Charming Artemis by Sarah M. Eden
Chapter Two
London, Spring 1818, fifteen years later
Charlie Jonquil despised London. Unfortunately, one of his closest friends, Newton Hughes, meant to get married there, and Charlie was too good a fellow to disappoint Newton or his soon-to-be bride. So, he found himself in the heart of that pulsing metropolis, wishing he were anywhere else.
“You look as though I’m forcing you to attend your own hanging,” Newton said, eyeing him from across the carriage in which they, along with their friend Thomas Comstock, whom they all called Toss, were riding to Newton’s betrothal ball.
“Might as well be,” Charlie said. “You know I don’t care for social occasions.”
“And you know I know that’s not entirely true.”
“I don’t care for London, then.”
“A decidedly odd conclusion for one as logical as you,” Toss said.
“Nothing could be more logical,” Charlie countered. “Gather together every family and individual in the kingdom with ample time and money. Add to that a metropolis teeming with pointless ways to spend both. Multiply that—”
“Lud, not mathematics,” Toss muttered.
“You set him off,” Newton said.
Charlie was undeterred. “Multiply that by an unhealthy societal obsession with appearance and frivolity, and no other sum can be reached but one that speaks of—”
“Shallow insincerity,” his friends finished in unison with him.
They all laughed. Charlie’s tendency to wax long and impassioned on the subject of his exaggerated hatred of London was a well-established jest among them.
“I hope you’ll find some means of being at least a little charming,” Toss said. “You must live up to Caroline’s name for you.”
His niece had long ago, when pronouncing names had been a struggle for her, dubbed him Uncle Charming. “I suppose I could try.” He pretended that doing so would be a burden.
“I certainly hope so,” Newton said. “This betrothal ball is being held by the Duke and Duchess of Kielder, an honor only two other ladies have been granted, and they were the duchess’s sisters. I could not deny my sweet Ellie such an impressive introduction to London Society.”
Charlie really did understand the reason they were there and the utter futility of expecting Newton to attempt to change the location of the prewedding events or the ceremony itself. Charlie had other objections. “Was there no means of uninviting Artemis?”
Artemis Lancaster was the closest thing to an enemy Charlie had ever had. They’d managed something of a cease-fire between them during Newton and Ellie’s courtship, which they would have to reclaim to some degree after their friends were married.
“As the duchess is Artemis’s sister and my Ellie is her particular friend and Falstone House is her London home . . . no.”
Charlie sighed dramatically. “I hope the fact that I am not tossing myself from this carriage will afford me ample credit for the depth of my dedication to our friendship.”
“I will see to it you are immortalized in verse,” Toss said.
“Pentameter, if you would.” Charlie nodded very soberly. “Nothing is more impressive than pentameter.”
Toss eyed him with feigned confusion. “For one wishing to be a leading lecturer in mathematics, you have decided opinions about poetry.”
“Pentameter is a very mathematical meter,” Charlie said. “That is why I prefer it.”
“You are going to be an insufferable don, you realize,” Newton said. “All your students will groan on their way to your lectures and run out afterward, rejoicing in their hard-won freedom.”
Charlie could laugh at that. “I happen to enjoy the mathematics lectures I attend. And I’m not the only one who does.”
“You lot are strange.” Toss shook his head.
Strange, perhaps, but Charlie wasn’t embarrassed by his passion for numbers. He’d come to appreciate that he had a knack for something. He’d found purpose and focus in knowing, at last, what he was meant to do with his life. No one grew wealthy being a Cambridge don, but he would have an occupation and an income. That small influx of funds combined with the modest income he received from his late father’s estate would be enough to live on quite comfortably. He would find himself a set of humble rooms somewhere near the university, hire on a housekeeper, and live a quiet and fulfilling life, sharing his love of mathematics with other “strange” people like himself.
He would live out that life as a bachelor, but such was the trade-off one made when choosing a career as a don. It was not merely a matter of not having enough money to support a wife or family in any real comfort or ease. According to the university’s rules, a don could not be married. That had bothered him at first, enough that he’d dismissed the possibility of pursuing the path. But no career open to him had ever proven the least appealing other than this one. More than being merely acceptable now, he was excited for it. He had been pursuing it with earnestness for almost two years, and he was growing ever closer to making it a reality.
“My father is quite beside himself that your oldest brother and sister-in-law will be in attendance this evening,” Newton said. “He finds your family quite impressive.”
“And you haven’t corrected that impression?” Toss clicked his tongue. “Living a life of lies. I am so disappointed in you.”
“Who am I to cast aspersions on the Jonquil name? I leave that in Charlie’s capable hands.” Newton was a good gun. If only he weren’t done at Cambridge. The three of them, along with the fourth and fifth members of their gang, Duke and Fennel, had undertaken a lot of larks during their time at university.
“My sisters-in-law will have to save the family name, I suppose,” Charlie said. “They could manage it.”
“Your brothers chose well,” Newton said.
Charlie offered his friend a smile. “As did you.”
“Do you suppose you’ll ever meet a lady who turns your head enough for you to consider giving up your career as a don?” Toss asked. “I struggle to imagine any lady capturing your affection as fully as mathematics has.”
“I am not discounting the possibility,” Charlie said, “but I would have to be entirely and life-alteringly in love, and she would not only have to feel the same way but also be willing to live a life of poverty. As that perfect combination likely does not exist, I find myself quite content and pleased at the prospect of a very academic bachelorhood.”
“But if you did fall madly in love?” Toss pressed.
“I would pen you a letter written entirely in pentameter declaring my change of plans.”
“Will I receive one as well?” Newton asked.
“Of course.”
Toss gave Newton a look of amused comradery. “I will watch for the post every day with bated breath.”
“You’ll suffocate, mate,” was Newton’s typically dry response.
The carriage pulled to a stop in front of the Duke of Kielder’s town house. The place was not busy yet. Newton, being the bridegroom, was to arrive a bit ahead of the start of the ball. Charlie, given the choice between spending the evening with his friends or his brother, chose the former. He didn’t dislike his brother, any of them, but he never felt expendable amongst his friends.
They were ushered inside by the very proper butler and accompanied to the spot just outside the ballroom where the resident family and Newton would greet the guests at the beginning of the ball. The three of them sat on chairs in the large corridor, knowing they would be made to wait until their hosts and Newton’s bride completed their preparations for the evening.
“Are your future parents-in-law expected this evening?” Charlie asked as servants rushed about, finishing their preparations.
Newton nodded. “But they have been made to promise they would behave. The duke terrifies them enough that even Ellie is not worried they will cause trouble.”
“Will that fear be enough to keep them from causing you difficulties the rest of your life?” Charlie worried about that. He considered Ellie a friend as well and didn’t wish to see her made unhappy. “You’ll be family forever.”
“Do you truly think Artemis wouldn’t lay waste to half the kingdom to avenge Ellie if her family made her the least unhappy? Or that I wouldn’t do the same?”
For all Charlie didn’t like Artemis nor she him, he had to admit she was very loyal to her group of particular friends and did not hesitate to come to their defense. That one of her friends was soon to marry one of his meant he’d not be able to avoid her entirely over the coming years. But she could be endured now and then for Newton’s sake. And Ellie’s.
“I envy you a little,” Charlie said. “You’re marrying your perfect match.”
“A fate I wish on both of you,” Newton said. “A lady will cross your path, and you’ll lose your heart. I will attend your betrothal balls and be every bit as difficult as you are being.”
“Difficult?” Toss scoffed. “The word you’re searching for is charismatic.”
“No, no, no.” Newton shook his head. “That is not your role at all.”
“Then what is mine?” Toss asked.
Charlie assumed an expression of uncertainty. “Annoying?”
“I hope you’re the next to marry,” Toss said. “Then you’ll be your wife’s problem.”
“How fortunate for the ladies of London that I’m unlikely to be any lady’s matrimonial ‘problem.’” He wanted to believe it was possible, but he was not precisely a lucky person. Fate tended to laugh at him.
The sound of two very familiar voices pulled them to their feet. Ellie and Artemis stepped into the corridor, walking arm in arm toward them. Their appearance of happiness didn’t fade as they approached.
Ellie slipped free and rushed to Newton. They were immediately locked in an affectionate embrace.
“Charles.” Artemis greeted him in the same cold tone she always used when addressing him.
“Artie,” he answered back. She didn’t care for the nickname he’d fashioned for her when they’d last been in company together, which was why he used it. She, after all, knew he didn’t care to be called Charles, but she called him that more often than not.
She eyed him with subtle criticism. “I had hoped to see you dress with a bit more care than usual, considering this is such a significant occasion.”
“And I had hoped you would abandon your usual pretense of superiority, considering this is such a significant occasion.”
In a tone of theatrical innocence, she said, “But do you not realize, Mr. Jonquil . . . it is not a pretense.”
Charlie had, on a few occasions, seen glimpses of a very different Artemis hiding behind the performer’s mask she wore almost constantly. There was a lot about Artemis that he didn’t care for, but her constant deception was top of the list. Few things bothered him more than duplicity. She wasn’t a terrible person—he even enjoyed her company in small doses—but her fallacy could not be ignored.
“Miss Ellie must be pleased that you took time from your campaign of conquering the ton to acknowledge her happiness,” Charlie said.
“And your fellow dullards must be disappointed that you’ve left the echoing corridors of academic boredom to celebrate Newton’s happiness.” Though the words were anything but complimentary, she offered the observation in an overly sweet tone that rendered the criticism more obnoxious than hurtful.
Charlie held his hand out to her. “Shall we call a truce for the evening, Miss Lancaster?”
“For the sake of our friends,” she said. Artemis took his hand and shook it firmly. “I shall make avoiding you my most important goal for the evening.”
“It is already mine.”
With that agreement between them, they went their separate ways—Artemis remained in the vestibule awaiting the arrival of guests, and Charlie slipped into the still-empty ballroom to enjoy the momentary silence.
This was going to be a very long night.
* * *
Artemis had spent the entirety of every social gathering since before she’d made her entrance into Society looking for someone she couldn’t even describe. Though she’d crossed paths with him only five times in Heathbrook, her Papa, as she still thought of him, was, in some ways, quite clear to her: the kindness in his voice, the way he’d held her as if she were the most precious treasure, the nickname of Princess that he’d given her. But many things had grown vague or entirely absent in her memory. She remembered how soft the fabric of his coat and cravat were, but she could not recall any specifics of his clothing, whether he’d dressed in the first stare of fashion or in styles from an earlier era. He spoke much like her father had, proper and articulate, but she could not recall the sound of his voice. She remembered him being about her father’s age. Sometimes she imagined he’d had dark hair, like Persephone’s. Sometimes she was certain it had been golden, like hers.
Artemis had found, in fact, that her memories of him tended to take on the characteristics of people she knew now who had some qualities in common with the gentleman she remembered. If she met someone who was soft-spoken or thoughtful or particularly kind to children, their appearance began to melt into what she remembered of her Papa. She hadn’t the first idea which bits of the mismatched picture she had of him in her mind were actual memories and which were inventions of her imagination.
The one thing she recalled without the slightest doubt was that he’d loved her. He’d loved her. She knew, because he’d told her so. He’d said to her the words her own father had never once uttered. The five times she’d seen him had been idyllic and hope-filled encounters. Five days that had changed her life. Five moments in which a lonely and heartbroken little girl knew—absolutely knew—she was loved.
He’d known her every time and had asked about things they’d spoken of the time before. She’d watched for him every week for two years before life had pulled her away from Shropshire to live with Persephone and Adam.
Now she watched for him all Season, during every visit back to her childhood home, at every house party, every roadside inn. He had been a grown gentleman when she’d encountered him, and he’d already had children. She assumed he would now be about the age her father would have been if he were still alive. She watched the faces of every person who remotely matched what little she knew of him, desperate to see a flash of recognition, a whispered “Princess.” She would never recognize him—the memories of such a young girl were too vague and broken—but she knew, she simply knew, he would remember and recognize her if ever he saw her again. She was depending on it.
Person after person passed by at the betrothal ball, offering their greetings and stepping into the ballroom. None of them spoke of Heathbrook or a lonely, little, green-eyed, golden-haired princess.
Plenty of the guests were known to her though: fickle admirers from Seasons past, gentlemen who saw her as a means to a fortune, hangers-on who hoped her clout in Society would add to theirs, petty gossip-mongers who spoke kindly to her but viciously about her behind her back. Every Season, she attracted a crowd but never the one person she wanted to see.
Nearly half an hour after the guests had begun to trickle in, Lord and Lady Lampton arrived in line. They were Charlie’s brother and sister-in-law, though she didn’t hold that against them.
“Do you suppose the earl has come to claim his feeble-minded brother and take him back home to the nursemaid?” she asked Ellie under her breath.
“Stop it,” Ellie whispered with a laugh. “Charlie is a fine person and an intelligent one, no matter your opinion.”
Artemis shrugged a shoulder and assumed an expression of innocent confusion. “If he is so clever, why is it he dislikes me?”
Newton clearly had to work to hold back a grin. Artemis truly liked Ellie’s beloved. He was a deeply good gentleman.
“Never you fear, Mr. Hughes,” she said. “I will not tell Mr. Jonquil that you agree with my assessment that he’s a bit bacon-brained.”
Newton shook his head, smiling slightly. “Charlie is quite possibly the most intelligent person I’ve ever known.”
“He hides it so well,” she said as if amazed.
“You’ve said that before,” Ellie said.
“It has been true for a very long time.” She turned to Charlie’s brother and sister-in-law, who had only just arrived at the very front of the line. “Welcome, Lord Lampton, Lady Lampton.”
The earl was, without question, the most flamboyant person of Artemis’s acquaintance. At a time when gentlemen rarely veered from blacks, greys, and dark blues, he wore brightly colored waistcoats and dramatic cutaway coats. His cravat was always tied in intricate and impressive knots. He, in what fell very near a feat of miraculous proportions, managed to be bold and odd in his appearance while still being deeply fashionable and well turned out. She found herself studying him every time she saw him, wishing she knew the secret of it. Fashion, in all its universality and individuality, was endlessly fascinating.
The countess also drew notice wherever she went but for very different reasons. She was a strikingly pretty lady who showed herself to be quite intelligent. She was also very nearly unable to walk. When she had come to London for the first time after marrying the earl, she’d struggled a bit but had seemed to be improving. When Artemis had attended a house party at the Lampton country estate, she had been impressed with how well Lady Lampton had moved about. But something drastic had changed in the eighteen months or so since then. The countess struggled to remain on her feet. Her husband kept her upright while clearly attempting to keep his efforts hidden.
“I would never miss a gathering hosted by His Grace,” Lord Lampton said. “Such evenings always promise to be blithe and lively. I do hope the duke will share all the latest on-dits.”
The countess eyed her husband sidelong. “You are going to get yourself beheaded, Philip.”
“She’s not wrong,” Artemis said. “Adam is not particularly known for his sense of humor, especially when forced to keep company with Society.”
“Nonsense. He is very fond of me,” Lord Lampton said. “I’ll make certain we have a good, gossipy gab.”
“I’m going to have to rely on Charlie to get me home, aren’t I?” Lady Lampton sighed, the sound both jesting and entirely sincere.
“I certainly hope not,” Artemis said. “You do not deserve such acute torture.”
Her rivalry with Charlie was well-known to both their families. They all tended to shake their heads and shrug and otherwise ignore the dislike teeming between their youngest siblings.
“Speaking of acute torture”—Lady Lampton motioned with her head toward Adam—“His Grace would likely appreciate our undertaking the required greetings efficiently and without delay.”
With his voice lowered to a whisper, Lord Lampton said to his wife, “Your legs would, no doubt, appreciate it as well.”
Lady Lampton offered a subtle nod. They moved on, offering quick words of congratulations to Ellie and Newton, then giving their greetings to Artemis’s sister and brother-in-law.
Artemis liked Lord and Lady Lampton. The dowager Countess of Lampton was a delight as well. Indeed, there was not a member of Charlie Jonquil’s family whose company Artemis didn’t find delightful.
Except for Charlie.
And from what she’d heard, she was one of the only people in the entire world he didn’t like. She wished that didn’t bother her, but it did. More than bothered, it stung. It stung because it was so horribly familiar. She’d spent far too much of her life earnestly and fruitlessly searching crowds for the one nameless, faceless man who had loved her while living in constant remembrance of another man in her life who ought to have loved her but hadn’t. She was his daughter, and she hadn’t mattered to him in the least. When the weight of that would threaten to plunge her into the darkness of despair, the words of her beloved Papa would come to her from across the years: “Best keep to the light, Princess.”
The light. She craved it, clung to it. There was someone in this world who loved her, and that kept the shadows at bay. She would do her utmost to keep Charlie Jonquil on the periphery of her life and focus instead on finding her refuge, her hope, her Papa.
