Cecilia was reading by the window when there was a knock at the door. The butler answered it, and her visitor was sent in. Her butler looked mortified, and apologetic, this was likely warranted.

The visitor paused, just past the door. He looked her up and down, twice, before he remembered to bow. His expression had been one of mild disapproval and she started to worry, maybe her dress showed too much shoulder, or the hoop skirts her aunt had chosen were too wide. “Yes?” she said, doing everything in her power to appear frosty. The man who came in was her solicitor, and the man who was, in effect, in charge of her finances. He took off his hat, and put his bag on her couch. Frowning, he took a breath as if preparing for battle.

Seeing him was something of an irritation, as he reminded her that her father had not trusted her with his estate. This was one of the reasons, too, that her aunt Euphemia was so keen to see her married. Her father had seemed to believe, while she wasn’t capable of handling her own funds, she should be capable of choosing a husband who could manage everything for her. She imagined there must be some logic behind that sentiment, but she’d never precisely located it. She’d actually been very good at managing the money that she was given, even if it was limited to household expenses and staff wages.

Regardless, when Mr. Bell showed up, he usually brought bad news. “Miss. Cecilia, I’m sorry, but you’ve overspent on dresses. As you know, the conditions of your allowance, and later inheritance, hinge on-”

She stood and walked over to her desk, removing the receipt she had been given by the dressmaker and handed it to him. “I can’t see how I have done, Mr. Bell.”

He looked at the paper she’d given him and pursed his lips. He took a seat at the little table she used when she was brought a cup of tea in the afternoon. She sighed, and went to join him. Mr. Bell must have been one of the younger solicitors at his firm. He was about twenty-eight and, she had always believed, he had been assigned his role because he wasn’t as busy as the others at the time. It was a little bit amusing how serious he was about his work.

He took a very similar document out of his own case, and showed it to her. It was a near identical receipt, but it showed different figures. She frowned, “I wouldn’t have thought that the dressmaker would be the sort to attempt a fraud.”

He shook his head, “Might you or, more likely, your aunt, have mentioned that you don’t directly-”

She sighed, “I think she may have, in retrospect, but only briefly. Perhaps it was only an honest mistake. It is a bit plausible, my aunt did buy some of the other items they added.”

“I will go and visit them and ask.” Bell said, “Perhaps they would rather resolve the matter privately.”

“Well, thank you, Mr. Bell. If you hadn’t been so vigilant, we may never have discovered the matter.”

He was still frowning, “And yet, you’ve used this company before. I’d like to know if they’ve taken liberties in the past.”

She went and brought him her other receipts, going back to her first mourning dresses. She’d outgrown the last. It was a painful thought. She handed them to Bell and sat down in the window, watching her hands, slipping back into her own thoughts.

He looked up at her after a few moments. She was backlit by the sunlight and her pale shoulder, the silver of the dress, and her fair hair all seemed to glow. He was struck, she had acquired an ephemeral charm. It was like he’d happened to catch sight of the angel who had waited at the bedside of her brother, mother then father. Compelled to watch, as they’d breathed their last, perhaps waiting to bring their spirits home. The illusion shattered as she looked up at him and, in all seriousness, asked him if he would come over weekly.

“Pardon?” he asked, just a little stunned by the change in her demeanour.

“I said, it would be a good idea to have a look at the receipts weekly, wouldn’t it? I also- To be honest with you, I’m not happy with the position my father has left me in. I don’t like feeling that I’m being kept out of my own business.”

“I never meant to-”

Cecilia dismissed that thought with a shake of her head, “I know. You’re doing as instructed, but there is no reason why I shouldn’t understand my exact situation. Is there?”

He shook his head. “No, that seems very sensible. Only, your father did leave you with an exceptionally complex system of trusts, businesses, even a few charities. If you really wanted to manage all of it, it would be better if you studied first. I can’t imagine that Mr. Everett taught you about board meetings and intellectual property disputes. Things of that nature?”

She shook her head, “I only know what I picked up from listening to him speak with his associates. He didn’t seem to mind if I was in the room very much, I suppose I was just a pretty object. I don’t think we ever spent that much time together, until his illness. Perhaps, you could bring some books over for me to study?”

He raised his eyebrows. “I suppose so. I certainly can’t stop you from taking an interest. I wouldn’t advise you to meet with your fathers other agents though. Not until you are well versed in the kinds of matters that they are employed to deal with. They might not be so patient, and you don’t want to get discouraged while you are learning.”

“It all sounds rather more complicated than I had believed. You really don’t mind doing all that?” Cecilia asked.

“No, not at all. I was instructed to provide guidance on these things, but not to tax you with details if you did not wish to know.” He sighed, “In all honesty, I have been wondering how even a reasonably competent future husband of yours would get to grips with all this. I imagine he’d just sell assets to make it more manageable.”

Cecilia frowned and mumbled, “Hugo is probably out then.”

“Excuse me? I didn’t quite catch what you said.”

“Oh, nothing. Is there anything else, Mr. Bell?”

“That’s everything. Would Thursdays suit you? Perhaps at two?”

She nodded, “Whatever is best for you.”

He got up, looking much happier, and promised to resolve the matter with the dressmaker for her. She watched him go, he was a rather unremarkable sort of man, if reasonably tall. She wondered if he was interesting outside of work.

The weeks passed, and she settled into a new sort of routine. Once a week she’d let her aunt take her out to some social gathering, or to a tea party at the home of one of her friends, as long as it didn’t sound too trying. She would meet Mr. Bell on Thursdays and study for the rest of the time.

She would also take a walk each day, around town or in the nearby parks, with her maid and her Yorkshire Terrier. Gradually, her mood was starting to improve, and she knew that a little more structure to her routine was helping. That was why her aunt had bought her the dog in the first place. Someone else would walk him if she didn’t, but she was doing the right thing by taking him outside herself.

Her aunts prediction had proven to be correct, and, from time to time, she would receive an invitation, or visit, from a young man. Very often, she felt that they had only agreed to meet her at the insistence of one of their relatives, but, upon meeting her, they seemed to think her looks justified more of an effort.

She’d heard from a friend that she had initially been viewed as a tragic recluse, which wasn’t very far wrong. After rejecting quite a few suitors, including Hugo, who she actually had been fond of, the image of her had begun to change. She had been scolded by her aunt, when word had gotten back to her that she was now conceited and difficult. She wasn’t certain that she was. It was only that her patience was limited, and she was, through circumstance, required to look for a particularly capable sort of husband.

Mr. Bell had been very helpful, and would stay for hours at a time on Thursday, explaining terms and, essentially, most of his job to her. At the end of one day, when they were both quite tired, he tilted his head back and rubbed the bridge of his nose. “You know, you’re doing very well, but the prospect of having to do all this a second time for your husband seems rather daunting.”

She sighed, “Well, by then, perhaps I’d be able to help.”

He stared at her, “You know, I’d never thought about that. I suppose you are studying to be able to be useful to him.”

She frowned, “Even if I never marry, I’d like to be useful in general.”

He looked thoughtful, “Your father used to say that he never liked your mother to know too much about his business. I wonder if he was worried that her brain would get wrinkles.”

She looked at him, and their faces were equally serious. “Was that a joke?”

“Yes.”

“It seemed like a joke. I wasn’t sure, because of the way you said it.”

He was trying to suppress a smile and succeeded, partially, “Is humour like that the reason people are saying you’re highly-strung?”

“I think so.” she admitted, “Also, I suspect some of my suitors didn’t handle rejection very well. It’s not quite fair on me. If they joke about marrying for money the first time we meet, should they really be surprised when I wish them ‘good luck finding an heiress who will be interested in you’?”

He covered his mouth and sighed. “I see, well it does sound very tricky.”

“I suppose I’ll see you again next Thursday.” she suggested.

He got up and shook her hand, “See you then.” He left, and it took her a little while to realise that he was the first man who ever gave her a handshake instead of a kiss on the hand or a polite bow. That was why it had felt so strange.

***



It was a few nights later, when her aunt insisted she go to a Bonfire Night party on Hugo’s aunt’s estate. She didn’t want to, but it seemed she could not avoid the weekend getaway. She resented it extremely, not because it was too much, but because it had been sprung on her without much notice. She left her dog behind, reasoning that it would be less scary for him at home, with the maid, who knew how to take care of him.

Cecilia was given a room next to her aunt, it was a bit draughty but otherwise pleasant, light and airy. It was nice to see Hugo again, and he was very sweet to her. They hadn’t been that emotionally invested in a relationship to begin with, but they hadn’t minded one another, so they slipped into an easy and convenient friendship. He introduced her to his friends, and she spent most of the days, before the party, horse riding and taking picnics with the younger guests. It was the first time she had ever felt like a normal young woman.

***



The night of the bonfire, she got ready with some of the other girls. They were looking forward to meeting the guests who would arrive after dark. Including John Oliver, who was a source of some excitement. She half-listened to the gossip about him. He wasn’t considered to be an especially dangerous character, but good fun. One of the girls claimed to have had a bit of a romance with him, and said it had been rather exciting, but that he wasn’t worth getting deeply entangled with.

“His aunt, though, you wouldn’t believe me if I told you what happened when she found out. It wasn’t scary, in the sense that she didn’t try to warn me off, but everything became very intense. In the end, I thought it was better to get away. I can understand the hold she has over him. Somehow, she did it all without giving me anything I could really complain about, or tell to other people, without sounding very petty. Meanwhile, she became all I could think about.”

“What on earth do you mean by that?” a dark haired girl asked. Cecilia knew their names but she wasn’t certain she’d see them again. They’d seemed friendly enough, it was only that she felt she’d be a burden if she pressed her friendship onto them. They had their own circles.

“I mean…” the first girl said and then paused.

“You mean she’s terrifyingly compelling.” Cecilia finished. “I met her at the theatre. I don’t know how she did it, but while she was talking to me I couldn’t even see the rest of the room.”

The first girl nodded, “She’s so much more enticing than John, isn’t she? And it really doesn’t feel safe. If you want my advice, never allow yourself to be alone in a room with just the two of them. I really wasn’t certain that I’d come out again.”

“Oh, please. There’s no way.” the dark haired girl objected, “They’re both perfectly charming. Neither of them hurt you, did they?”

The first girl blushed scarlet, “No. In fact, Elizabeth gave me a pretty necklace as a present, but-but I’d never go near them again. It may just have been a feeling, but that’s what I mean. John’s not bad though. If he hadn’t been there, I don’t know…”

The two continued to bicker but Cecilia lost focus. It was so very odd, the idea that another person could suck you so intensely into a world of their own making. She wondered if they knew what effect they were having. Could just anyone do that?

The party began at sunset. She had a glass of champagne and danced with Hugo while they waited for the last of the guests to arrive. Hugo had told her that he would abandon her, if the girl he really was sweet on arrived. When she did, he was true to his word. She retreated to a quiet spot, with another drink, when he was gone. This time in the soft violet dress that her aunt had chosen for her. she didn’t think it did much for her complexion but it was more cheerful than the light grey. She watched the pair dance, they seemed like a good match, affable, healthy and athletic.

She was jolted from her thoughts by a tap on her shoulder, John Oliver was again the cause. “You’re looking rather well, Miss. Everett.”

“Thank you, I’m feeling much more myself than the night that we first met.”

He smiled, “Your colour is much improved. I’ve heard that you’re something of an ice queen now. Would you say something biting to me too? That way I’ll have a story to share.”

“Nothing really comes to mind.” she frowned.

“Disappointing. I’ll have to tell people that I find you entirely charming. Has anyone taken your interest yet?”

“No.”

“What type of husband are you after?”

Cecilia sighed, “It seems, I’m obligated to look for a man who could handle a maze of financial complexities, but who is not necessarily seeking the fortune that comes with it.”

He grinned, “That sounds tricky. I’d do, I think, but my aunt wouldn’t approve.”

“What type do you think you’ll end up with?” Cecilia asked.

“I’m contemplating just getting a dog. Lady Elizabeth doesn’t seem to think anyone is good enough for me.”

“Anyone else, you mean.”

The colour drained from his face, “Is that what people are saying?”

She nodded and patted his arm. He looked at her hand, and raised an eyebrow with a puzzled air. “I suppose I’ll have to have another scandalous love affair. Do you know anyone who might be interested?”

“I’ll keep an eye out.” she promised. He winked at her and wandered back to the party, in search of prey.