Page 1 of Marry in Haste (The Vaughns #2)
London Spring 1846
H ow was it possible to expire from excitement and fright at the same time? Those two emotions ought to be opposites, as the former held the happy promise of good things to come whilst the latter was anything but. One ought to be either eager or afraid. Not both. But then, did it matter? Either way, it ended with one’s demise.
A thought that didn’t help in the slightest.
Drawing in a deep breath, Joanna Crosby stared out at the gallery. Greenwood House was filled to bursting with people packed into every public corner of the house. Music swept through the air, punctuated by the dancers’ steps and whoops of laughter and the tittering conversations of those availing themselves of the other entertainments.
Energy thrummed in the air, filling Joanna with a promise of all that might happen tonight. Dancing and discussions. Friendship and frivolity. The Greenwoods were known for hosting delightful parties, and Joanna was going to enjoy it to its fullest. If her heart didn’t pound right out of her chest first.
Miss Neal’s voice didn’t carry far at the best of times, let alone when surrounded by chaos, and Joanna’s pulse quickened as she took the few words she heard and attempted to fill in the gaps using context. Having already asked Miss Neal to repeat herself a dozen times, Joanna wasn’t about to do so again.
At her right, Mr. Griggs guffawed, and though Joanna couldn’t fathom the jest within the piecemeal conversation, she followed his lead. Was her laugh too loud? One would think that impossible in this gathering, but Joanna adjusted the volume, following her companions’ examples.
“I do love Kew Gardens,” she said, the words rushing out the moment there was a pause for her to enter the conversation. “I have gone there at least a dozen times and cannot get enough of it. The walks are finer than any of the parks in London, and the new additions will guarantee its place amongst the finest public gardens in Europe. The progress on the Palm House is quite impressive, and I cannot wait until it is finished.”
And like a horse when the starting rope dropped and the race began, her tongue took off, babbling everything she knew about the place and her experiences within it. The words slipped out of her mouth without thinking, speeding past her good sense before Joanna knew what she was truly saying. But then, it was impossible to concentrate on the words and her companions’ expressions at the same time.
Were Miss Neal’s eyes unfocused? The young lady’s shoulders appeared stiffer than before, or was that just Joanna’s imagination? Her eyes darted to Mr. Griggs, and though a smile remained on his lips, she swore it was a touch vacant. Young Mrs. Shearer’s jaw tensed, and Joanna’s pulse quickened. Each was a sign of possible disinterest, and though she longed to assume the best, she couldn’t help imagining the worst.
Joanna recognized the tightness in her muscles and the swiftness of her words that burst out with all the delicacy of a broken dam. But knowing that her nerves were making matters worse only added to them, and the little voice in her head pointed out every misstep, every mistake, brutally critiquing her every attempt.
Did they think her a dunce? Dull? Or worse, a dull dunce? Joanna continued rambling, her words flowing faster as she sought some way to engage them—and all the while, she scrutinized every expression and movement, searching for signs of success or failure.
“Oddly enough,” she continued, “it isn’t far from my family’s country estate, though we spend little time in Richmond—”
Mrs. Shearer leapt in with, “Aren’t you from Surrey as well, Mr. Griggs?”
“That I am,” he replied.
With a smile, Miss Neal responded, though Joanna only caught the words “beautiful” and “quiet.” Was she saying Surrey was both a beautiful and quiet county? Or perhaps that it was beautiful though too quiet for her taste? Or that her own home county was far more beautiful than the quiet Surrey? Mr. Griggs’ response provided more clarity, though it granted Joanna no reentry into the conversation, as she knew little about the various corners of the world beyond London and Richmond, and her knowledge of the latter was sadly lacking.
Aunt Patricia appeared at Joanna’s elbow, taking her niece’s arm as she nodded at the others. “Please excuse me, but I must steal away Joanna.”
At such a moment, one hoped to see disappointment in her companions’ gazes. Perhaps even a protest or two. Joanna had once believed that relief was the worst reaction in such a moment, but a sharp stab in her heart said that disinterest was truly worse: the others hardly noticed the disruption, not giving Joanna even a first thought (let alone a second) when Aunt Patricia led her away.
Shoulders falling, Joanna sighed. Why did she always make a fool of herself? Managing a sensible conversation for a few minutes during a party ought not to require such a monumental effort.
“Calm yourself, kitten,” said Aunt Patricia, patting Joanna’s arm. “You need to stop flustering yourself.”
“If it were merely a matter of stopping, I would’ve done so ages ago,” replied Joanna.
Aunt Patricia frowned. “You try too hard. You are such a bright and sweet young lady, but your eagerness is off-putting and unbecoming. Calm yourself, and I am certain you will find a beau.”
Drawing in a deep breath, she forced herself not to respond. And for the first time this evening, her tongue listened. For the past decade, she’d been subjected to such “encouragements,” but there was nothing her aunt could ever say that Joanna hadn’t told herself a dozen times already.
“Follow me,” prodded Aunt Patricia, though her strong hold on Joanna’s arm didn’t allow for objections. Not that Joanna was going to do so. Having a companion during such functions always helped. Some.
But there was little helping matters when the lady at her side began parading her niece about the party, thrusting her at any bachelor who paused long enough to be snared. The next hour was a blur of gentlemen, each with varying degrees of manners—from those willing to tolerate a short conversation to those who refused to put off their search for something better than Joanna Crosby.
The dismissals were never cruel, but the apathy directed toward Joanna made it feel as though she were fading before their very eyes, vanishing into nothing. Merriment raged around her, yet she was locked away in a glass box, able to see the connections and community yet unable to break through the barrier that kept her apart from it all.
And Aunt Patricia’s expression fell with each rejection. The lady tried to hide it. She truly did. But a lifetime of watching had given Joanna the skills to discern the slightest changes to expressions, and it wasn’t difficult to discern the disappointment with each catastrophic interaction, which did nothing to soothe her already taut nerves.
Spying an escape, Joanna rose to her toes and lifted a hand above the crowd. “Lilith!”
“There you are,” said the young lady as she turned and greeted her friend with a buss on the cheek. “I just about gave up looking for you.” Turning to Aunt Patricia, she gave the chaperone a smile. “Would you mind terribly if I steal away your niece?”
Duty and desire warred in the lady’s gaze, and Joanna sent out a silent prayer that the latter would win out. A heartbeat later, Aunt Patricia sighed, releasing Joanna with a smile. “Do enjoy yourselves.”
In a flash, Lilith took hold of her friend, dragging her out of sight. “Good gracious, she is on a mission.”
Joanna gave a strained smile but held her tongue. Not that Lilith allowed enough silence for it to be noticeable, as she immediately turned on her friend with a sigh.
“You know ringlets do not suit you,” she said with a wrinkled nose.
“And you know how determined Aunt Patricia is to make me look like a young miss,” replied Joanna with a shake of her head, which made the silly things bob and smack her cheeks. Even though her dark blonde locks had a natural curl, they were unruly and opinionated, forever doing as they pleased rather than what their mistress desired.
“You would do better to sweep it back to the nape of your neck,” said Lilith, lifting one of the curls as though to do that very thing, though she released it with a sigh. “Your mouth is far too wide and this style only serves to emphasize—”
“Have you finished the book I lent you?” asked Joanna, turning the pair of them away and leading them deeper into the gathering.
“What book?”
“ The Maiden of Hartwood .”
Lilith wrinkled her nose again. “I returned that to you ages ago.”
But Joanna shook her head. “I was looking for it this afternoon, and it is not in my library.”
“Then perhaps you misplaced it.” Rising to her toes, Lilith waved at another lady in the crowd whilst Joanna took the term “biting one’s tongue” to literal levels. When it came to the books she lent out, she’d learned long ago the importance of good record-keeping and organization; the book hadn’t been misplaced.
But a battle was precisely the last thing she needed at present. Surely, she wouldn’t begrudge her friend a book; Joanna had enough pin money to replace the item, and such a thing wasn’t worth risking a fracture with her friend. Besides, she’d known that once it had left her possession, the book might never be returned, yet Joanna had lent it all the same. It was merely the price of friendship.
Fairly dragging Joanna along, Lilith drew her into a group. “This is the lady of whom I was speaking: Miss Crosby.”
From hard-won experience, Joanna knew her cheeks were giving away her feelings, broadcasting to one and all just how much that statement set her nerves on edge with another blend of anticipation and anxiety. Lilith had been speaking about her! It ought not to have been a surprise, as they were dear friends, but still, to be introduced in such a pleasant manner made Joanna’s little heart pitter-patter. Until three sets of eyes turned on her.
Pulse quickening, Joanna rehearsed the things she might say, her mind filling with possibilities of what the conversation might bring. Predicting the future was never successful, but she couldn’t stop her thoughts from trying to anticipate it any more than she could stop herself from working out how to respond to each scenario—including the resultant off-shoots of conversation that were bound to emerge from every single one.
She could do this.
Of course, whilst preparing herself and giving the appropriate encouragement, Joanna was missing the conversation, and she forced herself out of her head.
“…so lovely this time of year. I could spend all afternoon enjoying the greenery,” said Mr. Pittman, directing a smile at Joanna, which set her cheeks burning all the hotter whilst her heart was determinedly thumping in her chest. His smile was not nearly as appealing as a certain gentleman’s , but having it turned on her was quite thrilling nonetheless.
“I entirely agree,” said Mr. Milton.
“Especially in a carriage,” added Miss Vance with a longing sigh. “Being so high up, you see the world differently.”
“Not to mention being able to see so much more of it pass by than you can when on foot,” said Mr. Pittman with a nod.
“Which is precisely what I was saying earlier,” said Lilith, patting Joanna’s arm. “I was telling them about how fine an equipage your family has. Your family’s landau is perfect for enjoying the parks.”
Joanna’s stomach sank as the four watched her with looks of unabashed expectation—three of whom had never deigned to acknowledge her before and likely wouldn’t do so again. Lilith didn’t even have the courtesy to ask for it; she simply stood there, waiting for her friend to rush in with offers of grand outings together (no doubt with an elaborate picnic to make the afternoon all the better).
And why shouldn’t she? This was an old dance.
Yet the consequences of denying Lilith followed quickly on its heels, filling her mind with thoughts of the anger and upset that hasty action would invite—which would lead to a fracture between Joanna and the one lady who had remained at her side all these years. Friendships were too fragile and fleeting to risk ruining them simply because her pride was pricked.
“There isn’t space for all five of us,” replied Joanna, but her friend waved it away.
“If we cannot crush all together, then there is space beside the coachman. One of us could sit up top with him.”
That seemed a terrible afternoon for the one condemned to that seat, but the others were all nodding furiously as though they could imagine nothing better.
Another tune began its opening measures, and Mr. Pittman snapped to attention, turning his gaze to Lilith.
“I do believe this is our dance,” he said, flashing the others an apologetic smile.
Lilith sucked in a sharp breath. “You are correct, sir. Make haste.”
Releasing Joanna, she took his outstretched hand, but before stepping away, Lilith squeezed her friend’s arm. “The weather has been terrible of late, so we ought to try for next week. Now, do excuse me.”
The lady looked so happy that Joanna couldn’t bring herself to point out that no plan had been settled on nor had she offered to organize such a thing. What would it hurt? If handled correctly, Joanna might make three new friends.
Gathering her composure tight, she turned her attention to the two that remained and smiled at them. “Which is your favorite park?”
Miss Vance grinned in return, though it was more of a wince. “I do beg your pardon, but I see my mama is waving for me to join her.”
Mr. Milton offered his hand and said, “Allow me to escort you.”
And before Joanna knew what they were about, they abandoned her to herself.