Charming Artemis by Sarah M. Eden
Chapter Five
The day following Ellie and Newton’s wedding, Artemis walked briskly around the green near Falstone House, attempting to comprehend the reality of her situation. She was joined by Daria Mullins and Gillian Phelps, two of her particular friends and members of the group known to Society as the Huntresses. They’d all agreed to postpone a much-needed discussion of things until after Ellie’s wedding.
It was now “after Ellie’s wedding.”
“The explanations of what happened are vast and varied,” Daria said. “I can’t sort it for the life of me.”
“What explanations have you heard?” Artemis was almost afraid to ask.
“Everything from a torrid embrace to . . . er . . . ” She looked from Artemis to Gillian and back. “An extremely . . . compromising . . . er . . . the two of you . . . ” The poor thing was turning deep red.
Artemis really ought to take pity on her, but Daria was so diverting when she was flustered, and she was such a remarkably good sport about it.
Even Gillian, who was less likely to tease, joined in the jest. “An extremely compromising what?”
Daria shook her head. “The two of you are the absolute worst.”
“The absolute worst what?” Artemis asked, all innocence and wide eyes.
“Stop it,” Daria said with a laugh.
“Stop what?” Artemis and Gillian said in near-perfect unison.
That set them all to laughing. Oh, how Artemis needed this welcome bit of levity.
Daria was famously amiable. She took their teasing in stride and, now and then, gave a bit back with an expert touch.
“How do you intend to move forward?” Gillian asked Artemis. “Surely, you have a plan.”
She wished she did. “I’ve spent the few days since I unfortunately did not shoot Charlie Jonquil attempting to change the minds of those insisting on this course of action, but to no avail.” She eyed her friends pointedly. “I don’t have to tell either of you how bothersome family can be.”
“Certainly not,” Gillian said.
Daria only smiled. She had difficulties with her family, as all the Huntresses did, but she was blessed with a very loving connection to her brother. Her room for complaint was a bit narrower than Gillian’s.
“If your family will not be moved, what will you do?” Gillian asked.
“I will hold out hope until the very moment this is finalized.”
Daria brushed her fingers over a pink flower on a bush as they passed it. “But you will actually marry him if your family will not hear your pleas?”
Artemis assumed her most confident and unshaken demeanor. She had relied upon it often enough. “I will have to, unless someone magically appears to prevent this disaster.” Though it was an outlandish hope, a very real and desperate part of her imagined her Papa arriving to save her from her miserable fate. He would if only he knew her dire circumstances. That alone had made seeing the announcement in the Times bearable.
She was fairly certain he didn’t know her name—he had never asked her —but perhaps he would come to the chapel and realize who she was. He would, as he had every time they’d been together, recognize how she was feeling. And he would save her.
She told herself again and again that it was possible. Unlikely but possible.
“You do not care at all for Charlie Jonquil, nor he for you.” Daria was blessedly horrified on Artemis’s behalf. “I know I am not the cleverest person, but even I know how ill-advised such an arrangement is. Neither of you will be happy.”
“Happiness is not always the goal of a marriage.” Gillian had a way of making very unemotional observations regarding things she actually felt very strongly about. Too many did not realize how deeply her feelings truly ran.
“It will certainly not be the goal of this one,” Artemis said out the corner of her mouth.
Two more of the Huntresses—there were seven in total, including Ellie and Artemis—came rushing toward them. The O’Doyle sisters were often mistaken for twins, though two years separated them. They had identical deep-brown hair, silver-gray eyes, and adorably freckled complexions. They were of a height and weight, a fine thing for their struggling family, as it allowed them to share a wardrobe. They had very Irish given names, their family hailing from Dublin, but had long since given up trying to teach English tongues to properly pronounce those names and had, instead, adopted English ones. Rose had done precisely the same thing upon her arrival from India. It was a shame the English didn’t put more effort into learning things that fell outside their very narrow worldview and experience.
“The whispers are growing more colorful,” Eve, the older of the two sisters, said. “’Twas all we could do not to gape and laugh and snort in derision—”
“And call them all ninnies,” Nia, the younger, finished. “We know you far too well to believe a word of it.”
Daria, in her usual sweet-natured and sometimes naive way, looked to Artemis. “Would that help? We could tell everyone that you aren’t the sort to do what they are saying you did.”
Gillian threaded her arm through Daria’s. The two were very close friends, with Gillian having a knack for answering Daria’s potentially embarrassing questions in silence, saving her from the humiliation. And, in turn, Daria helped Gillian feel less awkward amongst Society.
“Just how colorful have the rumors become?” Artemis was utterly exhausted but needed to know with accuracy what she was facing.
“Apparently there are wagers on the books at Whites and Boodles,” Eve said.
“Regarding my betrothal?”
The sisters nodded.
“The question being debated is whether or not Mr. Jonquil will toss you aside.” Nia watched her, wide-eyed. “How utterly terrible that is!”
“They all believe he will run roughshod over the gentlemen’s code simply to be rid of me?”
Again, two nods in near perfect synchronization.
“Society are a dreadful bunch, aren’t they?” Artemis sometimes despised the ton. “This is my fourth season as Society’s ruling diamond. And now, quick as anything, they have turned against me.”
“I suspect,” Gillian said, “much of that is borne of jealousy.”
Artemis stopped their forward walking. She took a deep breath through her nose, then pushed it out slowly between her lips. Wagers were being made against her. She was a byword, her name being bandied about. If Adam knew, she hoped he would put something of a stop to it.
There are some things even I can’t fix.That declaration had echoed in her mind again and again. She hadn’t realized until hearing him say it just how much she had depended over the years on him rescuing her from scrapes and difficulties. She, who had prided herself on her formidable independence, had let herself grow reliant on someone.
She might not have been in a position to escape this predicament, but she could approach it on her own terms.
“I am Artemis.” She spoke the three words with emphasis and purpose. “My namesake was the goddess of the hunt, slayer of men, determiner of her own fate. I will be nothing less.”
“Including the ‘slayer of men’ bit?” Eve asked with a grin.
“I intend to undertake matters with my Actaeon in the same way Artemis of old did with hers.”
Daria’s brow pulled in thought. She didn’t appear to know the history of that myth.
Gillian, true to her well-read self, did. “I doubt even you could turn a man into a deer and set wild dogs on him.”
“Actaeon imposed on Artemis, robbing her of her right to determine who she was, how she lived, and who she was permitted to let be part of her life. He was a braggart and an arrogant bounder. Artemis utilized what methods she had at her disposal and removed the threat he posed.”
“You aren’t actually going to kill Mr. Jonquil, are you?” Nia asked.
“I intend to deny him the satisfaction of destroying everything I’ve dreamed of. He is stealing away my chance for a happy marriage. He will not take away anything else.”
She was feeling the ground solidify beneath her. At last, she had a plan, an idea. It was not ideal, but it was something. And it gave her back a tiny bit of her pride and control over her life and future.
If her Papa did not hear of the nuptials in time to save her, she would save herself in whatever way remained open to her.
“I will go on with my life as I wish to live it, without needing permission or approval from my unwanted husband. Indeed, without needing anything from him at all.”
“You’ll ignore him,” Gillian said, piecing it together with her usual speed.
“I’ll live my life. And I will leave him to live his.”
