Free Her Heart's Captain by Elizabeth Mansfield

it’s just as well that she doesn’t remember all my complaints. The less the Clements remember, the smaller the chance of anything being repeated to cause us embarrassment.”
    â€œOr to cause difficulty for Robbie,” Jenny added.
    â€œYes. I shall force myself to look upon the bright side. No matter how revolting it will be to associate with that man, we shall at least have the pleasure of meeting Lady Rowcliffe and of attending all the festivities.” She leaned back in her chair, closing her eyes reflectively. “I think, Jenny, that I shall need a couple of new gowns. I’ve worn the purple ducapes too often, and the turquoise crape is sadly out of date. And as for you, my girl, I won’t have you wearing that dove-colored poplin one more time. It makes you look a positive dowd. I’ve been saving five yards of the most beautiful apricot-colored silk which I shall have Mrs. Elvin make up for you.”
    â€œJust as you wish, Mama,” Jenny murmured, turning back to her music.
    Lady Garvin rose to leave. “I hope you don’t intend to hammer away at the piano very much longer, Jenny,” she said from the doorway. “I’m quite famished, as you may surmise (not having had any breakfast and only having taken the lightest of luncheons), and I’ve told Cullum to serve tea as soon as possible. I shall be ready for it in ten minutes. Don’t keep me waiting for you forever.”
    Jenny resumed her playing, but though her fingers flew over the keys as busily as before, her heart and mind were no longer engrossed in the act. She was aware of a painful lowering of her spirits, and the few minutes left to her to lose herself in the music seemed an inadequate amount of time to lift those spirits to their usual, cheerful level. She’d always considered herself a lighthearted sort, finding contentment in many aspects of her daily life despite her mother’s carding. (Even in childhood she’d been able to slough off the barbs that her mother shot at her, realizing that they were unwitting and not really intended to cut away at Jenny’s self-esteem.) She’d always been optimistic, waking each morning with an eagerness to explore the coming day. It was only in the last few months that she’d begun to notice that her usual cheerfulness was harder to maintain.
    Just now, for example, she’d found herself unable to ignore (as she’d always managed to do before) her mother’s remark about her “hammering away” at her music. Jenny was quite proficient at the pianoforte; in truth she believed she possessed some little talent for it. Yet her mother rarely sat down to listen and never offered a word of praise. Ordinarily, Jenny would not be disturbed by this. After all, her mother had little knowledge of or interest in music of any sort; clementi himself might play for her without receiving a nod of approbation. But today, Jenny had felt a little catch of tears in her throat when her mother had said those words. Why, after all these years of indifference to her mother’s disdain, was she all at once so hurt by it? Why was she suddenly so vulnerable and so filled with unwonted sensibilities? Why after all these years had she become so painfully aware of being second in her mother’s affections?
    But it was not only her mother who could lower her spirits. Everything, of late, seemed to depress her. It was as if she’d moved abruptly from a sunny world to one of shadow. The people she met seemed, somehow, darker than they were before. They now seemed to hold within them the possibility of evil. An innocent-seeming little boy could be, in reality, a decoy for a thief; a gentleman who appeared kindly could really be a cruel, power-maddened tyrant. Things and people that had once seemed pleasant and friendly now might possess ugly, hidden secrets.
    Probably that had always been so, but she hadn’t seen it before. Something had