Chapter 9

Chapter 9

"And I believe dear Lady Leighton has been taken ill?" Lady Percival asked with a note of concern. "I said to Jane," and she gestured towards her daughter standing beside her, "that I thought I saw her leave before the final Act."

Olivia nodded as she looked around for a route to the door of the theater.

There must be another exit , at this rate we could be here all night.

Instead, she saw the Earl of Hatfield looking down into the eyes of Lady Cressida. She drew in a sharp breath, prompting Jocelyn to look at her with concern.

Lord Hatfield seemed to be struggling to disentangle himself. It would have made her laugh, except Olivia felt a sudden stab of jealousy.

Lady Cressida radiates an impression of flawless perfection, with smooth, almost alabaster skin, unmarked by any ugly scars . Her Ladyship looks so intent and interested in the earl. In fact, she is hanging onto his arm as if she has staked a claim of ownership.

Lady Cressida looked beautiful and somehow triumphant.

Olivia felt foolish for imagining she had felt something from Lord Hatfield during their time in the box, when his hand had brushed against hers, and he had murmured words so indistinct she had struggled to hear.

Obviously, she had imagined the sensation, because the earl appeared to be very close to Lady Cressida, and they looked made for each other.

I feel so weary, I just need to get out of here. Jocelyn is in no hurry, talking with Lord Ludlow. They are all in pairs except me. I shall never be a pair.

As a wave of desolation threatened to overwhelm Olivia, she remembered her resolve to take on the veneer of confidence of the Contessa Allegra Fortuny. She stepped into the role, making her head rise high as she listened to Lady Percival.

It works. I'm so much more confident as Lady Allegra. She has no need to be in a pair. She is happy with her own company.

And then they were out, in the cool, evening air. After taking her leave of Lady Percival she climbed into their waiting carriage. Only then did she realize that she had indeed been holding her head up high and for once had forgotten about her scars.

***

The next morning, Olivia and Jocelyn were in the drawing room, expecting a visit from the dressmaker for a fitting of their gowns for Lady Leighton's ball. This ball was special, as it would be held for Jocelyn's coming out. As much as Olivia disliked her uncle, the look on his face at the realization that he would be expected to hold a coming out ball at Swanbourne had been almost painful. Lady Leighton had taken pity on him, and suggested she host the ball at her Maybury Crescent townhouse.

Marguerite looked longingly out of the window at the grassy circle in the middle of the square.

"We can't go out yet," Olivia told her. "You have to wait until Madame Beauchamps, and Ellen, have worked their magic with our gowns for a very special ball in a few days' time."

Mrs. Jennings knocked gently and put her head round the door. A parlor maid followed her carrying a huge bouquet of flowers for Lady Jocelyn.

"These arrived a few minutes ago, the same as before, with no indication of who sent them," explained Mrs. Jennings.

Jocelyn dashed across to look at them. "Olivia, the fragrance of these roses is lovely. Come and look."

Olivia peered at the arrangement of pink damask and centifolia roses, touching the petals gently with her finger. A scent of fragrant honey with a woody depth. She closed her eyes, imagining moss growing near a waterfall.

"They are superb. Kew Gardens could not produce finer roses," agreed Olivia.

"It must be Colin, erm, Lord Ludlow I mean," said Jocelyn.

So, it's Colin now. This romance is progressing at a faster pace than I realized.

Madame Beauchamps arrived in a flurry of silk and velvet, rushing straight to the flowers and declaring them the most beautiful she had ever seen.

"Mon dieu, ce sont les plus belles fleurs que j'ai jamais vues!"

"Aren't they wonderful," exclaimed Jocelyn.

"You have an admirer I think— un grand amour ?" said Madame Beauchamps.

Jocelyn blushed and giggled.

"I see that I am right," said Madame Beauchamps, "and so we must make you even more beautiful."

"Is Lady Leighton joining you?" asked Ellen. "I think that's her carriage arriving.

"Yes, she insisted as Jocelyn's sponsor for the season," confirmed Olivia.

Lady Leighton came into the room, followed by her maid, carrying a pile of bonnets.

"I found these old things," she told them. "I thought Madame that they could be refreshed for Lady Olivia or Lady Jocelyn."

Jocelyn clapped her hands in delight. "Oh, look at this color. It matches that feather which Lord Hatfield rescued for you from that dandy."

"That's news to me," said Marianne. "You'll have to tell me the story Jocelyn."

Jocelyn recounted the events in the park.

"Hmm…" Marianne said to Olivia "Have you made a conquest my friend?"

"Absolutely not," spluttered Olivia in protest.

"I have noticed he watches you a lot of the time," commented Marianne looking at Olivia curiously. "Very interesting. He ran off, jumped on his horse and pursued the ruffian. I always miss the exciting things."

Marianne turned her attention to the dressmaker. "Well Madame, I'd like you to make a stunning ballgown for my friend here. Do you think crushed apricot silk or forest green velvet? I think Olivia can get away with a stronger, more striking color."

"But Marianne. I've already ordered one new dress," protested Olivia.

"And you need several more. If necessary, I shall speak to Lord Sherwyn. He wants you to find a husband, and that won't happen if you look like a dowdy frump."

"I don't look like..." Olivia started to object.

"Well, no, but your uncle's knowledge of fashion is non-existent, and he is insisting you have this season. If I should pull a little wool over his eyes, then so be it. I shall brook no opposition on this Olivia, so there is no point arguing with me."

Olivia recognized the glint in her feisty friend's eyes and decided it would be easiest to just agree.

An hour later the ball gowns were arranged, and Olivia admitted that she did feel excited at the color and design. There were also several day dresses and the bonnets to remodel. Olivia's wardrobe of dove gray cambric and bombazine was about to change considerably.

Countess Allegra would approve, she thought to herself.

Jocelyn went to have her hair wanded into ringlets by Ellen, a process which could often take longer than half an hour.

"Marianne," began Olivia tentatively. "Can we go for a walk around the square? There is a matter on which I very much need your advice."

"Of course. Is it about the earl?"

Olivia blushed brightly, exclaiming, "No!"

"I'm not convinced Olivia. I've never seen you blush like that before. I suspect I am right."

"Oh no Marianne, you are quite wrong."

As they left the house a warm, southerly breeze greeted them, and they walked towards the central park. Marguerite trotted happily alongside Olivia.

When they reached the central circle, it was covered with tiny blue forget-me-nots, purple heartsease and violas. Olivia suggested they sit on a bench, and once seated she handed Marianne a letter.

"This looks formal," said Marianne, taking out the contents. "Ah, I see." An expression of rare irritation clouding her face.

Olivia watched the clouds drift past in the sky, feeling the warm breeze on her face.

"I wish I had a publishing house," said Marianne. "I'd publish your book immediately and make a lot of money too."

She re-read the contents. "So, they like your writing and think their readers will enjoy reading it. Mr. Snodgrass says he finds it an engaging read."

Olivia nodded.

"But they cannot publish because you are a woman. I'd like to put Queen Elizabeth the first in a room with them and see what she says about that. They would get short shrift from the greatest Queen of this realm."

"I know, but we are talking about fuddy duddy publishers, who are stuck in their ways. I can't throw them in the Tower of London for refusing to publish my book."

"Now that is an excellent idea," agreed Marianne. "Mr. Snodfellow"

"Erm… it's Snodgrass."

"Very well, Mr. Snodgrass would soon come to his senses with a night or two in the Tower."

Olivia laughed and wondered how her friend had this special skill of being able to make others laugh in the face of adversity.

‘I suspect this is the end of my career as an author."

"I disagree. This, Olivia, is a minor setback. In fact, the solution is obvious."

"It is?"

"What name did you give them?"

"Mary Newnham."

"I like that, by the way. What did the writer we enjoyed reading so much last winter call herself? It had to be a woman who wrote those stories."

"The story about the mother and sisters who are disinherited and go to live in the southwest in a cottage? One of them had your name?"

"Indeed. Miss Marianne Dashwood. One of the reasons I loved that book so much."

"I preferred the story about the misunderstanding between the proud hero and the lively young lady who has four sisters. One of the characters, Lady Catherine de Bourgh, rather reminded me of Uncle Harold."

They both began to laugh uncontrollably and attracted a stern glance from a gentleman strolling past.

"Seriously Olivia, what was she called?"

"By a Lady."

"I remember now. And look how successful her books have been. Mr. Snodgrass is a nincompoop."

"I don't disagree, but what's the solution?"

"Submit to a different publishing house, but this time as a man. You were using a nom de plume anyway. I don't see the difference."

"You can be Giles, erm, Manley, or even G. E. Manley. Do it Olivia. I have a feeling this will do the trick."

"Your idea gives me some hope. Thank you," Olivia said, and squeezed her friend's hand.

"Now, you've reminded me. There are two books which we haven't read by the Lady. One is about an orphan who goes to live in a large country house, and the other is about a young woman who is always trying to match make for others."

"The second story sounds like it might be written about you Marianne," Olivia said laughing, and they collapsed in a fit of giggles again, and then laughed even more as the disapproving gentleman walked past them again.

"Come along. My carriage is waiting. Let's go now and retrieve your novel from the offices of Mr. Snodgrass and take it to another publisher. Hembsby, my driver, can take the package in and not attract any attention. All you need to do is write a covering letter."

"This is all very sudden. I'm not sure…" Olivia was taken aback by the suggestion.

"Nonsense let's do this today. Now who shall you be, Mr. Giles E. Manley or Mr. Oliver Sherwood? Let's decide on your pseudonym. I have to say I prefer nom de plume, it has quite a flourish. In fact, how about Mr. Featherby. I believe plume is a feather in French."

And with that Marianne pulled Olivia's arm to hurry her along as they walked back to Swanbourne Place. Marguerite trotting along beside them.

It didn't take long for Olivia to write the letter to a different publishing house, signing herself under the hidden identity of Mr. N.P. Featherby.

"That's so funny," said Marianne laughing conspiratorially. "NP for non de plume!"

By midafternoon the manuscript of Olivia's book was safely deposited with a different publishing house.

"I'm part of this project," said her friend, "so if they say it needs to be published ‘on commission' at your financial risk, then I will be prepared to stand surety. I see no problem though. I loved reading it, as did Jocelyn. We both loved the story and your style of writing."

"I am so grateful," whispered Olivia. "I don't like the idea of your having any risk, but I hope this might give me independent means to leave Uncle Harold's household."

"I know. I believe your book will be a success," said Marianne full of confidence.

She then continued, "However, I also believe you may still find a beau and marry this season. So, tell me more about Lord Marcus Hatfield. I know his mother, as we are neighbors, but the earl is always seen as something of a recluse, and rarely attends social events in the country."

Should I tell her about our meeting in the woodland glade? Olivia almost did, but something made her hold back.

"I believe he is becoming a friend, that's all. Nothing more."

Marianne looked at her with suspicion in her eyes. "I don't believe you Olivia Sherwyn," she said simply.

After a lengthy silence Olivia spoke quietly, with heightened emotion in her voice.

"Marianne, look at me. there is no use pretending this doesn't exist," she said, and pointed to the side of her face. The jagged, puckered scar ran down her head, close to her right temple and on the hairline of her cheek. As she held up her hair to reveal the scar tissue the small patch where no hair grew was evident.

"I hide this every day. I live in fear of my hair blowing upwards in a strong wind. When that dandy stole my feather the other day, my first thought was what I would have had to deal with if he had stolen my bonnet. Ellen does a wonderful job of hiding it with intricate hairstyles and ribbons, but would a man choose a woman who is disfigured in this way? I think not."

"I can see how you feel. I was there, remember, in the early days, and when the doctor removed those bandages. Yet, I truly believe you are a remarkable person and character is as important as looks."

"Marianne, you are my closest friend, but even you must admit that my chances of finding a husband with these scars and no fortune are limited."

"I will not and cannot believe that," said her friend in her spirited way.

"Look what happened with Jonathan. He didn't even wait to see me with the bandages removed."

"I know and he behaved in a despicable manner, but from what you told me he was more concerned about your loss of fortune than anything else. I still find it hard to believe that he jilted you on the evening of your brother, sister-in-law and the nanny's funerals.

"I loved him so much, Marianne."

Marianne twirled her handkerchief in her hands, rolling it into a tight ball. "Sir Jonathan Ellington is and was a weak man, who never deserved you.

"I have one more thing to say on this subject. Your bravery saved the life of Jocelyn and possibly several of the servants. If you had been unable to raise an alarm, then more would have died that night.

"Your actions resulted in that cruel scar on your head and the others on your body. However, would you have preferred to live without those scars, knowing you might possibly have been able to save others, but chose to stay in safety?"

"You know the answer. It isn't a difficult question," admitted Olivia.

"You lived with the pain, and the disfigurement, and you are a strong young woman. The stark reality is that without your bravery, Jocelyn would be dead. You have the scars as a result, and I can say with certainty that none of us would choose to have that scar on our face. Yet there is something very noble and honorable in the way you put others before yourself that night."

Lady Leighton paused, drawing breath. "I have said too much, I hope I haven't upset you, but, as your friend, I cannot believe that the scar you received that night is going to prevent you from finding love and happiness in life."

Olivia took her friend's hands in hers, tears streaming down both their faces as her generous hearted friend took Olivia in her arms and held her close.

***

As she lay in bed that night Olivia remembered her friend's words and they helped.

Marianne was right, I'd rather live with this scar than know I could have tried to save my family and chose to walk away unscathed.

Is it really three years? It seems like yesterday. I can accept the loss of my family and I am grateful that I have Jocelyn who is more like a sister than a niece.

I still see Jonathan's face, as clearly as I did the afternoon when he came to call and tell me he could no longer marry me. How did I recover from that pain and anguish?

He never mentioned my changed appearance, but it must have been a factor in his decision to call off our engagement.

During the dark days of desolation, she had hoped against hope, that one day he would return and tell her he loved her, and he needed to marry her and spend his life with her.

The pain from the healing of her physical scars had masked the emotional pain of loss of her family… and her fiancé Jonathan.