The Heartbeat Thief Read Online Free Page B
Author: AJ Krafton, Ash Krafton
Felicity, darling Felicity with her squinchy accent and her buoyancy and her voracious appetite for life—Felicity was Senza’s path out of the dark.
Gradually, life in the Fyne household returned to normal, albeit it a new kind of normal that didn’t involve Grandmother. As the holidays approached, Mrs. Fyne informed her daughter that she had no choice but to resume the activities she’d put off with Grandmother’s illness.
“A tonic,” her mother said. “It will do wonders for your spirit, the distractions of daily life. You mustn’t be coddled.”
“I would hardly say I’m coddled, Mother.”
“I would. You don’t need slow walks or time for crying spells. You need to be out in society because what you need, grandmother or no, is an engagement.”
Senza blinked, unable to respond to such a bald statement.
There was no sense in arguing, period. Mrs. Fyne was in possession of a single occupation—to see that her daughter won an advantageous marriage. As long as she breathed, she’d try for Senza, and by God Himself, Senza would try for her.
This was the life into which she’d been born. This was destiny, signed, sealed, and thusly decreed. Once more, Senza donned her gowns and pinned her hair, as beautiful as ever before, although with a spirit muted. She accompanied Aggie and Felicity to balls and luncheons, giving full attention to society and her duties as a young available woman.
As she re-emerged into society, she was awarded a place of honor within her new social circles. Her beauty and her charm were beyond compare, and her kind nature and quick wit could not even inspire jealousy. Everyone wanted to know her name. Who was the young woman with the ruby curls, the glittering green eyes, the smile that made the strongest men hold their breath?
Senza was everyone’s darling, now, and everyone she met let her know exactly that.
Her mother was envied, of course, by the other ladies. Her daughter would find an excellent match, would want for nothing. And even though Senza had no official suitors as yet, already the other mothers jockeyed for position within Mrs. Fyne’s favor, so as to ensure invitation to her daughter’s inevitable wedding. No one could bear the thought of missing such a premier event.
Senza’s life became a cycle of social gatherings, of dancing and cultured conversation, of open sleigh rides after a heavy snow. For her, it was diversion, distraction, duty.
For her mother, it was marketing.
Undaunted by the futility, Senza protested her mother’s untiring efforts to set a match.
“You are not getting younger, Senza.” Mrs. Fyne selected a sapphire comb from the vanity table and held it against her daughter’s coif. “You are charming and confident and kind. You have a gentle hand with animals and children adore you. And, I dare say, you have your father’s intelligence, which would give any young man a run for his money.”
Mrs. Fyne lay the comb down and picked up a sprig of wrapped-ribbon forget-me-nots. “Those things will never leave you. But beauty, Senza, is fleeting. You are in the full bloom of your youth, dear, a blossom at its prime. But petals will wilt. They will curl at the edges, lose their vibrancy, their delicate fragrance. No one shops for wilted flowers. Only the freshest are taken. Only the freshest are wanted.”
She leaned down and found her daughter’s eyes in the vanity mirror. “Spring doesn’t last forever. Best to market while the market is full.”
“Honestly, mother.” Senza grimaced. “I am not ignorant of my responsibilities but I can’t say you make me look forward to these parties.”
“You’d do best to take a page from Felicity Keating’s book, dear. There’s a girl who understands the importance of gaining a marriage. Watch her tonight, dear, and do your best to imitate her.”
Mrs. Fyne pinned the flowers in Senza’s hair and kissed her daughter’s head before leaving the girl alone.
Senza turned her head to
Gradually, life in the Fyne household returned to normal, albeit it a new kind of normal that didn’t involve Grandmother. As the holidays approached, Mrs. Fyne informed her daughter that she had no choice but to resume the activities she’d put off with Grandmother’s illness.
“A tonic,” her mother said. “It will do wonders for your spirit, the distractions of daily life. You mustn’t be coddled.”
“I would hardly say I’m coddled, Mother.”
“I would. You don’t need slow walks or time for crying spells. You need to be out in society because what you need, grandmother or no, is an engagement.”
Senza blinked, unable to respond to such a bald statement.
There was no sense in arguing, period. Mrs. Fyne was in possession of a single occupation—to see that her daughter won an advantageous marriage. As long as she breathed, she’d try for Senza, and by God Himself, Senza would try for her.
This was the life into which she’d been born. This was destiny, signed, sealed, and thusly decreed. Once more, Senza donned her gowns and pinned her hair, as beautiful as ever before, although with a spirit muted. She accompanied Aggie and Felicity to balls and luncheons, giving full attention to society and her duties as a young available woman.
As she re-emerged into society, she was awarded a place of honor within her new social circles. Her beauty and her charm were beyond compare, and her kind nature and quick wit could not even inspire jealousy. Everyone wanted to know her name. Who was the young woman with the ruby curls, the glittering green eyes, the smile that made the strongest men hold their breath?
Senza was everyone’s darling, now, and everyone she met let her know exactly that.
Her mother was envied, of course, by the other ladies. Her daughter would find an excellent match, would want for nothing. And even though Senza had no official suitors as yet, already the other mothers jockeyed for position within Mrs. Fyne’s favor, so as to ensure invitation to her daughter’s inevitable wedding. No one could bear the thought of missing such a premier event.
Senza’s life became a cycle of social gatherings, of dancing and cultured conversation, of open sleigh rides after a heavy snow. For her, it was diversion, distraction, duty.
For her mother, it was marketing.
Undaunted by the futility, Senza protested her mother’s untiring efforts to set a match.
“You are not getting younger, Senza.” Mrs. Fyne selected a sapphire comb from the vanity table and held it against her daughter’s coif. “You are charming and confident and kind. You have a gentle hand with animals and children adore you. And, I dare say, you have your father’s intelligence, which would give any young man a run for his money.”
Mrs. Fyne lay the comb down and picked up a sprig of wrapped-ribbon forget-me-nots. “Those things will never leave you. But beauty, Senza, is fleeting. You are in the full bloom of your youth, dear, a blossom at its prime. But petals will wilt. They will curl at the edges, lose their vibrancy, their delicate fragrance. No one shops for wilted flowers. Only the freshest are taken. Only the freshest are wanted.”
She leaned down and found her daughter’s eyes in the vanity mirror. “Spring doesn’t last forever. Best to market while the market is full.”
“Honestly, mother.” Senza grimaced. “I am not ignorant of my responsibilities but I can’t say you make me look forward to these parties.”
“You’d do best to take a page from Felicity Keating’s book, dear. There’s a girl who understands the importance of gaining a marriage. Watch her tonight, dear, and do your best to imitate her.”
Mrs. Fyne pinned the flowers in Senza’s hair and kissed her daughter’s head before leaving the girl alone.
Senza turned her head to
Readers choose
V. L. Brock
Patric Michael
Barbara Allan
Claire Hennessy
David Anthony Durham
Agatha Christie
Sage C. Holloway
Kim Baldwin, Xenia Alexiou