She’d said things like, “Goodness, I do not know what the Town air does to my hair, it is such a fright.” Then, he would be forced to respond that no air in England could mar her locks, though he really wished to say, “It is not only your hair, miss—you are a fright in general and do not blame it on London.”
He had not told his mother of his low opinion, but only dodged and weaved when the lady was mentioned. However, he would have to tell her sooner or later. He could no more imagine waking by the side of Lady Annabelle for the rest of his life than he could a goldfish. A tiresome goldfish endlessly swimming after compliments.
Miss Wilcox appeared to be a different sort altogether. He could not guess how his mother’s latest scheme would unfold, but at least she would be exceedingly pleasant to look at.
Though, he must not spend too much time looking. For one, he would not wish to encourage the girl. For another, he was far too busy.
He watched his mother fuss around Miss Wilcox as they made their way inside. The countess had assured him that the lady would be a shy and retiring sort who would need endless encouragement. He thought she might be wrong about that. There did not seem to be anything especially retiring about the lady.
“Well, I must not get caught up in it. There is no time for it.”
“My lord?” Marcus asked, still holding the neckcloth.
“Nothing,” Jasper said. “Do give me a new cloth and I will arrange it. I will be late to see the queen as it is.”
As Marcus hurried to retrieve a fresh cloth, he said, “How does the poor king do? The people really feel for him and miss his presence.”
“He does well enough, I suppose,” Jasper said.
He would be endlessly grateful if his valet spent more time on his craft and less time inquiring about the king. “Hurry now, if you please.”
*
Louisa Stapleton’s dreamhad finally arrived and been made real. Miss Wilcox was everything she could have possibly wished for. Well, of course, there weresomethings she had not anticipated. The girl was not quite as shy and nervous as she had envisioned, for one.
In anticipation of Georgiana’s arrival, Lady Mendleton had paced the drawing room and peeked round the curtains for over an hour. Finally, she’d seen her carriage roll to a stop and had flown out the front doors to see a very comely girl helped down to the pavement. Her father had told no tales—she was tall and well-proportioned, with a delightful amount of dark hair. Her features were rather regal-looking—a fine straight nose and dark eyes—and she gave Louisa a very pretty smile. Despite Lady Heathway’s grim predictions, this lovely young lady would do very well. Very well, indeed.
Louisa had rushed forward to greet Miss Wilcox. The girl had made a sweet curtsy, though when she rose, she looked Louisa straight in the eye without even a blink. There were no blushes or demurs or lookings away. She really had thought the girl would be a bundle of nerves and need assurance just to get up the front steps. But Miss Wilcox had fairly marched up them with no assistance at all.
Since then, Miss Wilcox had been settled in her room and come down for tea. It was to be just the two of them together. Though her husband and son had both promised to at least turn up for dinner, Lord Mendleton was off to his club and Jasper had already left to attend the queen.
For now, they would be two ladies together—mother and daughter—just as Louisa had rehearsed so often in her imagination.
Louisa glanced at the pianoforte and said, “Would you play for me, my dear?”
Miss Wilcox had looked critically at the instrument. “I am afraid you’d regret it.”
Louisa could not help but be pleased. What modesty! It was just as she had expected, and exceedingly charming. Some girls could not wait to display their prowess and though they sought to hide it, pride always did show itself. They would gaze longingly at the instrument or circle round it or pose questions about it until they were asked. Miss Wilcox was no such creature. She would need encouragement, just as it should be.
“Nonsense,” Louisa said kindly. “Do indulge me.”
Miss Wilcox rose to do as she was bid. “Might not you call me Georgiana? It feels very formal to be Miss Wilcox all the time.”
Louisa clutched her handkerchief to her heart lest it pound out of her chest. “Of course I will, Georgiana.” In a softer voice, she said, “I would not mind being called ‘Mama’…but I suppose that would not be right.”
Louisa had almost held out hope that the dear girl wouldinsiston calling her Mama, despite what anybody might say about it, or that she might do so when they were alone. However, Georgiana only looked a bit perplexed over the idea.
Well, perhaps over time…
The girl sat down at the pianoforte and Louisa took in the picture. She had so often imagined sitting by a tea tray while the lyrical stylings of her daughter wafted about the drawing room. And to see how she looked so finely seated and how elegant her slim and graceful hands appeared! Finally, Louisa could hold her head up at a musical evening, when all the young ladies played for an admiring audience. She’d be a real part of it and be congratulated on her girl. It was all coming true.
As Georgiana began to play, Louisa gripped her teacup and then set it down with a clatter. With every note…if it was a note…something was going terribly wrong. Louisa began to feel as if the air in the room had become thinner and hard to breathe.
Perry came in with a tray of fairy cakes and nearly stumbled, looking toward the instrument in alarm. Georgiana’s playing was…Louisa was not even certain how to describe it. Each moment, she would be convinced the girl’s fingers would go one way but they went the other way. The tune was at once familiar but not the same. The strength of her assault on the keys was…perhaps that was it. It was an assault rather than a delicate dance between player and instrument.
Georgiana stopped and said, “Now you understand the truth. A rather awful truth, I suspect.”
Chapter Three
