Page 23 of Lord Hartwell’s Refuge

“Oh, I have not been in Society much of late, Lady Hartwell. I attended such things more frequently some years ago, but I have found that I often prefer the quieter pleasures found at home and amid small gatherings of friends. I occupy myself quite pleasantly with books, the company of my family, and the outdoors. The countryside around York is lovely, any time of year.” She kept her tone cordial and glanced at her stepmother with a true smile. “I think my family would rather I go out more.”

There. She had artfully turned the conversation back to her stepmother. Surely that was acceptable?

Except Lady Hartwell did not appear to be finished with Tamsin. “Oh, indeed. The country around our fair city is marvelous. My sons, when they are in town, slip outside its walls frequently in search of exercise or distraction. I am given to understand the view from the wall is magnificent. Have you spent any time walking along those ancient stones, Miss Mayweather?”

That was a rather specific question. How interesting. Perhaps her ladyship alluded to the interaction with her eldest son?

“Not recently, no. The last time I was even near them was when my littlest brother, Henry, and I met his lordship’s dogs. We were upon the street walk, however, returning home from a small errand.” That should settle the curiosity on that matter, surely. “I am rarely inside the city without purpose, my lady.”

“Ah. Quite understandable. Though as someone who has lived nearby your whole life, I imagine you have favorite places to visit. I am always in awe of the number of medieval chapels we have, scattered across every city street.” Her ladyship’s smile was kind, but there was a hint, the barest lift in her words, to suggest a question.

“Oh. Yes.” Did she have a favorite place in town? There were many lovely sights, and quite a few less enjoyable. “I think one of my favorite treasures is St. Mary’s, on Castlegate. Near your house, Lady Hartwell. It is quite hidden, I think, tucked back with so many newer buildings. It is a testament to the history and progress of York.”

Lady Hartwell tipped her head to the side in such a slight, subtle way Tamsin would not have seen it were she not watching her ladyship carefully. She did not reply for a moment, simply looked at Tamsin with the expression of one who had discovered an interesting new thought.

She was not ready to share her discovery, however, as she turned her most genteel smile to Anne again. “I do like sharing my street with that lovely old edifice. We have attended services there several times, though my late husband preferred the Minster’s grandeur.” She turned the conversation to other, more common matters: thoughts on gardens and planting roses, another change in conversation following when Anne demurred on her knowledge of flowers.

Her ladyship drew in the younger girls again with discussions of fashion magazines and seamstresses, and whether better dresses really did come from London or Paris. As they ate cake, Tamsin found herself studying the baroness with interest. Apart from her pointed questions to Tamsin, everything else about her visit was quite normal.

Or as normal as tea could be with a baroness present.

At last her ladyship looked at the clock on the mantel and placed her empty cake plate on the little table. “That was the most delicious chocolate cake I have had in an age. Would you part with the recipe? I would dearly love to see if my cook can replicate it.”

“Of course, your ladyship. I will have it sent to you,” Anne said with a pleased and perfectly polite smile. “It is a favorite in our family.”

Tamsin saw her sisters exchange a glance, and Pearl mouthed, “Poor Charles.”

Her ladyship rose, and the room with her. “I must take my leave, but I have enjoyed this half hour a great deal. I am most disappointed in myself for not undertaking it before. I can see you are a remarkable family of proper and very pretty ladies.”

It was high praise, indeed—the sort anyone rarely voiced directly to those who had earned it. Tamsin couldn’t quite understand. What was her ladyship up to? A neighborly visit had clearly been an excuse, but for what?

They all followed her out to the carriage as the baroness turned one last time, adjusting her gloves. “Thank you for your kindness, Mrs. Mayweather. Girls, it was a pleasure.” She nodded politely to each of them, but as she was standing in front of Tamsin, she leaned closer, to make her last comment more private. Instinctively, Tamsin also leaned in, and the baroness looked her fully in the eyes. “I hope we shall see more of you, Miss Mayweather. York has a great deal to offer, I find, to those who look for its beauty.”

Then she turned and climbed into her carriage, leaving Tamsin to stare after her. Excessively puzzling.

They waved until the carriage was midway down the lane before stepping inside. The girls were giggling, speaking with great animation about the surprise visit, the sophistication of the baroness, and wondering what it could mean.

“We could speculate all day and never know the answer,” Seraphina said as they entered the room where they had hosted the baroness, immediately reaching behind the cushion hiding her book.

“Fiddlesticks.” Anne sat down in her chair with an attitude of relief. “I know precisely what this means. To have the baroness call upon us so soon after her son paid his visit? Everyone in York knows the younger brother will be married in December, and everyone knows the baron has shown little interest in courting. It would not surprise me in the least if Lady Hartwell wishes to find more options to present directly to her son.”

That brought quiet to the room as the younger three stared in shock at their mother. Tamsin stood at the window. The carriage was already out of sight. Her stepmother’s hunch made some logical sense, except…

“The baron’s solicitor knows our financial situation.” Tamsin went to the chair where the baroness had sat, and settled into it with hesitation. “It stands to reason the baron would too. Even if Lady Hartwell came to look us over, I doubt we will receive any favor from it. If that is truly her motive.”

Anne frowned, first at Tamsin, then at the ceiling. “Perhaps. Then again, stranger things have happened. Perhaps Lord Hartwell is not overly concerned with the financial aspect of a bride. It is, as Seraphina said, all speculation. I will manage my hopes. Yet if more invitations for you girls come from this, it will still improve your prospects. And with three—four of you out—” She glanced at Tamsin with a raise of her brows. “It is high time for suitors to take notice.”

Seraphina went back to reading without showing much interest in the idea, but Pearl and Daphne began describing their ideal suitors, a common enough topic between the two of them. Anne remained seated, looking at nothing.

Watching her sisters, Tamsin turned over the sequence of events which had brought the baroness to their home. The dogs and the baron? Perhaps. Her visit to Lyness Eastwood? The baron with Mr. Holly. Now Lady Hartwell’s arrival.

Both times she had met with the baron, he had looked at her in a way that made her feel she mattered, not dismissively or with amusement. He had studied her, and Tamsin had decided that was simply his nature. He was known for his attention to detail in the political arena, and it made sense that such a thing would carry into other places in his life.

Such as meeting new acquaintances. Discovering the name and family of a woman and her brother he met one day on the road.

Had those events set something grander in motion? She did not yet have the full picture. Speculation, of course, would solve nothing. She had to put it from her mind.

At least for now. There were other things to worry about. Trying to distract her family with something more amusing and immediate would be best. “Well. Who is going to tell Charles there will be no chocolate cake this evening?”