Finding Bliss (8 page)

Still, the thought of receiving other letters from Lady Bliss
gave him hope and a bubble of excitement that couldn’t be explained away
either. Eric knew he would look forward to the mail deliveries if for no other
reason than to see news from Cardiff, via Lady Bliss.

Carefully folding the pages back to their original form,
Eric tucked the letter into the inside pocket of his coat and hurried to get to
his morning lecture.

Surprisingly enough, the warnings
from Lady Bliss held more merit than even Eric wanted to give them credit.
Whenever he started to make a decision, the worded warnings would flicker in
his mind like a candle lighting his path.

On more than one occasion, due directly to her uncanny
foresight, he’d avoided a terrible consequence that many of his fellow
classmates suffered from their improper actions. He served to guide as many of
them as he could, but without getting too close personally it was difficult to
impart sage wisdom.

The choice concerning the red gown was vastly amusing. Every
social situation he attended would find Eric searching for a woman wearing a
red gown. But for whatever reason there weren’t any colors in the fabrics of
the season that year that even remotely resembled a shade of red.

Eric hadn’t yet been able to satisfy his physical desires
fully, and paying for a favor was also out of the question. Not only did he
have Bliss’s cryptic warnings but also a few from his father. Keen warnings
about the diseases of the body that plagued young gentlemen who dallied with
the wrong sorts of women rang like a funereal tone in his head whenever he just
considered the idea.

Primarily he focused on exercising his mind more than
flexing his masculinity, that way his virginity held no power over him. Still,
you couldn’t will away arousal in its insipid forms.

The fact that Lady Bliss urged him somehow about a red gown
initially meant to Eric that she was warning him away from women altogether.
After a week of not seeing any sort of red gowns, he laughed at how silly it
was for him to heed the advice of a young, infatuated girl on anything concerning
his un-forged love life! But her advice came alarmingly to fruition the week
before Easter as indicated.

Master Donald Crandall, a very affluent young man from a
well-heeled yet untitled family, invited Eric to attend a private house party
with him near Hertfordshire. Eric accepted, believing the invitation would
bring him further forward in the world of privilege and wealth.

Upon arriving at the estate, Eric soon learned that the
young gentlemen were up to no good at all. Debauchery of every sort was on the
agenda for the weekend. Several professional women, wearing all sorts of
colorful, yet ill-concealing attire, hovered hungrily all around the house and
grounds. Again, none of them wore anything definitively red.

Eric began rethinking Lady Bliss’s warning about the red
gown. Arguments that none of the women wore anything he would necessarily call
a gown provided only flimsy justification for his weak celibate thoughts.

His mind and body were clearly at war with one another over
the prospect of stepping into the physical world of pleasure. But when Crandall
pulled him aside and asked him to choose between two specific doves, his answer
was clear.

The two women presented were as different as iron and wood.
One of the girls wore a stunning satin and bead ball gown in a lovely shade of
emerald green. In her blonde hair a fluffy peacock feather bobbed delicately
every time she nodded or tilted her head.

Her face was perfectly, though heavily painted, and her body
was voluptuous and inviting. The woman’s voice was velvety, and her lips
promised all manner of wickedness without saying a word. Eric could see how
easy it would be to choose the very pretty woman in the green dress.

The other woman wore a startlingly plain, conservative gown,
with hardly a frill or an adornment to be seen. Her dark hair was knotted
simply in a chignon, sleek but unfashionable by comparison. Her body lacked
curves, and she had nothing enticing in her demeanor.

Careful scrutiny of her face showed slight imperfections
beneath a dusting of powder. It looked to Eric as though she had been cursed
with a most unfortunate complexion. He could plainly see it wasn’t a case of
any type of pox or disease, merely pimples. The woman also looked more wary
than her companion, a shy, modest girl among the revelers.

What stood out most to Eric was the exact color of the
dark-haired woman’s dress. It was the brightest shade of red he’d seen in
months! When Crandall hinted that the ladies were the only pair left
un-attached for the weekend, Eric had no scruples whatsoever in extending his
arm to the less attractive woman in the red gown. This startled both women and
even more so the much-less-attractive Crandall.

Crandall scoffed at Eric, saying his tastes must be
decidedly depraved if he would choose such a shapeless stick over a beauty.
Eric merely smiled over his shoulder as he escorted his choice toward the dance
floor.

As it turned out the woman was surprisingly new to Hertfordshire.
Her name was Drusilla. Admitting to having been duped by a lover and having no
better prospects or options when her family died unexpectedly, she confessed
how she chose to attend with her cousin, a seasoned companion, to make up for
the loneliness of being a ruined spinster.

Drusilla was not a working girl like Celeste, the girl in
the green gown, but simply a relation of the painted dove. Celeste brought her
along to attend the party in the hope of finding her a benefactor instead. But
Eric clearly saw her shudder when she hinted that crowds like the house party
were not above changing partners midway through the weekend if they so desired
according to her worldly cousin. Drusilla explained how she didn’t like the
idea of having to match up with unknown gentlemen.

Eric told her simply that he held no expectations and wouldn’t
demand anything from her that she didn’t freely wish to give. This made her
laugh. Drusilla coyly reminded him that, in her current dire straits nothing
was free for her to give.

Eric colored and asked how much trouble she would get into
if she didn’t manage to find a benefactor. She told him unless she could bring
in enough to cover her past-due lease she might be forced to submit to an
unsavory spate of partners in a brothel in order to make enough to avoid
debtor’s prison.

Eric felt compassion for the woman. For Drusilla to suffer
for her circumstances didn’t sit well with him. In the back of his mind he felt
heavy guilt over what he was considering doing, especially when it was Lady
Bliss’s warning that led him to choose this particular woman. If she hadn’t
warned him, he likely would have just declined both women due to his lack of
funds for such entanglement.

It wasn’t unheard of for men of his age and profession to
have a mistress. But Eric hadn’t the fortune of a wealthy father to support
such habits. Intending to help, he gave Drusilla every shilling he could spare.

When Eric asked if it was enough to help her avoid
difficulties, Drusilla said it was more than enough. But then she refused the
money when she realized he wasn’t planning on being intimate for the price.

“How is that fair to you? You’re posting the cole while I’m
the only one reaping a reward. Am I so repulsive you wouldn’t want a tumble
with me? Much as I like you, sir, I’m not so ugly that I require charity,”
Drusilla said, clearly disgruntled.

“Oh, no! I didn’t mean to be disrespectful to your person. I
was just trying to be a decent fellow.” Eric blushed.

“Well, sir, even decent fellows get a tickle now and then.
And really, you’re a young fellow in good health! Honestly, a gal could do a
lot worse than the likes of you.” Drusilla’s face looked prettier with her
teasing smile. Eric blushed and reminded her that he was a lowly medical
student without family funds to support a mistress. Drusilla waved off his
concern.

“I’ll tell you what. Why don’t we just pretend it’s my
birthday? We can say that the money is just taking place of a gift since you
had no idea what to buy for me? Then we can find a place to be alone and enjoy
each other’s’ company for a weekend, okay?” Drusilla offered in a low seductive
tone.

The offer was tempting. Shrugging off the sense of
discomfort he felt in knowing the situation was deemed allowable however circuitously
by young Lady Bliss, Eric succumbed to the temptations of a willing woman for
the first time.

Bliss, ages eighteen to twenty-one,
London, 1808-1811

The season of Bliss’s debut was upon
her. The five years following her initial correspondence with Eric hadn’t
turned out quite as well as she hoped they would.

Eric never once wrote back. Even on
his infrequent visits home, there was little contact between them other than
the usual civilities between a client and a surgeon called upon to avert some
medical emergency or crisis.

Another year went by, and Eric’s
visits ended abruptly when he graduated and began a thriving practice in
Bristol with the town’s newest hospital. But worse than that was news received
on a morning in early February of 1809 that devastated her. It was the first
time in recorded history that her useful foresight ever failed her.

Dr. Benchley, Eric’s esteemed father
and Bliss’s most esteemed friend, had been killed in a horrible accident. The
event took place on the bridge overlooking the bay. Two equipages, one a stage
and the other Dr. Benchley’s curricle, had collided when the horses pulling the
stage had been frightened by some unknown cause.

The stage occupants were trapped, and Dr. Benchley, despite
his injuries, managed to help three of the people to safety before the carriage
dumped into the bay.

The news was incredibly disturbing for Bliss, stemming from
the fact that she’d neither seen the event coming nor been able to divert her
beloved friend from his death. For several weeks he was utterly inconsolable. Her
father suggested at one point that they take a trip to Bath to restore her.

Bliss declined and put on her best efforts to remain at Penwood
Manor Estate in order to see Eric when he arrived for the memorial and burial. But
the event came and went without giving her a chance to offer him any words of
comfort. Eric remained aloof and stalwart in his grief, barely acknowledging
any of the efforts that anyone made toward him.

Too soon the Penwood household was abuzz with the upcoming St.
Patrick’s Day Ball Luxie held every year. Bliss’s debut was scheduled for the
week prior to the ball in London, after which she would receive guests and
potential suitors at home in Cardiff by invitation to the two-week party.

The impending season held no charm for her. She navigated
the balls and parties that year with the stoic presence of a martyr. Bliss
never held on to her melancholy for very long, though. But she would never
completely get over the loss of her cherished friend who would have eventually
become her father-in-law.

The next three years played out
exactly as expected. Bliss and her eldest sister had debuted the same year, but
no offers were made for either girl. Merryann suffered from painful shyness and
speech difficulties every season that rendered her literally mute when it came
to strangers. The fact that Merryann was older and still unmarried took some of
the pressure off of Bliss’s need to settle down. Not that their parents were
pushy about marriage.

Lord and Lady Penwood had eloped to avoid Luxie’s father’s
harsh edict that she would have to marry her intended fiancé. The situation was
further complicated by the fact that Lady Luxie’s younger sisters were long
engaged and forced to wait for their older sister’s marriage before they
themselves could marry.

Therefore, due to the unusual and unorthodox courtship of
her parents, it was not a condition for Bliss to wait for her older sister’s
matrimonial success in order to marry herself. Already knowing her fated path, Bliss
instead used interim time and took great pleasure in causing quite a stir among
the ton with her subtle matchmaking.

Most of the time her antics were the direct result of her
uncanny ability to steer men into the path of their intended destinies with
little fuss or evidence that she was even involved. But it didn’t take much
time for her to be singled out as the missing link between the reluctant men
and matrimony.

The St. Patrick’s Day Ball of 1811 proved the theory to even
the most doubtful. Bliss was standing near the refreshment table, sipping a
glass of sherry when Lord Attinger appeared beside her.

“Lady Bliss, how delightful it is to see you,” the
middle-aged gentleman exclaimed the moment he realized who his neighbor was.

“Good evening, my lord. How are you enjoying our fine
party?” Her eager smile caught him a little short.

“Um, it’s quite splendid as always. I noticed you danced
with Captain Lorring’s son earlier. He is quite upset. What exactly did you
tell him that has him deep in his cups before nine-thirty?” Lord Attinger asked
with a wary look.

“I only said he was lucky to have Lady Stilton’s affection. She’s
quite the catch this season, you know? Apparently he didn’t agree with my
pronouncement. But I suppose some people are reluctant to accept the path
they’re given. It’s unfortunate that he took umbrage with me. Lady Stilton is a
lovely woman with a decidedly firm family fortune. He could do much worse,”
Bliss added with a sigh.

Lord Attinger choked on his port. When he finished
sputtering and coughing, he asked her bluntly, “Is he to be married? When? I
hadn’t heard any announcements?”

“There haven’t been any. I merely pointed out that she was
quite fond of him, and he considered it a sentence of nuptial death. Honestly,
you gentlemen are a troublesome bunch, the lot of you,” Bliss chuckled.