The Bluestocking’s Absolutely Brilliant Betrothal (The Notorious Briarwoods #6)

Chapter 10

“O h dear, have I overplayed my hand?” Sylvia, Dowager Duchess of Westleigh, watched with some concern as Lady Aurelia Pritchard and her son Achilles darted out of the ballroom. There was a certain energy around Lady Aurelia which seemed overwhelmed by the engagement party.

And not in a pleasant way.

Her daughter-in-law Winifred arched her eyebrow and said with her usual enthusiastic bluntness, “Well, Mama, it’s hard to say. You have perhaps been overzealous. Six opera singers was too many, and perhaps we should have invited fewer people to seal this engagement. The lady seems to be startling like a horse on race day.”

It was an apt description. Winifred was excellent at seeing things as they were and then being truthful about it. Not something society had admired in her. Sylvia adored it.

The family knew about the ruse. Briarwoods did not keep secrets. No, they banded together.

And they had banded together to bring Lady Aurelia and Achilles together. It was what they did. Sylvia had felt certain that Aurelia was the match for Achilles, but…it was not going quite as she had planned. This was most unusual.

“I could not prevent the extent of the guest list, my dear!” Sylvia protested. “Lady Pritchard was extremely enthusiastic, and I think she would’ve invited more than half the ton, including everyone down from Scotland, if time had allowed. But that said, perhaps this was indeed a mistake.”

Sylvia suppressed a scowl. She did not scowl. She was always optimistic. For she knew that life was always working out, even through the worst difficulties, as it should.

At present, she was surrounded by her set of blessings, a bevy of young ladies, her daughters and daughters-in-law, who were all now essentially her daughters. She really didn’t make a large difference between those who were her children by blood and those who were her children by marriage. Frankly, she was simply happy to have so many to love and to love her back, and to provide facets of intrigue, information, and different views of the world to her family.

They did all share a singular view though. Love was incredibly important. Forgiveness was incredibly important. Kindness was incredibly important, and so was compassion. And if one did not have those things for oneself, one would do the worst possible things to others.

As far as she could see—and she could not entirely understand why—Lady Aurelia Pritchard did not have a few of those things for herself. It was odd because it was quite clear that her mother and father were marvelous. But Sylvia had her suspicions. Every time she looked at Lord Pritchard, those suspicions were confirmed.

“Mama,” her youngest daughter, Perdita, suddenly said, “you’ve gone about this in entirely the wrong way.”

Perdita had been her own challenge as a daughter, though not in a way that most of society would think of. No, no. Perdita had managed to insert herself into society rather easily. It had been accepting of all of Perdita’s oddities without challenge and without attempting to alter her, and that had been her triumph.

While other mothers would have been appalled by an unusual child like Perdita, Sylvia adored it. She’d learned so much about her own odd ideas from her freest child.

Quite frankly, at present, she was just glad that Perdita didn’t have her crow on her shoulder or a cat at her feet or a mouse in her pocket.

Perdita did not try to fit into society, but nor did she flout it when visiting other people’s homes. Not generally, at least. She did refuse to wear feathers in her hair, citing it would be a betrayal of her own winged friends.

Perdita drew in a breath, then rushed, “Mama, you have tried to show her how marvelous it will be to be a Briarwood. So has our brother.”

She blinked. “And that is a bad thing?”

“Of course not. There’s no one like us, but the campaign you’ve launched is too extensive,” Perdita countered.

Sylvia groaned, fearing Perdita was correct.

“A girl like that?” Perdita continued. “I think you’ve all but sent her over the edge. She had a plan, and you’re trying to make her see that plan as an error. I think perhaps, with her, it would work better to go the other way.”

For once, the rest of the Briarwood women were quiet, listening to Perdita’s words as if she was a prognosticator of the greatest skill.

Sylvia snapped open her fan, feeling suddenly overheated in the crush. “Perdita, you’re not suggesting we be contrary and try to prevent the match now that we’ve set it up.”

“Mama,” Hermia, one of her twins, ventured, “you cannot always maneuver things.”

“I can,” Sylvia replied with pursed lips. “I’m very good at it.”

Perdita grinned. “So you are, Mama, but perhaps you’ve misread Aurelia. Something in her is determined to remain alone.”

Sylvia frowned.

The truth was that she’d so far been successful at maneuvering all of her children into marvelous marriages. She always recognized the right person for them, and she’d always managed to help. She didn’t want to stop now.

Was Perdita correct?

Had she gotten it wrong? As they stood in a circle of silk with beautiful gowns and successful marriages, and hopefully a successful marriage for Perdita soon too—though Perdita was in no rush—Sylvia paused.

Had she simply taken her skills for granted?

“So what exactly do you suggest, Perdita?” she asked at last, wondering if perhaps she was about to take Perdita on as an apprentice matchmaker.

“Take a step back, Mama. Perhaps try to convince her that being a single lady is the happiest of all things. After all, for most women, it would be!”

“I can’t do that,” Sylvia retorted, fluttering her fan in horror. “That’s a terrible idea.”

Perdita laughed. “Let me do it then. I like her already. I’ll become her friend, and I’ll tell her she definitely should not marry my brother. Some people like a bit of counter reasoning. I wager she’ll do exactly the opposite of what she’s told to do.”

Sylvia arched a brow. “Well, if she’s that contrary in life, she can’t possibly be the right one for Achilles.”

Perdita gave her a knowing look. “You think not? Someone obstinate isn’t the right one for Achilles? I think someone obstinate is exactly the one for him.”

Sylvia groaned. “Oh dear. How did I miscalculate this aspect?”

“Oh, Mama, you’ve been very busy of late,” Mercy, the current Duchess of Westleigh, soothed in her American accent. “You take care of many grandchildren, and you’ve looked after all of us. Perhaps you need a little bit more time to yourself and rest.”

“Have you been neglecting yourself?” Winifred prompted as she smoothed her hand over a diamond laced into her bodice.

Sylvia paused. “Blast.”

It was rather difficult being called out by one’s youngest daughter about the fact that she was not taking care of herself. And then to hear her other daughters, both natural and by marriage, affirm it.

The truth was she had been incredibly busy. She hadn’t visited her sister in the East End for some time. Usually, Sylvia went to the theatre at least once a week to watch her sister in a performance, and she would go to the other theaters often so that she could enjoy plays, even though she was no longer allowed to be in them herself.

She often held salons, but they had become a bit bland of late.

Was she losing her zest?

The idea was horrifying, and yet it was not entirely incorrect. Instead of being offended, she drew herself up. “Thank you, Perdita. You have pointed out something extremely important to me.”

“Good,” Perdita said, relieved. “We can’t get help from you, Mama, if you’re useless.”

“Useless,” Sylvia echoed with horror.

Her daughter took her hand and squeezed it. “Mama, don’t take that the wrong way. We all just want you to be yourself. That’s all. And lately you’ve spread yourself too thin. There are, after all, so many of us and only one magnificent you.”

Sylvia laughed at that, her heart warming at the extent of love being shown to her. “Indeed that is true. I suppose it’s always been my goal to take over the entire ton, but that takes a toll.”

“Good,” Perdita said. “They could use it. If you were in charge, none of this nonsense would be happening in the world. It would be a very good place indeed.”

“I suppose I’ve tried so very hard with Aurelia because I want her to see that the world can be a good place. And that no matter what happens, even if the worst is to happen with France and wars and chaos in the world, well, then she can at least have a family that loves her exactly as she is and who will be there for her when…”

“What?” Mercy asked, her dark hair shining in the candlelight.

Sylvia lowered her voice. “I’m afraid Lord Pritchard is not well at all. He does not look as if he will last the Season, in my opinion.”

Perdita had reached out and taken her hand. “You’re so kind, Mama. You sense Aurelia’s fear, and you know the sorrow of what it is to lose someone. We all can.”

She took Perdita’s hand. The grief itself was not her fear. It was how Aurelia would try to avoid it. The spirit could do the worst things for a person when trying to protect them from pain.

And she realized that was what she had sensed in Lady Aurelia.

Lady Aurelia was not running away from society to be a bluestocking. She only thought she was. She was choosing to be alone because of the fear of loss and the fear of pain.

There was only one great difficulty with that choice. When one ran away from pain, one was about to be consumed by it. And if she could save Aurelia from that, she would.

But some people absolutely refused to be rescued. And she thought to herself with a regretful smile, now that she thought about it, Aurelia had never been a damsel, and she likely never would be.

So, if she sent her son after her, like George rescuing a damsel from the dragon, the dragon was going to prevail.

But Aurelia was not the damsel in this story. She was the dragon. And that was where Sylvia had gone wrong.

Aurelia could not be conquered. No, she could not be forced into anything or maneuvered. No good knight could trap her.

No, she had to be given her wings.

Of course, Aurelia was going to have to figure this out herself. And that was something new for Sylvia because she was not used to allowing anyone to figure out anything without her aid.

And she didn’t like it.

Not one bit. And so she nodded to Perdita. “You try then, my dear. I think it’s an excellent idea. And I suppose I…”

“Yes, Mama?”

“Must make a date with the theatre. And take better care of myself.”

Her daughters and daughters-in-law looked at her and smiled.

Sylvia had never felt so proud or so loved as she did in that moment. And just as she always did, she knew that what was meant to be would transpire as it was meant to. If she but yielded to it.

It had never been so hard. And it deeply amused and pleased her that she was still learning things. But who better and who more pleasing to learn from than her own daughters?