A Wallflower’s Chance at Love (Preview)

Chapter One

London, 1816, Start of the Season…

“Why don’t you join your sister?” Lady Gwendoline Dumont nudged her eldest daughter in the side and nodded toward the line of giggling girls who were getting ready to dance. 

The bright room was filled with ladies and their daughters, all preparing for the upcoming Season that Arabella dreaded. 

“I am twenty-five, Mama, I know how to dance.” Arabella heaved a sigh and wished that her mother would leave her alone. It always ended up this way, her mother would insist that Arabella accompany them, and then she’d be forced to interact. The endless and tiresome cycle made her want to run for the hills. 

Gwendoline returned her daughter’s sigh and shook her head, turning her body discreetly away from the rest of the ladies who were seated across the room. 

“Arabella, I am not asking you to find a husband today, I’m only asking for a little participation. The rest of the young ladies have all been socializing and joining in, it won’t kill you to act like a lady for one more day.” Her mother reached a slender arm over her head and tucked a few strands of her bright blonde hair back into place. Her piercing blue eyes were filled with tired disappointment. 

It might. 

Looking across the room, Arabella noticed her younger sister beckoning her over. Lydia Dumont’s pink cheeks stood in stark contrast to her fair complexion and blue eyes that matched their mother’s. 

Lady Dumont turned to Arabella once again with a pleading look in her eyes. “Just one dance, and then you can return to being a wallflower once it is done.”

Wallflower…

The word echoed in her mind, hurting her feelings more than her mother realized. Why couldn’t people ever accept her as she was? People always seemed to focus on her quitter attributes and used them as weapons rather than compliments. She never understood why the fact that she preferred reading over dancing was always such a big issue. 

“I guess one dance couldn’t hurt.” Arabella bit the proverbial bullet and made her way across the room, joining the ranks of young ladies. 

Vivacious music filled the air as the fiddlers began to play their instruments, causing the waiting girls to fall into line and dance. 

Her spirits quickly lifted when Arabella linked arms with her sister and spun in a circle, switching places with the girl at her side. She had never been good at the waltz, but the airy folk dances had always brought her delight. 

“Now to the left!” the hostess who had arranged the tea barked at the girls over their heads, walking around the room like an angry old governess. 

Arabella laughed freely, feeling at ease for the very first time since she’d arrived at the tea. It had been seven years since her debut, and Arabella still dreaded each new London Season. 

“Isn’t Lydia Dumont so beautiful?” an older woman remarked on her younger sister just as Arabella reached her side of the room. 

“She is. It’s just such a pity that her older sister is keeping her back. She’s twenty-five and should have been married by now,” her friend remarked with her nose in the air. 

Swallowing hard, Arabella tried to keep her composure and focus on the dance, forcing her smile to remain in place. 

“She’s not entirely unpleasant to look at. It’s just a pity that her beauty is hidden. She’s one of those plain young women whose beauty lies within rather than out.” The first woman remarked with a knowing glance at her friend. 

Arabella did her best to focus on the dance rather than the snippets of gossip that were quickly chipping away at her joy. She knew very well that she wasn’t considered as one of the beauties of the ton like her sister. Her hair was light brown with streaks of blonde that almost resembled grey, and her eyes were a matching shade that wasn’t blue or even green. 

Her late father had often remarked that her eyes reminded him of a storm on the horizon, not that anyone else had ever used the description…as a compliment. 

The dance came to an end as the girls returned to the positions they had started, clapping enthusiastically as Arabella caught her breath. 

“You are right, Matilda. It is a pity that she is so plain,” the second woman agreed with her friend before joining in the applause. 

Dread filled her body as Arabella left the floor, regretting her decision to join in the dance. 

Lydia went straight back to laughing with her friends while a second song began to play. Her beautifully rich brown hair bounced on her head as the tight bun bobbed up and down. 

Why couldn’t I have looked more like my mother and sister? 

Her breath moved painfully through her body as she chose a corner at the back of the room and leaned against the wall. Her mother watched Lydia with a great sense of pride, holding her head high when more women from the ton came to congratulate her on having such a fine daughter. 

Lydia was twenty, flawless, and accomplished, making Arabella wish that she had been born into a different family. Life had been easier for her when her father had been alive, at least then, she had at least one person who doted on her. 

Two people. 

Her heart ached as she watched the rest of the dancing. Lady Gwendoline never even seemed to notice that her eldest daughter was missing from the throng. 

***

The carriage rattled over the cobbled streets as Arabella and her family headed back home. The rest of the afternoon had passed in gay frivolity, yet Arabella couldn’t bring herself to join in. 

“That was absolutely riveting! I can’t believe how bold the fashions are this year!” Lydia gushed almost too enthusiastically, ignoring her sister’s subdued demeanor. 

“You did well this afternoon, Lydia, I am very proud of you. It won’t be long now until the marriage-minded young men of London start flocking to our door. You must wear a new dress to the upcoming ball, you must shine brighter than everyone else.” Their mother fixed her dress over her knees before looking at her youngest daughter with a great sense of pride and admiration. 

Everyone, including me. 

Arabella looked out the window as she wished with all of her heart that the carriage could move faster. The older women’s comments had placed a damper on her afternoon, making it almost impossible for Arabella to enjoy herself. 

Gwendoline turned to Arabella, her smile shifting ever so slightly. “You will need to attend the ball as well, Arabella. I know you don’t enjoy them, but your father would have wanted you to marry a good man. The ton has certain expectations, even for you.” Her voice was gentle, yet the subtle note of apprehension hadn’t gone unnoticed by Arabella. 

Lydia quickly chimed in, coming to their mother’s aid. “Mama is right, I will find a husband soon. You wouldn’t want to be known as the spinster sister. People already think you are getting too…old…” She uttered the word as if it were a snake that could bite her. 

Arabella turned to her mother and sister, wishing wholeheartedly that she could jump from the carriage and run over the horizon. “I will not be attending the ball; Lydia will do fine without me. There are worse fates in life than being a spinster. My dowry will be enough for me to live off of on my own.” 

Lydia gasped as if her sister had slapped her. “You cannot think like that. Your dowry is there to find you a husband, and even if you do not wish to attend any more balls, we have very wealthy cousins who are looking for wives. Surely one of them should be to your liking.” 

“Your sister is right, Arabella. Even with the money that your father left you, your aspiration should still be to find a husband. You may live a more secluded life once you are married. I wish you wouldn’t carry on as if you were the only one who was burdened by societal expectations. Even wealthy widows are expected to meet certain standards.” Her mother held her gaze, pursing her lips into a sympathetic line. “You aren’t as different from the rest of us as you would like to think.” 

Relenting to the fact that she would eventually have to marry, Arabella turned her attention back to the carriage window as her mother and sister continued their chatter. She ached to tell her mother that the true difference between them was that she never longed for a loveless marriage of convenience. Even if that was what the rest of the ton and world expected. 

Ages seemed to pass before the carriage finally pulled up in front of the lavish London home in Belgrave Square. Arabella was about to exit the carriage when her mother held her back, allowing Lydia to pass. 

“Just a moment, Arabella.” Her mother waited for Lydia to make her way up the stairs and out of earshot. “I know that you would prefer to remain unwed, but I am begging you to make your peace with finding a husband. You were born into a world that expects certain things from women like us, as do I, and so did your father.” 

Shutting her eyes, Arabella wished with all of her might that her mother would stop using her father’s death as a means of making a point. It was bad enough that she missed him every day since he was gone. “I will find a husband in time, Mama. All I ask is that you do not press the matter.” She shook off her mother’s arm and exited the carriage, taking the steps two at a time as she hurried to get away. 

I just want to live my life. 

She made her way into the house and up the stairs, where she headed straight toward the library. The room had long been a source of comfort for her as she felt more at home among the books than the ton. 

Shutting the door behind her, she leaned against the cool wood and looked around the room with its rows and rows of leather-bound ledgers and books. The smell of books calmed her heart as she pushed herself off of the door and made her way across the room, where she ran her fingers over the spines. 

Stopping at one in particular, Arabella bit her lip and withdrew a small brown book with gold lettering. Leafing through the pages, she stopped in the middle and withdrew an old letter. The edges of the parchment were frayed from many years of handling. 

My dearest, sweet Arabella…

The first line brought tears to her eyes as she quickly shut the book and held it to her chest. 

“Why did you have to die? We could have been so happy together. I don’t think I will ever find anyone that I loved as much as you,” she whispered the words to the empty room, wishing that her mother understood why she could never marry for anything less than love. 

Tears fell freely down her cheeks as she wished she possessed a portrait of him, even one painting or something she could have kept. At least with her father, she was able to look at the many portraits of him that hung in the halls of their home. She hadn’t been so lucky with everyone else in her life. 

True love only came once in life, as far as Arabella was concerned. The only problem was that hers had already come and gone.

Chapter Two

That same day, Cornwall…

Lord, I need your help…

Thomas Hawthorne turned his face toward the ceiling of his family home. The tinkling sound of water falling into a pail at the other end of the room burdened his soul with concerns. 

The grand mansion had once been the pride and joy of his family, yet now it was falling to pieces with a leaking roof, broken shutters, and many other worrisome problems. 

Running his fingers through his thick dark hair, he raked his brain for any kind of solution. The family’s only hope of salvation was the dilapidated copper mine that needed just as much attention as the house. 

“Where has everyone gotten to?” the baron’s voice carried down the hall along with the incessant yapping of dogs. 

Shutting his eyes, Thomas shook his head with a heavy sigh, waiting for the inevitable torrent of complaints that was coming his way. 

“Would it kill anyone to light a fire in this blasted room?” Alexander came stomping into the parlor, his face red from the hunt and very possibly the flask that his father never left at home. His round belly spoke of years of drinking, while his balding head hinted at the toll his decisions were taking. 

“We agreed that fires would only be lit in the evenings, Father. We are three months behind on the payments for our wood and coal. It’s a miracle that the woodcutter still gives us the little that he does.” Thomas watched as his father slumped into an armchair.

“Things will turn in our favor again, I can feel it, you don’t have to tell me about this family’s finances. I am the Baron of Huxley, after all,” his father grumbled under his breath and shook his head, reaching out for one of the greyhounds that came to his side. 

The dog’s overly large tongue flopped to the side as it thumped its tail against the side of the armchair. 

Thomas was about to respond to his father but decided to hold his tongue when his younger sister came into the room. 

Rebecca Hawthorne was tall and fair like her mother. At twenty-one she had yet to find a husband. Thomas worried about her, having a dowry was a vital part of a young woman’s ability to find a husband. As things stood with family finances, Rebecca wouldn’t be able to marry anytime soon. Her only hope of marriage was finding a man who was willing to accept nothing in the way of a dowry. Good family names only held so much sway when it came to matters of marriage. 

“I hope the two of you weren’t bickering again.” Rebecca shot her brother and father cautious glances before taking a seat on the chaise lounge with the pillow she had been embroidering. 

“We were not. There is nothing for you to worry about.” Thomas forced a smile and winked at her, trying to set her mind at ease. His sister always worried about the family. 

“What does a man need to do to get a drink around here?!” Their father pushed himself up in his chair and yelled down the hallway. 

Losing his composure, Thomas clenched his jaw. “Perhaps we would be able to afford more wood and coal if most of the family gold wasn’t spent on whisky. We owe half of the establishments in London a fortune.” 

The baron’s face turned an even deeper shade of red as his head whipped around. “What did you say? I will remind you once again that I am the man of this house! You have no right to speak to me in such a manner!” 

“Perhaps I would not need to speak against you if you didn’t gamble what little money we had left!” Thomas began to lose his cool as he glared at his father. Gripping the armrests of his chair, he dug the tips of his fingers into the worn fabric. 

Rebecca quickly placed the cushion she was busy with to the side and spoke up. “I don’t think that this line of conversation is getting us anywhere. Thomas, why don’t you tell Papa about the plans you have for the mine? I think it would be helpful if we discussed it as a family instead of arguing.” 

The baron narrowed his eyes at his son and slumped back in his chair, shaking his head in disapproval. The relationship between Thomas and his father had always been difficult, even more so when the family had fallen on hard times. Thomas constantly felt as if he were responsible for his family, while his father would go off hunting and come back with little or no proof of his efforts. 

“I think that’s a good idea.” Thomas smiled at his sister before turning back to his father. “I have spoken to…” His words trailed off when his father began to cough, quiet and subtle at first, before doubling over from the strain. 

“I’ll call Mama.” Rebecca jumped to her feet, rushing from the room as she lifted the hem of her dress. 

The sounds of a hacking cough filled the air and carried down the halls as Thomas came forward and helped his father sit up straight in his chair. The tired look on the baron’s face reminded Thomas of how ill he was. His eyes were dull and listless, while his skin felt hot to the touch. 

“My goodness!” Daphne Hawthorne came rushing into the room and brought her hands to her mouth. “How long has he been like this?” She rushed to her husband’s side and gently guided his head back until he was resting. 

The baron groaned in discomfort but kept his eyes shut as his wife fussed with his collar, loosening the buttons. 

“It only just started; we were discussing the mines when he suddenly began to cough.” Thomas pushed himself up, looking down at his father with pity. 

The baroness let her husband rest as she slowly pushed herself up. “I will ask some of the footmen to come and carry him to his bed. Will you go and fetch the doctor?” She placed her hand on her son’s shoulder and gave him a sympathetic smile. 

***

“Has the doctor come out yet?” Thomas came to his mother who was standing in the hallway in front of her husband’s chambers. 

His mother hugged her arms around her waist, trying to ward off the cold that swept through the house. “Not yet. He’s been in there for a while. I can hear your father complaining, so I don’t think it’s too grim. The vicar is in with them as well. He came to offer his support.” She forced a smile before pulling her thin shawl a little tighter around her shoulders. 

Thomas nodded, noting the tired look in her dark eyes. Her Rich brown hair was just beginning to boast the strands of grey that announced her fifty-five years. It broke his heart that he couldn’t afford to buy her all the new clothes that she deserved. 

“Your sister has gone to make sure that the doctor has some hot tea when he’s done with your father.” She stopped her pacing and smiled at her son. “You look just as tired as I do.” 

“The past few months have been hard on us all. I wish winter would end already.” He looked to the side where some of the wallpaper had begun to peel. 

Following his gaze, Daphne stepped to the side and pressed the once vibrant pink paper back against the wall. “I wanted to have a word with you about your plans for the mine. Your sister told me of all the big plans you have.” 

His heart sank when he noted the tired tone in his mother’s voice. He knew very well that she didn’t approve of his plans, but there weren’t many other options that he was willing to consider. “Mama, I…” 

They both looked to the side when the door to the baron’s chambers opened. 

The doctor stepped from the room and shut the door behind him. “He’s resting now, but I’m afraid that the news isn’t good.” He placed his leather bag on the floor beside his feet and ran a hand through his silver mop of hair that had been combed to the side. 

The baroness bit her lips and glanced at her son before taking a step forward and waiting for the doctor to speak. The sadness in her eyes spoke of the worry that Thomas knew was rushing through her mind. 

Taking a deep breath, the doctor cleared his throat. “I’m afraid that the cold has gone to his chest. He will need to stay in bed for a few days. I’d venture as far as saying a week or more. I have left instructions along with the medicine on his dresser, but there is one other thing that I am hesitant to mention…” He tore his gaze away from the baroness and looked at Thomas. 

“Go on. If there is anything else, it’s better that we face it now rather than later.” Thomas nodded while his mother lifted her hand to her throat. 

“It’s this house,” the doctor let out a heavy sigh. “The cold will only worsen his condition. Now, I can see that your father’s chambers are relatively secure, but the fire needs to be kept lit. These conditions are not suitable for someone in his condition. I would suggest a trip somewhere warmer, but as I understand it, the family funds will not allow for such a trip.” 

Thomas felt his chest clenching with shame. 

Everyone will know. 

Clenching his fists at his sides, he looked at the section of wallpaper that had once again come loose. It was inevitable that everyone in London would find out; his father owed half of them money. He’d only hoped to keep things under wraps for a little while longer. 

“Thank you, Doctor. We will do our best to keep him warm.” His mother stepped forward and lifted the doctor’s case, handing it to him with a smile. 

The older man nodded sympathetically and took his leave after bowing respectfully. 

Thomas didn’t waste any more time when the doctor disappeared around the corner. “Mama, I know you don’t agree with any of my plans for the mine, but I know I can make things better for us. If I can just get it up and running again.” He pleaded with her to see his point of view. 

“Thomas, it’s not that I don’t believe in you. Getting the mine back in order takes money, money that we don’t have. I know that you have always said that you wanted to marry for love, but I think you need to reconsider. Marrying a lady of wealth and means would go a long way in helping our family. Securing a good match will go a long way in helping your sister find a husband as well.” She took a step forward and placed her hand on his cheek. 

“But if you would only give me more time…” 

“We don’t have time, Thomas.” The warmth of her hand seeped into his cheek as he shut his eyes. 

“Please consider my suggestion. I won’t force you to marry against your will, but none of us ever had the luxury of marrying for love, not even your father and I. You are twenty-seven, Thomas. You must consider that aspect as well.” Her voice was sad as she lowered her hand. 

He opened his eyes and relented to his fate. “I will consider your words, Mama.” His sister’s face flashed in his mind as he wondered what would happen to her if she had to marry for security rather than love. If he married someone with a great deal of wealth, at least his sister would have more options than he did. 

“I am not dead yet!” the baron’s voice broke through the door, making them both jump as something hit the other side of the door. 

Thomas and his mother both looked on in shock as a terrified vicar appeared in the hallway and quickly shut the door behind his back. His robes were slightly askew, and a fine sheen of sweat had appeared on his forehead. 

“I think I shall be taking my leave now. I bid you both a good evening.” The tall man with cropped blonde hair shook his head and hurried down the hall. 

The baroness pursed her lips in an attempt to hide a laugh. “I forgot about the vicar. At least we know your father still has some fight left in him.”