The relief that washed over him was quite profound. How shortsighted of him not to have guessed it, Lady Easton would never leave such a vital matter to chance.
“Have we got a third dining room?” Lady Easton asked.
Bramley shook his head sadly.
“I was afraid of that and if I could have packed our own, I would have. We will be rustics here, I’m afraid.”
Bramley nodded his agreement. It would be an exceedingly uncomfortable few months, full of new schedules and procedures and no third dining room. But at least they had clocks.
God bless the clocks.
*
Caroline had doneher level best to be civil to Lady Easton in the carriage. There were moments when it had been easy, and then moments when it had been difficult.
They’d had a lovely discussion about the wardrobe that Mrs. Belle would send along. Apparently, Lady Easton had demanded that each piece be delivered as it was completed, and Caroline could expect a divine ballgown and a walking dress coming in the next days.
Lady Easton had in particular rattled on about the ballgown, which did indeed sound divine.
“I said to Mrs. Belle, it should be inspired by the seaside. Well, she does have so many very good ideas. She suggested a silk in a soft cream color, with the palest blue tulle overlay dotted with small and delicate blue glass in the shape of sea stars. It will be very like the sea’s blue water and white surf. It will be ethereal, and more charming than anything Penelope ever came up with. Oh, she embraces simplicity and abhors a puffed sleeve as if it is some badge of courage.”
Lady Easton had talked enough about her friends for Caroline to know that the Penelope in question was Lady Heathway. Apparently, Lady Heathway had a lot of strong opinions that she shared widely. Among other things, she was against a puffed sleeve, downright vehement regarding a spencer jacket, and had a strange and almost violent abhorrence of white soup.
Lady Easton said there was an absurdity to it, as Lady Heathway did not seem to be against having a butler who randomly shot at her houseguests. Lady Easton, herself, would decry gunfire ahead of soup and sleeves.
While that conversation had been pleasant, there were those moments in the carriage that could not pass by too quickly. There was a revisiting of complaints about gin and waving out windows.
Caroline had used all of her restraint to manage the conversation. Though, she had slipped up once. After Lady Easton had mentioned that Lord Bertridge had suggested she have a bedchamber that did not face the street on account of her waving to him, she’d said, “I only waved because he was very determinedly looking at my window. I wonder he does not question where his eyes were going, rather than my response to it.”
Lady Easton had been flustered by the notion. When she gathered herself, the result was a quarter of an hour lecture on how her nephew never put a foot out of place and so of course his eyes had not comprehended where they were going.
His eyes had not comprehended, indeed.
Caroline could at least take solace in the idea that she had thoroughly discomposed Lord Bertridge as they left the hotel. In truth, he still looked rather red in the face.
As Lady Easton had directed the boy who was arranging the trunks and hatboxes, Lord Bertridge had said, “Miss Upton, I do hope you have taken my and my aunt’s counsel to heart.”
It was one thing to be scolded by Lady Heathway and quite another to be scolded by a lord only a few years older than herself. It felt embarrassing in a way that a matron’s scolding did not. She had really grown tired of it and had no intention of taking any of hiscounsel to heart.
She’d smiled sweetly and said, “My heart remains my own to manage, Bertie.”
He’d then stared at her as if she were the devil in flesh as she was handed into the carriage.
Despite her irritation with both of them, she did not quite know what to make of Lord Bertridge. He could not possibly be as stiff as he pretended at. Perhaps he was a terrible rake and took extra care when in polite society? How better to do it than pretend at being the stickiest of the sticks? How better than to attempt to boss about other people in his vicinity regarding the correct way of going on?
She could not know all the facts, but she was determined to find them out. She was also determined to let the man know that she was not taken in by his pretenses. She would force herself to put up with Lady Easton’s vagaries, but she need not be so careful with the lady’s nephew. OrBertie, as she’d decided to call him. Her father had not handed her over to Bertie’s care. Her father would likely take a dim view of how Bertie pretended at being so straight-backed. In fact, she was certain her father would pronounce the habit tedious.
They had arrived to Brighton and Caroline’s mood began to lighten. It was a lively town, with jolly people coming and going and crossing streets and laughing. Mrs. Belle had been right, the ladies wore an awful lot of blue or green pelisses over fresh white muslin with complementing parasols and there were straw bonnets everywhere. Caroline could smell the salt in the air and there was something invigorating about it.
Seeing all the many people reminded her that though she had so far been cloistered with Lady Easton and her nephew, she would not always be. There would be parties and balls and excursions to the seaside. She supposed she might even actually go into the sea.
Caroline knew how to swim well enough. There was a lake on her father’s estate, very deep in the middle. She had spent half her summers swimming and helping the younger children practice how to do it and her father had called her Lady Swim Fish. Baron Dunn taught all of his children how to swim at the earliest possible moment, as he had been rather haunted by the tale of a friend in Yorkshire losing a son to drowning. He had been vastly relieved that they’d all taken to it so far.
Their own lake, though, did not have waves but for the ripples kicked up by the wind, so it would be very interesting to swim while bobbing up and down in swells.
The house Lord Easton had rented was very elegant and fronted by a charming expanse of a green that seemed a popular promenade spot, which would be most convenient. From the front of the house she could see the roofs of the Marine Pavilion.
Caroline hid her amusement over Bramley’s panic about the lack of clocks and then his gratitude over Lady Easton having saved the day by bringing her own clocks. It seemed this house was to go on as her other houses did and they would have beef on Wednesdays, gathering in the drawing room at precisely seven-forty-five.
