Young Writers Society

I really enjoyed writing this chapter so hopefully that shows.

Happy Reading

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Chapter Three

Everlancor was decorated to impress. There wasn’t one wall not taken advantage of to exhibit the wealth of its inhabitants. Paintings signed by renowned artists festooned every room, along with many portraits of the esteemed Baron himself, his wife, Mary, and their beloved nine-year-old niece, Sarafina.

Vera had heard the tragic tale of how both her father and mother fell terribly ill from lung impairments, dying shortly after her fifth birthday. Mrs. Mary Cranford was the one who opened her compassion to take in Sarafina and raise her as her own.

Lady Darnold led them into the dining room, which instantly quieted to a silence so deep that Vera could hear the blood thudding in her eardrums. The Baron then stepped forward, smiling broadly, and only then did talk resume.

Vera had only seen the man on one occasion—her father’s fortieth birthday, and that was almost five years ago. He seemed to have grown horizontally since the last time she had seen him, the buttons on his vest nearly popping at his robust chest. His face was ruddy and he was having to constantly rub his brow with his handkerchief.

Vera wrinkled her nose in distaste.

“Mrs. Harriet Adams, it has been far too long since our last encounter,” the Baron rumbled, his voice deep and hoarse.

“Agreed, Baron Cranford.”

“Oh, dear, no need for such civility here. This is my home and you will call me Arthur.”

“Arthur,” Mrs. Adams corrected herself with an appropriate embarrassed bow of her head at his statement that was said in lack of propriety. Baron Cranford led her to the table, pulled out the chair for her, and then turned to Vera.

“And is this your daughter, Mrs. Harriet?”

“Yes, indeed it is.”

“My, my,” the Baron mumbled, “The last time I saw you, dearie, was five years ago. You were only a girl then. But you have definitely grown to make your mother proud. Such a vision, she is.”

“Thank you, Sir. You’re too kind.”

Vera curtsied and greeted Baron Cranford, allowing him to kiss her gloved hand. Once she was seated at her mother’s side, she was able to breathe easier. Her heart had nearly broke through her corset when Baron Cranford had examined her. She knew he wasn’t the only one, however. The Baron’s approval was of utmost importance, as her mother had continued to tell her on the carriage ride over. And now that she had passed the largest test of the evening, she assumed that the rest of the evening would go fairly well.

The dinner consisted of the normalities—venison, whole potatoes, white wine, and a lemon cake. The seating arrangement made it easy for her to see and observe everyone. The Baron and his wife sat at the end, their niece between them.

When prompted by the guests for her to paint them a picture—for it was said she was talented of hand—she would bow her head daintily, take a sip of her milk, and thank the guest for their attention. She was a delightful girl with blonde curls and was dressed in a pink frock. Though Sarafina had lost her parents at such a tender age, she was full of spirit and Vera had high hopes that she would be an increasingly charming woman once she reached of age.

The Governor Darnold and his wife, Lady Darnold was present there. Governor Darnold was a sullen man, one of few words and even fewer geniuses. He was straightforward and plain, but Lady Darnold—a regal woman with prominent features and a striking figure—doted most lovingly on the handful of words that he gave. She hovered near him and was never without patting his hand or cheek fondly. Vera had never seen more of an incompatible couple, or one that was so in love.

Mrs. Adams talked most precociously with Lady Darnold and the Baron, their conversations one of amiable humor with many laughs and talk of further dinners together.

Across from Mrs. Adams was the sister of Lady Darnold, Miss Maria, widowed only a month previous. She was dressed in the traditional black gown and veil. Through the veil, Vera could tell that she had all the pompousness that her sister was bestowed with, but with a more sensible character. Whenever asked of her late husband, she would sniff appropriately—which Vera had no doubt meant that tears were not far off—and say that he was a fine man, one of agreeable natures and of a humor that made the most morose of men laugh most jovially.

Beside her was an empty seat, which didn’t catch Vera’s attention as much as the man beside it did.

Admiral Yalmire was gorging himself, eating more than the Baron himself; but Yalmire wasn’t robust. He was a trim man, his hair fully gray, his eyebrows bushy. He still had the hint of youth about him, though he was well into his fifties. Vera knew that he had been handsome in his prime, but the wear of the Navy had stripped him of his prize appearance. Years and years ago, before Vera had been born, rumors had swirled about the birth of Yalmire’s daughter, Amelia. They said that it was impossible for his wife to have a baby so soon. There was talk that Yalmire had a mistress and Amelia was the mistress’ baby, not Mrs. Yalmire’s.

Mrs. Yalmire died shortly after these rumors started. Some said that Mrs. Yalmire couldn’t take the talk and her susceptible heart gave out. Others whispered worse things—suicide… murder.

Vera wouldn’t hear any of it; though she didn’t put it past Yalmire. If he did have a mistress, it seemed that his daughter had followed in his footsteps, looking for a young married man to catch her eye. It hadn’t been hard. Her father had been predisposed from the beginning, always being the charismatic and sometimes overly zealous man that he was.

“Darling, the Baron asked you a question.” Her mother’s mouth was tight, and Vera felt her cheeks flood with color. It had been years since she had been onslaught with such emotions, ones that could bring such a flush to her face.

“My pardons, Baron Cranford,” Vera said, raising her chin high as the flowers died in her cheeks, receding to their normal hue.

“No worries, Miss Adams. Now, Mrs. Harriet tells me you have quite the aptitude for the harp.”

Vera smiled softly. “Aye, I am fairly endowed.”

“Don’t be so modest, Vera!” Mrs. Adams exclaimed, turning to the Baron. “She is more than agreeable.”

“Why don’t you play us a tune, then, Miss Adams.”

“She is also a pleasant singer,” Lady Darnold added, smiling kindly at Vera, who felt her fingers tremble with nerves. She hadn’t performed in front of guests in many years. Did she still have the qualities to impress?

“My, child, we don’t mean to trouble you,” Mrs. Mary Cranford said quickly, noting Vera’s shaking limbs.

Vera cleared her throat with a soft cough into her napkin before standing. “I would be honored to play for you, Baron.”

A harp was taken from one room to this one. It was a magnificent piece of instrument, golden and recently polished. Mrs. Cranford told Vera that little Sarafina was learning to be adequate upon the harp as well.

Vera thanked the Baron for allowing her the dispensation of playing before taking her seat upon the stool. Straightening her skirts and taking a modest pose, she cleared her throat, placed her fingers across the strings, and strummed them, creating a soft tinkling that made the guests ‘Awe’ with delight. Little Sarafina kicked up her legs, clapping her hands together with mirth as Vera struck a cord.

Clearing her throat one last time, she conjured up the song that she had sung only the day before. It was a melody that borderlined on melancholy, though none of the guests of Everlancor guessed that such ill-feelings boded on Vera. She didn’t know why this song assailed her so suddenly and so cogently.

Her countenance heightened with the words; her voice filled the spacious chamber with a accent that displayed her sweetness of character and yet of a past that brought her great anguish, though there was only a single soul that could hear the latter.

None noticed the stranger’s entrance until Vera strummed the last chord on the harp, the instrument bringing about a raucous applause that crimsoned Vera’s cheeks. Her eyes lifted from the harp and the stranger jolted at the sight of those familiar Nordic blue orbs that had struck him speechless five years previous.

He would have known her anywhere. She hadn’t changed, though maybe in being bequeathed with a more feminine figure, he noted, as she stood, avoiding his eyes. Her hair was still a dark recess of wayward curls and unruly tendrils. He almost smiled at the thought of her spending hours making it form to what was fitting in that tight up-do. She was taller as well, held herself in more prominence than she had before. Her face was sculpted, had lost the hint of innocence. It was now a woman’s countenance that he saw—no longer a girl of riotous proportions.

He had the sudden notion of turning back. He hadn’t expected to see her so presently after hearing of her arrival in London, though it was inevitable. Mrs. Adams would, no doubt, be invited to all the renowned balls, as she was intimately close with Lady Darnold. Now that he had a prominent position in the life of Barons and Governors, their meeting was bound to be preordained.

It was then that the Baron became known of their newest arrival.

“Bennett, my boy! Why stay so unspecified to us?” the Baron boomed, clapping the young man fondly on the back.

Meanwhile, as Bennett was introduced to the party, Vera quickly excused herself to the powder room on credence that she felt a pin slipping in her hair. Mrs. Adams volunteered to help her, but Vera declined and swiftly exited the room.

In the powder room, she bent low and clutched at her abdomen. How could he be here, in the very same room? How could she bear to hear his voice, hear his name spoken? He was so different… so established.

His lanky frame that she evoked was left to only her memories. He was now well developed in the sense of his figure, representing a very manly articulation. His jaw alone showed the effects of his age, defined and with a hint of shadow from the lapse in regular grooming. His brow was strong, his nose delicate. His hair was still the thick waves she recollected, slightly shorter from the last time they encountered one another.

It was clear that wealth had finally blessed him, his clothes blatantly showing that not one expense was wasted in his attire. She wondered suddenly if he had chosen the career he had wanted when they had last spoken, or had he decided to follow in his father’s pathway and become a politician.

There were so many questions she wanted to ask him, so many desires and anguishes that needed to be settled before her heart could truly rest easy once more.

“Darling, the Baron is starting to fret over your long absence.” Vera quickly straightened as her mother entered the powder room. “Dear?” Mrs. Adams noted the pink of her cheeks, the red of her eyes, and took a step towards her daughter.

Vera held her off and nodded stiffly. “I’m fine, mother. I just needed a moment to collect myself.”

Mrs. Adams frowned and was going to question her daughter further, but Vera took a palpable step to the door, ending the conversation.

Back in the dining room, Vera kept her eyes on her lap the rest of the evening. Bennett was barely a yard away, close enough to touch but not far enough to ease the suffering of her heart. No one could have guessed the torment that struck Vera, though Bennett had assessments by the way her head stayed bowed and the only glimpse he had of her was the top of her head.

“Baron Cranford, excuse my belatedness in all things considered. I got caught up at the Capital. Samuel thought it humorous to leave a pile of unanswered odium mail from my loyal admirers on my person, saying I had to read each one.”

Laughter erupted around the room, and Vera felt a pang deep within her chest. So he had persuaded his father’s destiny. He had become a politician, a lawyer to be more exact from his statement of hate letters. Many lawyers were despised for their work protecting their clients and it seemed that Bennett was no exception.

“Samuel is one client of yours that I still can’t understand, Mr. Thomas,” the Governor spoke up, and Bennett grinned.

“It is a mystery to everyone, Governor Darnold. He is one of my most high paying customers.”

“And also the most conniving,” the Baron mumbled, amid chortles of agreement from the guests.

“He will be of good use to society one day, when he stops being such a lazy donkey of a man,” Bennett esteemed with a hearty laugh that sent shivers of surprise along Vera’s spine. It was deeper than she remembered, and more filled with sincerity. It was a sound that rang like bells within her ears; a noise she wouldn’t mind hearing many times after.

Vera realized then that now that Thomas Bennett was back in her life, she found that it would be most difficult concentrating on her priority she aimed to achieve in London: finding a foremost husband.

Thomas Bennett would, no doubt, cause numerous complications but Vera would not allow him to ruin her chances of redeeming her name.

No, she would not.