Tempted by Curiosity Page 3

  Anne looked at Marcella with a quizzical brow, Marcella shrugged as she whispered to her friend, “Anne, she’s just a child with a big imagination. She’s not mad.”

  Flora looked up at Marcella, clearly overhearing what she had said, and nodded in happy agreement with her eldest sister.

  Anne was trying to pull the brush through Flora’s hair, but gave up as it got stuck in the little girl’s hair. She pointed to the abandoned brush and said to Marcella, “Me arms are hurting. I’m not strong enough to handle this tonight. Plus, I need to help cook with supper downstairs. Ye can handle this, right? Good. Don’t dally my lady.”

  Marcella and Flora saluted the maid, who in return gave them an odd expression as she closed the washroom door. Marcella unsettled the brush and picked up another brush in order to tame the rest of her little sister’s hair. Flora’s hair was so much like Marcella’s, so she knew exactly what to do with it.

  The fountain water had an odd smell to it, so Marcella knew that she had to use some sort of a scented soap in order to mask that peculiar odor that was now coming directly from Flora’s hair.

  Marcella looked through the selection of scrubs and chose a citrus scented. She knew that the strong orange sent would be strong enough to mask any promiscuous stench. Especially days old fountain water. With that decision made, Marcella helped Flora wash up quickly.

  A part of Marcella could see herself going through a similar routine with her own future children one day. Washing them up, brushing their hair, and just simply loving them unconditionally. All children deserved to be loved, just as all people deserved to have a chance at love as well.

  All Marcella had to do was just find a man. How hard could that be? With that question lingering in her mind she frowned.

  It was actually harder than Marcella had ever imagined. She adored the countrymen that she grew up around in Hertfordshire, but the feelings of a furthering a relationship were never mutual.

  Marcella wasn’t prejudice when it came to matters of the heart and someone’s rank in society. If you truly loved someone then his occupation, or even his status in life, shouldn’t matter.

  She wanted a love that was unstoppable, and absolutely undeniable. Marcella wanted a love that was true, a real love that made all the hard things in life just seem easy. That was the love that she imagined for herself.

  With a sigh, she walked over to the door and picked up her sister’s orange colored robe that was hanging behind it on a large hook.

  Marcella held the robe open for Flora to put her arms through it as the little girl said, “I love this color Ella. It’s just such a happy color.”

  Flora smiled wide as she tied the robe to her person and then twirled around in it admiring her little self.

  Marcella grinned and said, “Flora, are you sure you that don’t want to get dressed up again? Don’t you want to come down and have supper with the rest of us?”

  The bubbly little girl took her eldest sister by the hand and walked down the hall to her room. Once inside her bedroom, she walked over to her bed like a little princess.

  Flora then used her wooden bed stool, which was painted with little white daisies on it, to climb upon her bed.

  She then plopped down onto her bed and put her hands behind her head, reclining back onto her fluffy pillows.

  As she crossed her little legs at the ankle she beckoned Marcella over to her, “Ella, come join me please.”

  Marcella always did what Flora asked of her, so she answered her, “Yes, my little one. Out with it.”

  Flora crawled up to Marcella and looked at her up and down from naval to nose, “Something’s going to happen soon Ella. Things are about to change, for all of us. I can feel it. Cannot you feel it too?”

  Marcella looked at her sister with bewilderment, she wondered how such a small little girl could already know so much.

  “Flora, whatever happens to us you must know that I’ll be here for you no matter what. All of us will be, surely you know that. There is no stronger bond than that of sisters. Do not fret, alright little love?”

  Flora got up on her knees and put her arms out for a hug. Marcella obliged, she loved this little beastie so much. Marcella gave Flora the sweetest, most-tightest hug that she could ever give anyone.

  Flora then planted a big kiss on her older sister’s forehead and said, “Goodnight Ella, I love you very much. I know that I’m not supposed to say such things, but you are my favorite sister. Promise me, you won’t say a word to the others?”

  “I promise, and I never break my promises Flora. You know that.” Marcella said this with confidence. She had never broken a promise that she had made, and she most certainly wasn’t going to start now.

  She stood from the bed and Flora crawled back to the comfort of her pillows and snuggled into them deeply. Marcella made sure that her sister was tucked under the covers properly. The nights in the country tended to be quite chilly, especially towards the end of the summer and right before the autumn season commenced.

  Before Marcella could pull the door open to leave she said, “By the way, since you called me your favorite sister I’ll make sure that Anne sneaks you up a few of those biscuits that you like so much. Oh, and I love you too.”

  Marcella blew her a kiss, and Flora caught it with a cheeky smile on her face. As Marcella walked out of her little sister’s bedroom she had this sweet feeling filling up in her chest. They shared a sisterly bond, a bond so strong that no one could ever destroy it, for this was what real love was.

  Chapter 2

  After supper, the remaining Stansfield girls joined their mother by the fire in their father’s study. It was their routine before going to bed every night. Mother believed that going to sleep on a full stomach was unhealthy for the body. The girls would read, play parlor games, and walk about the room in order for them to fully digest their food before they laid down for bed.

  Tonight, Lucinda and Bernice were reading Shakespeare’s sonnets aloud to the room. Lydia was sketching nonsense in her notebook, and Lady Rowena was working on her needlepoint. Marcella could only see a glimpse of what her mother was working on, and from where she was sitting it looked like a field of thistles.

  A part of Marcella could tell that even though her mother liked living in England, she loved, and most importantly missed the essence of Scotland more. Perhaps one day, when Marcella had the chance, she would take her family up to Scotland. That would be a nice trip, and surely a very memorable experience for them all.

  Marcella saw her mother wipe away a quick tear from her left eye. Marcella had never questioned her father’s love for her mother. It was blatantly obvious to her that her parents had a love that was quite real at times, but how could a man so in love with his wife not realize that she was missing her real home? Her true home.

  Was it that men were just simply blinded to the unhappiness that women felt, and that they simply just chose to ignore it?

  Marcella looked at the book in her lap and decided that she was just too tired to read it. She had barely even made it to the introduction of the book, let alone the first line of the book, when she looked up and saw that her mother was now smiling at her.

  “Marcella dear, I think it’s time that we talk about that something of great importance that I mentioned to you earlier.”

  Lydia stopped sketching and looked up at her mother as she sarcastically said, “Is not everything you say of some sort of great importance mother?”

  Lucinda and Bernice giggled, while Marcella tried to hold back a wide grin that had begun to firm on her face.

  Lady Rowena looked at Lydia and said, “Darling Lydia, one day that mouth of yours is going to get you into big trouble. Mark my words daughter, very big trouble.”

  Lydia rolled her eyes and snorted as she continued to sketch on in her notebook. Lydia never let anyone see what she was drawing because she felt that it was way too personal to share with others. For all they knew it could’ve been absolutely nothing, just marks
across the pages, but Marcella knew that everything that Lydia did always had some sort of meaning behind it.

  Marcella looked back to her mother and asked, “Is this about my impending season in London, Mother?”

  All of the girls turned their heads in the direction of their mother to hear what her response would be to that loaded question.

  Lady Rowena straightened her back in her chair before she spoke, “Yes dear, it is. I knew you would find out somehow, sooner or later. Your father and I have conversed about the idea to our friends, the Stanton’s as well as the ever loyal Pinkerton’s.”

  Marcella simply nodded, which allowed Lady Rowena to continue speaking.

  “Lady Stanton came by for tea as she usually does, and she happened to extend a formal invitation for the Ball that her family hosts at the beginning of the London season. As you can imagine, the invitation is specifically addressed to you Marcella. I have already made all of the arrangements. You will be staying with my good friend Lady Celia Pinkerton and her family in London during the whole season.”

  Marcella continued to nod because she just couldn’t speak right now. She was way too busy trying to absorb all of the abrupt information that was coming towards her. She honestly felt like a derailed locomotive heading into impending danger.

  She motioned for her mother to continue speaking so that she could take some time to take it all in, also she wanted to learn when all of this would be transpiring.

  Lady Rowena grinned as she went on, “Lady Celia’s youngest daughter, Lady Louisa, will also be making her debut this season. She is known to be a rather shy girl, so her mother and I decided that you both could be each other’s companions and confidantes. Just like Lady Celia and I were when we had our first London seasons many years ago. The family have just come out of half-mourning due to the death of Lady Celia’s eldest daughter’s fiancé.”

  Lucinda gasped, “What happened?”

  Lady Rowena sighed, “You see, Lady Rachel was meant to marry Lord Davenport, but the gentleman suddenly grew ill after their engagement was announced to the ton. The poor thing perished about half a year ago. May he rest in peace now that he’s no longer suffering.”

  Lucinda looked to Bernice, “Poor Lady Rachel.”

  Bernice looked at Marcella and said, “I heard that she’s a beautiful swan-like creature. She must be devastated! She’s lost the love of her life, and at such a young age too. Do try to lighten her spirits Marcella. You’ve always been good at that.”

  Marcella nodded to her sister, and looked back to her mother so that she could ask, “So since Lady Louisa and I are to be partaking in this upcoming season for the first time together, does that mean Lady Rachel will not be participating? Or will she be joining us as well?”

  Lady Rowena frowned as she reported, “Lady Rachel has made it perfectly clear that she will not attend another season until she feels it appropriate or proper to do so. Who knows when that could be. Perhaps, you could persuade her to give the season another try.”

  Lydia looked towards Marcella and stated, “She must have truly cared for that Lord Davenport fellow. I heard in town that he was a kind-hearted man. A rare breed in my opinion.”

  Lady Rowena looked at Lydia mysteriously, “When did you go to town darling?”

  Lydia nervously laughed as she said, “Mother, you know that I go to the town market along with the servants on occasion to collect a few personal items here and there.”

  Lady Rowena nodded with a slight suspicion, “I know darling, the way you said town simply implied London and not Hertfordshire. It was very curious, that’s all.”

  Marcella tried not to smirk at Lydia, but her sister was obviously hiding something, and it was not a small secret. What was she up to? A sense of nervousness suddenly came over Marcella. She had to play off her nerves.

  So she asked, “Mother, when should I have everything packed and ready for my season in London?”

  Lady Rowena looked away from Lydia and back to Marcella as she stated, “Once your father returns, he will give you a quick report about town, and then he will accompany you in the family carriage. The carriage will take you directly to the Pinkerton’s town home in Kensington.”

  Marcella decided to excuse herself from the room, “I’ve had a rather eventful day, and I wish to retire for the rest evening. Good night everyone.”

  Marcella left the study and headed straight for the solace that her own room provided her. As she was preparing for bed, a light knock sounded on her bedroom door. She walked over to the door, and as it creaked open slightly in front of her she saw a head followed by a lot of hair creeping around the threshold of the doorway.

  “Lydia? Is that you?” Marcella asked, all-knowingly of course. No one else had hair like that.

  Lydia snuck into the room quietly and closed the door behind her without even making a noise. She was like a spy, perhaps she was living a secret life. Most likely not, but wouldn’t that be something to think about.

  Lydia, a spy? Marcella suppressed the urge to laugh at that ridiculous thought.

  “Marcella, I would like to talk to you about some private thoughts of mine.”

  Marcella gestured over to the hearth where there were two worn red furnished chairs facing a small flickering fire. Tonight was a chilly one, just as she had assumed it would be.

  There was a tiny tea table with a book, a half-drunk teacup, and a fresh plate full of sweet biscuits on it. They sat down together in the chairs by the hearth and Lydia eyed the sweet biscuits right away. She took two at first, one for each hand.

  She was halfway finished with the first biscuit when Lydia finally said, “How do you always manage to get these fresh out of cook’s oven when your room is so far from the kitchen? They are scrumptious, yet quite bad for the hips. Well, my hips and probably Bernice’s hips as well. The rest of you are lucky in that lackluster area.”

  Marcella picked up her teacup and saucer, took a sip of her tea and confessed, “Truth be told, I have Anne ask cook for an extra batch of them every other week. I share them with Flora since her room is across from mine. She tends to devour them quickly, so I give her a couple at a time when she is craving them. Lucy doesn’t much like sweets. As for Bernice, she only likes chocolate. If you would like some of these, just let me know and I can make it happen. Also, that last part was rude. If Bernice heard you she would not like that comment.”

  “Bernice wouldn’t mind it one bit, she doesn’t become bothered by such trivial matters. She has this darker, more mature edge to her. I can’t quite understand it.” Lydia replied with intrigue.

  “I agree that there’s something different about Bernice. However, I don’t think that it’s a bad thing per say. I think it’s good to be different, if we were all alike then life here would be undoubtedly monotonous. A total bore.”

  Lydia ate the second biscuit right up and licked the crumbs from her hand, “Hmm? What were you saying? I was distracted by that absolutely addictive cinnamon flavor in those biscuits.”

  Lydia ate another biscuit and then said, “Now, back to why I came here in the first place. Would you be willing to write to me once your settled in London? I want to know about everything. From the Balls, the outings, to the fancy dresses, and definitely the gentlemen.”

  Marcella laughed as Lydia winked at her in a naughty way when she lastly brought up the gentlemen.

  She jokingly punched her sister’s arm, and then replied, “Of course I will write to you Lydia. I will write to you every week, as often as I can. I have a feeling that there will be much to write about.”

  Lydia grabbed another biscuit and picked it apart as she said, “Marcella, you better write to me. I am going to be bored out of my mind here without you. I will need something to keep me occupied, besides these little cinnamon clouds of perfection.”

  “Of course, Lydia. Anything else that you wish to tell me or ask of me?”

  “I do need to tell you something, just don’t be mad. I’ve to London a f
ew times.” Lydia whispered that last part out.

  Yet, Marcella had heard her just fine and exclaimed, “What? You’ve been to London!”

  Lydia shushed her, “Yes I’ve been, and I cannot believe that I almost slipped up about that today in front of Mama.”

  Marcella did not know if she should be furious or apprehensive, “Lydia Stansfield, you’d better explain yourself now.”

  Lydia sat forward in her chair and spoke softly, “I’ve been taking art lessons in town, and I was looking for a particular sketchpad, but the one that I was looking for was only sold in London and the vendor in town wouldn’t order it for me because I was a woman. He’s a sexist prig that I hope falls into a barrel of lard one day soon. Anyways, everyone was busy at home and I paid one of the maids to say that I was in town all day looking for ribbons. I lied, obviously.”

  Marcella snorted, “Obviously.”

  “As I was saying, I paid the maid and took off on my own. I had to slightly wax my hair down and shove it into a short brown wig, which I covered with a cap. I wore men’s attire to blend in with the others in the coach that heading for London.”

  “You dressed like a man?”

  “Yes I did, and may I just say that men are getting the better end of the deal Marcella. Have you ever tried walking in men’s trousers before?”

  “No I don’t believe I have.”

  “Well, one day give it a try. It felt so liberating! I hope that one day in the future, all women will be able to wear trousers in public without being scrutinized by men for showing too much of our figures off. Just imagine how easier riding a horse would be? No more blasted sidesaddle, we could all rise astride.”

  “We do ride astride, at least out of the townspeople’s views of course. Good point though. Go on with the story Lydia, you almost digressed us away from a very important conversation.”