The House Guest (Unedited)

Chapter 3: Inexplicable Grief

Northern England, 1814

I am pulled to consciousness by the stirring of voices in the hallway. I peel off the covers that cling to the sweat on my skin, and reach for a comb, brushing my long hair until it shines, then arranging it into an elaborate bun. I rinse my pale skin with rose water, inhaling the soothing scent. I step into my best dress, a pale blue muslin, tight at my bosom, then cascading downwards. To complete my travelling outfit, I tie a pink ribbon around my brunette curls, adjust the silver necklace around my slender neck, and wrap my Mother's shawl around my arms.

"Helene, assist me with my hair," Susanna calls, waltzing into my room and humming a melodic tune underneath her breath. She is attired in a silk, crème gown, with short puffed sleeves -- apparently the latest fashion in London. It complements her rosy skin, and her raven hair is loose around her neck.

"Didn't you ask Anna to dress your hair this morning?" I ask skeptically. She has two of her own maids to attend to her needs. More, if she employs her mother's ladies.

"I wanted to spend the morning with my dear cousin before we venture out." Susanna simpers, looping an arm around mine. "So I asked Anna to neglect to dress my hair with the hope that you might do it."

She sits at my dressing table without invitation, and I tie her hair into a simple chignon in silence.

"Do you think he'll like it?" Susanna asks as she rises to admire herself, a bashful blush rising to her already painted cheeks.

I am thrown off guard. Susanna and I rarely speak, and whenever we do, she teases or chastises me, or brags about something she knows I'll never experience the luxury of.

"Yes," I say, my hands trembling beneath her scrutinizing eyes in the mirror. "I think any gentleman would admire your dark hair and cunning eyes."

The compliment sounds hollow and saccharine sweet.

"Oh, Helene, it's so nice to be engaged," Susanna gushes, bringing her hand to her chest, "I never really thought I'd meet a man as refined, as wonderful, as him. I cannot wait to be married! And wait till you see my new mansion. He promised he'll have a portrait painted of me, so that when we're married, he'll never have to forget what I look like when he goes travelling. He already has a lock of my hair, and he keeps it by his heart, in the pocket of his coat."

Susanna gestures to the place by her own heart, carefully observing my face to determine my reaction.

I nod, playing with the bronze brooch on my dress.

However, I do not know what it is like to be engaged, or courted for that matter, and Susanna knows this just as well as I do. I have been told all my life of my plain nature and lack of charm, and so have silently resigned myself to a life of spinsterhood. Perhaps if I possessed a fortune, I would be more privileged in the field of romance and courtship. My resignation to spinsterhood does not spare me from the anguish I feel rising up within me whenever I consider the joys of marriage. I wish desperately to be married, but I am doubtful that I will ever know the pleasure.

Sensing my sadness, Susanna pins her arms to her sides. "Jealousy doesn't suit you, Helene. At least I'm sharing the joys of love with you. Heaven knows you won't likely know a man's love with that plain appearance and sallow complexion."

"I wasn't jealous Susanna -- I'm happy for you, truly!" I exclaim, petrified that she drew such a conclusion.

"If only I had a more intelligent companion to share the wonders of love with." Susanna sniffs, toying with one of her plump black curls.

My heart sinks. If she knew that I have loved deeply once before, she would be appalled. Especially considering that the gentleman in question was one of her relations, and enjoyed a rank far higher than mine.

I clasp my hands to my chest, willing myself not to cry. Henry is no longer here, I tell myself, and he has been gone at university for years now. Surely, he is now a man, with plans and ambitions which do not entail the likes of me. Perhaps he has even found an accomplished lady to share his life with, or travelled the continent like we planned to do together when we were young.

"I... I wish you and your suitor happiness, Susanna. I pray for a good marriage and many children between the two of you." My eyes burn with tears, and the painful ache in my chest becomes an overwhelming surge of sadness.

"Girls, hurry now. The carriage is here." Mrs. Potter dispels our silence with her cheerful voice.

I suck in my breath sharply, following behind Mrs. Potter as Susanna rushes to her Mother, a single diamond from her hair falling to the carpeted ground. I lean down to reach for it, and examine it in my palm. Some nonsensical grief overcomes me -- grief at never knowing the happiness of love, grief at resigning myself to a life of spinsterhood, grief at seeing the only man I ever loved disappear into the world without me.

Often I wonder why God placed the desire of wanting to be loved in my heart if he never intended me to fulfill it.

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