Learning to Love

By Louisa Hart

All her life Clarissa had done as she was told. But still, it didn’t bring her friends or happiness but misery and loneliness. At the end of her second season she returns home, having reached the lowest ebb. And yet, as she has time to think about her life things begin to change. A chance encounter sets her on a new course and slowly she begins to see that there may be a chance to live a fulfilled life after all…

• Language: English
• Publisher: Lulu.com
• Release date: Jun 7, 2013
• ISBN: 9781291447781

Book preview

Learning to Love

Learning to Love

A journey of discovery

Louisa Hart

All thy vexations

Were but my trials of thy love, and thou

Hast strangely stood the test. Here, afore heaven

I ratify this my rich gift.

William Shakespeare, The Tempest

Copyright

Copyright © 2013 Louisa Hart

All rights reserved.

ISBN: 978-1-291-44778-1

This work is licensed under the Creative

Commons Attribution-ShareAlike 3.0 Unported License.

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Chapter 1

Disappointments are to the soul what a thunderstorm is to the air

Friedrich v. Schiller

What an utter disgrace!  She had effectively been thrown out of a house party! Clarissa Trenholme sat in a coach returning to London; it was really the lowest she could have reached this season.  Her second London season had started quite promising; after all, she was not bad looking and had a substantial dowry.  But her mother had set her heart on Clarissa marrying an aristocrat, and that was where the trouble began.  Day after day, she admonished her daughter to snare one of the few eligible noblemen.  And Clarissa had tried; at first demurely, but during her second season she got increasingly more forceful in her attempts.  

At first she attempted to reason with her mother, trying to convince her that surely her own happiness was more important than an elevated status, but her mother wouldn’t hear of it and just increased the pressure.  So, Clarissa had to resort to manipulation and worse to try and achieve her mother’s ambition.  And that manipulation had ultimately led to returning to London in disgrace. 

It had all begun quite hopeful; Clarissa had managed to wangle an invitation to Viscount Radbourne’s house party in Kent to celebrate his engagement to another debutante, Julianne Carstairs.  She was perfectly aware that she had left Lord Radbourne no choice but to include her in the invitation; it was the end of the season and she was beyond desperate.  The house party had seemed a suitable opportunity to come to the attention of Lord Kidlington, who was the catch of the season.  He would have been perfect; a young earl of good fortune, unmarried, rather serious and heavily involved in Parliament. 

Her plan had been to demonstrate her various talents and convince him that she would make an ideal countess and society hostess.  True, he had seemed vaguely interested in some country mouse, Julianne Carstairs’ plain and serious cousin, but Clarissa was convinced that she stood a chance to sway his mind. 

And then yesterday disaster struck.  She had decided to show off her culinary skills and cooked breakfast for them all, with mushroom omelettes made with handpicked mushrooms.  Unquestionably it couldn’t have been her fault that everybody had been struck down with some form of stomach upset.  In her own mind she was still sure that they had made a lot of fuss about nothing.  And then this morning, the country mouse had disappeared and she had taken the opportunity to remove some letters she had left to be delivered.  If she was honest, Clarissa felt a bit bad about that deception, but desperate times called for desperate measures.  In the end however, it had made no difference to the outcome. 

But the scene Lord Radbourne made; all calm and contained rage, giving her one hour to leave the house and threatening that she would never be invited again.  That was just too shameful to contemplate.

And so she found herself in a carriage back to London, only accompanied by her maid and not quite sure how to explain what had happened to her mother.  Deep down she was terrified about returning home without a marriage proposal.  Only her anger kept her from admitting how much she dreaded returning home, effectively a failure. 

She knew that her father would not care one way or another about her inability to find a husband.  All he seemed to care about was his shipping business and having a quiet life.  She could only imagine her mother’s disappointment and frustration, all likely to come together in a towering rage.  Who knew what punishment her mother would devise.  But of one thing she was certain; the next few months were likely to be unpleasant and difficult

While the coach made its slow and lumbering way across the Kent country side, Clarissa considered her options.  Running away to become a governess had a certain attraction, but she didn’t think she’d be cut out to deal with small children; the ones she had met to date invariably irritated her.  Not having to bring up children was perhaps the only ray of light in her current situation. 

Nevertheless running away was clearly not the solution; she had no money of her own and no friends who would be able to help her.  So returning home in disgrace was the only way open to her. 

This got her to think about how she could minimise her mother’s punishment.  Better not give her any details about what had happened in Kent; in fact it would probably be wise to give the impression that Lord Radbourne had sent her home to protect her from any further outbreak of illness.

Naturally that course of action needed to be corroborated by her maid Lucy.  Just as she was contemplating how to convince Lucy to stick with her version of events, the maid woke up.  She was still feeling a bit weak having been ill the previous day as well:  Well Miss, what will Mrs Trenholme say? were her first words.  Clarissa was sure that Lucy had a fair inkling of what was going on between her and her mother, but she wasn’t too sure what Lucy thought of her young mistress.  Experience had taught her that she didn’t have the knack needed to endear herself to others, even if she generally got along fine with the servants. 

I was thinking of telling my mother that Lord Radbourne kindly sent us home so as not to expose us to further infection. Lucy nodded: Yes Miss; I am sure that was what he was thinking.  And most of the others are still feeling quite unwell, so the house party is at an end anyway.  It was a relief that her maid would go along with her version of events; at least Clarissa would be able to tell her mother a slightly more positive story. 

Still, as they drew closer to London, her heart grew heavier and heavier.  She really wasn’t looking forward to yet another interview with her mother.  No doubt she would have a list of other possible matches, but Clarissa was fairly certain that those noblemen, if they were still unmarried, would be rather older or have little interest in women.  There was no point in worrying about it; she would find out her fate soon enough. 

By mid-afternoon the coach finally arrived in central London and soon afterwards Clarissa found herself outside her parents’ house in Wimpole Street.  A dour looking butler opened the door and within moments Clarissa was facing her mother.

What are you doing here; we didn’t expect you for another couple of days?  Clarissa calmly took off her gloves and bonnet before she responded: Good afternoon, mother, I trust you are well.  The reason that I have returned early is that a lot of the guests caught some form of nausea and Lord Radbourne kindly send me home in his coach so that I wouldn’t catch it. She handed the bonnet and gloves to the butler and headed for the stairs.  Not so fast, young lady.  I trust you have managed to secure a betrothal.  You better come through to my sitting room and tell me exactly what emerged. 

Resignedly Clarissa followed her mother to her personal sitting room at the back of the house.  Mrs Trenholme sat behind her desk and motioned for Clarissa to stand in front of her.  Now, the details, if you please.

She took a deep breath before she began her story:  As you know Lord Radbourne announced his betrothal to Miss Carstairs before the house party.  And the only other eligible gentleman at Hadleigh Hall was Lord Kidlington.  I focussed my endeavours at gaining his attention, but to no avail; in fact when I left this morning, he was incredibly rude to me.  So, in short I did not secure any offers of marriage.  As she came to an end, she could see her mother’s face flush with anger.  And sure enough, she had hardly finished, when her mother tore into her. You stupid girl; I ask you to do one simple thing for me and you fail miserably.  With your dowry and looks it should have been child’s play to get yourself a decent husband, and after two years all you have achieved is to be sent home from a house party!  I despair of you! she paused, catching her breath.  Go up to your room now, until I have decided what to do with you!

There was no point arguing, so Clarissa slowly turned around and made for the stairs.  In her room she noted that her trunks had already been taken up.  She sat down in front of her dressing table, staring at her reflection in the mirror.  A heart shaped face, with velvety brown eyes and framed by auburn hair stared back at her.  A face that could be very pretty, but at the moment looked sallow after having been sick and had a general look of disappointment about it.  As she contemplated her reflection, Clarissa thought back over the season and her endeavours to find a husband.  No wonder she looked so disenchanted, she was disappointed and more importantly, she had disappointed her mother.

Just then there was a knock at the door, and before she could say anything, the door swung open to reveal a tall man of similar colouring to her own.  Clarissa jumped up and hugged her brother Chris, I didn’t know you were back already.  I am so glad to see you. – No wonder, since you are in mother’s bad books.  Clarissa pulled him into her room: How bad is it? 

He sat down in one of her armchairs and looked her over.  Since he left on his last voyage to the West Indies a year ago, his younger sister had lost her sparkle and her confidence.  And he was sure that their mother would mete out some form of punishment, which without doubt would make matters worse for his sister.  You know mother, she will have her pound of flesh for our perceived misdeeds.  But tell me what has happened to you since I left last year?

Clarissa sat down again and told her brother all about the last season; how her mother had been pressuring her to make a good marriage, how she had tried to find a husband, first by being herself but as time progressed having to resort to more desperate measures.  She talked about how she had manipulated the situation to get herself invited to the house party and how her last attempt to convince Lord Kidlington that she would be his ideal countess had gone so horribly wrong.

Christopher listened to her story; and he could well understand his sister’s desperation.  After all, he had been exposed to the same pressure and as soon as he was old enough he had joined his father’s trading company and spent most of his time at sea, enlarging their business and escaping from their overbearing mother.  As a daughter Clarissa didn’t have the same freedom, and her mother’s ambition for social advancement rested solely on her shoulders.  And now her second season was over, she was still unmarried, and judging from the story she had just related, it was likely that she had destroyed her chances for good.

Well, you are in a fine pickle.  I wish I’d been here to keep an eye on you, but it is too late now.  I am not sure what mother will do, but I suspect that she hasn’t given up hope for an advantageous marriage.  And you will find it even more difficult next year after that stunt you pulled last week.  People will perceive you as desperate and that never helps.  Clarissa stared at him in horror: Oh Chris, will people shun me next year?  I just did what mother told me to do... she could barely hold back her tears now; it finally dawned on her that this was even worse than she had thought.   

Clarissa, for goodness sake, try to see it from their side.  You inveigle yourself into a house party and goodness knows what other entertainments, you put yourself forward at every opportunity and what is worse, you make other debutantes look bad.  What do you expect?  Can you honestly say that any of the girls you have met during the season are your friends?   Mutely she shook her head; she hadn’t really bothered to get to know the other young ladies, her mother had taught her to see them as competition and over the last two years she had adopted that attitude.  I haven’t had a friend since I don’t know how long.  The only women I talk to are mother and Lucy my maid.

Christopher nodded, that was what he had expected.  Their mother would have only instilled her unhealthy ambitions into her daughter, and no maid would be brave enough to challenge her employer over their behaviour.  No wonder Clarissa was in the mess she was in.  Stop listening to mother, it doesn’t do you any good.  She is trying to live her life through you and me.  And you have to live your own life.  Think about what you want; do you actually want to marry an aristocrat?

She looked at her brother in surprise and confusion.  I... I don’t know. She whispered.  Well, think about it.  And if I know mother, you will have plenty of time to think over the summer.  So don’t waste it by plotting how you can ensnare some other unsuspecting man.  And stay away from the kitchen, I don’t want a poisoner for a sister... with that he got up and left.

She stared after him; how could her brother, who had always been kind to her, be so unfeeling.  Accusing her of manipulation, entrapment and now almost murder?  The tears she had managed to keep at bay finally flowed.  Sobbing she threw herself on her bed; it was all so unfair and nobody understood her.  And to top it all her mother would devise some punishment, which would make her even more unhappy.

Eventually she calmed down and washed her face, ready to face her mother, when she would be summoned.  And sure enough before dinner, Lucy came in to tell her that her parents were expecting her in the library.  That didn’t bode well; it meant that whatever calming influence her father could exert over her mother had failed and they were both ready to condemn her. 

Head held high she walked into the library:  Mother, father, you sent for me? was all she could say.  Sit down, Clarissa! said her father. Your mother and I are very disappointed by your performance this season.  We have given you all the opportunities a young debutante could wish for and we could rightly expect to see you betrothed after two seasons.  However, you are still unmarried and expect us to support you.  So I have decided that your allowance will be cancelled for now, and you will not be leaving the house for the foreseeable future except to attend church.  Do you have anything to say for yourself?

Clarissa considered for a moment; it was unlikely that her parents would listen to any explanations or excuses, but perhaps there was something she could do to ameliorate her punishment.  I understand.  If I am to stay at home over the summer, might I use the time to work to improve my mind; would you permit me to visit the lending library regularly to borrow improving books?  Her father looked over at her mother, who nodded. I think that would be fine; you will be allowed to visit the library every Tuesday. 

Thank you she managed to say before she made to get up.  Not so fast. Her mother interjected I have one further requirement.  Should you be fortunate enough to be invited to Miss Carstairs’ wedding you will of course attend; Christopher will accompany you.  Perhaps seeing the success of one of your fellow debutantes will knock some sense into you.  You may go now and join us for dinner.  I expect you to come down for dinner, unless we have company.  Otherwise you will keep to your room or the school room.

Dejected Clarissa left the library; this was worse than she had expected and she had no sense of how long this punishment would last.  And even if her mother relented, she would then expect her to continue her hunt for a husband.  If Chris was right in his assessment of the situation, she would now find it impossible to attract anybody, let alone a titled husband.  Slowly she walked back up to her room. 

Christopher intercepted her at the top of the stairs: How did it go? She burst into tears again.  Her brother put his arm around her shoulders and led her back to her room.  Sit down and tell me about it.  Let’s see if we can find a way out.  So Clarissa told him about her interview with her parents and her punishment.  Christopher was shocked; this was harsh, even for their overbearing mother.  But at least Clarissa had the presence of mind to negotiate a weekly reprieve, even if it was only to the library. 

I think you kept a calm head, considering.  And you’d be well advised to continue to put a brave face on it.  The less you rebel the more likely mother is to relent sooner.  So I suggest that you start with tidying yourself up before dinner.  Just don’t give mother anything else to be angry about for now.  Clarissa took a couple of steadying breaths, then rang for her maid. 

And so Clarissa’s punishment began, and she did her best to follow her brother’s advice and abide by the rules her parents had set for her.  She worked out a plan of study, a mixture of Shakespeare plays and Greek philosophy, and every Tuesday she exchanged her books.  All in all she tried to keep busy and stop herself from thinking about what Chris had said to her.  But every once in a while his hurtful words intruded into her studies.  Could he be right?

Chapter 2

Nothing is more intolerable than to have to admit to yourself your own errors. 

Ludwig van Beethoven

London in August was hot and stifling and most families of the ton had departed to the countryside or even abroad.  It seemed as if only the Trenholmes had remained in London, Mr Trenholme to supervise his trading company, his son to catch up on business that had accumulated while he was away and Clarissa because her mother was holding her a virtual prisoner at home.

But then September arrived, Parliament was in session again and one by one the leading families returned to London.  And so one morning, when the Trenholme family were sitting down for breakfast, the expected invitation to Lord Radbourne’s wedding was delivered at Wimpole Street.  Mrs Trenholme grabbed the envelope eagerly.  Clarissa, I expect you to attend; the invitation is for the whole family and we agreed that you and your brother will represent us. Clarissa winced from the malice that underlay her mother’s tone, but pulled herself together.  Of course, mother, it will be my pleasure.   It wouldn’t pay to let her mother see how much she dreaded attending, but at least Chris would be going with her.  After Lord Radbourne’s parting words at the house party, he would probably not expect the Trenholmes to be attending his wedding. Yet she would be there and have to face the ton again after her dismal season; and who know what the guests had been saying about her past behaviour.

For the next two weeks Clarissa’s existence continued as it had been since her return, she broke her fast with the family, was silent in the face of her mother’s sharp comments, and then retired to the school room, where she worked through the studies she had set herself.  Slowly she read her way through Shakespeare’s plays, trying to understand what might have been the bard’s intention when he wrote each one of them.  What were those big topics the great man was exploring; love and hate, comedy and tragedy, faithful friendships and of course history. 

In the afternoons her brother usually came to see her for a cup of tea and Clarissa updated him on what she read and studied that day.  Christopher was quite happy for her to discuss ideas with him.  After their initial conversation about what had happened during the season, they didn’t touch on personal issues again but as the Radbourne wedding approached, Clarissa was becoming increasingly concerned about what it would be like.  All the same she didn’t quite know how to approach the topic.

About a week before the dreaded event, they were again sitting in the