My dear Louisa, there were looks. Looks between Lord Langley and Miss Wilcox. Looks that ought not to be ignored, lest you find the lady a permanent fixture in your household—a permanently related sort of a fixture.
Further, as my instincts were telling me to pay close attention, my eyes were upon her last evening relentlessly. Miss Wilcox spent some amount of time in the ladies’ retiring room and what do you suppose was the end of it? I must tell you that I resolved to view it and so placed myself behind some well-positioned drapery. Miss Wilcox departed the retiring room with Lady Annabelle, WHO HAD CLEARLY BEEN CRYING!
What could Miss Wilcox have said to make Lady Annabelle cry? That I cannot be sure of, but certainly it was to do with Lord Langley. At least, that is what I suspect and my suspicions are always correct.
I write this to put you on your guard. Nobody can take away Miss Wilcox’s triumph over the queen, which I fairly give her credit for. But be aware of what is under your nose, Louisa.
Kindest Regards,
Penelope
Louisa dropped the paper. Looks? Between Jasper and Georgiana? She had not noted anything like that. Though, she did not herself have Lady Heathway’s falcon eyes. Or think to hide herself behind drapery at a ball, for that matter.
Perhaps it was only Penelope going too far, as she was sometimes wont to do. She was so confident of her instincts and her eyes, but there had been times where shehadgone too far. Had she not been convinced, only last season, that Jasper was in danger from Miss Agatha Willoughby? Louisa had not been convinced of it; it was too nonsensical. The girl was a rich American who did uncomfortable things like ask how much something cost and then if that were not bad enough, comment on where it could be had cheaper. She laughed too loud, she flirted with abandon, and she pronounced no end of things old-fashioned. What on earth would they have done with such a person?
It had all come out well, in the end. Miss Willoughby had married ancient Lord Gaston which probably suited them both. He’d rescued his estates with her money and he’d probably not be walking around those estates all that long to bother Miss Willoughby. She’d had a son already and could rest easy now that her place was secure, whether Lord Gaston was walking around or resting peacefully underground. Penelope still would not own that she’d been wrong with a capital W.
Certainly, this was a like circumstance.
But why had Lady Annabelle cried after encountering Georgiana in the retiring room. That was the one point that Louisa could not reconcile. Why would Georgiana not mention the circumstance on the carriage ride home?
If it were true, if Penelope’s instincts were correct, what then? Georgiana was a dear girl, that was undeniable, but Louisa did have her heart set on Lady Annabelle! She and Jasper seemed so well-suited and it would be a brilliant match. It was the sort of match one’s mama might be congratulated upon.
No, she must dismiss this letter from her mind at once. It simply could not be.
Jenny hurried in with the breakfast tray. She set it down and said, “Is all well, my lady?”
“Oh yes, I think so. I am sure of it. Lady Heathway has only allowed her imagination to run away from her.”
Jenny nodded and said, “Well you ought to have some tea straight away to fortify yourself after such a fright so early in the day.”
Louisa patted Jenny’s hand. “What would I do without you? You do understand me so well, Jenny.”
Chapter Thirteen
Georgiana had prevailedupon Lady Mendleton to allow her an early morning ride. She’d wished to clear her head and thought the only thing that would do it would be to find herself on a horse in the fresh air. Had she not done just the same at home?
The dear lady had allowed it, but insisted that a parade of grooms accompany her. She thought she must look quite ridiculous, leading such a procession through the park, had there been anybody to note it. As it was, the grounds were delightfully quiet—those multitudes who would turn up later were still abed or lazily having their breakfast.
Though she would have wished to, she could not advance down Rotten Row—the carriage would not do well and Lady Mendleton would not like her to leave Carstares behind. She resigned herself to the carriage road and took in the greenery and fresh air with relish.
She did find that the air and the rhythmic trot of the horse settled her mind. If Lord Langley were to ask for her hand, she would accept. Despite who else might be made unhappy by it. After all, Lady Annabelle would not be unhappy and she hoped Lady Mendleton would come round on the idea. As for wider society, was she to throw over her happiness for the sake of those she did not care about?
She would not.
Perhaps it was selfish. No, not perhaps. It was entirely selfish. She supposed she had discovered something about herself—she was not a tragic heroine from a novel willing to sacrifice her life’s happiness as some sort of do-gooder martyr. She might have imagined herself capable of it before this, but now she understood it was not so.
Of course, this was all supposing he would ask. He had not firmly indicated any such thing. And yet, she did have the distinct feeling he admired her and he had been fairly persistent about taking her into suppers. And then, last evening, he had wanted to saysomething.
Oh, what it was to be a man! To make every decision on when and how to move forward. If she were a man, she would march into his library and demand an answer.
But she was not and must wait and hope. That was a woman’s lot, it seemed—waiting and hoping. She was very much against it!
Minerva had just turned a bend in the lane and Georgiana was struck to see Lord Asturt. He had dismounted his horse by an old oak and stood talking to Lord Langley’s valet, Marcus.
She found she must do her very best not to laugh. It was too ridiculous. Lord Asturt seemed nearly obsessed about how his recommendation of a valet was turning out. He seemed nearly obsessed with Lord Langley’s approval.
But then, she must take pity. It was the way society worked that a young gentleman must find his set and that the young gentleman would always aim as high as possible and seek to impress. The success or failure of such a venture must weigh heavily upon them.
