An Innocent Affair

XXIII

"Of all ghosts the ghosts of our old loves are the worst." Arthur Conan Doyle

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XXIII.

Cressie delicately sat down in the carriage, dutifully shielding any pain from her face as she had learned to do so often throughout her marriage. Everett had visited her bedroom the night before, and he had been particularly possessive.

But no matter how sore she was, she felt a very odd sense of relief as the carriage began to move away from the home that had so quickly become a prison to her. She felt no freedom. How could she when Everett's hound in her maid, Imelda, sat atop the carriage with the driver? But there was relief in knowing that for a time, she would be free from him.

"Why were you so interested in Dabney being one of the carriage horses?" Zara asked curiously.

Cressie sat beside her young niece, who had been positively shaking with excitement until she had posed her question. Cressie had wanted Everett's poor horse to be free from his master for a while also.

"It matters not," replied Cressie. "Your uncle could not do without him." It did not surprise her. How could Everett ever live if he relinquished both of his prizes in one day? She prayed for that poor animal.

"Well, I am glad that Uncle Everett could do without you," Zara emphasised. "I cannot tell you how pleased I am that it is you escorting me this Season, and not Grandmamma. Bless her, but I cannot imagine that she would have the will to attend the number of balls and parties that I intend to. I want to meet all the eligible gentlemen, every one of them! I cannot wait to dance and be complimented and called upon. I hear that when gentlemen call, they bring gifts for the mother, or the guardian, too! That's you!"

Zara's brief curiosity over Dabney disappeared, and she returned to her usual rambunctious and romantic notions of what a London Season entailed. And while she was right in the way that there would be balls and gifts from callers, she was so terribly naïve in the romanticism of it all.

"Zara," Cressie said tenderly. "You must keep your head on as we enter this market, for that is what it is. You are for sale, and there will be bidders, and not everyone will be who they seem. You must be clever, and I will endeavour to help you weed out the would-be rakes and blackguards." And Everetts. Cressie would help to weed out the Everetts.

Zara's pale blue eyes widened as her torso turned towards Cressie curiously. "Rakes and blackguards, really?" she gasped, before her lips upturned in a mischievous way. "I cannot wait to reach London."

Perhaps Zara's grandmamma might have been the wiser choice for a chaperone. Nevertheless, Cressie had no stake in Zara's marriage, not as her mother had done with her own. She did not have to fret about the cost to live. She could fully focus on ensuring her niece found a sweetheart, an emerald, in and amongst all the coloured glass there was to be found in London.

***

Cressie and Zara stopped frequently on their trip from Yorkshire to London, staying at inns in small villages while the horses were changed or rested. Imelda dutifully wrote a missive to Everett at every stop to report their location before they were off again.

After nearly a week and a half of travelling, Cressie began to recognise the familiar outskirts of London. Or, at least, they had been familiar at one point in her life. The moment the buildings came into view Cressie was transported back, back to when she had travelled to the city with her mother and she felt quite the opposite to how Zara was feeling. Cressie had approached her Season with dread and trepidation. Her instincts had been superb.

All of a sudden, such memories that had been long forgotten came flooding back. Cressie could hear the arguments that had taken place between her and Mrs Martin, as though her mother was in this very carriage. Cressie had cursed the fact that she was being shopped, and her mother had reminded her that to marry was her obligation to save them both.