1

Cumbria, England

1814

Annabelle Davenport, unlike other young women of her age and station in society, had never possessed any desire to go to London. It is not as if her mind had been firmly set against it for all her life, but rather that after careful consideration, she had determined that a trip south to the great city would be both particularly dull and an unwise use of her time. As it was, her family attended plenty of dinner parties and balls in the north of England, and opportunities for new acquaintances had been realized. A long journey to London to meet the same sort of people with only slightly different accents simply did not appeal to Annabelle.

Thus it came as an unwelcome surprise when her mother announced that the entire family would be traveling to London for the season that year. Mrs. Davenport had made the announcement quite casually, over tea and biscuits in the mid-afternoon, while Annabelle had been engrossed in her latest novel and her sister, Catherine, was embroidering by the window. Neither of them had even looked up when Mrs. Davenport softly said that her brother, Sir Richard Watson, would not be using his London residence this season, leaving the townhouse in Hans Place empty. "How lucky," she continued on, "that we should finally be able to visit London this year."

Annabelle, who had just stumbled across one of the more exciting parts of Frankenstein, did not hear her mother's comment, but Catherine, whose activity of embroidering did not require much concentration, had heard perfectly well.

"London! Oh, Mama, do tell me you are not joking! I couldn't bear it if you were trying to tease us about going to London!" she exclaimed, which promptly alerted Annabelle to the fact that something interesting was being discussed at that moment in the drawing room.

"I am not teasing you, my dear. We will be leaving in one month hence, once the weather improves and it is a suitable time for the long journey south."

"Oh! Can you imagine it? Long walks in Hyde Park during the day, fancy balls in the evening! There must be nothing so lovely," Catherine commented in her dreamy voice.

"And what if it is nothing like you expect?" Annabelle asked, appearing to be the only cynical one in the room. "You have never been to London. It could very well be a horrid place."

"Oh, don't talk such nonsense, Belle! I have been to London, and I can confirm that it is everything wonderful!" Mrs. Davenport exclaimed. "And you will be tearing yourself away from those books while we are there, my dear. I expect there to be fine marriage prospects for you girls among the company we will have."

Annabelle groaned and promptly rose from her chair in an attempt to make a quick exit from the conversation. The marriages of Mrs. Davenport's daughters had been the main topic of conversation for at least four years now, ever since Catherine, the elder of the two, had turned twenty. Annabelle had succeeded in avoiding her mother's preoccupation with the topic since Catherine still remained without a husband. Yet as her own twentieth year would soon be coming to completion, Annabelle knew that Mrs. Davenport had turned her thoughts on her as well.

Catherine had always welcomed her mother's efforts to find her a husband. She diligently put on her best face and manners when gentlemen visited the home of Salhurst Castle, and she urged her father to act generously toward men who indicated an interest in her. But nothing ever came to pass. The Davenport's, as cousins of the illustrious Earl of Arnsley, certainly had connections with prominent families. But everyone was aware of Mr. Davenport's lack of fortune and the subsequently small size of his daughters' dowries, and this fact usually precluded any offers of marriage.

Annabelle cared little for any of this. It is not as if she never wanted to be married – she did – but not to a man that her mother had handpicked as the best apple on the tree. Her proliferous reading of novels had certainly taught her one thing – romance and love are key to a happy marriage. But how could she fall in love with a man who was forced upon her, as so often happens in society? No, it must be impossible. Annabelle had, for a long while now, harbored the wish that she would one day meet a gentleman and spend so long getting to know him that they would fall in love, and then he might ask for her hand.

Mrs. Davenport surprisingly held her tongue as Annabelle made her escape from the drawing room. Darting through the long corridors of Salhurst Castle, she rushed out the front door of the ancestral home, which had stayed within the family for centuries. Annabelle loved her home, which also perhaps contributed to her dread of living in London for a few months. Though its smaller size made the label of "castle" a bit inappropriate, she had always thought it to be perfect for their family.

The air held the faint scent of rain, as it most often did in the northern English county of Cumbria, but the sun had begun to peak its way through the clouds, to Annabelle's delight. The rain had been light enough all day for Philip, her elder brother by a year, to ride out that morning, and indeed it was also quite warm enough now for her to walk down to the nearby River Eden without becoming uncomfortably chilly.

Salhurst lay on the banks of the River Eden, and Annabelle found it to be one of the more beautiful aspects of her home. She often wondered at how anyone could ever want to be in the middle of the hustle and bustle of London when such beautiful solitude existed in the country.

Annabelle was not long walking along the river before she heard the sound of an approaching horse to the nearby stables. "Ho, there! Escaping from the house yet again, Belle? And you do not even have your pelisse on - shocking!" cried Philip as he reigned his horse in.

Annabelle smiled and made her way over to her brother. To her, Philip was the only member of the family who seemed to have any sense. While her mother was constantly scolding her for reading far too often than was proper for a lady, Philip aided her interest by bringing home new books from the shops in Carlisle for her enjoyment. They often spoke for hours about the various heros and heroines of the scandalous gothic novels and about the meaning behind the poems of Wordsworth and Byron. She had been incredibly jealous when Philip was offered a place at Oxford, and the completion of his degree this past year brought him back to Salhurst with far more knowledge of literature and politics than she could ever hope to have.

Annabelle ran up to Philip as he was dismounting, eager to share the latest news with him. "Indeed, escaped just after Mama announced our upcoming journey to London for the season."

A small smile came over Philip's face. "Ah, so she told you all the news then?"

"You mean you already knew?" Annabelle retorted. "How could you not inform me sooner? You know how averse I am to the thought of attending the London season."

"I only just heard this morning. And I don't think you should be dreading it as much as you are. Think of all the people you will be able to meet, and it is true that society brings a few pleasures. You'll be able to attend balls and parties, and potentially meet a certain someone...?"

"I am sure I will enjoy none of it! It all seems so forced, being shut up in a room and made to dance with whoever asks you, making sure you say all the right things as to imply that you were brought up in just the right fashion. It's terrible!" Annabelle exclaimed, unnerved that her brother did not sympathize with her on the situation.

Philip merely laughed. "I understand that you love the country, Belle, but I really think you're unfairly judging London. Just wait until we arrive. I'll take you riding in the beautiful Hyde Park, and we'll go to concerts, and I'll introduce you to good friends of mine from Oxford who will certainly be there," Philip assured her. "You must be more open-minded."

Annabelle sighed, knowing there was no use in pushing the issue further. It was true that Philip was more cultured than she was and had no doubt been to London numerous times already. She shrugged and suggested that they join their mother and Catherine in the drawing room before it began to drizzle again.

They re-entered the room to find Catherine and Mrs. Davenport eagerly listening to Mr. Davenport read aloud a letter. "I sincerely hope that my son and I will have the chance to call upon you in Hans Place at the start of the season," he read.

"Why, which son can he mean, Mr. Davenport? For I am sure that he cannot mean William," Mrs. Davenport said in response.

"Pray, who are you speaking of?" Philip asked.

"Lord Colebrook has written and informed me that him and his son will be in residence in Berkeley Square for the season," Mr. Davenport replied. "I think he must mean George, my dear, his youngest, for all of his other children are married."

"Ah, I know George well. Dined with him a few times on my previous trips to London. Good sort of fellow. A bit older than myself, is that right, sir?" Philip said.

"I believe you are right, Philip. Must be nearing thirty now."

"Nearing thirty! Oh, Mr. Davenport, he must be in want of a wife by now!" Mrs. Davenport exclaimed, looking particularly at Catherine as she did so.

"I dare say it's a possibility, and our families have always been well connected in the past. They are a good, Catholic family, the Colebrook's."

Of course, prospective husbands had to be from good, Catholic families, according to Mr. Davenport, which made finding a suitable gentleman to woo his daughters that much more difficult of a task.

"Indeed? Oh, how exciting! Tell me, Philip, is this Mr. Colebrook handsome?" Catherine asked, not surprisingly. Catherine had been excited over men since they had begun visiting the estate years ago. She was a skilled flirt, particularly for one who had spent all her time in the country. At times, even Mrs. Davenport had to remind her to be a bit more demure, though she could hardly blame Catherine herself for being so eager. At age twenty-four, many would consider Catherine to be a bit old to remain still unattached, and she was fully aware of this. Fortunately, as Mrs. Davenport constantly reminded her daughter, Catherine's blonde hair and blue eyes made her a striking beauty, so that her age often made little difference to a willing gentleman.

"I better not get you too excited, Cate, so for now I'll just say that he is not grotesque," Philip replied.

"How do you know Lord Colebrook, Papa?" Annabelle asked, curious as to why this gentleman was sending her father a letter in the first place.

"His mother was a Davenport. Difficult to say where down the line we are related, but I'm quite sure we can both trace our families back to the 4th Earl of Arnsley! Anyway, he has been more fortunate than I, for he is a baron, and has several properties in Yorkshire. Even his youngest sons may be given good estates to live on."

"Well, then I must say I am quite eager to make Lord Colebrook's acquaintance," Mrs. Davenport said. "And do be sure to write to our other relations, Mr. Davenport, for it would be quite unfortunate if we only had one family calling on us during our time in London."

"Indeed, quite embarrassing, in fact," Catherine chimed in.

"Of course! I shall write to Lord Bradbury, another fellow with a Davenport mother. Although I understand that he just lost his wife, so perhaps he will not be in London this year. Oh! The Vavasour's will certainly be in residence, though, as will the Throckmorton's..."

Though Mr. Davenport was not a member of the nobility himself, he prided himself in his great connections, and Annabelle realized that his list of families who may be in London this year could go on for quite some time. Fortunately, Catherine chimed in before he got too far down the list of the great Catholic families of England.

"Do we know of where we might be able to attend mass in London, Papa? I dare say there cannot be a great many Catholic churches there."

Mr. Davenport, who was used to his daughter cutting into the conversation when she felt it necessary to speak, was not phased by her somewhat rude interruption. "Not to worry, dear, we will attend St. Patrick's, which, I have been told, is where all the great Catholic families go on Sundays. In fact, that reminds me to write to the Beaufort's, and indeed Lord Ainsworth..."

Mr. Davenport could have gone on for longer, but Catherine did not allow him such comfort.

"Papa, do you think that you might allow Belle and I a trip to Carlisle to purchase some new gowns? For if we are to wait upon so many fine families in London, we must have the most fashionable gowns. Why, I don't think I have had a new gown in nearly a year, and I'm sure the fashion has changed since then!" Catherine said, placing her hand on Mr. Davenport's and blinking her eyes up at him in desperation.

"Why, yes! I suppose you are right, my dear Catherine. You and Annabelle must look your very best. Course, Mrs. Davenport always reminds me that the fashions are not quite as up-to-date in the north, so perhaps I may permit you to buy a few things once we arrive in London as well. Regent Street, it is, am I right, Philip?"

"Indeed you are, sir. All the best shops can be found on Regent, though mind you watch how much money you spend there," Philip replied.

Catherine clapped her hands excitedly. "Oh, how wonderful it will be! Belle, we must also practice our dancing. It would be most embarrassing to be asked to dance at a party and not know the steps!"

"And how exactly are we to practice by ourselves, Cate?"

"Why, I believe I can be of assistance! I know all the steps, and besides I can show you some dances I came upon in London last I was there. I'm sure you would want to know what the popular dances are at the moment," Philip said.

Annabelle gave an obvious glare in Philip's direction, as she was not at all eager to learn any new steps. "Philip, you are too kind," she said, with an obviously sarcastic note in her tone. "It is one of the chief importances in life, of course, to know the steps to the most popular dances."

"Oh, hush, Belle!" Mrs. Davenport said, knowing her daughter well enough to recognize her sarcasm. "You know you will be asked to dance many times while in London, and you'll want to know the steps when that happens."

"I don't know how you can be so certain, Mama. I'm quite sure I may make myself as unnoticeable as possible."

"Don't be silly, dear. That beautiful dark hair of yours hardly goes unnoticed anywhere, I dare say!"

"Quite right, Annabelle. I'm sure you will get many offers. This trip to London will be the best thing to happen to this family, I am quite certain of it!" Mr. Davenport said.

"Very well, very well," Annabelle acquiesced, wishing to speak of it no longer. It was true that Annabelle did have what Philip often referred to as "raven black" hair, and though she was not quite sure whether it was a blessing or a curse, it certainly made her stand out in any crowd.

"I am so happy for you girls. You know, it's not every family up north that gets to journey to London. You should thank God, to be sure. We are blessed to be given such an opportunity." Mrs. Davenport said.

Annabelle nodded, but was still quite unsure of what this trip to London might bring. Should she indeed be thankful for such an opportunity? She did not want to be taken away from her home, and was quite happy with her life as it was. Of course, she could not deny that she wanted to be married one day, and as Philip said, she would certainly meet a variety of people in town. She solaced herself for the meantime with the reminder that it was only to be a few months, and she would certainly return to Salhurst after not too long. She was sure of it.