leisurely repast or sleeping far longer than seemly to balance the exceptionally late (or rather, early) time they’d collapsed into bed.
Victoria paced the hallways, her slippered feet sending out a muted echo. A clock ticked in one of the adjacent rooms, and her footsteps unconsciously matched it beat for beat. A yawn crept up on her, starting from her middle and expanding outwards; holding onto that deep breath, Victoria wondered if she ought to attempt sleep again.
Her eyelids felt filled with sand, scraping up and down with each blink, but no matter how many hours she’d lain in bed, her thoughts would not quiet themselves.
Arriving at her parents’ bedchamber door, Victoria paused with her hand above the door handle. Retracting it, she stepped away and continued pacing along the corridor outside. But no matter how she thought her way through this issue, she kept arriving at the same point, and there was no ignoring the truth in Mr. Kingsley’s advice. Though she wished to postpone the discussion, Victoria could not waste an opportunity when she knew her parents would be together.
Without allowing herself to rethink her actions, she knocked on the bedchamber door and slipped in when bidden.
Papa stood before the mirror, straightening his jacket and giving himself a final inspection, but when he saw her standing there, he turned to greet her with a smile.
“Victoria,” said Papa.
The greeting drew Mama’s attention from her place in bed, and she set her teacup on the breakfast tray with a smile.
“I am surprised to see you up so early,” said Mama. “You seemed out of sorts last night, and I was worried you were unwell.”
Papa’s brows drew upwards. “Are you ill, my dear? Should I have Nelson send for a physician?”
Waving away their concern, Victoria shook her head. “I am well enough, though I do need to speak with you about a weighty matter.”
“Then you found a suitable candidate last night?” Mama moved the tea tray aside and rose to her feet while tying the sash of her dressing gown. “That is lucky, Victoria, for I despaired after you allowed Mr. Oliver Kingsley to slip through your fingers.”
Victoria opened her mouth to repeat all the many defenses she had used over the past fortnight, but it was Papa who spoke first.
“There was no slipping through fingers, Mrs. Caswell. Victoria acted as her conscience dictated, so there is no need to criticize.”
Mama paled as she met Victoria’s gaze. “I didn’t mean it as a criticism, darling. I was simply bemoaning the loss of such an eligible gentleman. He would’ve made you a fine husband.”
“We do not suit,” replied Victoria, though her mother did not appear to hear it.
Turning to Papa, Mama frowned. “I still cannot understand why he chose that Banfield girl over our Victoria.”
“It is a mystery, but there is no accounting for taste,” said Papa.
“Please listen!” The words came out far harsher than Victoria intended, and she closed her eyes to gather herself.
Mama took Victoria by the hands and led her to the settee at the end of the bed.
“What is the matter, pet?” she asked, taking a seat beside her daughter and clasping the young lady’s hands in hers.
“There is someone,” she murmured.
“Am I to expect a visit from him soon?” asked Papa with a smile.
Victoria let out a sigh that released all the frustration of her circumstances in one long breath. “It is a tad more complicated than that, Papa.”
And so, she began to unravel her history with Mr. Elijah Dixon. Once begun, it took far longer than she’d thought to explain the whole of it, though she could not help but elaborate on all those little encounters they’d had over the past few years. Of course, she avoided speaking of the more intimate details—her parents did not need to know just how much she adored kissing the fellow—but she laid the rest bare as Papa paced before her and Mama’s hold tightened.
“I do not know what I should do—” But as Victoria attempted to explain her dilemma, her mother’s attention was still focused on the earlier confession.
“Mr. Flemming’s clerk?” Mama spoke the word as though it was akin to a beggar, though the majority of gentry’s sons entered their professions on such lowly terms.
“He is brilliant, Mama,” said Victoria. “And he is bound for a very successful future in politics. With Mr. Flemming’s assistance and guidance, there is reason to believe Mr. Dixon will achieve greatness in his profession.”
Mama’s expression tightened. “But who is his family? What makes