Page 47

A FEW HOURS LATER…

A nna brought a pearl earring up to her ear, evaluating the shade of white against her skin. Her friends laughed and conversed loudly behind her, doing their own toilettes for the evening ahead.

She sighed contemplatively, setting the pearl earring on the vanity before her.

It clinked against the marble tabletop, and she picked up a pair of diamond earrings instead.

Her mother had always liked them on her.

They were an inheritance from her paternal grandmother—the late, though not particularly missed, Countess of Bristol.

“But that’s just the thing,” Helena cried between bursts of laughter.

“How can a woman possibly know what to do with herself if all she is allowed to pursue are interests of such little value as to not be worth the pursuit in the first place? Watercolors, music, manners… These accomplishments set the bar impossibly low from the onset. If a girl is told that her role is to paint prettily, to sing in tune, to be beautiful, how could she conceive of a world in which she could become a woman-barrister, or a woman-doctor? The problem lies in education. Everything is learned, especially the expectations we set for ourselves. That is my thought on things, at least. Which, as usual, I suppose nobody asked for.”

Indeed, nobody did, but that was par for the course with Helena. She launched into political soliloquies at every opportunity.

Anna had determined long ago that Helena loved the sound of her own voice. Anna and the rest of them didn’t mind. As the second eldest of their group, Helena was the most opinionated of them all—and perhaps to their detriment, the most persuasive too.

The youngest, Lucy, placed a hand in front of her mouth and feigned a yawn. She lay down on Anna’s bed, reading her latest loan from the lending library. Her bright blonde hair shone in the light from the candles nearby, a stark contrast to Anna’s chestnut-brown hair.

“How did we even get on the topic?” Lucy asked, giggling when Helena shot her a dark look. “Margaret was saying something about her gown…”

“I said that I was having difficulty selecting my colors for this Season because lavender is supposed to be the favorite of the Queen. But it looks ghastly on me. And so does white, for that matter, which is equally popular,” Margaret explained, striking a pose in Anna’s standing mirror.

Poised and polished, Margaret cut an impressive figure.

“And then Sophia said that she was having trouble in that regard too, because the latest fashion plates in La Belle Assemblée contradicted the trends in The Lady’s Magazine she had just read. And then Helena said?—”

“And then Helena said,” Sophia cut in, scenting herself with rosewater, “that the reason we have such trouble choosing is that we are all taught to be helpless—that is if I am summarizing your arguments correctly, darling Helena?”

Helena hardly seemed to be listening, having climbed onto the bed to read over Lucy’s shoulder.

Anna gave an unladylike snort at the sight of them, then returned to her toilette.

Her friends always managed to infuse every moment with a bit of chaos.

She was the most middling and quietest of them.

She satisfied herself mostly by watching the girls and occasionally mediating their most heated debates.

But that night, she was feeling a little emboldened by Helena’s argument, and by their destination.

She took off her mother’s favorite diamonds and reached for a pair of chandelier earrings that her father had once called the height of vulgarity .

To Anna’s eye, there was nothing immoral about them.

They made her feel beautiful, like anything was possible when she wore them.

“But Helena was not done,” she piped up, shaking her head slowly and enjoying the tinkling of her new jewelry. “Because that education must come from somewhere…”

“Exactly.” Like kindling to a fire, Anna’s invitation to speak made Helena bolt upright, and she clapped her hands in excitement. “And there is only one culpable force…” She paused for gravitas, though they all knew what was coming. “Men.”

“Men,” Margaret echoed, rolling her eyes in disgust.

Lucy and Sophia nodded their agreement, taking on new fierce airs at the mention of their common enemy.

Anna did not feel as passionately about the topic as Helena. But she agreed with a low, damning murmur all the same.

“And that is why we cannot bend to their will this year,” Helena continued, commanding the room like a general with a hand on her hip.

“We will not join the Season with the hope of finding husbands. We will attend their balls and dance and socialize with the rest of them. But in secret, we will forge a new way of living for ourselves, by reading and learning, by becoming women of culture—that which they fear most.” She leaped off the bed and landed loudly on the floor.

Anna worried a maid would soon come asking about the racket.

“And that is also why, above all else, we will never, ever marry one of them.”

“The League of Untamed Hearts,” Lucy intoned dreamily, having set down her book.

Anna cringed somewhat at the name. It had been Helena’s idea to start a society between themselves, like some of the fashionable women were doing in London.

Their correspondence over the summer had taken on a new edge when Margaret had been snubbed by a bachelor in the country.

Helena had come up with the idea shortly after, as a remedy to her friend’s heartbreak.

Lucy had decided on the name, and Sophia had commissioned a unique set of wax stampers they could use to seal their letters to one another: a heart on a shield, guarded by two swords.

But unlike the bluestockings, Anna and her friends were not in a position to openly pursue their interests and express their disdain for society.

Lucy, at seventeen, considered herself too young to be a pariah.

Margaret and Sophia, despite joining in on the fun, still longed for happy marriages—Anna could tell just by watching them at soirees, where they tried to catch the eyes of passing suitors.

Helena, despite believing in their rebellion with all her heart, feared the retribution of her parents. And Anna…

Well , I find myself sharing the same reservations and obstacles as them all. But most of all…

She shuddered.

Most of all, my father has already threatened to arrange a marriage for me if I cannot secure a husband this Season.

If he knew of our intentions to turn into spinsters, he would marry me off to whomever he saw fit without delay.

And I have seen the men my father socializes with.

I would have an old boor for a husband, someone rich but cruel. That would be the worst life of all.

“Anna?” Margaret asked quietly from beside her.

Anna hadn’t even noticed her approaching.

Helena, Sophia, and Lucy had started a new discussion on Lucy’s book, filling the room with happy conversation while Anna’s mind whirled.

Margaret placed a hand on her shoulder and looked deeply into her eyes.

Anna could sense her reading her thoughts.

But instead of interrogating her, Margaret smiled.

“Those earrings look lovely on you,” she said, taking one between her thumb and forefinger. “I’m certain your cousin will love them too and want a pair for herself. Are you excited about watching her perform tonight?”

Anna nodded, grateful to Margaret for not exposing her.

“I always am. Alicia has such a wonderful voice. She’s performing a Rossini opera tonight, and I know those are her favorites.

Although I promised Mother and Father that I would take some time tonight to look for eligible bachelors among the opera’s patrons, I intend to spend every second watching her… ”

Her mind turned to her talented cousin, and warm feelings washed over her.

Alicia was only five years older than Anna, but she had already traveled all over Europe with her opera company.

When she had participated in the London Seasons, she had been the belle of every ball.

Her voice was unmatched. While she bore a striking resemblance to Anna, she had a charm that was impossible to replicate.

Anna loved singing too, learning every opera that Alicia performed. But she would never measure up to Alicia—and that was fine.

“She always knows how to lift your spirits. I can always tell when you’ve been speaking with her.

You sing more, and smile more too.” Margaret stepped back, but kept her voice low, not wanting to alert the others.

“I hope that she can give you some sage advice tonight. Whatever is burdening your heart… you can overcome it, I am sure.”

Leaving to join the others and defuse the fight that was already starting between Helena and Lucy, Margaret left Anna to her thoughts.

She remained in quiet contemplation until the girls made their way downstairs. Anna had hoped to exit the house without attracting the attention of her parents. But the girls were running late, and she knew her father would not miss an opportunity to scold her.

She found her mother waiting for them by the open front doors, a cold breeze sweeping in from outside. Her father was discussing something with their butler, pointing at his pocket watch.

Rosamund Walford, the Countess of Bristol, was well-liked by the ton for her gentle spirit and grace. Anna, however, knew a much different Rosamund than they did.

At home, the countess was a conduit for her husband’s will.

By agreeing with all of his cruel decisions, she herself became cruel in the process.

Anna saw glimpses of her mother’s goodness when they found themselves alone—like when they took tea while her father was working, or on their promenades in town.

But those fleeting moments did not make Anna trust her, and she definitely did not consider her mother as an ally.