Courtship of Convenience: Observations of a Wallflower, #2

By Jane Charles

Observations of a Wallflower

Journal Entry of December 5, 1816

 

Society can be odd and those within the ton do not always behave as expected.

For example, Lady Violet Claxton spent more time in the gardens admiring flowers, plants, and bushes than she did inside any ballroom, and I left London wondering why she preferred roses over bachelors. Though perhaps it's because she's grows bored with tedious conversation, as her intelligence is beyond most, she's pragmatic, and lacks patience when time is wasted. Therefore, a London Season must be trying indeed for someone such as she.

Then there was Lord Emory Talbot, Viscount Ferrard, who behaved exactly as one would expect of a rake. Though he is expected to marry and produce an heir and a spare, Ferrard showed no interest in any lady or miss for longer than an evening. Further, I have it on good authority that he fears any form of commitment, which may explain why he's not even kept a mistress or settled on a wife. However, rumors have recently reached me that he may no longer have the option of waiting. The details have not been shared, but I'm certain they are drastic as I'm to understand that he is to attend a house party where Lady Violet is in residence. And, I have also learned from the most trusted authority that Ferrard never attends house parties.

I cannot begin to imagine how the two might get on when they do finally meet. Will he show interest for no more than a night or will she spend all her time in the gardens avoiding all guests? Regardless of any interaction the two may share, I'm certain nothing will come from their association as I can't think of two less likely candidates to enter into a courtship.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Night Shift Publishing
• Release date: May 25, 2021
• ISBN: 9798201608774

Jane Charles

Jane Charles has lived in the Midwest her entire life. As a child she would more likely be found outside with a baseball than a book in her hand. In fact, Jane hated reading until she was sixteen. Out of boredom on a long road trip she borrowed her older sister’s historical romance and fell in love with reading. She long ago lost count of how many fiction novels she has read over the years and her love for them never died.  Along with romance she has a passion for history and the two soon combined when she penned her first historical romance.  What turned into a hobby became a passion, which has been fully supported by her husband, three children and three cats. JaneCharlesAuthor.com Jane can be contacted at: [e-mail] Twitter and FB: JaneACharle  

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Prologue

London, July 3, 1816

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So ends my very first London Season. While uneventful for myself, the same cannot be said for others. There were great matches, love stories, broken hearts, disappointments, and more gossip than any one person should be forced to endure in a full year, let alone the four months I suffered.

My older sisters had an enjoyable Season, and I do understand their perspective as they danced and were courted. Further, they became reacquainted with friends they’d made in earlier years and took delight in many outings.

As for my brothers, I quickly learned that they came to London for an entirely different form of entertainment, and one which had nothing to do with thoughts of courtship. Further, it did not take long to realize that the flirtatious attention that a certain widow bestowed upon my oldest brother had nothing to do with her wish to remarry. This is all supposition, of course, and based upon conversations I overheard. Ones that I wish I hadn’t heard, and given the sensitive nature, I will not be asking my brother for clarification.

Though many would deem my first Season uneventful, I disagree. I have a deep sense of accomplishment at having nearly filled this journal with my observations of the 1816 London Season, much like the gossip rags that report the scandalous and noteworthy news of others. However, mine are more honest, or at least I’ve strived to be, as I try to understand why people behave the way they do. Some are led by their hearts, others by their minds, and the third group – by fortunes, or lack thereof.

Society and their interactions can be remarkably interesting, and awfully disappointing, but my world has expanded now that I’ve finally spent time away from the family estate and small village that had been the whole of my existence these past eighteen years. For that alone, I do look forward to returning to London once again and to take in the sights, visit the museums and theatres, and continue to observe.

While I believe that I’ve come to understand the motivations and personalities of those who intrigued me most, there are two such individuals for whom I’ve not quite determined their motivations.

The first being is Lady Violet Claxton. Lady Violet is one of the few people who was familiar to me prior to my first Season, but the acquaintance was not a close one. Though she attended several of the same entertainments as myself, she often did not remain with her family or friends. Instead, at the first opportunity, she disappeared into the gardens. I followed a few times, out of curiosity, but she was not meeting a lover as I had feared. Instead, she seemed to take great interest in the plants and bushes and simply enjoyed sitting alone with the blooms.

Perhaps Lady Violet is here because she was forced to attend. Or perhaps she simply finds these entertainments tedious, though I cannot fathom why. She’s quite lovely with an even temperament, and certainly does not lack confidence. Further, she is sought after, and bachelors gather to sign her dance card almost as soon as she arrives. It should be noted that Lady Violet rarely grants such requests, which has me questioning—why does she prefer roses over bachelors?

The other person of interest is Lord Emory Talbot, Viscount Ferrard. He is the heir to the Earl of Lovell, nearing the age of seven and twenty, and the eldest of eight siblings. Though he has the duty to marry and produce an heir and a spare, he barely showed any interest in doing so. My brothers have informed me that no gentleman is ever ready to be leg-shackled, and they will retain their freedom for as long as possible. I’ve learned that Lord Ferrard prefers lonely widows over actresses, and he does not keep a mistress, as he avoids any form of commitment, no matter how temporary the duration. I’m also certain it’s best that I don’t have this private knowledge either. However, it’s information that was said within my hearing, and impossible to ignore.

The Wallflowers, who remain at the side of the ballroom, silent, and many hopeful, are apparently invisible since discussions are carried on in our presence as if we weren’t even there, which is how Lord Ferrard became a study.

His motivation at the beginning of the Season seemed quite clear to me, as he was known to be a rake and did not try to hide the fact. I wouldn’t have needed to hear such gossip to have come to that conclusion on my own. Several times I witnessed him leave a ball on the arm of a lovely widow. Sometimes he returned an hour later and sometimes he did not.

However, in the last month of the Season it appeared that Lord Ferrard had lost interest in lonely widows. Instead, he turned his attention to the various ladies and misses who were above reproach. He took turns about the room, and danced often, though I rarely saw him dance with anyone more than once. I had assumed that he’d turned his mind to marriage, but he didn’t spend enough time with any one miss or lady to cause one to believe that he may be considering a courtship. What caused him to suddenly turn his attention from widows to misses?

All in all, even though I did not end this Season with a grand betrothal, I am not disappointed. In fact, I’m quite satisfied.

Perhaps I’ll recall more of what I observed and record it within these pages. Or, perhaps I’ll create stories for those who have left me to wonder, such as Lady Violet and Lord Ferrard. Perhaps one day I will even write brilliant novels the likes of which E. B. Weston pens. After all, what else is there for a wallflower to do but observe and take note.

Chapter 1

Laswell, Devon, England, December 27, 1816

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Measles! Mrs. Harley exclaimed from the front parlor.

Lady Violet Claxton grasped the railing of the stairs as alarm rushed through her being. It was a common disease, that she well knew, but it could also be deadly—a harsh reality that she had become painfully aware of as a child, and why she suffered such an irrational response at the mere pronouncement of the disease.

Yes, a deep voice answered. Did he have the rash before he left your home yesterday?

Was that Dr. Talbot?

Violet tilted an ear toward the door as she slid one slippered foot onto the next step, quietly and slowly edging her way to the landing, thankful that the stairs were thickly carpeted so that none could hear her approach.

He had the sniffles, if I recall, Mrs. Harley answered. And a slight cough. Mrs. Buckley sent him to his bed following the Christmas festivities and when his duties were complete.

Mrs. Buckley was the housekeeper and diligent in her duties, even though the Harleys had few servants, as this was a modest household. Well, it was modest compared to Violet’s home, Forester Hall, a sprawling manor that had been the estate belonging to the Duke of Arscott for nearly two centuries.

Is anyone else within your household ill? Dr. Talbot asked.

Violet had had few encounters with Dr. Talbot since he’d arrived in Laswell to take over the medical practice of the now retired Dr. Pierce. While he was a handsome fellow, it was Silvia Harley, her dearest friend, who suffered from the certain signs of attraction when he was near. On the authority of female acquaintances in London, the certain signs were a racing pulse and heart palpitations. As Violet had yet to be attracted to any gentleman, she had not suffered from such symptoms, thus she must trust in their experience.

Not that I’m aware, Mrs. Harley answered.

Violet stepped onto the white and grey marble entry of the entrance hall and twisted around the corner just enough to see into the parlor, bright from the sunlight reflecting off the stark white walls. All the rooms within the Harley household were equally bright, decorated in yellows, peaches, whites, and lavenders, as Mrs. Harley detested dark colors since she deemed them depressing.

Perhaps I should ask the housekeeper, Mrs. Harley suggested.

It would be best if we know for certain if anyone else is ill.

As the parlor door was open, Violet decided that their conversation was not meant to be private. Therefore, it wasn’t necessary that she linger in the corridor. Besides, she needed to know if Silvia was within. If not, Violet would alert her friend immediately so that she’d not miss this opportunity to be near the good doctor in hopes that he too might experience the certain signs of attraction and desire to court Silvia.

At her entrance, Dr. Talbot came to his feet and nodded in greeting. Lady Violet.

Dr. Talbot, she returned. Did I hear correctly? Has someone contracted measles?

Henry, Mrs. Harley answered.

Violet frowned. The young footman? How dreadful.

Would you please summon the housekeeper, dear.

Of course. Violet crossed to the bellpull, noting that Silvia was not within. With those thoughts, she would need to excuse herself to locate her dear friend.

Have you been in the household long, Lady Violet? Dr. Talbot asked.

I arrived yesterday afternoon.

He pulled back, his brown eyes widening in surprise, or perhaps it was alarm. Violet did not yet know him well enough to interpret his facial reaction, and she hated to assume when not certain.

I was to understand that your father was having a house party, he said after a moment.

All of Laswell knew of her father’s plans, but few knew why. That is the very reason I’m visiting with Silvia, and the Harleys were kind enough to extend an invitation so that I could vacate Forester Hall until the guests have departed.

I believe you are the first lady who has avoided a house party.

Its purpose is matchmaking, and I have no desire to be matched.

I hope your decision does not cause you to become ill.

It was almost as if Dr. Talbot were scolding her. As he was not a relative, it should not be his concern. I experienced measles as a child. A rather severe case. Or so I’m told.

Such a terrible tragedy, Mrs. Harley tsked.

Violet inwardly groaned. She detested having her family discussed, and Mrs. Harley did love to gossip.

The entire family was afflicted, with the exception of His Grace and his mother. Mrs. Harley shook her head. Violet’s mother and her sister didn’t survive.

I’m terribly sorry for your loss, Lady Violet, Dr. Talbot murmured.

Thank you, she returned, not wishing to discuss the matter any further. It still pained her, even though it had been several years since the occurrence.

Violet had been one of the last in her family to become ill and by the time she’d been allowed to leave her sick bed, Amelia and Mother were already gone and buried. Violet hadn’t even been given an opportunity to say goodbye. For an eight-year-old, that had been more traumatic than nearly dying from the disease. To make the year more painful, her beloved grandfather had died a few months later.

As she had no desire to reminisce about those painful days, Violet turned her thoughts to something over which she had some semblance of control: Silvia had not yet come downstairs. Her friend would be devastated at having missed the visit from Dr. Talbot, even if he were only here to deliver distressing news.

Yes, Mrs. Harley? the housekeeper asked as she entered the parlor.

Is anyone else ill.

Mrs. Buckley frowned. Miss Harley is still abed and complained of a cough and the sniffles. Cook has sent up some tea.

Violet sucked in a breath and dearly hoped her friend suffered only a minor ailment and not the dreaded measles.

She quickly pushed the panic aside. It was an irrational response, as she had no control over the situation. As much as she wished there were a cure, there wasn’t, and getting upset would solve nothing and often robbed the person from acting in a sensible manner.

Dr. Talbot focused on Mrs. Harley. Did your daughter have measles as a child?

Mrs. Harley brought a hand to her breast as the color left her face, leaving only the brushed rouge strikingly bright upon her cheeks. No. She did not. When others in the area became afflicted, and after the horrible deaths, we didn’t let her leave the house.

I am afraid she might have contracted the disease. Dr. Talbot straightened. I should examine her to be certain.

I will check on her. Violet started for the door. She needed to see Silvia for herself. Not only for the reassurance that her friend was not seriously ill, but also to warn her that Dr. Talbot was soon to grace her presence.

You wait here, Violet, Mrs. Harley insisted as she rushed toward the entry. I’ll see that my daughter is prepared.

At least Silvia was to be alerted, though it did little to ease Violet’s concern for her friend. I hope Henry hasn’t spread the measles to anyone else.

Unfortunately, it is likely that he has, Dr. Talbot grumbled.

If Silvia were ill, it was likely that others within the Harley household would be afflicted as well.

Henry didn’t want to miss the Servants’ Assembly, and even though he was feeling ill, he attended regardless. Once he’d spent hours dancing and mingling, he collapsed, and the rash was noted by another.

Goodness, he could have spread the disease to everyone. The Servants’ Assembly was held every Boxing Day, which was yesterday. It had been a tradition from long before Violet was born. Most of their servants attended, and it was the very reason why Father’s house party wasn’t scheduled to begin until today.

In an attempt to keep the illness from being spread to all households, I decided to quarantine everyone in attendance. The men are to remain at the Assembly Hall and cots have been brought in for their comfort. The women have been placed in the three inns until we know for certain.

How would her father and grandmother manage the additional guests without servants?

Only those who had contracted the illness previously were allowed to return to their homes.

Violet relaxed at the news. Many of their servants had been with the household when her family had taken ill, so it was likely only a few had been asked to remain in Laswell. At least, she hoped that were the case given guests were soon to arrive at Forester Hall. It wouldn’t do to be understaffed.

You may go up now, Dr. Talbot. A maid paused at the door. I’ll show you the way.

If you’ll excuse me. Dr. Talbot offered a slight bow and quit the room.

At being left alone, Violet poured a cup of tea to await the prognosis as to whether Silvia had indeed contracted measles. She also pondered her friend’s reaction to Dr. Talbot being in her bedchamber. Silvia had been hoping for an opportunity to gain Dr. Talbot’s attention and had even considered the option of a minor injury, though Violet couldn’t understand why someone would go to such lengths. However, as Violet had never suffered from the obvious signs of attraction, perhaps she simply didn’t understand the use of such manipulation.

I’ve had your trunk packed, Violet, so that you can return home, Mrs. Harley announced as she bustled into the parlor, Dr. Talbot not far behind.

Was Silvia even more ill than she’d realized? Even so, there was no cause for Violet to leave. Besides, she must stay here for reasons that had nothing to do with her friend’s illness. I cannot return to Forester Hall.

Come now, I know why you don’t wish to return home, but this simply is not a good time for guests.

Don’t think of me as a guest, Violet rushed to say. I can care for Silvia. What if others become ill? You’ll need my assistance.

Mrs. Harley shook her head. That is very kind of you, Violet, but I will not have it. I promise you can visit after Silvia has recovered.

That would never do. She must think of something. How can I return with my trunk when you don’t have a driver to take me.

I’m certain Dr. Talbot won’t mind delivering you to Forester Hall.

Dr. Talbot blinked at Mrs. Harley, then frowned. Had he not been consulted prior to being offered up as her driver? Either way, it didn’t matter, as he’d not be driving her anywhere. I’m certain Dr. Talbot’s patients need him, Mrs. Harley.

Nonsense, Mrs. Harley insisted. I’ve already had your trunk placed in the back of his curricle.

Why would Mrs. Harley do such without consulting her or Dr. Talbot first?

Dr. Talbot understands the need for this household to remain undisturbed, and he is a gentleman. Mrs. Harley led them toward the door. As a curricle is an open conveyance, there is no need for your reputation to be called in to question.

Violet hadn’t even considered damage to her reputation. She’d not been given a proper amount of time to consider any concern, other than an acceptable excuse for not returning home. Acceptable to others, that is.

As they gained the entrance hall Mrs. Buckley was already waiting, holding her pelisse, and a footman held Dr. Talbot’s greatcoat and hat.

Allow me to see you home, Lady Violet, he finally offered.

Thank you, Dr. Talbot, she muttered, though she still had no intention of him doing so.

They’d barely stepped outside when the door was shut soundly behind them. What odd behavior.

The doctor chuckled. It was as if Mrs. Harley couldn’t wait for us to leave.

Violet glanced back at the house as she attempted and failed to understand the reasoning for what had just occurred.

If you don’t mind, I will need to stop by the Assembly Hall, and then the inns while we pass through Laswell before returning you to your estate.

You’ve a number of patients that have a much higher priority than seeing me home. Had Mrs. Harley not thrust me upon you, you’d not need to take time out of your busy schedule. Further, the delay offered her time to consider an alternative plan to returning home.

She was rather forceful about you leaving. Dr. Talbot shook his head.

Yes. It was very unlike her. I’ve spent many visits at their home, but this was the first time that I’ve been asked to leave.

I’m certain it has to do with who you are and that they lack servants to see to your care, he said in a manner as if to placate her.

I’m hardly useless. Violet was rather affronted. She was hardly a child on leading strings.

I meant no offense, but a daughter of a duke usually has servants to care for her.

In truth, she relied on servants far less than many. However, Violet said nothing further, as it was unlikely that she’d change his already formed opinion, which was likely founded in what he’d witnessed in Society, or perhaps his own household, without giving consideration that not all daughters of titled gentlemen were the same.

If I am correct, your female servants are within, in the event you wish to check on them, Dr. Talbot stated as he pulled the curricle to a stop before the Stone Raven Inn.

He probably feared leaving her alone without someone to watch over her, being she was the daughter of a duke and must be sheltered or protected. Again, Violet remained silent as she had learned from her two Seasons in London that gentlemen usually could not be swayed in their beliefs when it came to the capabilities of women. While aggravating, she had a far more pressing matter to consider. Thank you.

Dr. Talbot tossed the reins to a boy waiting to earn a bit of coin then walked around to her side of the curricle. His frown deepened when he noted her already standing on the walk. Violet knew that she was to wait for the aid of a gentleman or servant when entering or exiting a conveyance. It was a societal rule that she considered a waste of precious time and only required when the passenger was an invalid, an elder, or a child in need of assistance. Another rule she followed only when in London but did not deem it necessary in Laswell.

I will return as promptly as possible to return you to Forester Hall.

Please, do take your time. There is no need to rush on my account.

I’ll return for you when I’m finished, he reminded Violet with a bit more warning. Much like a father, as if he were in charge of her person, which he most certainly was not.

Would the male species ever accept that some women could take care of themselves and were not in need of constant supervision?

As that was unlikely to happen, at least in her lifetime, Violet entered the inn and turned at the cry from her maid. She’d not taken Bess with her to the Harleys’ because she wasn’t needed. If she’d required assistance from a lady’s maid, the one employed by the Harleys would have been sufficient, though Violet hadn’t anticipated the necessity.

What are you doing here? Bess asked with alarm. Are we to be sacked for not returning? Her maid wrung her hands together as other female servants from her household gathered around.

Nobody is going to be sacked, Violet assured them. Though there were far more here than she had anticipated, which meant Forester Hall was going to be severely understaffed. At least Father hadn’t planned a large party, though she wondered how many footmen had been detained at the Assembly Hall.

Have you spoken with His Grace? a kitchen maid inquired.

No, I have not, but you’ve all worked at Forester Hall long enough to know that my father and grandmother understand the seriousness of the spread of measles. She frowned when she noted Maggie behind Bess. Why did Dr. Talbot require you to remain? Maggie had been with the family since before Violet had