The Lady Who Left

VI. When a Lord Teaches a Lady a Thing or Two

If there was anything that Cressida did not want to leave behind, that would be her parents. Regardless of her mother's ambitious desires for her to marry a lord and be accepted by the high and polite society, Cressida loved her mother. The woman only wanted the best for her. And she knew she would miss the woman dearly when the time came.

Cressida spent more time with her mother as the wedding date drew close. She tried to find joy in the thing she used to hate doing with her mother, such as calling on neighbors and friends for tea and gossips. And she was in her best behavior during such visits that her mother's friends pointed out marriage might just be the best thing to happen to Cressida after all. "You just needed to find the man brave enough to overlook all your deficiencies," said one of them in one of their visits.

Her mother later expressed her horror when they were finally alone in the carriage going home, but Cressida knew Lady Eloise was pleased people were seeing her in a better light recently. If only Cressida did not feel utterly exhausted with the charade, she might share her mother's pleasure.

She was also dragged to fittings for new dresses, to which Cressida thought with regret was a waste of time because she was certain she had no use of too many dresses when she sets out on her adventure.

When she was not with her mother, she would spend her time with her father, Lord Amery, in his study, reading a book. Cressida had to admit with guilt that she had always loved and preferred the time with her father. She always liked how he would welcome her presence while he worked behind his desk, allowing her to just quietly read a book she liked, never judging if they suited her or not. Her mother once blamed the books for giving Cressida odd ideas, but her father always defended her—and the books.

She and her father would not talk much, but the silence was comfortable. And when they opened their mouths, they talked about his adventures in the other parts of the Town during his youth. She liked the story of how he climbed one of the steepest rock formations at the western part of the Town and nearly fell down to his death if not for a stranger who became his friend along his journey. One afternoon, merely a week before the wedding, she watched her father bent over his desk. She blinked, realizing that she never noticed his hair was turning grey. She fought the tears because she did not want him to suspect anything. And because she did not want to start regretting her decision.

Cressida also called on the very few friends she had, especially Mary Featherton.

Mary did not have a title, but her father was rich. Mr. Featherton made his wealth by owning two gentleman's clubs where the society's rich and famous gentlemen took refuge to gamble and drink with discretion. But because of her father's nature of business, Mary was never considered a part of Cressida's station.

Her friend had merely been to a few balls, and only because her father was invited, and also because Mr. Featherton always insisted that he be with the company of his daughter.

It also did not help Mary's case that her mother had died at childbirth and Mr. Featherton never remarried. The respectable women of Willowfair frowned upon gentleman's clubs, calling them expensive brothels but brothels all the same. And to raise a child—a girl—around such an environment was unacceptable, if not proper.

Cressida met Mary when she attended Madam Pearson's. Mary would not have gained entrance to the school if the mamas had their way, but Mr. Featherton's wealth was too great to overlook. From day one, Cressida and Mary had been inseparable.

"I just wish you can have more time to find someone of your own choosing," Mary told her one afternoon.

Cressida sighed and shrugged. "It's already settled. The papers are sealed, I'm afraid."