“I feel as if my insides have been shaken up and settled in the wrong place,” Juliet said.
“There is every chance it is only one of us dreaming, “Viola said. “We shall wake and see it for the improbable nonsense that it is.”
Beatrice might have written it off as improbable nonsense too, had she not been a witness to it.
Darden came striding into the room. “I knew I should find you all together this morning. No doubt picking over the details of Beatrice’s first ball like birds on a new-cut field.”
“We’ve found out ever so much, Darden,” Juliet said. “Conbatten is not a romantic and Van Doren knows how to make himself pleasant when he likes.”
Darden laughed at Juliet’s assessments, as he always did, they tending to leave out beginnings, ends, or supporting details.
“We are shocked to our toes to hear about Van Doren,” Cordelia said.
“Can it be true that this Lady Clara both likes him and is not insane?” Viola asked.
“Lady Clara is as sane as you or I,” Darden said, “and yes, I do believe she has a particular interest in Van Doren. Further, she is not alone. Lady Mary seemed particularly keen as well.”
Juliet dropped her toast. Cordelia set down her teacup with a clatter. Rosalind went a shade paler. Viola merely stared, unblinking.
Beatrice did not know what to think. It was bad enough that Lady Clara…and now Lady Mary…
But why was it so bad? Why did it bother her anyway, other than it was a change in how they’d all always proceeded?
“Heisa lord, after all,” Miss Mayton said. “And these poor young ladies cannot know him like we do.”
There was much nodding round the table, as certainly that must be the cause of this aberration so recently brought to their notice.
“Van Doren says he will not scold Beatrice anymore,” Rosalind said. “We do not believe it, of course.”
“Well,” Darden said, “it seems he is at least prepared to make an effort at it. Now, I will repair to the library to look through some invitations and hope, Beatrice, you will accompany me. I have a particular matter from last evening that I wish to discuss.”
“Oh, Darden,” Juliet said, “we must all come and hear it. You know perfectly well that whatever you discuss, Beatrice will tell us all about it.”
“That’s very true, Lord Darden,” Miss Mayton said, finishing off her sixth piece of buttered toast. “The girls are all so very close, you see.”
Darden sighed and said, “Very well, but you are not to pepper me with questions as you are wont to do. This is a conversation between myself and Beatrice, not a family meeting.”
Beatrice was rather taken aback. What mystery was this? Had she done something wrong the evening before, and Darden felt he must point it out?
It would be very crushing if it were so. Darden had never scolded or corrected her. He was the best brother in the world—always on her side.
“We will be quiet as church mice,” Cordelia assured him.
“Even quieter,” Juliet said, nodding.
“Deathly quiet,” Viola said.
“Quiet as a churchyard,” Rosalind said.
Darden folded his arms. “Evenapproachingquiet will be sufficient, though I find I must see it to believe it,” he said good-naturedly.
They all speedily repaired to the library. Darden sat himself behind the desk and Beatrice in front of it, while Miss Mayton and Beatrice’s sisters all squeezed together on a sofa on the far side of the room.
“I trust you had an enjoyable evening, sister?” Darden said.
“Indeed, I did,” Beatrice said. “But Darden, you frighten me. Did I do something wrong?”
“Certainly not,” Darden said, laughing. “No, this is a different matter entirely. I was at the YBC this morning.”
