London, England, October 1814

“At least it is a lovely day,” grumbled Amelia’s mother in a sullen tone that did not convey the voice of what she was describing. She had been miserable ever since Lord Templeton French had walked out of her house on that fateful day. She sensed the harbinger of bad things to come. It was inevitable. Society was like some flesh-eating plant; there were those that managed to survive dancing before it, and then there were those that were devoured – it was as Darwin would one day suggest: ‘survival of the fittest.’

Amelia looked up to the empyrean. Mother was right. The sky was a clear blue. A few fluffy bodies of cumulus that looked like white candyfloss hung in the sky. They gave the blue canvas upon which they floated an added flourish and a soft touch that spoke of a bright day. It was autumn at its finest; the time of year when the season was still not certain whether it wanted to keep the vestment of summer or don the apparel of winter.

If only my sentiments were as gay as the weather, thought Amelia. It had been over two weeks since Papa had demanded satisfaction. Every day she had hoped that her father might retract his challenge but to no avail. On the contrary, he had become even more adamant that he was the wronged party. Amelia had tried to reason with him, but he would not listen. And mother was still a useless wreck. She still feared for her reputation. So far nothing had happened. It appeared that Lord Templeton French had kept his mouth shut, but for how much longer.

After Jake’s visit to the White’s Club, things had taken a different and far more prolific turn. The Prince Regent was involved now. Without invitation, he had offered his services as a referee, and of course, no one dared counter his wishes. He had set a date for the duel in a few days time. As far as he was concerned everything was ready.

Papa had been training every day with some of the finest shots in the country. He had spared no expense in this endeavor. He had even reduced his daily intake of food and wine and spirits so that he might be better prepared for the encounter. Amelia had never seen him so charged up and eager for something. His behavior even superseded his excitement when he was on the cusp of securing a very lucrative business deal.

All of it was daunting. Amelia had wondered what Jonathan’s preparations were exactly – he never mentioned them to her in his letters. His words were mainly devoted to matters of the heart, not that Amelia minded though.

Her tummy warmed, and her heart skipped a beat when she thought of the most recent letter Jonathan had written her. It was one of many since they had established a mode of communication, but this one, Amelia considered his masterpiece. She had read it the night before and this morning at least thirty times before she could put it down – the state of the paper it was written on bore testament to her keenness for the message it harbored. And she promised herself that she would read it again the moment she returned home after her promenade in Hyde Park.

She had already memorized the words:

London, October 1814

My dearest Amelia,

Since you were taken from me twice, I have this feeling of being constantly maudlin. I know that to experience true happiness, I have to be near you. Without cessation I live in the sweet memory of our last kiss. I reminisce daily of our caresses and even more so do I hanker after your wit and charm. The way you laughed when we were at the Richmond hotel still fills me with joy. What fine memories that we will build upon when we are reunited…it will be soon, my love, so very soon…I promise.

Whenever I walk in the park and I look at the grass, I see your eyes twinkling back at me in their seductive emerald green. It is in moments like these that I stop, ponder and wonder whether it is me you are thinking about, as I think of you.

You, Amelia, kindle continually a burning and blooming fire in my heart. I thought that I loved you back at Fair Weather Heaths’, but since being parted from you, I feel as if my affection for you has grown a thousandfold. Is it possible…yes dearest Amelia, it is for you I feel love growing with each beat of my heart.

I am thankful to Jake and Anna for letting us share these few words whenever they manage to meet. If it weren’t for them passing our letters, I think I would go mad. Let me promise you, my dear sweet love, that I will do everything in my power to reunite us. It won’t be long now and we will be together.

I think of you always, with the greatest respect and devoted love

Yours,

Jonathan Mitchell

Amelia was so grateful that Anna provided her with letters such these – it gave her that feeling of being that bit closer to Jonathan. They were, of course, a small consolation in comparison to the real thing, but at least, like this, she could read what he felt for her, and she could write to him in turn and profess her undying love.

Amelia pressed her lips together when she cast a furtive look in Anna’s direction. She was the fortunate one out of the two of them. She could leave the house unescorted and visit Jake whenever she had a free moment from her duties. How Amelia wished she could do the same – Seeing Jonathan in her house that day was like being given a glimpse of heaven only to have it immediately taken away again. It always made Amelia’s heart warm when she listened to Anna speak of her clandestine rendezvous with Jake. Love is so beautiful, she always would think.

Amelia was held like a prisoner within the confines of her own home. It was only at times like these that she was allowed out in the company of her mother and Anna. How she wished just to see Jonathan again.

She knew that it would not be long now. The day of the duel was fast approaching, and her father insisted she join and witness Jonathan’s fall in person. In truth, Amelia would not miss seeing him for the world no matter how frightened she was for his wellbeing. Just seeing him would be enough for her. Also, she would be strong for him. Jonathan needed her there. He had to see that she loved him and would be there for him no matter what.

Ever since the prince regent had gotten wind of the duel, the entire affair had turned into a rather strange business. In general, duels were predominantly private matters, involving only the duelists, the seconds, maybe some friends and a doctor. The one taking place between Jonathan and Amelia’s father had turned into a spectacle, and to some with carefully wagging tongues: a farce and mockery of this brave institution. It was enough to make Amelia want to be sick – how could things have gotten so out of hand?

“This duel has me worried; it is such a sordid thing to make it all so public,” said Amelia to nobody but herself. She stopped walking and looked up at the trees that had already started to dispense with their leaves. Already, many lay on the ground around the trunks, creating a carpet made up of different colors.

“How can you mention that? It serves the American right for barging into our lives like that and ruining everything for us. He should’ve stayed where he belonged…in that ghastly place they call the United States,” hissed Amelia’s mother.

Amelia scowled. It was so like mama not to understand anything but her own interests. Not once had she taken a moment to try and appreciate how Amelia felt. “And what if it is Papa who is the one to get a musket ball in his gut? I hear the pain is excruciating,” she said.

Not once did Amelia’s mother look away from her perusal of the strolling people in the park; it was all she had been doing since they left the house. Lady Felicity, 1st Baronet of Windom, was in search of someone of standing to speak to.

“That will never happen. Your father is an excellent shot,” she said, at last, stopping her walking and turning around to face her daughter; she stood a few feet away and regarded her daughter snidely. Even though the temperatures were those of an Indian summer, she kept her hands hidden in a fur muff; on her frame she wore a thick ladies coat in mauve.

Amelia arched her eyebrows. “You do realize that Jonathan…”

“How dare you call him that. If you must speak of the man, you will refer to him by his proper rank. You are not familiar with him; he was your jailer; he is not your betrothed. He is a buccaneer and a scoundrel that operated without a letter of marque and harassed British shipping like the common pirate he is.” Mother’s neck appeared to elongate with her every utterance, much like a turkey.

“I shall call him Jonathan for that is what he wants me to call him. And sorry to disappoint you, Mother, but he is the man I love. And even if you don’t, won’t or can’t believe it, he is also my betrothed. I never loved Lord Templeton French, but I love Commodore Jonathan Mitchell, who also happens to be from the Scottish aristocracy if you must know.”

Amelia saw a small twinkle of interest in her mother’s eyes at the mention of a title. It soon disappeared as her mind worked feverishly. “Poppycock…he is an American revolutionary and a traitor. Scottish aristocrat, what a ridiculous notion. It just surprises me the lengths you would go to…to accredit that man with some sort of honor.”

“Mother, do you ever read the newspapers? They have their own nation now. It is called the United States of America. He is no traitor but a hero and a patriot of that country.” Her mother’s obtuseness never ceased to amaze her.

“Rubbish. He is a traitor. He fights for them…for the Americans against the British,” said Mother, stubborn to the last. “How could you ever want to be with such a man? And an American?”

It was no use. Amelia knew that her mother had absolutely no idea what was happening in the world. Whenever Father mentioned current affairs at the breakfast, lunch or dinner table, she would immediately reprimand him for speaking of such uncouth things during mealtimes. It was just her way. All that mattered to her was high society and what happened between the main players therein. Lord Templeton French had been her key to the highest echelons of that exalted creed and now that avenue of advancement was gone.

“Mother let’s change the subject. All you need to know is that I love Jonathan. He could be a Red Indian tribesman for all I care…”

Mother was no longer listening. “Tis the Duchess of Waverly…oh, how lovely. We had the most delightful conversation the other week about what flowers to put on the dinner table so that one might add an autumn note to the evening’s banquet. She had some fascinating ideas concerning the use of leaves that had already changed their color and how to arrange them so that they look pretty.”

Lady Felicity’s entire demeanor morphed from the glum into a state that bordered on rapture. The change was miraculous. The complexion on her face lit up in conjuncture with the change in her disposition. If it weren’t for the laws of physics, she would launch into flight and never come down.

Amelia followed her mother’s vulturine gaze that would’ve been better suited for some gluttonous birdie. It was wholly reserved for an elegant lady dressed in the most radiant maroon walking dress with a matching coat and corresponding fur neckline. She glided toward them with a coterie of other ladies attired in equally splendid garments. The main lady was in mid-conversation with one of her toadies. She did not notice Amelia and her mother standing by the wayside of the park lane, looking at them.

“Oh, how lovely to see you, your Grace. I was just telling my daughter about the marvelous ideas you had concerning the decoration of an autumn table.” Amelia’s mother flitted forward happily. She behaved as if she was about to greet her closest friend.

The Duchess of Waverly looked up briefly. However, her gaze swayed in mid-air, not once meeting Amelia’s mother’s regard, it remained there for a moment until she looked away – it was as if Amelia and her mother were invisible to the eye. The duchess’s naturally sharp features and penetrating blue eyes projected her conceited demeanor all the more. She whispered a few words to the gaggle of women in her presence and they quickly flitted past without looking in Amelia’s or her mother’s direction. The gaggle of geese couldn’t get away quick enough.

It was a ‘cut direct’ if there ever was one. It was a deliberate act on the duchess’s part, signaling the cutting of all bonds of relationship between the two parties involved. It was a highly risky thing to do, especially when done in public. Generally, it was frowned upon and was very embarrassing for those present to witness such a thing. However, in this case, the duchess was with her close confidants from whom she would most certainly receive full support, no matter how uncomfortable the situation had been.

It was what Amelia and her mother had dreaded all along. The cat was out of the bag. Lord Templeton French had been gossiping at balls, at his club or anywhere else where polite society coalesced. By now, Amelia would be considered a breaker of oaths and a harlot for having accepted another man’s proposal of marriage and breaking the one already in place with the duke’s son. It was considered the most dishonorable thing to do.

“Amelia, let us go home. I have never been so humiliated in my life,” said Mother, looking at least ten years older. “I don’t know if I will ever be able to forgive you for putting me in this position. I have lost everything that I have worked so hard for.”

Anna and Amelia exchanged glances. Anna could’ve killed Lady Felicity Carlyle, 1st Baronet of Windom, for treating her daughter so. In essence, it was Amelia with the bad name, but the ship sank with all souls aboard – her family would go down with her. Amelia patted Anna on the shoulder. “Don’t be too harsh on her; this could very well be the worst day of her life,” whispered Amelia. Anna rolled her eyes disbelievingly. It always astounded her how understanding Amelia could be.

Amelia looked at her mother who was on the verge of tears. It would not be long before they came pouring out and started streaming down her cheeks. “Mother, we best get you home as soon as possible.”

Mother nodded meekly. Amelia had never seen her like this before. But, in a way, she could understand her. Contrary to Amelia, she placed so much emphasis on social standing. It was her life. Everything was ruined now. The duchess was one thing, but the other women in the group constituted the pinnacle of society. Naturally, there were more women of note, but those aforementioned ladies decided almost everything in terms of who would be invited to events, who was worth keeping an eye on, and ultimately who would be discarded as disreputable.

As it turned out, the Carlyle family was finished. Well, at least until one of the noble bunch needed a loan from Papa. This was something that occurred rather often because of the near addictive gambling habits of the upper classes. They had no choice as working was frowned upon. That only left them with gambling, hunting, frequenting clubs, drunken debauchery and the other useless pastimes that brought no intrinsic happiness to many of them.

Anna and Amelia rushed Mother through the park in the direction of the West End and home as if she were an invalid. As if the clouds sensed her sadness, the various strands of cumulus in the sky had in the meantime become as one. The first drop of rain landed on the ground the moment the trio reached the front door. It would be a rainy night, thought Amelia.