave their home, and now she’d lost the only man that had made her smile since her fiancé had passed.

I wish I’d never met him!

She had finally found the courage to move on, only to have the rug pulled from under her. It seemed like a cruel joke.

She cried silently, the tears coursing down her cheeks, until Clara found her minutes later.

“There you are! We’ve looked everywhere for you.”

“I can’t go back in there, Clara. Mother can’t make me.”

“She won’t try. She’s having our wraps fetched now, and we’re to meet her downstairs.”

“But I heard him down in the vestibule, I can’t go down there…”

“He’s gone now. His carriage was pulling away when Mother and I went down to ask for our carriage. Now you dry your eyes, and I’ll fetch Madeline, and we’ll head home. I’ll make you a nice cup of tea.” Clara patted Grace’s arm.

Tea wouldn’t solve a thing, but she smiled gratefully at Clara through her tears, appreciating the gesture.

Minutes later they were ensconced in their uncle’s carriage, enduring the bitter cold as they rode in painful silence down Beacon Street.

Chapter Eleven

Late December, 1886

Grace heard footsteps on the carpet as someone pushed open the door and entered unannounced.

I really need to keep that door closed—everyone seems to take it as an invitation these days. It was bad enough that the room she occupied was foreign to her, now that they had left their home and moved in with their uncle. But the last few days her mother and sisters had been a constant nuisance, always trying to make her come downstairs, go out for a walk, or attend some silly social event.

Madeline had been right to fear the revelation of their secret—it had only brought them heartache. Why subject herself to that, all over again?

“I’ve brought you a tray of tea and cookies,” Madeline said from behind.

Grace remained in her wing chair, which she had turned to face the window.

“You didn’t need to do that, Madeline. I’m really not hungry.” Grace didn’t lift her gaze from her book. She’d been on the same page for over an hour, but the weight of it in her hands gave her the comfort that a security blanket might give a young child.

“You’ve been saying that for over a week, now. You’re wasting away, and Mother will only complain if you become any more gaunt in the face.” She nearly toppled the tray when her skirt caught on the edge of the small table by Grace’s chair. Righting herself just in time, she set the tray on the ottoman.

“Honestly, I don’t know how the maids do it! I know our dresses are fuller than theirs, but still, how can they keep their clothing from getting caught
and
keep the tray upright?”

Grace almost smiled at her sister’s consternation. “Why didn’t Margaret bring it up?”

Madeline shot her a look of annoyance. “Because Uncle has informed Mother that he won’t hire extra staff to attend to our needs, nor can he have us tying up his servants all day, so we must manage our own needs as much as possible.”

Grace took the cup her sister poured for her, and hesitated, gazing into its contents. “Does that mean you made this tea?” She resisted the urge to pucker her lips in anticipation of its taste.

“Heavens, no!” Madeline poured her own tea and took a seat in the wing chair that flanked her sister’s. “I wouldn’t drink it if I had. Can you imagine? No, it means that if we miss the family’s scheduled meal times, we will be responsible to go down and fetch our own trays, and bring them back to the kitchen when we’re done, as well. I think I know how Cinderella feels.”

“Cinderella wore rags and scrubbed floors. We are not so indigent, yet.”

“Oh, if Uncle Henry has anything to say about it, we might become so. I don’t know what Aunt Sarah saw in him when they courted.”

“His money. Mother married well, and Aunt Sarah always had to outdo her.”

“My, my, you are becoming the cynical one.”

“Someone has to. What other position am I to occupy? Clara is the free spirit, and you’re the idealist.”

“I
was
.” Madeline sighed, staring into her cup. “Not so much, anymore. Our situation has forced me to become practical. But don’t let it sour your disposition, Grace. You’ve always been the softhearted one. Don’t let this harden you.”

“I can stand the decrease in our circumstances. I can even withstand the titters of our peers, like Eliza. She has always been mean-spirited. But it’s witnessing those who we
thought
were kind—who we thought cared about us—abandoning us so easily…” She shook her head, setting the tea aside untouched. “Have we not suffered enough abandonment in the last year or so?”

Madeline’s face melted into sympathy. “You only just met him—or at least, you only just met him again. It was a few dances. There will be other gentlemen calling on you in the future, Grace.”

She shook her head. “I don’t know that I have it in me to believe that. I finally begin to open my heart, and I am rejected out of hand for it, simply for my misfortune. I’d have expected it from another Brahmin, but Mr. Gladstone has no establishment in society, other than his Uncle’s good name.”

“Perhaps it was out of fear for his uncle that he left. You know how much Alice and Edgar Dwight value their name. They’d likely consider it tarnished to be connected by a financially ruined family…even if Garrett doesn’t bear the Dwight name. He might have feared his uncle would no longer help in his legal or political career.”

“If that is so, then he is not the man I imagined he is.” Grace remembered him speaking of how the political ambitions belonged primarily to his uncle. Perhaps he was trying to appear humble by downplaying his own political and social ambitions.

“For Heaven’s sake, girls, stop hiding up here in this cramped little room,” Miriam exclaimed as she swept through the door. “You don’t even have the shades up? What will the neighbors think?”

“That we’re hiding in here to avoid facing the humiliation of our downfall?” Madeline lifted a brow in amusement.

“Precisely!” Miriam exclaimed, raising the shades…with some difficulty.

Madeline glanced at Grace with a knowing smile. Their mother had likely not raised a shade on her own in decades.

“I cannot understand why your uncle won’t share his staff with us,” Miriam complained, finally getting the last shade up.

“But he
is
, Mother,” said Grace. “They are cooking for four extra people now, washing our laundry, and cleaning our rooms once per week. Remember, this is an intrusion into Uncle’s privacy, and his comfort. His staff is probably overwhelmed with all the extra work, with four added people. And we all know Uncle doesn’t like to wait.”

“Especially for his brandy,” Madeline quipped.

“Madeline, hush.” Grace glanced toward the door. “We must be more grateful. We are here on Uncle’s good graces…we all know Aunt Sarah goaded him into it, no matter what she says.”

“All that is true, and I
am
grateful.” Miriam tilted her chin higher, offended. “I just don’t see that it’s all that much extra work to bring and fetch our trays, and raise the shades while they’re at it. Although I suppose if they did, Grace might never leave the room.”

Miriam stood behind Grace’s chair, and Grace could
feel
her frowning down at her.

“Grace, darling…” Miriam circled the chair until she was in her direct line of sight. “I know you’re upset by what happened at the ball, but as you said, we are here on Henry’s good graces. It’s bad enough that he has taken us in, but when he sees you all sitting around all the time, never venturing out, he thinks he’ll never get you married off and on your own.”

“We’ve only been here a week!” Madeline set her teacup hard on the saucer. “Can we not even lick our wounds before going out and enduring another humiliating assault?” Her cheeks burned at the memory of the ball.

“I have no desire to force myself on men,” Grace agreed, her chest aching at the thought.

“You have no father to hold dinner parties for you, anymore. What else can we do, but attend the events that others have?”

“Oh Mother, no one will invite a poor match to a dinner party!” Madeline sighed.

“Then you’ll attend the daytime charity events,” Miriam warned, drawing herself up and assuming an imposing posture. “You’ll go to museums. You’ll walk in the park. If we are invited again, you will attend every ball. You’ll be seen out and about, in fashionable places with fashionable people, and let the men of society know you have no reason to be ashamed. Few of the girls in our caste of society are prettier or more well mannered than you. We are still Barstows. We have our connections and our reputation. Granted, our name is somewhat tarnished after all that’s happened, and no doubt exaggerations of your father’s business transactions will made, but you still have a lot to offer. Excellent matches may not be possible, but
good
matches are not out of your reach, if only you make an effort. Am I making myself clear?”

Grace and Madeline bowed their heads in deference. “Yes, Mother.”

“Where is Clara?”

“With the Healy sisters, walking in the park,” Madeline replied. “You see? At least one of us is out and about.”

Miriam sniffed. “She’s too young to catch the eye of an eligible bachelor. Few would extend a serious offer of marriage to a girl freshly introduced to society. Regardless, Clara’s gallivanting does not absolve you of your duty to socialize. I expect the two of you to put on fresh dresses and walk the park.” She turned and swept out of the room just as smooth and elegant as she had entered.

***

After dragging her heels as she changed into a walking dress, Grace fetched her coat and went downstairs to the front hall. Madeline stood waiting for her, appearing every bit as reluctant as she was. When she reached the bottom of the stairs, she slipped into her coat and buttoning it with a heavy sigh. “Shall we?”

Madeline nodded, and they slipped out into the brisk December air. “I don’t know why Mother thinks we’ll catch anyone in weather like this.”

“It’s cold, but at least there is some blue sky. It’s actually a beautiful day.”

“True. We’ll have a nice walk, if nothing else.”

They descended the steps as Clara waved from across the street, having just left the common. They waited on the brick sidewalk as she let a carriage pass, then quickly crossed the street.

“I was just coming to find you, Grace,” Clara said in a rush of excitement.

Grace knew that tone. “If it’s gossip you’re eager to share, remember that I’ve told you how unbecoming it is to reveal unflattering information about others.”

Clara dipped her head, embarrassed. “I know, but…it’s about Mr. Gladstone. And it’s not unflattering…exactly.”

Grace’s heart squeezed, and she gripped the iron rail that flanked the steps to her uncle’s home.
Did Clara run into him? Did he say something terrible about me? Do I want to know?
She wasn’t sure.

“Are you alright, Grace?” Madeline’s hand cupped her elbow, steadying her.

“Yes. Go on, Clara, if you think it’s something I should know.”

Clara glanced up and down the sidewalk, to make sure no one was near. “The Healy girls told me that the word around town is that Garrett Gladstone is back with Felicia Browning.”

The air somehow evaporated from Grace’s lungs, and she found it hard to breathe. “How do they know?”

“Eliza Canton has been telling everyone that she has seen him paying visits to Felicia’s house. The Brownings live right across the street, and he’s been coming and going on a daily basis. With so many frequent visits, Eliza is saying that they are sure to be announcing an engagement soon—that there’s no need for them to wait, when they’ve already courted for so long before.”

“
How
long?” Grace’s corset felt tighter than ever, making it difficult to catch her breath.

Clara bit her lip, exchanging a concerned glance with Madeline. “They courted for six months, and were engaged for two months. Then out of the blue, they broke the engagement off, quietly. That was six months ago. Neither of them explained why they broke up, but it was assumed that Mrs. Browning finally convinced her daughter that it was a poor match.”

“So it was Miss Browning who broke it off, then, and not him.” Which meant he was probably still in love with Felicia.

Her hand trembled on the iron rail, and she glanced around at people walking down the sidewalk across the street, and the carriages passing slowly by. Life always went on as usual for everyone else, even when one’s world was falling apart. “I…I think I’m going to pass on our walk today, Madeline. I’m not feeling very well.”

“Of course. But what should I tell Mother?”

“Tell her my lungs weren’t up to the challenge of the cold air, today.” It wasn’t entirely untruthful…she could hardly take a breath. She trudged up the stairs, using the rail for support, and slipped inside.

Her sisters followed, shutting the heavy mahogany door against the chill.

“Why don’t I bring up some tea?” Madeline suggested as she shed her coat.

“No need,” Grace said. “I’ll be fine.” She forced herself to climb the stairs to the second floor, shutting the door of the bedroom behind her and leaning against it.

She knew Mother would have her head when she discovered they had never left the house, but Grace didn’t care. After more than a year of being largely absent from society, it just seemed easier to stay hidden away. What was the good of putting yourself out in society if all you got back was humiliation from your peers and disdain from potential suitors?

Moving to the bed, she removed her coat and hat and tossed them aside, then lay down across the coverlet. It was far too late in the day to take to her bed, but she felt so weak and drowsy, and all she wanted to do was fall asleep and escape the image of Garrett Gladstone on the night of the ball, standing beside Felicia Browning and looking across the ballroom toward her, his face a mask of disappointment.