Grace (A Sinclair Society Novella) Rough Draft

Chapter One

1814

Why my mother insisted on going to the Pump Rooms every day was a mystery to me. Every other day would have been more bearable. Then there would have been a chance for something to change or happen.

"Go speak to one of your friends, Grace," Mother said, touching my arm. "Mrs. Pool and I shall do very well on our own."

In the past year, Mother had been making such suggestions a lot. She would insist it would be better for me to seek out those close to my own age instead of remaining by her side. And had my friends been there, I would have been more than happy to do so.

However, the majority of my friends had married and left Bath. Those who had not were occupied with family matters.

"Yes, do go on, Miss Grace," Mrs. Pool urged with a smile. "You won't meet any fine gentleman here."

It would have been useless to protest that I was not looking for a gentleman, fine or not. After five years, most were of the opinion that I had mourned my Jonathan for long enough. It was long past time, in their eyes, for me to move on and marry another.

And yet, no one could compare to Jonathan Sinclair.

That it had been five years was hard to believe. Every day I thought of Jonathan. What would life be like now if he had lived? Would we have been blessed with children? Where would we be living?

Why hadn't we grasped happiness when it was in front of us? Why had he hesitated, decided to wait for his family's blessing? Why? Why? Why?

There were still moments when grief would overwhelm me. For the most part, I could go on with my life. I could meet family friends, admire fabric when I went to the shops, and have conversations with strangers. Life was almost what it had been before I met Jonathan Sinclair.

Almost.

I wandered the edge of the room alone. It wasn't as though I hadn't met other gentlemen. In the last year, my mother had made a point of inviting every single gentleman in Bath to dinner and they had all been pleased in my mother's opinion.

But one had been dull. Another had been too serious. Too nervous. Too reserved. Too obsessed with horses. Too free to reach for my hand during a meal when we had just met.

Perhaps it was wrong of me to compare them. It was not their fault my heart still belonged to Jonathan. Who could replace him?

"Miss Anderson!" Rose Dubar exclaimed, waving at me. "My dear, how are you today?"

"I am well, Miss Dunbar," I said, forcing a smile. "That cannot come as a surprise as I have not been ill."

"Oh, you were not seen here yesterday." Miss Dunbar gestured to the other young ladies with her. "We all remarked on it. But if you say you are well, of course, we will believe you."

 This was a young lady I had known since she was five years old. I was a mere four years older than her. As a child, she had been spoiled and impossible to be around. Now that she was out in society, she appeared to have matured.

Appeared being the keyword. Malicious, barbed words remain just that, however sweetly they are spoken. Rose Dunbar had become adept at making any compliment sound like an insult and heaven help us all when she did not get her own way in matters.

Her angelic beauty attracted attention from men. No doubt, this was why the other ladies sought out her company. I could think of no other reason why they would choose to follow her around and pass any amount of time with her.

"Miss Dunbar was just telling us that her father has hired her a London lady's maid," Miss Maria Stewart said. "Is she not the most fortunate girl?"

"Didn't you just hire a lady's maid?" I asked in confusion. I made-do with the housemaid's assistance and could not imagine hiring a personal servant from London. The expense!