Lucinda turned her attention to Hannah after a while and asked ‘How do you choose to pass the time, Your Grace?’
Bathed in the glorious light of Lucinda’s attention, it was a struggle not to be dazzled by her, but Hannah also skeptically noted that Lucinda’s well-prepared smile tremored a little, betraying her forced effort. She was trying to engage Hannah but her agenda was undefined; it may be a gesture of kindness to include Hannah in their conversation or it may be a method of extracting information on her competitor.
Hannah had not expected this line of questioning and had not prepared a response. Her mind instantly landed upon ‘painting’ but she looked over at Caleb, as if for assistance and she saw in his eyes a flash of alarm.
He must surely know of her painting activities – having offered her the studio which lent itself so perfectly to the activity and through chatter from their mutual friends – although they had never explicitly spoken about it. Certainly, he had not shown any interest in seeing her work and she had not overtly told him she was a painter.
Hannah knew, through decades of concealing her guilty secret, that to cite Art as her passion at their first dinner entertaining would not be advisable. She opted for a safer reply.
‘I love literature. I was quite delighted to discover my husband’s extensive library earlier today!’
Even as she said it, Hannah noticed the way she had framed Caleb asmy husband– almost as though she were laying claim to him, warning Lucinda away from her territory. It struck her as strange to experience this feeling of possession over somebody she barely knew.
‘Oh yes – I have seen the Duke’s library. Isn’t it quite exquisite!’ Lucinda giggled forcibly and looked over at Caleb with a flicker of her eyelashes.
‘And is it literature which inspires you also, Lady Lucinda?’ Hannah attempted to ignore the flirtatious manner in which Lucinda had engaged with her husband.
‘Regrettably, I find books quite a bore!’ Lucinda laughed as though her confession might be endearing. ‘I prefer to sing and play the piano…’ Lucinda smiled at all those assembled around the table, telling them something they, of course, already knew.
Hannah noticed how Lucinda bobbed her head much more than was necessary as she spoke, causing her ringlets to dance about her pretty face. She felt quite sure it was intentional and could not quite understand why she found it so irritating. Once she had noticed it, she felt compelled to check for it every time Lucinda spoke.
‘Do you sing, or play piano, Hannah?’ Anne asked boldly and Hannah stilled as everybody at the table paused in their eating to hear her response.
Anne already knew the answer to this question and as a result, Hannah concluded with absolute certainty that she had posed it exclusively to humiliate Hannah. She saw Caleb bristle and shoot his mother an inhospitable glare.
‘I do not,’ Hannah replied, with confidence. ‘I am not musical. I have more appreciation of the arts – in fact, I will be taking in an art gallery later this week.’
Caleb raised one eyebrow, impressed at Hannah’s diversion of the vitriol, and resumed paying attention to his plate of food.
‘Wonderful!’ exclaimed Lady Beatrice charitably.
‘I find art galleries a bore, don’t you, Lady Lucinda?’ Anne droned.
Lucinda looked quite uncomfortable and glanced between Anne and Hannah as if hoping somebody might say something to help her out. Eventually, she laughed;
‘Oh, Your Grace, I do believe we are kindred spirits, for I too cannot bear an art gallery!’ Lucinda giggled adorably as she bobbed her irritating ringlets about and all the table laughed with her, with the exception of Hannah, Caleb, and Emmeline who watched the scene play out with abashment.
Hannah averted her eyes, shrinking her shoulders inwards, hoping to become invisible and for the meal to come to an end. Caleb watched her with sympathy – Hannah hadn’t asked to be in this awkward predicament and neither, he believed, would she have chosen it. He felt responsible for this public humiliation and experienced a strong urge to involve himself somehow, but found a combination of defensiveness and humility an impossible balance to achieve.
Finishing their meal, Caleb and Edward retired to a parlour room and the ladies retreated to the drawing room. Anne was keen to ensure Lucinda and Beatrice were comfortable, offering scatter cushions and requesting a maid to light the fire. Hannah, in contrast, perched upon the edge of a seat, with no attention paid at all to her level of comfort.
As Anne, Beatrice and Lucinda crowed raucously over some source of common ground, Emmeline looked over at Hannah with a small smile and discreetly sidled closer to her.
‘Tell me, Hannah, have you yet borrowed any of the books from Caleb’s extensive library?’ she spoke quietly, eager to make the conversation private from the others joining in.
‘I have – a book on Fine Art,’ Hannah smiled, understanding that Emmeline was attempting to help her relax.
‘You are very fond of art, are you not?’
Hannah nodded.
‘Do you know my father once bid me paint a picture of our cat, Sigmund. He commented that it looked as though I had spilled the paint pot – poor Sigmund was nothing but a large brown blot on the page!’ Emmeline laughed self-deprecatingly and Hannah joined her, grateful for her inclusion.
‘Does Sigmund the cat still live here?’ Hannah asked. ‘I do not believe I have seen a cat around the house?’
‘Sadly, he passed the same year as my father. A very sad year,’ Emmeline looked down and fiddled with her skirts in her lap.
‘My most heartfelt condolences…’
