Chapter 96

“It seems that I have received secret correspondence,” Teresa waved the unsigned letter delivered to her by a footman like a trophy. She’d been in deep conversation with Jonathon Wrightly for the majority of her sister’s engagement gathering. They had become quite the pair of friends and Teresa could not withhold her admiration for him and neither did she want to.

“Ahh, a secret admirer perhaps?” he played along, not taking anything too seriously. Teresa appreciated that and knew she would have wonderful fun with him. He allowed her to explore and indulge in her humour. The very humour her mother often told her she needed to dial down.

“One can only hope,” she teased before breaking the nondescript wax and delving into the words of the letter. “Oh, it’s in Mendora’s hand,” she exclaimed without thought to filter her words. And why should she filter them?

Her face brightened, her smile wide and glowing until the words on the page registered into her brain. “This has to be a joke,” she muttered, her lips downturned and slightly parted while her eyes scanned the page multiple times to ensure the words would not alter into something more savoury.

“What’s the matter?” Jonathon had the good sense to question Teresa on her mood alteration in a lowered tone calculated for only her ears. He had come to form an attachment to Teresa and had planned on picking her brain on the thoughts of them marrying. A plan that had been side-tracked countless times due to his nerves. He could probably live with rejection but he knew it would almost certainly signal the end of their friendship too and that was not an outcome he was willing to risk.

Teresa wrapped up the letter in her palm, intent that no one should see it her eyes glancing at the sea of people. “We need to find Mama, now.” She shoved past him, diving into the crowd, Jonathon hot on her heels.

Lavinia was having the time of her life. It had been a year since the other matrons spoke to her kindly. There had always been some stigma attached to her since Mendora’s alteration in appearance. Now that her elder daughter once more conformed to society’s unwritten rules and was engaged to the Marquess, the mama’s could not cease in their congratulations. They fawned over her and Lavinia could not help but enjoy it.

A small part of her thought this to be her family’s retribution for the time they had to suffer insults and ostracization.

“Mother, may I borrow you for a moment,” Teresa came up behind her, dispersing Lavinia’s as she grabbed her mother up by the arm. There was no choice in the matter and Lavina muttered a scattered ‘pardon me, ladies,’ as Teresa all but dragged her away.

Lavinia noted Jonathon circling close behind and not to longer after they party of three was huddled in a circle.

“What’s the matter?” Lavinia broke free of Teresa’s grip, giving her daughter a stern once over. “You are behaving impulsively,” she scolded Teresa in a hushed tone.

“There is something you need to know,” Teresa premised, fumbling to organise her thoughts well enough to voice them. Lavinia took one look between her daughter and Jonathon, “Are the both of you finally ready to get engaged as well? Is that what this is about?”

Teresa and Jonathon exchanged awkward glances, momentarily suspending Teresa’s urgency in searching her mother out. She’d considered Jonathon to be a good man and frankly she’d been falling for him, whether they would get married was a topic to be broached by Jonathon.

Jonathon on the other hand used the opportunity to gauge Teresa’s reaction. Or rather, that is what he wished he did. Instead he’d gotten lost in a fantasy where that was exactly the matter they had dragged Lavinia away to discuss.

Considering their silence and longing mutual looks as confirmation that her younger daughter had also found a match, Lavinia quickly followed up with, “I hardly think this is the time or place for such a revelation,”

“Mother stop.” Teresa could listen no longer. Her skin flaring red hot at the supposition, suddenly avoiding Jonathon’s eyes. “It’s concerning Mendora,” Teresa handed the letter over to Lavinia.

With quizzical brows and hesitant hands, Lavinia accepted the letter, prying it open to read the contents. Having to squint due to the creases within the paper to make out the words. Once she’d read it once, ensuring she’d assigned each letter to the intended word, she browsed it once more to consolidate a meaning. Once acquired, Lavina, crumbled the letter once more.

“This girl will be the death of me,” Lavinia clutched her chest, pressing her eyes shut and sucking in a large breath. Mendora detailed first and foremost that she was safe. Secondly, she informed her family that by the time they are able to clutch this missive in their hands she would be gone.

“What has happened?” Jonathon, very much in the dark, could hold his curiosity back no longer.

“Mendora is gone. She has fled from us and more importantly from the Marquess,” Lavinia responded, to distracted by her own thoughts to notice Jonathon’s pure shock.

“She said she loved him. It does not bare any sense,” Teresa interjected, grateful to share the frustration with others.

“But she does not feel that he loves her,” Lavinia muttered dejectedly. “We must search for her, I must know where she’d gone or that she is safe.” Lavinia was starting to become hysterical.

“Mrs. Garrick,” Solaire had approached Lavinia while she was huddled in a corner, clutching a crumbled sheet of paper to her chest. Pulling herself together as she was reminded she hadn’t the luxury of reacting while they were all in public Lavinia squared her shoulders and portrayed the image of doting mother-in-law.

“Ah, my Lord,” she immediately dropped her arm to her sides, taking the paper with it and concealing it in the weight of her skirt’s fabric. The movement caught Solaire’s attention but not enough for him to enquire about it. His mind was more focused on Mendora. He’d searched the gardens and came up short. His next step, if her mother had no eyes on her, was to dispatch his men to search.

“Forgive me for troubling you once more but I have yet to find my fiancé among the party or in the gardens. Has she made an appearance since we last spoke?” Solaire’s patience had long departed his body and he refused to believe that he kept missing her around his own house.

“You won’t find her,” Teresa murmured to herself. A moment of realisation of what had come to pass mistakenly spoken aloud. Lavinia shot her daughter a frustrated glance, hoping that Teresa was grateful for all the witnesses for Lavinia was tempted to smack the girl for her inconvenient remark.

“What does that denote?” Solaire pressed them all for an answer with his hardening features, “Where is my fiancé?” he gritted the words out, his blood beginning to sear beneath his veins.

“My daughter speaks without proper thought,” Lavinia grinned, “A trait I think you’d find potent in both my children,” attempting to make light of the situation but Solaire was not easily deterred. “We have seen her right when you walked off to the garden, poor thing complains of a headache,”

“Where is she?” Solaire was running on fumes, not wishing to be pacified with lengthy explanations.

“Awaiting us in the carriage,” Lavinia responded, “could no longer bare the noise of society but I insisted on waiting to announce our departure,” Lavinia could not risk staying any longer.

“I shall walk you and bid her good night,” Solaire gestured for Lavinia to take his arm but she only stared at it. “That may not be the best approach, my Lord,” finding his cold his and waving off the instinct to shudder. How Mendora found the courage to love this man far less run from him was beyond Lavinia.

“Whyever not?” his jaw clenching at the circles overriding this conversation.

“I think we can both agree that Mendora is not ill,” she searched his eyes for a sign. A hint of what had happened to have caused her daughter to take such drastic

action, but he stared back at her blindly. “Not medically, anyway.”

“She wishes to avoid me?” he said almost incredulously. If anyone had the right to be upset, it was not Mendora.

“To compose herself.” Lavinia corrected. “Perhaps tonight was a bit taxing on her and she shall be better able to accompany you on the morrow.”

Solaire did not want to agree. He felt a strange allowing them to leave without atleast laying his eyes on Mendora but his ego would not allow him to cave into that unknown attachment tugging at his chest. “Very well,” he responded, watching as they bid him goodnight and disappeared down the hall.

The night had not been anything like he imagined. Nor had it ended well. Solaire had thought to be falling asleep with her rolled up in his arms tonight and the very realisation that their relationship was altered, probably irreparably, was daunting.