Verity was not opposed to that idea. But then she said, “Wait, what were the conclusions, though? What was anybody supposed to know about…all this?”
“Nothing very important, I’m sure. The fellow just keeps pointing out that the circulatory systems are different.”
All that, just to know that animals were different?
“Verity, you should give this up. I do not know what Lord Wembly has been up to, but even if he has not been…what Mr. Carlisle has been doing. You cannot pretend at an interest in this.”
“I wish I did not have to, I really do,” Verity said. “But I very stupidly backed myself into a corner and now I have no choice. I will just do it enough to prove that I do know something about it, then I will drop it and pick up another interest. Like netting a purse.”
“You really like Lord Wembly that much?”
“I think so. I do not wish to appear foolish in his eyes.”
Winsome sighed. “All right, lady scientist. You know we’ll all back you up. But really, Verity, I’ve been telling you for years to stop inventing things.”
“Well, it’s too late now!” Verity said, feeling irked to have it pointed out.
Winsome ripped up the paper and threw the bits into the unlit fireplace. “What should we tell Patience when she gets back?”
“Um, maybe that we have uncovered enough of what…has gone on so far. Scientifically. Without mentioning the details.”
“I never want to mention the details again. Or think about them.”
Nor did Verity.
A half-hour later, Patience returned with a book of drawings titledInteresting Creatures of the World. “Look,” she said, opening the book, “there is a whole section on sloths, which Mr. Lackington tells me are exceedingly slow-moving.”
Patience was left wondering why her two sisters went white as dough and ran from the room.
*
Lady Lilith Crandall,daughter of the Earl of Berensby, was pensive as she regarded the pile of papers in front of her. None of them were very satisfactory. There were invitations, but shecould not help noting that the stack was not as high as it might have been and there were certain invitations missing.
There were no dinner invitations, and she perfectly well knew why. It was thought that her father could not possibly reciprocate. Such were their circumstances that the earl had rented the first floor of a house on Berwick Street. It was near Mayfair, but it was not Mayfair. It was an embarrassingly unassuming street in an equally unassuming house, and they did not even rent the whole of it. It was humiliating!
Of course, she could not entirely condemn her father. Her grandfather had left the estate in a shambles and mortgaged up to its ears. Really, it was a miracle they still had it in their possession. Her father’s life’s work had been digging out of the hole and that had left him with a very limited purse to work with.
The earl had carefully weighed where to spend what he had at his disposal. Clothes were not too much stinted on, though a lot of what she wore last season had been recut and repurposed. They at least rented a rather fine carriage and horses as the earl could not bear to be seen going round in anything shabby. As well, they had secured entrance into Almack’s through an old friend of her father’s who had kindly paid for the vouchers. But the fact remained that nobody would ever come to call on her at this address. She would not wish them to, it was all so déclassé!
Her situation presented so many complications. Were she to leave her card at another lady’s house, it must indicate her own address and at-home day. She never wished to be at home in this place and she never wished for another lady to venture here.
At her real home in the country, there was at least the illusion of wealth. Her grandfather had not been able to destroy the house or the furniture or portraits in it that had been in place for a hundred years. She had her own horse at home, but her mare could not be brought to Town as the stable fees would be an extra expense. Their everyday dinners at home were nothingelaborate, but on the rare occasions that they hosted, they could put on a show. The estate produced enough food and Cook was creative enough to cover the fact that great expense had not been gone to. Further, as the earl always said, if the wine was not of the first quality, most of their neighbors would not know it.
Here, in Town, she felt as if she were not fully clothed. London ripped away the façade that all was well.
She’d thought she might have wed last season, as did her father. The earl’s disappointment was evident, though he tried to hide it as he was a kind man in his own way. Lilith had set her cap on Lord Wembly. She’d known his aunt long, as that lady’s deceased lord had been a distant cousin of her father’s and her estate was rather local to their neighborhood.
Lord Wembly’s aunt, Lady Pegatha, owned an estate that had not been entailed and her lord had seen to it that she would inherit it. Lilith was in the same situation, but for the matter of the mortgages hanging over her head. Lady Pegatha had offered, from time to time, to teach her of the responsibilities that would be hers someday, but all Lilith wanted was a husband to take it off her shoulders and decide what ought to be done.
The idea of Lord Wembly had seemed entirely perfect. He was handsome and practically drowning in money. He could bail out the estate with little trouble. Together, they would make a dashing young couple and could take London by storm. They could be the leading couple of the town, the couple de pouvoir. She’d even hinted round at the idea, but he was entirely oblivious.
Why did he not see how wonderful that would be? No longer would she reside in Berwick Street, re-cutting dresses from last year and wearing paste because all the real jewelry had been sold off. Nobody would “forget” to include her in their invitations out of the humiliating idea that her family could not reciprocate. Or worse, that the earl might attempt it and would embarrass hisguests with a paltry offering. No longer would she precariously float at the edges of society. She would be somebody of note, rather than some poor girl eking it out in rented rooms.
When she observed the likes of Lady Westmoreland or Lady Pembroke, it was not just their jewels and rich fabrics that caught her eye. It was their confidence. They stood on rock solid ground and feared nothing. How she longed for that.
Of course, Lord Wembly had been far too busy with his inquiries at The Royal Society to take much notice of her. Or of anybody else, it seemed. Who had suggested to him that he ought to look into the circulation of slow animals? That person, whoever it was, should be forced to explain himself. Certainly, it must have been a man recommending such a thing. A woman would not be so impractical.
After the season, she’d gone through all her father’s periodicals to find something on the subject, thinking that might attract his notice. Well, she had found one, and what a palaver that had been. Why were these men sending each other monkeys and the like? She could not imagine, but she had gleaned enough of it to be able to speak intelligently on the subject if that became necessary.
