"I do not know, Mother." Elizabeth worried. She was looking down at the letter she had been told to write for Count Robert, though I thought it a bit silly to write a letter rather than simply speak to him in person- after all, he was quite pleasant to speak to.
Mother sighed, leaning over my sister's shoulder as Miss Lancing worked on curling my hair. It was the morning of the Festival that would be held at the Charity School, and it was not only Elizabeth being dressed to the nines. Mother wanted me to look my best, as well, lest there be any men there who decided I was worth their time and approached Father with the intent of courting me.
Being viewed as one of the Festival prizes to be won was supposed to be an honor, apparently.
Elizabeth's hair was already curled, despite the Festival being hours away. She was fiddling nervously with one of her golden locks- a habit I had never seen in her.
"Now Elizabeth," Mother patronized, standing behind my sister and resting a hand on her shoulder. "You and the Earl have been casually courting for several weeks now. The time has come to move into the next phase- it is time for a formal public appearance together, and such an event is the perfect opportunity."
I thought it a bit inappropriate to use such an event as a public show of courtship. But such was the way of our world. And so Elizabeth was forced to blush and sigh and fidget her way through writing a formal letter of invitation for the Earl to come to the home and escort her to the Festival, arm in arm. Once she had finished writing the letter, Mother swept it up before the wax seal had even fully dried, handing it off to a Butler and telling him to have it delivered with the upmost sense of urgency.
Count Robert arrived just an hour later. He took Elizabeth by the arm, bowing formally to Mother and I, before being accompanied by Michael to the Earl's carriage. I would have to make my way there with Mother alone.
I was not surprised by the dramatic decorations adorning the school when we finally arrived- after all, I had helped plan and set up many of them. Several tents were up, some shielding the food and refreshments from the sun, and some shielding the games from the heat so the people tending them would not grow tired.
The schoolchildren looked far better than they had a week earlier. They stood beneath a nearby tree, singing hymms and the Queen's anthem as people arrived. Already, Father had tended well to them- their cheeks were fuller, filling out now that they were being fed well, and they had been cleaned and put in fresh uniforms- shorter ones, by my request, in which the skirts of the girls and trousers of the boys only reached the knee.
Never again would I allow wounds to be hidden from us in such a way. The uniforms would never cover so much again. Already, I could see that the wounds from the previous abuse were healing- Father had called in the best doctors to tend to the children and change out bandages daily.
By the time I came across Elizabeth and Robert, they were standing at a game booth, throwing balls at tin cans in an attempt to knock them over as Eli, John and Michael watched. They seemed to be having little luck thus far, and Elizabeth was on her last throw when she turned to look at me. Her bored look fell away, and she thrust her ball towards me. "Amelia- take the last shot. Winners of all games are put in a lottery at the end of the day, and a name will be drawn to be given two tickets for a tour of France."
That seemed a bit of an extravagant prize for a festival game booth, but I had to remind myself that this entire event was planned out and funded by the richest members of London High-society. Mother looked pleased, as well, seeming to think that my tomboyish ways and history of winning every sharp-shooter marble game were finally being put to use.
"Oh, yes," Mother trilled just next to me, patting my hand that held the ball. "Win the game for your sister, Amelia- a tour of France would make for just the perfect honeymoon."
Subtle.
As Elizabeth blushed, I weighed the ball in my hands and then pulled back and threw it at the pile of tin cans. It hit the stack dead-center, and as I waved away the prize and told them to write my sister's name down as she had been the one to pay for the balls, I found myself strangely pleased to catch Lord Robert's impressed gaze as Mother hurried off to chat with Lady Morris.
Never one to be outdone, Michael stepped up to the booth next, buying three balls- and then another six when he missed the first three shots. Elizabeth turned to Eli, leaning in to quietly share her doubt of her brother hitting a single one. With everyone's attention diverted, Robert finally turned to me, speaking in a low tone. "You have an excellent arm."
I tried to fight back a vain smile at his praise. "Thank you. I used to love to play marbles and ball with my brothers- I've never been much of a Lady, I suppose. Perhaps that is why Mother is working so hard to show me off here."
Too late, I realized that was probably an embarrassing tidbit of information that I did not need to share, and I sighed. "I'm sorry. I always seem to say too much around you."
"And yet I always find myself hoping you will say more."
At that, it was impossible to keep the smile off my face. "You would be one of the first."
Michael turned then, and I quickly looked away from Robert as he was pulled into conversation, pretending to be very interested in the game booth several metres away. After examining it, though, I found that it was actually a bit interesting- the children had been released from where they had been singing, and were now wandering about, talking to each other and munching on shaved ice cones topped with thickened berry syrup- that had been Father's idea, as well, and he had done science experiments with the children, heading down to the ice house below the school and showing them how the ice got even colder and would freeze in heat for much longer with just a bit of salt sprinkled atop it.
Several boys with shaved ice cones in hand stood before the nearby booth, laughing and hollering to one another. As I stepped closer, I realized they were throwing darts at rings hanging against a wooden backboard, trying to strike the rings just in the middle. The tallest boy of the bunch, who looked to be about twelve, was doing quite well, and the younger boys cheered him on, jumping about and whistling.
As I stepped closer to watch them, a flash of white caught my attention behind all of the booths and crowds. It was not a strange color to see- all of the schoolchildren were adorned in a blue and white school uniform- but it was so far apart from the rest of the people that I wondered if perhaps the children were conducting their own games off in the garden.
I turned to my brother to let him know that I was preparing to wander away, but he was so involved in his conversation with John that I just let it go, and instead walked off without announcement, heading for the stacks of hedges and rows of flowers that provided a bit of privacy.
There were not several children running about that garden as I would have assumed. Instead, it was just a single child sitting on the ground, leaning back against a bush. It was little Lottie- and it was clear that she had meant to keep out of sight, unaware that there were a few holes in the hedge she was using as a form of cover.
"Hello," I greeted, coming to kneel in front of her. She did not react much to my arrival- she just pulled her knees tighter against her chest. I could make out the healing marks on her arms, and with the position she was sitting in, I could also see the fading lines that made their way down her thighs from beneath her pantylettes.
When she did not respond, I nodded slightly, making sure she could see that I was not insulted by the lack of greeting. Slowly, I lowered myself fully to the ground to sit just in front of her, not particularly caring that I may get grass stains on my husband-winning dress. "Are you alright?"
She nodded, and then paused and shook her head. Still, she did not speak.
Finally, I asked a more direct question. "What are you doing back here?"
"I do not like the Festival."
I frowned- I had truly been hoping that such a celebration, filled with smiling faces and candy and games, would make all the children feel more comfortable. It had seemed to be working so well, and I had spotted Agnes running about with a smile on her face as she giggled and laughed with other girls. Even Adele had seemed to recover a bit from her sister's passing and being sent to the Undertaker, and had been smiling slightly as she licked her shaved ice and syrup, watching a puppet show play out in the far corner of the booths.
Despite the magic that the Festival seemed to be working for the other children, it was clearly having the opposite effect on poor Lottie. She was not enjoying it. "Why not?"
She sniffled, rubbing her cheek against her knee to brush away a tear I had not noticed. "I just do not like it. And I do not like the garden. Does nobody care that we play atop a graveyard?"
Reaching forward, I tried to take her hand. She hesitated, and then pulled it to her side, out of my reach. I did not scold her for it- I would not force her to accept touch, especially after all she had been through. How could I be upset with her for being weary of my hand, when the only hand she had ever known was one dealing blow after blow to her?
"Nobody is buried here, Lottie," I tried to soothe. The mass grave of children had already been found- a chilling discovery, when all illnesses and deaths were supposed to be reported to my Father directly. He had not heard of a single child passing away, and yet dozens of little ones had been pulled from the ground, and sent for a proper burial.
Father had been beside himself, distraught that there was no way to identify each body individually so they could each be given their own grave- we had settled for a shared headstone with all of the names listed atop it, a grand statue of a little angel boy and girl holding hands secured just above the names. "They have all been taken to the Cemetery, and buried honorably. They can be at peace now."
Tears dripped down her cheeks. "It is still scary! And none of the other children are frightened now, but I am. And I am not a baby!"
"I don't think you are a baby." Among so many hardened and passive street-children, I could understand how a child as sensitive as Lottie could feel a bit inferior. But after all she had been through, how could we expect anything but trauma? She just dealt with it differently than the rest of the children. "And it's alright to be scared. But I promise to do everything I can to keep you safe now. Alright?"
She nodded, though she did not look very appeased. I could not blame her for not trusting my word, after all she had been through. Her eyes glanced at me briefly, and then flickered behind me. I turned with her, and saw Robert approaching. He must have found a way to break out of the group we had come with.
"Hello," He greeted, sitting on the grass himself. I rather loved that he did not seem to care in the least that he may be staining his trousers. He held a shaved ice cone out to Lottie, waiting patiently for her hesitant hands to reach for it. "I saw you two speaking, and thought you may like one of these."
I smiled as he handed me one. "Thank you."
Lottie's voice was quiet. "Yes. Thank you."
"So what are we discussing then?" Robert asked, meeting my gaze questioningly. I shook my head slightly, indicating that it was probably best if we moved on from the topic.
Robert took the hint, and quickly changed direction. "Lottie, is it? Have you played any games yet?"
She shook her head shyly. "Yes. I mean, no, Sir. I haven't played any games. I do not like crowds much. But my name is Lottie. It is short for Charlotte, but Charlotte was my Mummy's name, so everyone called me Lottie."
I smiled at her, knowing better than to ask what had become of her mother. If Lottie was at a charity school meant for children off of the streets, it could not have been good. Having been a street-child myself, I knew that we all had our own histories of woe. "Charlotte is the name of one of my very best friends- would you like to meet her? I am sure she is here."
Lottie hesitated, leaning around the side of the hedge we were hiding behind to take in the crowds of people. "I am too scared to go in there."
"That's alright," I promised, moving to stand. "I shall go find her and bring her here. Alright?"
Lottie nodded, and I left Robert to keep watch over her in the short time I was gone. As I wandered the crowds in search of Charlotte, it was my sister I happened upon first. Just as before, she was speaking with Eli, while Michael and John spoke to each other close by.
Catching sight of me, Elizabeth excused herself from the conversation, hurrying forward to grab my arm and lead me away from everyone.
"Hello, Elizabeth," I greeted, sightly confused by her urgency. "I was just looking for Charlotte- have you seen her?"
"No," My sister said, her voice clipped. I gazed at her face, trying to understand the tone. Despite having shared a room with her for most of my life, despite us having been companions and friends in most things, I was not sure I had ever heard her speak in the way that she was.
Cautiously, I stopped walking- we were far enough from the crowds now, anyway. "Are you alright?"
Elizabeth took a deep breath, seeming to steady herself. "Have you seen Count Robert?"
I nodded. "Yes, I know where he is. Do you wish for me to fetch him for you?"
She shook her head quickly. "No! I mean... no. No, it is quite alright."
Staring at her quizzically, I again tried to understand the look upon her face. She did not look very alright. "Is it?"
To my shock, I watched as my sister's eyes filled up with tears. Suddenly understanding her need for privacy, I gripped her hand, pulling her along with me into the school and closing the door behind us. With everyone outside enjoying the festivities, we were alone, the sound of laughter and cheers muted through the thick oak door.
"Elizabeth!" I cried, pulling her into a tight embrace. She clung to me. "What is it? What's happened?"
It took her several moments to calm down enough to respond. "There is to be a ball."
I held her at arms length, trying to understand how such news would bring on tears. My sister adored parties- she was charming and beautiful and feminine, and always the center of attention. "A ball for what?"
"For my engagement to the Earl."
My world seemed to go white for a moment. I gripped Elizabeth, steadying myself before speaking. She did not seem to notice. "What? When was your engagement announced?"
She shook her head miserably. "He has not even asked me yet. Mother thinks a formal ball where we enter together will bring about a formal proposal much sooner."
I swallowed back my reaction, trying to breathe around the tightness in my chest. This had been the plan all along- it had been foolish of me to allow my feelings for Robert to get as far as they had. Even a simple crush was inappropriate, given the fact that Mother intended him for my sister. "Oh."
Elizabeth wiped at her eyes. "Oh, Amelia- I do not want to marry him!"
"I know marriage is scary," I told her slowly. Truly, I wanted to tell her to call it off. It was ridiculous that she must marry at all if she was not ready. But that was simply not the world that we lived in- marriage was a business deal, not a reciprocated romance. That knowledge cut through me like a dagger. Still, I forced the words out, feeling disgusting as I said them to my own sister. "He is a good man. You will be happy with him."
"I do not like him."
"I know you do not love him yet, but that can grow with time," I said, still trying to calm her tears. "Mother and Father hardly knew one another when they were wed, but-"
"I did not say I do not love him, Amelia!" My sister burst out, her voice far louder than the lady-like hum she usually kept. She reached forward, gripping my arm in an almost-painful hold, her eyes wild as they stared desperately into my own. "I do not like him. Him. I know he is a good man. I know I could marry worse. I know. But I do not like him. I do not wish to marry him. I do not wish to live the rest of my life trapped with him."
There was a strange undertone to her words that I did not understand. But the point was clear.
It did not matter how much I cared for Robert. It did not matter that he was kind and brave and compassionate. It did not matter that he brought shaved ice to distraught children, or that he took me on my word alone when others did not.
My sister would never be happy with him.
"I can speak to Mother," I told her gently, reaching for her hands. "I can tell her that you do not wish to marry Robert- we can find someone else, Elizabeth. Another Earl, or a Duke, or-"
"Why must it always be of status?" Elizabeth demanded, yanking away from me. "Why must we always work around those whom have enough money to be deemed worthy of our time?"
I was speechless. Of course, it was wrong. I knew that better than anyone. I had been born into poverty myself, deemed worthless myself. It was only by the grace of God and my father's compassion that I had been adopted into the world I now lived in, deemed suitable for those whom I now lived among. My closest friends, John and Eli, had both come from the same background of squalor. I had long since been angered by the separation of classes, and the way those born into poverty were viewed by my supposed equals- after all, it was really only a gamble of luck that I was somehow now one of the elite rather than one of the 'others'.
But Elizabeth had been born into wealth. It had taken her weeks to become civilized towards the 'street urchin' when I had first been adopted, and many more to begin to view me as her equal or sister in any way. She had always loved the lavish beauty and extravagant absurdity of upper-crust life.
Perhaps this was just her expressing her frustration at this one, single aspect of such a life- a woman's worth resting almost entirely upon the shoulders of the man she married. That was why it was so vital that she marry well. Once we were no longer considered to be owned by our Father, it would then be our husbands who owned us. It was why Mother was so insistent on whom we married- she did not wish to be cruel or mean or hardhearted. She wanted us to be well provided for in life, to not be outcast from society or socially ruined.
Such ruin would indeed impact us in every aspect for the rest of our lives.
"I do not know, Elizabeth," I finally whispered, heartbroken that I did not have a better answer for her. "That... that is just how it is. It is not fair. I am sorry."
My sister glared at the ground, wiping away more tears. I had not seen her cry such a way in years-not since we were children, and she had still thrown fits and been whipped and prone to bouts of tears.
But Elizabeth was a lady now. And a proper one at that- all that Mother aspired for me to be, as well. Always soft-spoken, always polite, and always in control of her emotions. Such a display from my sister was shocking, indeed.
Elizabeth took a shaking, deep breath in, going still before suddenly straightening up. She wiped away the last bit of wetness from her cheeks. "I am alright."
Confused by her sudden change of heart, I reached for her hands. "Sister..."
She stepped back. "Truly. I am fine." Then, as if rethinking her last action, Elizabeth stepped forward, gripping me in fiercer hug than ever before. I wrapped my arms around her automatically, though I was still confused as she spoke again. "I love you. So dearly. I shall thank God every day and night for gracing me with such a sister."
"I love you, as well," I said, pulling back to look at her, to try and understand how the conversation had led to such an unprompted and sincere admission. Though Elizabeth and I expressed our love for each other often enough, certainly this was different. I could feel it in every fiber of my being- from the wetness in my eyes, to the pounding in my chest.
But Elizabeth did not grant me time to try and comprehend her expression. She turned quickly, walking out of the door and back out to the Festival without a backwards glance.
It took several minutes for me to compose myself enough to step back outside. When I did, I found myself wandering back towards the garden, sitting beside Lottie and Robert without a word.
To my surprise, Robert had gotten Lottie laughing in the time I had stepped away. He was telling her a tale of his childhood- he had decided that he would quite like a duck as a pet, and had snuck a young one into his bedroom as a boy, deciding to let it live in his chamberbath.
"Did he like living there?" Lottie asked, leaning forward and crunching on her shaved ice. She had a bit of syrup on her nose and chin, but did not seem to mind.
Robert shook his head. "I suppose not- he flew away as soon as I opened the window."
Lottie collapsed into a fit of giggles, though she sat up a few moments later to lament her grief at Robert having lost his beloved Lord Quacklington- as that was, evidently, what seven-year-old Count Robert had deemed an appropriate name for the animal.
He nodded, trying to hide his pleased smile at getting the girl to open up. "It was a shame. I like to think he flew off into the sunset to live a happy life, though- one full of little ducklings all in a row."
The little girl giggled. "I should think he did. Lots of ducklings- even several Lord Quacklingtons. The second, and third and fourth. Maybe even the fifth or sixth!"
As if just recognizing my arrival, Lottie turned to me, again going a bit quiet. She sounded shy as she spoke. "Did you find your friend?"
In my concern for my sister, I had entirely forgotten about the task at hand. "I did not. I'm sorry- perhaps the next time I visit the school, I shall bring her along. She is the best at hide-and-go-seek... have you ever played?"
Though I thought I had done a well enough job at keeping the anxiety out of my voice, the frown that Robert sent when he heard my tone had me wondering if perhaps I had not. Lottie did not seem to notice anything amiss, though, and began to once again ramble freely, talking on and on about how well she did at hiding. She liked to play even when nobody else was, and find little nooks and crannies to hide in for hours where she could not be seen.
By the time Robert and I convinced the little girl to come out and try some of the games, a decent portion of the crowd had already went off about their days, making the stalls much easier for Lottie to wander about without feeling anxious. Eventually, we did happen upon Charlotte, and the two girls ran off together after just a few minutes of talking. Charlotte had taken dearly to Lottie, and Lottie seem to find some level of companionship with the girl who shared a name with her.
Elizabeth seemed to have already made her way home- I did not see Eli, John, or Michael about either. Mother was still bustling about between the food stalls, eager to see who would win the competitions for best pie, biscuits, cake, and scones- I thought that Mother may be a bit ill later in the day, but still ducked behind the other stalls so as to not be spotted by her.
Despite all that had happened, I felt a slight thrill run through me. I was with the Earl- and almost alone. And though that should have certainly been enough- more than enough, really, as my current situation was highly inappropriate- I found myself longing for more.
If I was going to behave scandalously anyway, why not go a bit further?
I began to walk past the Earl, catching his gaze as I heading back towards the school, so as to make my way through the building to the front- nobody would be able to accuse me of meeting up with Lord Robert when he took the path along the side of the building rather than following directly after me.
Feeling quite bold, I whispered as I passed him by. "Meet me in your carriage in five minutes. I wish to show you something."
And it seemed he did not care for the rules much himself in that moment, because he nodded, a slight smile playing at his lips as he discreetly turned away lest someone glance towards us.
I had only a few minutes to myself, I knew, once I entered Robert's carriage. As I sat in silence, I found myself suddenly reflecting on my choices. This man was intended for my sister- even if she did not want to be his intended, and he certainly seemed to have all of his affections focused on me. But meeting with him in such a private quarter, with no witnesses or chaperones about, could cause a scandal. It could ruin me.
But then why was there nothing but an excited thrill in me? I held no regrets for sitting in this man's carriage, and I was certainly more than pleased that he should be on his way towards me at that very moment. Should I not have been frightened? Nervous for the possible consequences of such actions, mortified by my blatant eagerness to meet him here? Why did I feel nothing of the sort?
Sudden understanding came to me then- as I recalled the way Robert could make me feel safe to laugh and talk without suppression, the way he had taken me entirely on my word and supported me, the way he had been so quick to jump in and defend the children, the way he had sat upon the grass with no thought to propriety in his efforts to soothe Lottie.
I felt the familiar, thrilled fluttering in my chest at the memory of all I admired in Robert, and groaned as I came to comprehend my own unfamiliar and unacceptable feelings. Slumping back against the seat of the carriage, I placed a hand over my pounding heart.
"Oh, you foolish, traitorous thing. What have you done?"