A Lesson in Friendship Read online

  Table of Contents

  Title

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  A Lesson in Friendship

  Jennifer Connors

  A Lesson in Friendship

  Published by J Connors Publishing, LLC

  Gilbert, Arizona

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including photocopying, recording or by any information storage and retrieval system, without the written permission of the publisher, except where permitted by law.

  All Rights Reserved

  Copyright © 2011 by Jennifer Connors

  Cover design by Darren Connors

  ISBN 978-0-9824655-3-0

  www.jenniferconnors.com

  To my three best friends, Debbie, Elise and Maureen. Although we're all married, have kids and I moved across the country, you are still the ones who know me best.

  Chapter 1

  She knew the moment she woke up. It was as if she'd just blinked and her whole landscape changed. No longer was she staring at a western sunset, sitting on the porch of her home in Wyoming. Now she was lying in a feather bed, under a giant, ornate canopy, staring at a ceiling decorated with plaster filigree.

  Scanning the room slowly, Ginny took it in. The giant furniture, made of dark wood and expertly carved. The writing desk, set by the window, with an abundance of quills and foolscap. The vanity with oval mirror, covered in an assortment of jars and bottles and a white, rose covered jewelry box. It was all there, sometime again in the 19 th century of England, presumably.

  What wasn't there was her husband. Husband number three now, actually. No longer would she play the part of Ginny Miller, wife to Colby and mother to her brothers-in-law. Now she would be someone else, some other time, some other place. The weight of her situation came crashing down on her, even before she had the memories of her new persona to know what kind of silly games she would have to play this time.

  Refusing to rise from her bed, Ginny kept herself tucked deeply under her covers. Although warm and physically comfortable, her mind rebelled against yet another new part to play. Her life in Wyoming had been good. Not perfect, but good. Colby was a wonderful man, after he'd gotten over his bitterness. He treated her well and his skills as a lover were magnificent. Although she had few of her modern life comforts, she had someone she knew she could easily spend the rest of her life with. So why, she wondered, did she have to go through this again?

  A small knock on her door brought her gaze in that direction. Ginny watched as a small maid entered her room and opened her curtains. It was clearly late morning, but Ginny had no energy to move from her bed. Instead, she continued to watch the maid as she pulled items from the armoire, preparing her mistress for whatever needed to be done for the day.

  Finally, the maid spoke. “I will return shortly with hot water, my lady. Would you care for some chocolate this morning?”

  Ginny heard the words, but barely registered the meaning. Chocolate? For breakfast? In lieu of answering, Ginny shook her head, not even summoning the energy to respond.

  “Are you unwell, my lady? Shall I call for the physician?”

  At the words, Ginny felt the tears entering her eyes, felt her lower lip begin to quiver. Turning away quickly, she buried her face in the pillow and started to cry. This was not where she wanted to be. This was not who she wanted to be. If she couldn't have Colby, then why the hell couldn't she just be home again, in her small house, watching TV and eating a big bowl of ice cream.

  Ginny had no idea where the maid went and she cared even less. What she needed right now was solitude. As the tears continued to fall, all Ginny felt was exhaustion. Curling herself into a tight ball, she allowed her body to relax against the bed. If she couldn't be happy, she would lose herself to the oblivion of sleep. At least she wouldn't have to cry over the loss of yet another husband.

  ********

  When she finally woke, Ginny heard soft voices. They were murmuring somewhere inside the room, not that Ginny bothered to open her eyes to find out. Instead of taking in their words, she merely listened to the cadence of their voices. The male voice was soft and soothing, but the female voice was loud and grating. Finally unable to take anymore, Ginny sat up and stared at the two occupants of the room.

  Sometime during her slumber, Ginny must have received the memories of her new body, because she immediately recognized the woman. Her mother, a Lady Felicia Dunworthy, was speaking to an older gentleman. By the look of him, Ginny surmised he was a doctor, sent to figure out why a young woman would stay abed and cry all day.

  Seeing that his patient had awakened, the man approached the bed and looked down at Ginny. In return, Ginny stared back, not willing to speak. Again, his voice was comforting, like an old pair of slippers.

  “How are you, my lady?” he asked, reaching over to feel her forehead.

  Not wanting to be rude, but not in any mood to be overly accommodating either, Ginny responded, “Fine.”

  “You have your family quite worried. Your mother cannot imagine why you would be abed so long. Your maid told her that you were crying when she asked you a question about breaking your fast.”

  Ginny's attention went between the man at her bed and her mother across the room. The woman was wringing her hands in worry. Ginny saw both of them, but couldn't muster any emotion for them. All her pain was internal, none wasted on anyone else.

  “Sorry,” was all she replied.

  The doctor turned to look at her mother, then turned back to Ginny. Smiling, he asked, “Has anything untoward happened to you, my lady?”

  Ginny leaned back against the pillows and said, “No.”

  “Do you know who you are?” the doctor asked, clearly perplexed by her behavior.

  Ginny scrunched her eyebrows together, as if in great thought. Of course she knew who she was, but the doctor didn't want to hear about Ginny, physician's assistant and 21 st century woman of the world. He wanted to know about the part she was playing this time around.

  Just wanting the pair to leave her be, Ginny answered his question. “I am Lady Sarah Dunworthy. Daughter of Lord and Lady Weston.”

  Smiling in return, the doctor stated, “Very good, Lady Sarah. Now, do you remember where you were last evening?” The doctor used a tone of voice reminiscent of soothing crazy people. It almost made Ginny smile.

  “A ball held by Lord Munroe.”

  Ginny saw that her mother bounced up and down. She seemed pleased by her daughter giving the correct answer. The doctor, not to be outdone, also beamed at her response.

  Turning serious, the doctor asked his next question. “Did anything happen to you last night, my lady? Did anyone... accost you?�
� The last two words were spoken in a strained tone, as if he didn't really want to know the answer to the question.

  Ginny thought about the ball. Nothing untoward happened to her. She remembered being giddy with the thought of being there, but as far as Ginny was concerned, it was a total bore.

  “No. Nothing happened.” What had started as amusing was now becoming tedious. Why couldn't they just leave her alone? All she wanted to do was curl back up and go back to sleep. They had no idea what her life had been like over the past few lives and she certainly wasn't about to tell them. Mental health was a science not yet explored to her satisfaction and the idea of spending a few months in Bedlam had little appeal.

  “Then why do you stay abed, my lady?”

  Good question , Ginny thought. She had to come up with something or the pair would stand there all day and ask inane questions. Rolling her eyes toward the ceiling, Ginny answered. “Because I'm tired.” Although made as statement, her tone made it sound more like a question.

  “Are you feeling unwell?”

  Ginny didn't even try to hide the heavy sigh. “I'm just tired. I just want to be left alone for a little while. Is that a crime?”

  The doctor and her mother exchanged glances. The next question came from her mother.

  “But what of the musicale this evening, my dearest? You would not want to miss that, would you?”

  A musicale? Ginny closed her eyes and considered her response. Would she want to miss it? Hell, yes. Could she get out of it and would they allow her to sleep past her misery? Probably not. She remembered her time in Regency England, with her second husband Colin. These activities were always late in the evening, often going until dawn. Maybe that could be her bargaining chip.

  “Perhaps I can sleep some more, then I'll get up and go to the musicale. It's not until much later, right?” Ginny shot her eyebrows up with her question.

  Sputtering, her mother responded, “Well... yes, I suppose. We need not leave here until after eight this evening.”

  “Great. Why don't you two leave me alone until later. I'll just sleep some more.” With that, Ginny rolled over, away from her annoying guests. As she settled down once again, she heard the two murmuring to each other. It was the last thing she remembered until her maid came in to stir her once again.

  ********

  Her maid, MaryAnn, came in long before Ginny felt she had to be up. Without speaking a word, the little maid had her dressed and coiffed. MaryAnn explained that she was to have tea with her mother and sister before they attended the musicale, then dinner would be served after the entertainment.

  Ginny felt the weight of her despair as she entered the drawing room. Her mother and sister were already seated, waiting for her before serving the tea. Again silent, Ginny went and sat in a chair furthest away from her family.

  No, not my family , she thought morosely. These people are just pawns in some strange life experience I'm being forced to have.

  Her sister, Charlotte, handed her a cup of tea, worry etched on her pretty face. Seeing the concern, Ginny felt even worse. It wasn't real, but Ginny had to admit that the experience felt real. Dropping her gaze to her lap, Ginny lamented having something new to feel bad about.

  At that moment, a footman entered the parlor and requested Lady Weston's presence. As the older woman left the room, Ginny saw her give a look to her sister. The look said to find out what ever she could and report back.

  Charlotte retrieved her own cup and sat near Ginny. With a placid smile on her face, she asked, “Is your tea to your liking, Sarah?”

  With a great deal of effort, Ginny lifted her face and took a sip of the tea. It was too sweet, but it didn't matter. “It's fine. Thank you, Charlotte.”

  With a sigh, Charlotte leaned toward Ginny and asked in an earnest whisper, “Whatever is bothering you, dearest? You have mother worried sick. This is not like you at all. You were so excited about coming to London for the season.”

  Ginny thought about the girl in front of her. Her sister, half-sister actually, was a few years older and already a widow. Charlotte's father, a Mr. Charles Bennington, was married to her mother for only a short time before being killed in a carriage accident. Her mother, after the proper period of mourning, married Sarah's father, Lord Weston and promptly gave birth to his heir, William Dunworthy. Sarah came along a few years later. Being both the last child and a girl, Sarah was doted on to the point of absurdity. Her personality was frivolous and gay. It made Ginny want to gag.

  Charlotte, however, was proper and mature. Her stepfather never paid her any attention and her mother had the duties of being a countess to contend with so that Charlotte was often left to her own devices. She would assist with the caring of her half siblings and loved to read. Where Sarah was flirtatious and fun, Charlotte was reserved and shy. Although opposites, they'd always had a good relationship.

  When Charlotte married a local boy near Lord Weston's country home, no one was surprised that he was the third son of a squire, who was the local vicar. His personality suited hers and they lived happily for a couple of years before he came down with consumption. In less than six months he was dead and Charlotte was back living with her mother and sister.

  Thinking to all the memories she now possessed of Sarah Dunworthy, she wondered how Charlotte put up with her. Sarah was selfish and spoiled, but Charlotte always had some unlimited source of patience and understanding. Ginny thought that she needed to confide something to the girl, if only for all the kindness she'd paid to her persona over the years.

  “Truly, Charlotte, nothing is wrong. I believe it may just be that London is more overwhelming than I realized.” What else could she say? Ginny thought about using her period as an excuse, but didn't know how that would fly.

  Releasing a breath, Charlotte smiled in return. “I remember when I had my first season. There are so many people and the activities seem endless, but you will survive it. You are a strong girl and you have a lot to offer a nice gentleman.”

  Ginny couldn't help but smile in return. Charlotte was the kind of decent person that made jumping from life to life tolerable. Although she still ached inside from losing Colby, she knew that as long as she had Charlotte as a friend, she just might be able to make it through another life. But one thing was for sure, she had no intention of falling in love. And if she had anything to say about it, she wouldn't be getting married either. Three husbands was enough for her.

  Glancing at her conspiratorially, Charlotte said, “Although Lady Hammersmith is having a rather small affair this evening, I have heard that many eligible men will be in attendance. Her own daughter, Penelope, is in search of a husband, so Lady Hammersmith is quite desperate to make a match for her.”

  “What if I don't want to get married?” Ginny stated before she could check herself.

  Charlotte's eyes widened in surprise. “Whatever do you mean, dearest? Not get married? That is all you have spoken of since you turned sixteen. What has happened to change your mind so abruptly?”

  Crap, crap, crap! How could she be so careless? She knew that Sarah's whole existence relied on her not only getting married, but marrying fairly well. Although she had a sizable dowry, her dreams always involved a high ranking titled gentleman, who was so wealthy that Sarah would never have to worry about anything. Not that she worried now, since she had always been taken care of and never had to lift a finger for anything.

  Placing her tea on the side table, Ginny turned to Charlotte, trying to formulate a logical response. Oh, hell , she thought. Who cares?

  “I've been thinking lately...,” she responded lamely. “Do we really need to get married to be fulfilled? Maybe it's time we made a life for ourselves, rather than depend on a man to do it for us.”

  Judging by Charlotte's face, Ginny knew she'd made the wrong move. Sarah's dear, sweet sister, who seemed to have an endless reserve of patience, looked about to pop. The rise of color to her cheeks and her gasping breaths were an indication of the confusion and
worry she had to be feeling. Before her sister could answer, Ginny quickly covered her tracks.

  Smiling and giggling, Ginny said, “Oh, silly, I am just kidding. But the look on your face was worth my jest. I swear I thought you were to pass dead away right in front of me.”

  Releasing a breath that she didn't know she was holding, Charlotte gave a relieved smile. “Oh, Sarah, that was an awful joke to play on me. If mother thought for one moment that you were siding with those types of women, she would take to her bed and never return to polite society.”

  Ginny felt the pang in her gut that reminded her of her place in British society. She was an ornament, only good for wedding and producing an heir. She was to have no opinions, other than those concerning her wardrobe and appearance. Could she really deal with this again? It seemed as though she could, mostly because she didn't have a bloody choice.

  “Yes, dear Charlotte, I am only jesting with you. Please forgive me, but you and mother have such dire looks on your faces. Truly, I am fine, if only a bit overwhelmed.” Each word nearly caught in Ginny's throat. She would play her role in this melodrama, but avoid falling in love. She certainly didn't want to care about anyone in this time period and she had no need for a new family.