Chapter One
“You will allow this, Merry.”
Merry lifted her chin and looked her mother, Lady Whitehaven, straight in the eye. “I shall do no such thing, Mama.”
Her mother’s eyes narrowed, flashing with an ominous warning, but Merry paid it no heed. She was not about to let herself be pampered and prodded into wearing something that she considered to be one of the ugliest creations she had ever seen. Nor was she about to let the maid put her long, dark tresses into whatever unusual coiffure her mother expected. She would choose her own gown and would revert to her usual chignon, else she would not attend the ball at all.
“Why do you insist on being so stubborn?” her mother asked, throwing up her hands. “Do you not care about your future?”
Merry stiffened, her cheeks flooding with color. “I do not want to be forced into choosing a gentleman, just because you believe it to be ‘my turn’—as you so helpfully put it.” She turned away from her mother and walked to her bedchamber window, forcing herself to keep her temper. “I do not want to have this expectation thrust upon me.”
“But it is what you are expected to do!” Lady Whitehaven exclaimed, as though Merry was being more than ridiculous. “Your one aim in this life is to marry and to marry well.”
Merry shook her head, feeling that same, familiar stab of pain that she had never allowed herself to express to another living soul. Why could she not find a gentleman to care for her who would not mind in the least whether she wore the highest fashions or the drabbest gown?
“Why must I wear a particular type of gown or have my hair done in a particular fashion, Mama?” she asked softly, turning her head to look directly at her mother. “If I am to find a suitable gentleman, then surely I should be permitted to discover if there are any amongst the beau monde who would wish to call upon me just as I am?” She allowed her voice to fill with a slight challenge, seeing her mother’s eyes narrow slightly as she took in what Merry was saying.
Nothing was said for some moment, and Merry was just about to allow herself a small triumph when her mother shook her head firmly and took a few steps closer to where Merry was standing, shaking her finger in her direction.
“You will have plenty of opportunity to dress as you wish or to keep your hair in that dull bun that you insist upon having once you are wed,” Lady Whitehaven told her emphatically. “However, for the time being, one must look one’s best in order to draw the attention of one or two specific gentlemen. Therefore, you are going to wear that gown, and you will sit until I am satisfied with the set of your hair. Do you understand me?”
Merry lifted her chin, a hint of stubbornness in her gaze. This was not the first time her mother had tried to insist on such a thing, but each time, Merry had simply been able to refuse. However, now that her elder sister Eliza was wed, and her younger sister Titania engaged, it seemed that Lady Whitehaven’s efforts were redoubled. Most likely, that was because Lady Whitehaven believed that she would have more success with Merry than with her sister Catherine, who was always busy with philanthropic work. Nor could Merry imagine what her mother would say in order to encourage Dinah, Merry’s cousin, into society, given that she spent her time looking down at everyone else from her lofty height of religious self-importance. But no, Merry was not going to be as easy as her mother thought. She had no desire to change how she looked simply to garner the attention of the gentlemen who so easily passed her by.
“I shall not wear that gown this evening, Mama,” Merry said softly, hating that she was upsetting her mother, but knowing that she could not give in to this. If she did, it would mean that her mother would do everything she could to continue forcing Merry into society and, as she called it, into ‘looking her very best.’ “Nor shall I sit to have the maid spend hours upon my hair. Instead, I shall choose my own gown and will have my usual chignon, although I may allow one or two curls to sit by my temples if that would please you?”
Lady Whitehaven’s lips pressed so tightly together that, for a moment, they were white. Merry held her mother’s gaze without flinching, for this was not the first time she had needed to argue over a gown. It would take its usual course. Her mother would remain angry with her for some hours and then would simply sigh and state that Merry would be allowed to do as she wished, for there was nothing else for Lady Whitehaven to do in her attempt to convince her. Then, most likely, she would flit to Titania’s side and begin to discuss the upcoming wedding, which was to be held at the end of the Season. At least Lady Whitehaven could have the satisfaction of knowing that two of her daughters were wed and settled. Surely that would be enough for her?
“I do not know why you persist in doing such a thing as this,” Lady Whitehaven said, her voice low and her eyes filled with anger and frustration. “I cannot understand why you continually turn away my requests, and yet here you are, doing precisely that. You have no respect for me whatsoever, Merry.”
“I have a good deal of respect for you, Mama,” Merry quickly interrupted. “It is unfair, however, to ask me to behave in a manner that I do not wish to, simply because it is what you wish.”
Lady Whitehaven shook her head. “No, Merry. I have had enough of your excuses.” She looked directly back into Merry’s face, her face pale aside from two red spots in her cheeks, betraying her anger. “You shall do as you are asked, Merry. You shall wear that gown and allow the maid to do your hair. Do you understand me?”
Merry’s stomach began to tighten as she looked at her mother and saw just how fiercely determined she was. She hated having to stand her ground, hated having to go against everything her mother hoped for, but her own sense of what was right and wrong for herself had to take precedence. “I will not pretend to be someone I am not, Mama,” she replied, as calmly as she could whilst her hands slowly curled into fists. “If a gentleman does not look at me nor wish t
o court me, then that is not because I have not worn the correct gown or had my hair styled in a certain fashion.”
At this, Lady Whitehaven arched a brow, her cheeks still red with frustration. “That is what you believe, is it?”
“I do not think that any gentleman will look twice at me, Mama,” Merry replied. “In fact, I should say that it would make no difference whatsoever.”
Lady Whitehaven’s angry expression began to fade, replaced with something akin to curiosity. “What makes you say such a thing, Merry?” she asked, walking to one of the two chairs that sat opposite each other near to the fireplace and sitting down carefully. “Why do you believe that no gentleman would consider you?”
Merry bit her lip but did not immediately reply. This was the first time she had permitted herself to speak openly to her mother about what she believed of London society, and part of her did not wish to be honest. Instead, she wanted to keep such thoughts to herself but, from the look on her mother’s face, Merry could see that she would not be permitted to keep them entirely hidden. A little frustrated with her own lack of consideration, she shrugged and turned away to look out of the window. She did not want to speak of her pain; she did not want to reveal to anyone the truth of just how difficult she found it to be amongst the ton. And yet, she would have to say something.
“I am not particularly beautiful, Mama,” she replied, forcing the words to come from her mouth with both speed and force. “You need not protest that I am, for I am well aware that I do not have Titania’s sparkling charm nor Eliza’s handsome features.” She threw a glance back at her mother and saw the slightly arrested expression on Lady Whitehaven’s face. “I have a dullness to my eyes that cannot be improved. My hair is a mixture of both dark and light shades, although does not have the red sheen that Titania boasts of. Rather, it remains a less than interesting shade of brown.” Her eyes lingered on the scene outside, finding that if she focused on something below, then she would not feel the sting of her words. “My shoulders are a trifle too broad, my waist a little overly generous. It does not matter how much I attempt to walk carefully and precisely, my stride is much too long. I prefer to keep my own counsel and enjoy the silence that comes with solitude, whereas those in the beau monde believe that all young ladies should throw themselves into the noise and overwhelming delights of society. No, Mama. It does not matter whether I wear one gown or the next. It does not matter whether I have my hair dressed beautifully or if it is simply tugged back into a chignon. I shall not capture any gentleman’s attention.”
This was said with as much calmness as possible, and with as little emotion in her words as Merry could manage. She did not want to show her mother just how troubled and sorrowful she was by such a thing, for it was best to simply accept that this was how things stood and that, even if she wished to, she would not be able to change them.
“I believe you are quite wrong, Merry.”
Merry stifled a laugh, knowing that her mother would now try to persuade her that she was incorrect to believe in such a thing. “I do not think so, Mama,” she replied, turning around to see her mother. “And I will continue to speak honestly with you, since that is what you seem to seek from me.” Taking a breath, she settled her shoulders and let out a small, resigned sigh. “I do not wish to be noticed, Mama, not when I am wearing a gown I dislike and have my hair dressed in a fashion that is nothing but uncomfortable to me. If a gentleman approaches, then what am I to say? If he wished to court me, I shall have to keep up the pretense that this is the sort of young lady that I have always been, when the opposite is the case. I will not have revealed the truth of my character to him and would have to continue projecting a falseness that I truly dislike.”