Chapter 15

Chapter 15

Olivia awoke the next morning to faint rays of sunshine. Exhausted, she struggled to lift her head from the pillow and go through her routine before starting the day.

What is the point? Every time things look a little brighter, I feel like I am broken down again.

All night the relentless rain had battered the windowpanes. Olivia had slept fitfully, tossing and turning. She felt hot, then she felt cold. She felt sleepy, then she felt wide awake.

She had tried to maintain a brave face at dinner the previous evening. The rumor had been ignited and she could almost feel it spreading minute by minute.

When she saw her uncle's dismal, scowling face she knew that he had seen the content of the slander in the scandal sheet.

If she were rich, she would fight back. She could confirm her suspicions about the perpetrator of these lies. As it was, all she could do was stay at Swanbourne and hope that the storm would pass.

Am I ruined? I truly don't know.

Olivia's main worry was how this might affect Josie and her marriage prospects. She felt her own chances of finding a husband were always slim at best.

The face of the Earl of Hatfield floated into her thoughts. She forced the image of his face out of her mind. Love was not for her.

Uncle Harold had summoned her to speak with him after the meal, and she had literally run away, pleading a headache as she raced up the stairs.

She knew that this morning there would be no escaping that conversation with her uncle.

If only she had independent means. She realized she was going to have to agree to whatever her uncle suggested or possibly be made to leave immediately. She knew she couldn't leave Jocelyn.

Suddenly, and to her own surprise, she touched her cheek as silent tears fell. For years she had been coping with her disfigurement and loss of fortune. Today, she struggled to find the courage to be brave.

She could cry for a little while, nobody would see her and know .

However, a tap on her door made her look up as the white cap of Mrs. Jennings entered her room.

"I'm sorry to disturb you this early in the day, my Lady, but his Lordship is requesting you join him in his study," said Mrs. Jennings quietly.

As she delivered the command, Mrs. Jennings looked towards Olivia and saw her distress.

"Oh, my dear girl." Eyes widening, she moved quickly across the room to Olivia. "This isn't something we see very often. I don't think I've seen you cry more than a few times since you were a little girl—apart from when we had that tragedy at Silverton."

Olivia looked at this kind woman, who had been a source of friendship and support for many years. "I don't feel brave today. It all seems too much. What can I do?"

"There, there my dear," said Mrs. Jennings and opened her arms to hold Olivia and give her the strength of loving support. "You're the bravest of brave young women."

She handed Olivia a lace edged laundered handkerchief.

"Now, wipe your eyes and then I'll have Ellen come and help you dress."

"Does everyone know?" asked Olivia, struggling to speak the words and knowing she was scared of the answer.

"Best to be truthful, is what I always say," said Mrs. Jennings. "Whoever is orchestrating this, and there has to be an evil mind behind this, is very methodical. The rumor is flying around town and that scandal sheet is everywhere. So, whoever is doing this is not without funds."

She looked at Olivia with wisdom in her eyes. "But, and it is a big but, your uncle is not without influence."

Olivia let out a sob as Mrs. Jennings continued. "Hush my dear, yes I am fully aware that the two of you do not always see eye to eye, but he is a good man at heart." She guided Olivia to a chair near the fire and sat opposite her. "Then there is your strength of character, and quiet dignity, which will mean that many people won't believe what they read."

"You think that's possible?"

"Of course, it is inevitable, and works in our favor," asserted Mrs. Jennings.

"There is one more thing, which carries a heavy weight in this matter. The ball at Lady Leighton's was a busy event, full of people, and you were supposedly cavorting around the hallway with the Earl of Hatfield… a ridiculous and impossible situation."

Olivia nodded. There had been a quiet, sensitive, interlude between herself and Marcus, but even if they had been observed it would not have created this level of scandal.

"Now, dry those tears. I'll get a tray brought up for you, so you have some breakfast, and then you can go and see your uncle."

Olivia nodded, sniffing her thanks, through the handkerchief.

"Lady Jocelyn has been asking if you are up, and she will come and sit with you. And the viscountess has already sent a message from Maybury that she will be visiting with you and Lady Jocelyn all day."

Olivia took a deep breath and thought of all the people who cared about her, including their housekeeper, who had known her since she was a child.

I can do this, she assured herself. I've lived through much worse than this.

She reflected with bitter humor that the one positive in this situation was that there was no risk of meeting Sir Jonathan Ellington at a ball or recital. She knew that she would have been unhappy married to him, but he had held her heart, and they had planned a future together. His coldness, and withdrawal from their engagement, in the aftermath of the fire was cruel. However she looked at it, he had inflicted damage and hurt at a time when she needed love and support from her fiancé.

She felt that the fact that she was dreading meeting him was ridiculous. However, the fire, the deaths and his abandonment were tied together so closely that she was not sure how she'd react when she did finally see him.

When she was ready, she made her way downstairs to the welcome news that her uncle had tired of waiting for her. He had business elsewhere, but would return around midday, and expected Olivia to be waiting for him. Marianne and Jocelyn were settled in the drawing room, quietly embroidering and both came to hold her close when she entered the room.

It soon became clear that the usual flurry of calling cards was non-existent today.

Jocelyn showed them the letter she had received from Lord Ludlow the previous evening.

"He's been called away to his estate. His mother's been taken ill. He doesn't know when he'll return."

"He writes that he looks forward to seeing you again," commented Marianne. "Can I ask, has there been any sign or indication of a proposal?"

"Not as such, but he has made it clear he admires me greatly, and he's talked about his future as though I'm there with him in it."

"That's important. It shows he sees you in his life. Don't underestimate the importance of that," Marianne reassured Jocelyn.

"I know, and I won't," replied Jocelyn.

"Have any more flowers arrived?" asked Olivia, realizing she had been too preoccupied to keep up with what was happening in Jocelyn's romantic life.

"Yes, a tray of white lilies, which have a beautiful fragrance and a book of poetry," Jocelyn informed them with a smile

"Hmm. Lord Hastings certainly knows how to romance you," said Olivia. "Either that or he has a farmer on his estate growing cut flowers!"

"He does seem to genuinely care," said Marianne. "I know I'm prying, and you don't have to answer but my question is this. Do you feel a spark of affection, any connection with Lord Hastings?"

Jocelyn looked thoughtful before replying. "No, not really. I like him and he is good to talk with, but it isn't the same as when I talk to Colin, erm, Lord Ludlow, I mean. If Lord Hastings didn't call, then I wouldn't notice. There have been days when I've just kept looking out of the window, hoping that Colin will arrive."

Marianne's eyes met Olivia's over Jocelyn's head. It seemed they shared the opinion that it was very likely that Jocelyn had fallen in love with Lord Ludlow.

Olivia knew they were both hoping that the reason given in the letter from Lord Ludlow was genuine, and not due to him hearing the vicious rumor. It seemed unlikely that Lord Ludlow would withdraw his courtship of Jocelyn for that reason, but they were in uncharted and stormy waters.

Marianne went to the door and called to a parlor maid in the hallway, asking for tea and honey cakes in the drawing room. She returned and took a seat before gesturing for Olivia and Jocelyn to sit near her.

"Now, my friends, this is going to be difficult, but I think we have no alternative but to discuss the rumors and scandal sheet," said Marianne.

"Uncle Harold knows now," Olivia informed them, her voice faint. "Mrs. Jennings tells me he wishes to see me as soon as he returns. That's probably any minute now."

Olivia felt her hands tightening at her sides, curling almost into fists. She consciously stretched and loosened her fingers, trying to relax her body. The conversation with her uncle was not going to be easy. Even a conversation about the weather could prove problematic with Uncle Harold.

She felt intense bitterness building inside her towards the person who could devise such an evil scheme to ruin the lives of others.

There was still a tendril of fear and dread curling in her mind that this slander spreading across the ton might also ruin Jocelyn's chance of making a match.

I'm convinced the culprit is Lady Cressida. But why would she do this? Surely it can't be due to her observing Lord Hatfield and I together? This feels like a vendetta and we're powerless to stop it.

"Olivia, you look to be in a world of your own," came Marianne's voice, penetrating her thoughts.

"Sorry, I was many miles away," admitted Olivia.

"Are we agreed that the person most likely to be behind this rumor is probably Lady Cressida?" Marianne asked them.

Olivia and Jocelyn nodded.

"Look how she behaved at my ball," said Jocelyn. "You and Lord Hatfield unmasked her spreading that unpleasant rumor about Olivia. It's unlikely that two people are slandering Olivia, so unless evidence arises to the contrary, I think we should assume she is the culprit."

"I agree," said Marianne. "I wish I had ordered her from the premises, and made it clear to all who were attending the ball that she had behaved despicably."

"You weren't to know she would escalate," reassured Olivia. "It was kind of you to let her stay."

Olivia paused, looking thoughtful. "I suspect she had set her cap at Lord Hatfield. We spent time together that evening, and then when she spread the rumor, he comforted me. I believe she must have been hiding in the shadows when we left the library and returned to the dancing."

"There's definitely a spark between the two of you," mused Marianne. "I believe you have made a conquest there."

"That might have been the case, but that must have changed now. He's named as the man with whom I am having a liaison. I doubt he will ever want to be seen with me again." Her breath caught in her throat and her voice faded away.

Jocelyn came over to her aunt and knelt in front of her taking Olivia's hand in hers. "Livvie, I know there's something more to this. I'm worried about you."

"I'm just tired and a little out of sorts," said Olivia, almost inaudibly.

"I agree with Jocelyn. There's something which you're not telling us. It seems to be the day for sharing secrets and we are your friends. If you'd rather not, then you know we are both here for you," prompted Marianne gently.

Olivia stood up and walked over to the window. The door opened and a maid brought tea in and set it out on the table near the fire. She took slow and steady breaths, and her thoughts went spinning back to a day by a pool, the taste of wild strawberries, and the closeness of a man who made her heartbeat faster.

She returned to her friends and took a cup of the hot China tea swirling the cup around in her fingers. "You're both quite right. I can't easily hide anything from either of you." She smiled and looked at Marianne, then Jocelyn in turn.

"I am going to share a story with you now. It's an intensely private tale of a strange meeting in the Chiltern Hills."

Marianne gasped. "When you were staying at Leighton Manor?"

Olivia nodded. She hesitated for a moment and then began to tell the two people who were closest to her, the tale of the first time she had met Marcus, Lord Hatfield.

They both listened intently and stared at her in disbelief.

"You didn't know who he was?" queried Marianne.

"I thought he was a Mr. Brandon, a local farmer."

Marianne laughed out loud. "Oh Olivia, I'm so sorry. It's not that I think any of this is funny. I'm just imagining Lord Hatfield, who has always seemed a little haughty and aloof to me, as a local farmer."

"I know, but I truly thought he was Mr. Brandon."

"I think it's romantic. You met in a forest glade. It's like a novel by Mrs. Radcliffe. I just met Lord Ludlow in a house at a ball. How dull is that in comparison?" said Jocelyn.

"None of this matters anyway. We just spent time together and became…" Olivia hesitated before continuing, "I guess we became friends for a day."

"You really didn't know each other's identity?" Said Marianne, bemused.

"No. I only realized when we met again in London. I never expected to meet Mr. Brandon again."

"It is quite romantic," persisted Jocelyn.

"Not really, but it was a pleasant day and I remember that I didn't want it to end," Olivia said, pausing again before revealing more of the story.

"He did call me Cinderella, well, Cendrillon in French. You know the character who disappears at midnight in Monsieur Perrault's mysterious tale. I did disappear rather quickly that day."

Marianne busied herself pouring them a second cup of steaming hot green China tea. She made a point of insisting they all take a honey cake.

"This really has been a day for sharing confidences—and that's what these are. I'm delighted my dear that you had an adventure on a woodland walk. How strange that you should meet again several months later as Cendrillon and her handsome prince."

"This story isn't finished yet. There must be a happy ending," insisted Jocelyn.

Olivia almost choked on her honey cake. "Jocelyn, that's not the case at all."

"I've listened very carefully to your story and that's what I think. You deserve a fairy tale happy ending. We seem to be a long way from it at this point in time." Jocelyn took a bite of the rich, buttery honey cake, savoring the taste.

"Now, what's this I hear about Sir Jonathan Ellington reappearing in society. I hope he stays in the country and doesn't make an appearance in town. Odious man," said Marianne.

They heard voices outside in the hallway, and Olivia's heart sank as she realized that Uncle Harold had returned home.

However, the meeting was not what she had been expecting and dreading. He entered the drawing room and Marianne sprang immediately into action to sweeten him with her usual charm.

"Your Lordship," she said. "We were expecting you. We've just had tea and I shall ask for another pot."

"Thank you, that would be very welcome," he responded.

"You look a little tired," Marianne continued. "I believe we all feel exhausted and rung out by this dreadful business with the scandal sheets, and the horrible and untrue rumors flying around about Olivia. Everyone knows there is no truth to it, but how do we stop the tongues tattling?"

He looked at Olivia, and she sensed a concerned kindness in his eyes. "I was going to speak with you privately Olivia, and I believe I am right in assuming there is no truth in this rumor whatsoever." He pulled one of the scandal sheets out of his pocket and waved it around.

"No, Uncle," replied Olivia. "I did spend time with Lord Hatfield at the ball, but I was never in a state of undress with him and have never been with any man."

Marianne drew in a breath and Uncle Harold put his head in his hands. "Olivia, I know we often have, what I consider, differences of opinion and our conversation can become heated, but I really do not need to be reassured on that point. In fact, I'd much prefer we didn't discuss states of undress. Please remember that Jocelyn is present, and that sort of talk is quite inappropriate for her young ear."

Olivia heard a strange noise as Jocelyn tried to stifle a giggle. Olivia was worried that, if Jocelyn continued, she would also start giggling herself.

"I believe we know who instigated these evil scandal sheets, but it is going to be nigh on impossible to prove her guilt," said Marianne to Uncle Harold.

"The Lady Cressida Lantham I assume?" said Uncle Harold, surprising them all with his level of insight.

"And there is nothing we can do," said Jocelyn.

"I have a suggestion," said Marianne. "I propose we continue to be at home to callers here, and at my home. We do not go out to any parties or recitals for the next few days. That will give us a chance to evaluate this situation and work out the severity of the damage to reputations."

"That, my dear Viscountess Leighton, is a sensible plan. I'm not hopeful. I'll be honest that it is my experience that once these rumors begin there is little that can be done. The ton has a long memory."

He turned to Olivia. "However, I am not without influence, and I have a plan we can put in place if these rumors continue. Never fear, no niece of mine will be ruined by a vindictive woman who is jealous of you. This is the effect of that green eyed monster called envy."

"It seems as though we have agreed on the way forward," said Marianne. "There is honey cake, your Lordship." Marianne offered Uncle Harold the plate.

"Why thank you, I am rather partial to honey cake," he said, taking one and smiling graciously at Marianne.

Olivia couldn't believe she had avoided a difficult individual conversation with Uncle Harold. She had been dreading the expected meeting in his study, knowing that they invariably deteriorated into cold anger.

She then listened open-mouthed as Marianne told her uncle all about a mutual acquaintance, who planned to travel to Greece, then Constantinople. She even heard her uncle chuckle at one point which was a very rare occurrence, even on those days when he was in a good mood.

Olivia tried to understand just how Marianne managed her uncle. She just had a way with him, and it was as if he relaxed when Marianne talked to him. I can't work it out. She isn't flirting with him, but she flatters him and appears to take him seriously, while challenging his most outrageous ideas.

"I believe the Marquis of Cleebury is an addle-pated buffoon," stated Marianne.

"Always has been lily-livered; his father showed weakness and lost a treasure trove of money at the tables," agreed Uncle Harold.

"Really? I had no idea," said Marianne. "That may be why Cleebury Towers is on the market."

"Undoubtedly the case," replied Uncle Harold.

I think she is boosting his spirits and almost teasing uncle in an affectionate way. She certainly makes him feel important, and he is a different person when he talks with Marianne.

And so it continued, and the pattern was set for several days of quiet living at home. Marianne would spend time with them most days and they would look at fashion plates or embroider or stitch tapestries. The pace of the days suited Olivia. Often, far too often, the countenance of Marcus, Lord Hatfield, entered her thoughts. There was no word from him, and he must know about the slander, so she could only assume he had pulled away from her.

After she told her story to Jocelyn and Marianne, she had felt lighter and less anxious.

I suppose it's possible that if the rumors had not happened that I would have gotten to know Marcus more and he would have known me better.

Uncle Harold took the carriage to Silverton to oversee some of the final work on the property. Olivia had listened as Marianne had included this suggestion in her conversation with him. He immediately caught onto it as a plan and by the next day he was gone.

Olivia felt confusion about her feelings for her uncle now. He certainly had fixed ideas about how things should be done, always in his preferred way, and he was as miserly as one could be. Yet he had shown kindness and commitment to Jocelyn at her coming out ball. Now with the rumors around Olivia he seemed calm and determined to protect her and her good name.

Olivia thought that it was probably due to the influence of Marianne, or possibly, now that Silverton had almost been restored, he could relax a little as that had been a significant investment. Who knew? It was certainly a welcome change.

As they spent their time at Swanbourne there were a few callers, but nothing like the stream of guests they'd previously entertained. No one spoke about it.

On the third day the realization struck that Lady Cressida's plan to ostracize Olivia from society had gained momentum. The usual invites to supper, or soirees had dwindled to nothing. No gilded invitations for grand balls arrived at Swanbourne Place.

"She's managed it, hasn't she?" said Jocelyn with bitterness.

"It looks as though she has," agreed Olivia. "My reputation is ruined, though that doesn't mean yours is as well."

"Oh, we have to face facts Olivia. The whole family has fallen out of fashionable society. I rather miss the balls and recitals. I still can't believe that one small-minded person can create such chaos."

"It might only be temporary. It's always possible things will change when the dust settles in a few days," said Marianne, trying to maintain an optimistic outlook.

"It is her, isn't it?" queried Jocelyn.

"Oh, I think that's beyond doubt," said Marianne. "We caught her in the act at the ball."

"There's a carriage arriving," said Jocelyn "It's Lord Hastings." They watched as the Marquis of Hastings descended from the chaise, with a footman carrying a display of pink roses so big that his head disappeared. Jocelyn giggled.

Perhaps Lord Hastings was a little more distant towards them than previously. Olivia made herself scarce after greeting him, leaving Marianne to chaperone the visit.

Maybe he does care about Jocelyn. He is still visiting, despite our being banished by most of the ton. He is still visiting and actively courting Jocelyn.

The mood plummeted that afternoon when Marianne shared a letter she had received that morning from Lady Golightly, her sponsor at Almack's Assembly Rooms. The suggestion was that it would be best if the family delayed attending any events for a while. She was sure she would be able to welcome them again in a few days, and thanked the viscountess for her understanding in this matter.

"They really believe that on the occasion of my niece Jocelyn's coming out ball, in the house of my best friend, that I spent time in a liaison with Lord Hatfield. Indeed, that I would embarrass myself by appearing half dressed and disheveled in the hallway?" asked Olivia.

"No, I don't think they believe it. They just have such intricate unwritten rules that they can't openly disregard the scandal."

"We're ruined then," complained Jocelyn. "I'm ruined by association with this fallen woman, who cares for me so little that she cavorted half clothed with her paramour during my coming out ball."

Marguerite began barking loudly, sensing Jocelyn's distressed tone.

"That's it little Marguerite. You can defend us against this wicked lady," said Jocelyn to the little dog.

More barking and Marguerite licked Jocelyn's hand as she lifted her up on her lap.

"I'll have to tell Uncle Harold about Lady Golightly," said Olivia. "This situation is getting worse. I'd hoped by now it would have settled a little. This is so unfair."

***

As she entered his study, Uncle Harold looked up towards her with a tired smile. He'd come back from Silverton and arrived just as Marianne was leaving. He read the letter from Lady Golightly and immediately called his manservant to get the smaller phaeton ready and drive off into the city. He didn't tell them where he was going.

"Sit down Olivia. I am so sorry, but it seems we must talk about this matter," he said to her in a tone of despair.

She nodded.

"I'd hoped rumors would die down, and you and Jocelyn could continue with your season unaffected."

She nodded again.

"This is a difficult conversation, as I know we often have a difference of opinion." He smiled and she noticed the weariness in his face and felt a pang of guilt that he was dealing with the fallout from this unpleasant situation.

"I consider that we are alike. We are both forceful personalities and it is inevitable."

Olivia couldn't believe her ears. She realized that he thought they were alike. Possibly he thought that Olivia took after him. Olivia thought that this was balderdash, but accepted that, if it made him happy to see it that way, she could accept it. She certainly felt warmer to her uncle than she had a few months earlier.

"I'm alarmed by how this has escalated. I had already asked Rawlings, my solicitor, to look into this matter. He sent a man to the printers and discovered another order, for more sheets with more extreme content, was about to be distributed. He advised the printer of the legal situation, and thankfully we prevented the flyers being sent out. But there are other printers and if the perpetrator is determined then there is little we can do."

"It seems very personal to me. Yet it has directly affected Jocelyn, and to some extent the Viscountess Leighton."

"Exactly. The viscountess is convinced she knows the identity of the instigator of the scandal, but there is no proof."

He took a sip of dark, amber colored, brandy and Olivia had the impression that he was reluctant to continue.

"If we let this continue then Jocelyn will be ruined alongside you. I don't believe that's what you would want."

Olivia shook her head. "No, sir," she murmured.

"There is only one course of action open to us which will counteract the scandal."

Olivia looked confused. One course of action? What did he mean?

"You must marry Lord Hatfield."

Olivia gasped, staring at her uncle in bewilderment.

"It's the only way to stop this escalating further. Hatfield is the son of a peer of the realm and powerful. He's eligible too. I plan to speak to him about this tomorrow."

"I can't Uncle Harold. I won't marry Lord Hatfield. I doubt he'd agree to have me anyway."

She hadn't seen Marcus since that evening at the ball. There had been no note, no enquiry about her wellbeing.

"Olivia, I'll leave you to think about this, but I can see no other solution which will bolster your reputation, and prevent Jocelyn being ruined too."

"I can't marry Lord Hatfield. It is out of the question." She looked at him with determination in her eyes.

"I'm not going to get angry and tell you that you have no choice and have to comply. I've realized that doesn't help anything. And I'm sorry it's come to this, but I can't see another way."

"I could become a governess, or a companion," she suggested.

"My dear girl, think this through logically. Which fine lady is going to want a notorious young woman, working in her household in proximity to her husband? And yes, that is unfair and untrue, but it is the reality we face."

He was right. She had a tarnished reputation. No employer would want her now.

Olivia felt tears beginning to well up. She took a dry swallow and a long, slow breath through her nose, trying to gain control of her physical responses. She needed her brain to be clear to think.

"Surely there must be another way?" she said.

"If you can think of one then bring it to me. Apart from mounting legal challenges where possible, I can see no other option." Uncle Harold looked at her with sadness in his eyes.

He stood and went to the side table to pour himself another drink. He returned and handed her a small glass of cognac. "Drink this for the shock. I fear I've caused you distress, but it really is the only way." She took the crystal glass and sipped, unused to the heat of powerful spirits.

Her thoughts were with her niece. She would do anything to prevent Jocelyn being ruined alongside her. She heard her uncle's words echoing in her head.

"Lord Hatfield must marry you, and soon. I'll speak with him tomorrow." He bent his head towards his papers, then looked up again.

"Oh, and by the way… I forgot to mention Rawlings says that he wrote to you recently, and has had no reply."

And that was it? The business of her marriage was concluded and on to another matter, involving a solicitor. Her uncle really was quite an individual character.

For the first time since the fire she had no energy to continue. She felt exhaustion closing in. The closure of her escape route to becoming a governess or a companion was an unexpected, heavy blow. Since the fire, she had known it was a way out of her uncle's household. It seemed that door had slammed shut.