London had not changed much in Cordelia's opinion as the carriage made its way along the cobblestone road. Travelling since early that morning had left her tired, and her back was smarting from being in a stationary position for so many hours.
Her decision to return to London had been a difficult one to make. She had become so accustomed to the way of life at the Manor that the slightest change felt extremely daunting, and the afternoon when this first came to light she had mulled over the thought of returning.
But it was her cousin George who had finalised her decision, for when she wanted to express her feelings on the matter to him, hoping to have a listening ear, he had told her—quite blatantly—that she needed to mature, and that it was not his job to listen to her whining words of being a coward.
She supposed that she should have expected such a response from him, but his words still struck a little closer than she wished to admit.
Was she being a coward by refusing to return to London?
In a manner of speaking, yes, she was. She never belonged among the social elite, and she failed to see how that would have changed now. Even with the assistance of the Masters, she would never be of the same blood as the rest of them.
But her fear of being the social outcast was not the only thing that made her hesitate in returning. There was one other reason, one which regarded a family that so clearly thought her beneath them.
The Marquis of Midrake and his wife.
She wished to see them least of all. If she never saw them again, it would be too soon.
But her cousin did make her reflect upon her options later that evening when she went to bed. If she did not go to London, each day for the rest of her life would remain precisely such as this. Nothing will change.
It was a feeling that did not sit well with her, for she did hope to meet a man and marry one day. Though it was highly unlikely that she ever would, it was currently impossible if she chose to remain at home, unseen and unknown.
Besides, she might become friends with another young lady, which would be beneficial to her rather lonely existence.
And so it was decided that they would return to London the following week. It was a time that would also suit her cousin, since he had business to attend to with the House of Lords, though how long he was willing to stay in the city was another question entirely.
The arrangements were made at a rather brisk pace that Cordelia had not been ready for, and before she even realized it, they had packed her bags, assisted her in a carriage and were already entering London.
And so, to keep her mind occupied so as not to dwell on the conflicting feelings of her arrival, she focused on the distraction of the many buildings as they moved past them, the wheels churning beneath her feet and the clips of the horses' hooves creating a symphony with all the other travellers in the streets.
Her vibrant blue eyes absorbed the sight of a familiar park, noticing individuals milling about the landscape and flowerbeds, while along the street, various phaetons, wagons, horses, and people rushed about in an attempt to complete their daily tasks.
She did not know what she had expected, but she thought that something must have changed after six years. The fact that nothing outwardly looked any different but for several more buildings left an unsettled feeling within her. Surely, if London had not changed then society would not have either.
She would be a misfit just like she always was.
With a heavy sigh, she leaned back against the cushioned seat of the carriage and looked at her aunt who sat across from her. "London has not changed," she commented as she watched the older woman turn the page of her leather-bound book.
Her aunt glanced at her over the rim of her spectacles. "No, it very rarely changes. London's smog and dreary weather will remain a constant."
Cordelia smiled at her aunt's cynical response, remembering how differently the lady had viewed the city when she was younger. She was never one to step away from it, but now she looked as though she was dreading the very moment they were back.
"Well, the weather has been quite kind to us this trip," Cordelia remarked, gesturing to the sun peeking out from behind a cloud, wanting to speak of anything that would distract her mind from its self-deprecating thoughts.
"Yes, we have been lucky. There is nothing worse than travelling in the mud and rain."
"Luck has nothing to do with the weather," George replied in his usual dry tone as he gazed out the window. "There is no such thing."
Cordelia turned to look at him. "I believe there is. Some situations arise that can be surmised as nothing else but luck, whether it is good or bad."
Her cousin's dark eyes focused on her. "Luck is a fallible excuse used by those who try to excuse themselves out of a situation. A broken carriage? It is not bad luck but someone's incompetence to create a sound product or someone's lack of skill when it comes to driving."
Cordelia's lips tightened, struggling to find a response that would not rouse what would be considered a further argument. Though he did not argue per se, he had his opinion and would not be swayed by it. It was a quality that made it difficult to converse with him at times, as something quite insignificant could quite easily feel like an argument.
His character was exhausting to her sometimes.
The carriage eased to a halt not much later, jostling Cordelia from her reverie. She immediately looked out the window, gazing upon the house that she had stayed in when she first came to London. She remembered that evening clearly. It had been dark when they had arrived, and the elaborate townhouse seemed to be cloaked in shadows and apparitions. She had been so unnerved by the daunting appearance that she refused to enter, and only the coax of a warm, comfortable bed was able to beckon her inside.
But now Mayfield House seemed to be the friendliest on the street, offering her a sense of nostalgia and fond memories. She never quite realized how much she missed it until she gazed upon it now. And it was this feeling that finally settled her anxious heart, which had been beating erratically against her breast from the moment she left the Manor.
The doors to the carriage were opened, and the footmen assisted the ladies from the coach. As Cordelia stepped foot on the paved sidewalk, her eyes instantly gravitated towards the house next door.
She was suddenly overcome by an intense sense of melancholy as she stared at it, the memories pushing into her mind without her consent. The most vivid one was the last day that she had seen her friend covered in bruises. And yet, although she knew that he had been in great pain, he had held his chin high with pride.
She had always envied that about him.—keeping a stiff upper lip in all circumstances.
"Come along, Cordelia," her aunt called, jarring her from her thoughts.
She turned and flushed when she realized that her aunt and cousin were already nearing the front steps of the house, and she hastened after them. "Although I would have liked for you to have settled in for a couple of days, I am afraid we were not so fortunate. Many of my old acquaintances have heard of my return and so we have been invited to a dinner party this evening, followed by a late breakfast tomorrow . . ."
Cordelia lost focus on her aunt's words as she entered the house. She paused, taking a moment to reacquaint herself with everything that surrounded her. She remembered the first time she had stepped foot in the house, and how she had been so overwhelmed by how large it was with its richly painted ceilings and walls, and expensive carpets.
Now, compared to the Manor that had been her home for the last six years, the house almost seemed small. Impressive but it could not hold a candle to the Manor.
"Cordelia, are you listening?"
Once again, the young lady was grabbed from her thoughts, causing her to smile at her aunt in embarrassment, briefly noticing that her cousin had already left the room.
The Dowager sighed and shook her head. "Our maids will still be a little while coming, so in the meantime I suggest we take the time to refresh ourselves before tonight. It is a small dinner party but it will serve as your introduction to society. We have to put our best foot forward, as first impressions are extremely important."
"Yes, Aunt Eloise."
The woman nodded and turned to make her way up the ostentatiously designed staircase. "I will be resting in my room should you need me."
Once she had disappeared down the hall, Cordelia hesitated on what to do first before finally making her way towards a door situated to the left. It was a breath-taking room and was kept exactly as she remembered it with high ceiling windows and a beautiful pianoforte off to the side.
This room alone held so many reminiscences to her.
Looking back on it now, it was difficult to believe that she had only lived here for about a month. But it was not so much the room itself that brought so many emotions to bear, but all of her memories, many of which included one face in particular.
She sighed as she walked towards the windows, looking out at the gardens and the house next door. Her gaze roamed, inadvertently searching for someone whom she knew she would not see. It was very likely that she would never see him again, his life quite possibly cut short by the effects of war.
The thought weighed down on her so that she felt her knees buckle beneath her and collapsed into the chair closest to her, desiring now more than ever before to take away the foolish acts that she had committed.
It was at this moment that she suddenly wished that she had not returned to London. She had not expected the emotions that cascaded over her or the memories of her past actions to haunt her so.
But she was here now, and although her aunt had promised that they would return to the Manor as soon as she felt she could no longer bear to stay, she knew that she would have to face her past eventually.
She only hoped that she was strong enough to do so.
* * *
The air was still warm later that evening, and so the Countess chose to be driven in a carriage pulled by two exquisite horses that were nearly identical with their bay coats and four white socks. Lady Mayfield was known far and wide for her expensive taste in horses. She had at least forty horses back at the Manor, all of excellent breeding and quality. But she had chosen her best horses to return with her to London. This pair was one of her favourites.
The house that they stopped in front of already had several couples walking towards it, and Cordelia felt a mixture of excitement and apprehension as the door to the carriage was opened. She had attended dinner parties before, but they had been in the comfort of her own home. This would be her first appearance in society as an eligible lady, and she knew that prying eyes would not be far away.
As they were assisted from the carriage, Cordelia took a quick moment to straighten her dress before following her aunt and cousin towards the entrance. Waiting to greet them was an elderly couple who smiled upon seeing them.
"Lord and Lady Mayfield, how lovely it is to see you again!" the gentleman greeted with a kind smile as he offered them a slight bow, his wife offering a curtsy.
"It is lovely to see you as well, Mr. Hall. This is my niece, Miss Sutton, whom I had mentioned in previous correspondence."
The older man's aged features turned to Cordelia, and he smiled at her politely. "Ah, Miss Sutton. At last we meet. It is such a pleasure to see you."
She offered a delicate curtsey in response. "The pleasure is all mine. You have a beautiful home."
His wife offered her a gentle smile. "Thank you, and please enjoy yourself."
As they moved away to allow the introductions of the next guests, Cordelia followed her aunt and cousin into the foyer. She could hear the indistinctive murmur of voices, and all around her were smartly dressed gentlemen and women in stunning gowns. But it was as though as soon as everyone noticed the Countess, many began to take note of her as well.
She knew that this would happen, but she did not realize the intensity of their stares as they gazed upon her. She felt her shoulders tense, causing her to move closer to her aunt's side.
"Take a few deep breaths and relax. You will grow accustomed to it soon," her aunt encouraged softly.
Cordelia heeded her words and forced her shoulders to relax while keeping careful watch of her expression.
"Ah, there you are!" a voice suddenly sounded from their left, and the three of them turned to see Lord Topham stand before them with a gentleman to his right. "I was hoping to see you this evening," he continued, inclining his head in a slight bow.
The ladies returned the greeting before Lord Topham gestured to the gentleman beside him. "May I introduce a close friend of mine, Lord Tilbur, the Viscount of Tilbur Park. This is Lady Mayfield, the Dowager Countess of Mayfield, her son, the Earl of Mayfield, and her niece, Miss Sutton."
Lord Tilbur was quite a handsome man, and his smile was friendly as his deep midnight gaze settled on Cordelia. "A pleasure to meet you."
"Likewise, Lord Tilbur. I believe that I had been acquainted with your father," the Countess began amicably, drawing his attention away from Cordelia reluctantly. "I know that he had been struggling with his heart for some time, but I was not aware of his passing."
"That is correct, Lady Mayfield, but it was not his heart. He had an accident while out riding one morning."
"Oh, dear," she responded, her delicate eyebrows dipping in a small, concerned frown. "I am very sorry to hear that. I hope he was not in pain for too long."
"It was quite sudden," he admitted. "But I am thankful that he did not suffer."
The polite words that flowed between the Viscount and her aunt allowed Cordelia the opportunity to observe him quietly. He had a pleasant way about his countenance and what one would consider a charming disposition as he easily answered any questions her aunt posed. But she noticed how his gaze kept moving to her from time to time, and she was vaguely aware that he was wishing to speak to her.
She averted her eyes then, hoping her aunt would continue the discussion so as not to bring focus to herself.
"Beauford is a marvellous estate, but I will admit that it was a surprise to me when the Marquis of Midrake acquired it."
Lord Tilbur's words caused Cordelia's breath to hitch at the mention of the gentleman, her shoulders tensing slightly. She looked at her aunt, noticing the slight raise of her brow. "I was not aware of them being in any position to acquire more property."
He inclined his head in agreement. "That is correct, but after the Marquis' death and his son taking over the estates, I must admit that he has done exceptionally well in regaining the wealth that his parents squandered so happily."
A sudden rush of emotion cascaded over Cordelia when his words registered in her mind, causing her lips to part in mute surprise. The Marquis' son . . .
Relief unlike anything she had ever felt before overcame her, and it took a significant amount of effort not to let her feelings show. Landon, her dear friend, was not only alive but now he had inherited the title of Marquis from his father.
But her relief was short-lived when she realized that meant that he was now back in the country. And as it was the start of the season, it was possible that he may return to London—as all eligible gentlemen were inclined to do so.
Her stomach coiled in anticipation, her relief sharply replaced by dread.
How could she ever face him again after what she had done?
But a moment later she realized how foolish her thoughts were. Since he was now the Marquis, it was possible that he had already married and may not even return to London. That was a comforting thought, although she could not fathom why it did not sit as well with her as she hoped it would.
The evening moved by steadily and the guests were soon called to the dining room. There were several seats with the offer of place cards situated before each, and it came as a surprise to Cordelia when she noticed that she was seated beside the Viscount with her aunt across from her and her cousin to her other side.
"Is this your first season in London, Miss Sutton?" Lord Tilbur asked as the first course was served, his voice low so as not to allow the Dowager Countess' attentive ears to hear his words to the young beauty beside him.
"It is," she confirmed, and his gaze settled on her for a moment before his lips curved in a smile.
"I thought so, for I am certain that I would not have forgotten such an exquisite face."
His unexpected compliment caused her movements to stutter, and her spoon clinked a little louder against the plate than considered polite. She glanced down, her cheeks growing decidedly warm. "Your words are too sweet, but I feel they are an exaggeration."
"Not at all. You only have to look in the mirror to believe me."
A quiet scoff from her cousin was the only response.
She ignored George as she slowly looked back at the Viscount, peering into his dark eyes for a bit longer than what would have been considered appropriate. She was not used to such flattery from men, and she was not well equipped for a response to that kind.
But she hid her discomfort well and returned her attention to her food, allowing the Viscount the responsibility to find some other point of discussion.
But throughout the evening, her thoughts kept returning to the young man she had known so many years ago, and she could not help but wonder if she had made a mistake in returning to London.
FUN FACT: at a dinner party, no married couple was permitted to sit beside each other. If the order of precedence created such a seating arrangement, the couples would be separated.