Glass Roses: A Victorian Fairytale Read online

  Glass Roses: A Victorian Fairytale

  By Britain Kalai Soderquist

  Copyright © 2015 Britain Kalai Soderquist

  All rights reserved. No portion of this novel may be reproduced or transmitted via mechanical or electronic means without the written consent of the author. The sole exception is small quotations used only for critical reviews.

  This novel is a work of historical fiction, and includes minor references to real locations and aspects of world history. Any other events, places, and character names are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously and not intended as a reference to real events, places, or persons, living or dead.

  Cover art copyright © 2016 Britain Kalai Soderquist

  Cover art courtesy of Adelyn Sterling

  All rights reserved. Cover photo is licensed under the Creative Commons and comes courtesy of @nile on www.pixabay.com.

  Cover fonts are licensed under the Creative Commons and come courtesy of @TypeSETit and Lauren Thompson on www.fontsquirrel.com.

  ISBN: 1519113692

  ISBN-13: 978-1519113696

  DEDICATION

  To my own little Eleanor…

  May you always be brave enough to love princesses, fairytales, and happy endings.

  Table of Contents

  DEDICATION

  10 March, 1845

  11 March, 1845

  15 March, 1845

  18 March, 1845

  18 March, 1845

  20 March

  22 March

  25 March, 1845

  28 March, 1845

  31 March, 1845

  2 April

  5 April, 1845

  8 April, 1845

  9 April

  11 April

  10 April, 1845

  18 April

  20 April, 1845

  22 April, 1845

  26 April, 1845

  28 April, 1845

  2 May, 1845

  6 May, 1845

  12 May, 1845

  11 May, 1845

  16 May

  21 May, 1845

  23 May, 1845

  24 May

  18 May, 1845

  20 May

  25 May

  31 May, 1845

  1 June, 1845

  1 June, 1845

  7 June, 1845

  10 June, 1845

  13 June

  12 June, 1845

  18 June

  20 June, 1845

  21 June

  23 June

  29 June, 1845

  26 June, 1845

  30 June

  6 July, 1845

  6 July, 1845

  10 July, 1845

  10 July, 1845

  11 July

  15 July, 1845

  20 July

  20 July, 1845

  25 July

  31 July, 1845

  1 August

  28 July, 1845

  29 July

  4 August

  6 August, 1845

  7 August, 1845

  10 August

  15 August, 1845

  16 August

  19 August, 1845

  25 August, 1845

  28 August, 1845

  Epilogue One

  Epilogue Two

  ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  CONTACT INFORMATION

  10 March, 1845

  12 Grantham Square, London

  Dear Isabella,

  I am writing you with a full account of the true story so you will not be taken in by the gossip that is sure to follow our departure for the Continent. Indeed, you may already have heard something of the matter despite my haste. Rest assured that I shall leave nothing out, as I am confident in your ability to conceal the more unpleasant facts while in company.

  You know from my last letter that I have been harboring some not inconsiderable worries regarding Fanny’s relationship with Lord Walter Clement. How could I not become suspicious of his motives when he has insisted on so much concealment and intrigue? A man with honest intentions does not devote himself to one woman in company and yet spend many private hours with another. And as the Earl is very generally known to be engaged to the Honorable Miss Mercy Ahlright, surely his private invitations to Fanny for outings in the park, their sidelong glances and conversations held over the shoulder in the ballroom, and their numerous secret arrangements to meet at the opera must be of an indecent nature. Still, I am convinced that Fanny never once thought about the impropriety of it. After all, you know as well as I that Fanny has no love of opera whatsoever. Nothing but the belief that she really was preferred over Miss Ahlright could have induced her to spend so many hours in a place she finds insipid.

  Naturally I have tried many times to inform Step-mamma of these fears. Fanny may be a goose-witted and cruel girl, but even she does not deserve to be taken advantage of by such a rake as Lord Clement. But Step-mamma would not listen to a word I said. No doubt she was pleased at the thought that one of her girls could secure the affections of so important a man, no matter how underhanded the dealings. She has looked on sedately throughout the whole affair and never once seen the impropriety of their actions. And I have been called jealous and interfering into the bargain!

  I could not give up, however, without one last attempt at saving Fanny in spite of herself. Shortly after I wrote you last, I also sent a letter to Papa, telling him all that I had observed, and expressing my worries that the Earl would soon make off with Fanny in one way or another and ruin her reputation beyond repair. Perhaps my wording was a little strong, but I had only the evening before caught them kissing most passionately in Lady Cartwright’s Italian garden during her soirée, and I was rather distressed. If their indiscretion had gone so far as to make Fanny forget herself in such a public place, what had already occurred that I was unaware of? I was surprised that the Earl would forget himself and his locale so completely as well, but it strikes me now that Lady Cartwright and her circle are rather thick with Lord Clement, and I have never felt completely easy in their company since we became acquainted with them. Doubtless he felt they would enter into his view of things should anything untoward be noticed and would keep his secrets for him. And Fanny has spent a good deal of time in Lady Cartwright’s company these last few weeks; perhaps she has had a hand in forwarding this unfortunate affair.

  At any rate, my letter was posted Thursday last and by some miracle reached Papa at breakfast on Friday, a mere hour before he was to take the packet across the Channel to France. He speedily changed his plans and traveled directly to London. He delayed only long enough to send a special express to me saying I was to keep a close eye on Fanny until he could arrive and handle matters himself. He joined us in Grantham Square early on Saturday, two days ago now. I was roused by my maid, Martha, who looked very apologetic for taking such a liberty, and was informed that Papa was waiting for me in the front parlor. I dressed hurriedly and went downstairs to join him. One of the servants had supplied him with tea and scones, and he was drinking from his cup with a distracted air. His clothing was rumpled and he looked wan from his travels.

  “Papa, I am so glad you have come!” I said, approaching him and receiving a hug.

  “Davies informs me that everyone is at home presently. Is that the case?” he asked.

  I nodded. “Yes Papa, Fanny is still here. I took precautions to ensure she could not leave without my knowing it.”

  “And how did you manage that?”

  “I piled up several large copper pots outside her door after the servants went to bed so they would fall and cause a commotion if she tried to leave her room before breakfast.”
Papa smiled slightly at that, but we both felt too serious to be more amused.

  We sat down and Papa began to question me quite rigorously about what had been going on since we arrived in London nine weeks ago. I told him everything I could remember. He seemed particularly grave when I told him that Step-mamma had not believed my worries, but he did not say anything negative about her lack of attention. This vexed me, as I am sure she could have done something to stop Fanny long before now, and I was left to wonder once again why Papa married her. A few more questions, and then Papa had the housekeeper, Mrs. Follet, call the rest of the family down to join us. I heard her exclaim in surprise at the sight of the copper pots in front of Fanny’s door, followed by the shrill voice of Step-mamma demanding to know what all of the fuss was about and why she was being summoned like a common servant in the early hours of the morning. Within moments she had descended the stairs and joined us in the parlor, wearing a lemon silk dressing gown and the simpering expression she always adopts whenever my father is about.

  “Charles, my dear, whatever can you mean by calling up the whole house at such an hour? And what in Heaven’s name has brought you to London? We thought you would have reached Paris by now.”

  “A matter of great importance, Sylvia, which could not be delayed,” he replied, his voice grave. All of the fawning and simpering slipped from Step-mamma’s face at his words.

  “Why, whatever has happened? Is it trouble with the estate?”

  “Mama? What is going on?” Hettie entered the room with a yawn and a frown.

  “Where is Fanny?” Papa asked.

  “Well I am sure she is still in bed, where we all wish to be right now, dearest,” Step-mamma said petulantly. Papa was about to respond when Mrs. Follet appeared in the doorway, looking anxious.

  “Begging your pardon, sir, but Miss Fanny is not in her room.”

  “What?” Hettie said.

  “Good heavens! What do you mean she is not in her room?” Step-mamma exclaimed. Papa and I said nothing, but glanced at one another before hurrying out of the room and up the stairs. The rest of the family followed, questions coming shrill and sharp. Outside Fanny’s door, the copper pots had been moved aside. Papa paused, then stepped away to let me try first.

  I knocked on the door. “Fanny?” There was no response, so I tried the handle and it gave way. The room beyond was dim, but it was obvious at a glance that Fanny was not inside it. Her bed had a rumpled look, as though she had slept in it fitfully, and there were gowns and stockings and other such articles strewn about. The drawers of her dressing table stuck out and the closet door stood ajar. And there, at the far end of the room, I could see that the window lattice had been left open to the outside air. Fanny had obviously climbed through her bedroom window. I did not know whether to be annoyed or impressed at this method of escape; it is not in Fanny’s nature to be brave enough to scurry down from a second floor window with the help of only a drainpipe.

  Hettie and Step-mamma both gasped at the sight of Fanny’s room while Papa merely crossed to the lattice and looked down. “A ladder,” he announced, drawing his head back in. That explained much. “She must have paid one of the servants to set it up for her after dark so it would not be seen.”

  “What is going on, Charles? I demand to be told where my daughter is at once!”

  Papa turned to regard Step-mamma with a serious expression. “It appears that Fanny has run away, Sylvia. And unless I miss my guess, she will likely be found in company with one who has been paying her much attention over the last few weeks.”

  “Lord Clement? That is impossible! He would never behave in such a manner, and neither would my daughter.”

  “And yet it seems she has done just that. And now I must insist that you all remain here while I go out to look for her. If we are quick, we may be able to save her before her foolishness leads to worse consequences.” With that, he left us and proceeded to give directions for his horse to be brought round. A groom must have been waiting outside with it already, for the front door was opened and closed mere moments after his orders were given.

  The sound of the door seemed to rouse Step-mamma and she wheeled to face me. “This must surely be your doing. You could not bear to see Fanny as the happy object of Lord Clement’s affections, and so you have concocted this ludicrous story to ruin her reputation.”

  This was going too far, even for my stepmother, and I was not about to put up with it. “If that is the case, then Fanny can have had no reason for climbing out of her window and running away. As it happens, I tried to warn you about Lord Clement weeks ago; you did not believe me, so I wrote to Papa. He at least could see that it was improper to let Fanny carry on with an engaged man. And if he should be successful in saving her from her seducer, I will expect a full apology from both of you in due course.” Having spoken my mind, I swept from the room as gracefully as possible, sent Martha for a breakfast tray, and retired to my room to have a good think about what had happened. It seemed very likely that Fanny had not been gone long, for the gown she had worn the night before had been tossed over a chair, and we both know she would never think of wearing the same gown twice if she were to be seen by anyone. And she is not the kind to think of purposely rumpling the bedclothes, so she must have spent the night in her room.

  Papa has just looked in to tell me that we are to leave within the hour, so I shall hurry my account along. Fanny had indeed paid one of the footmen to place a ladder beneath her window; he has since been turned off. She rose quite early and proceeded to Clement House (without her maid!), where she had arranged to meet Lord Clement during Lady Cartwright’s soirée. They had breakfasted and were just removing to the Earl’s carriage when Papa arrived. Naturally Fanny was shocked, and tried to deny that she was out without permission or supervision. The Earl attempted to be equally slippery in his treatment of Papa, but bless him, Papa would not believe a word of it. Fanny was forced to return to Grantham Square, and the Earl has been duly silenced by the mention of lawyers and trials. Fanny has told Papa that she and Lord Clement were to travel to Gretna Green, but from the stern set of Papa’s expression, and from the conversation I overheard between Davies and Mrs. Follet, Lord Clement most likely planned to abandon her after the first inn stop. I shudder to think of it, even as I am being roundly abused by Fanny for spoiling her elopement.

  Step-mamma and Papa had quite the “discussion” upon his return with Fanny. Papa wished to send us all home to Kent immediately, for he feared that Fanny would try to run away again. Lord Clement has shown no sign of removing from London (as he should do after being discovered in such an ungentlemanly design). Fanny is still in denial of her folly and believes the Earl truly loves her. Papa feels that proximity between the two is dangerous. But Step-mamma would not hear of leaving before the Season is over. Returning to the country early would be damaging beyond all things to our prospects, she says, although I cannot think whose prospects she can mean. I certainly have not met anyone here who has shown even a modest interest in me, and Hettie is even worse off.

  The result of all this is that Step-mamma refused to quit London repeatedly until Papa despaired of reaching Paris in time for his symposium. The only solution that seemed possible was for him to either miss the symposium entirely (which he could not very well do, as he is one of the main presenters), or to take us all with him. Paris being an acceptably fashionable alternative to London at any time of the year, Step-mamma could not well refuse. And so we are leaving this morning (after some hasty packing and preparations) with the stated intent of attending Papa’s symposium and hearing him present his findings to the linguistics community. I am sure I would take more pleasure in the trip if I did not have to endure Fanny’s glares and Step-mamma’s thinly veiled accusations every step of the way.

  Papa has come again to say we are to leave in ten minutes. I must finish with a final entreaty that you will write me while we are abroad. I do not know how I will bear to be in such close quarters with my step-fa
mily otherwise. London has been quite bad enough, but foreign climes will undoubtedly be much worse. Give my love to Uncle Matthew and keep plenty back for yourself.

  Love,

  Eleanor

  11 March, 1845

  Copley Manor, Kent

  Dear Eleanor,

  Your news has upset me considerably; not on Fanny’s behalf, mind you, but on yours. What right does Aunt Sylvia have to lay blame on you when it was her folly and that of her daughter that caused this mess? The answer is none whatsoever. As it stands, she is lucky that you were willing to do something about it instead of leaving Fanny to her fate. And what part, pray, did Hettie play in all of this? Hettie is more sister to Fanny than you are, and is full two years older than either of you. She should have been more attentive to her sister’s misdeeds. I am full of indignation at the lot of them, and it seems the outside of enough that Uncle Charles has been forced to reward them with a trip to the Continent. You, my dear cousin, are the only one who deserves to visit such exotic locales.

  I hope you will not mind, but I feel it necessary to share your news in full with Papa. He is sure to hear of it at his whist club tomorrow, and I want him to be prepared against some horrid untruths. He is not always as guarded in company as he should be if he is surprised by disturbing news. If he does not learn of it then, he will certainly hear it at the Duncan’s ball, and it would be most unpleasant to mar the evening with such tales.

  You guessed quite rightly that rumors have already reached us here in Kent, despite the recent nature of the near-elopement. It seems the rest of Fanny’s behavior has not been as guarded as we hoped, for some of the stories being whispered over tea here state that she has been setting her cap at Lord Clement for many weeks, and that it was she who seduced him away from Miss Ahlright. Others are guessing closer to the truth, and I have had to study hard for a calm countenance during many an afternoon call already. I suspect the new rumors are all due to the discharged servant. (Clearly he was an unsavory character and has sought to bring ruin to the family by spreading stories.) And of course anyone who passed Fanny in the street that early in the morning, unaccompanied and on foot, could not have helped but be suspicious.