Page 14 of Wedding the Widow

“Don’t be a cat, Dorothea.” Their mother sat back sipping her tea, disapproval in her eyes.

“Well, he’s my Lord Haxton now.” Bella smiled like a cat with cream on its whiskers. “And I believe we will suit famously. He loves to ride, so we share that interest. I’m sure he told you about his racing stable. And at Vauxhall he mentioned a passion for Greek statuary, of all things. He’s said as soon as the Elgin Marbles exhibit is opened, he will take me there. Perhaps in the new year.”

“Likely married by that time as well,” Mama said, adding sugar to her tea. “No reason in the world to wait. Short engagements are best. Marry on the Monday after the reading of the third banns. That would be three weeks from this coming Sunday. Oh, we have so much to do, girls. That may simply not be enough time.”

“Well, you certainly seem to be well suited so far as I know, Bella. That is a very fortunate thing.” Elizabeth smiled, remembering the early days of her marriage. She and Dickon had shared a passion for walks and touring the fine houses of England. They had spent their wedding trip in the Lake District, going through great house after great house, building castles in the air about their modest home in London. Did Lord Brack enjoy such outings, perhaps? She shook herself and gulped her tea.

“We really must think about setting the date, Bella.” Mama returned to the subject of the wedding. “After Christmas, perhaps, but certainly before the Season. Then we can concentrate on Bella before all our time is taken up with chaperoning Dotty and making sure she makes a good match as well.” Her mother leaned her head toward Bella and Dotty, and they all began an earnest discussion of the wedding details.

Elizabeth set her cup in her saucer, turning the handle this way and that. She didn’t begrudge Bella the excitement of planning her day of glory, but she needed to also think about her own immediate future. The sobering fact was her life now would be very different than before Dickon’s death unless she decided to set her cap at someone like Lord Brack.

His ready smile and jovial attitude would make him an excellent companion. They would certainly have no problems, no inhibitions about the physical side of marriage. The cup clinked into the saucer dangerously close to the edge of the table. How could she continue to think about a future with Lord Brack when she didn’t know how she could ever face him again? Even worse, if they did marry, how could she be sure that such a shameful faux pas would never happen again?

“Is something wrong, Elizabeth?” Her mother’s voice broke into her thoughts like a rock shattering glass.

“No, Mama. Why do you ask?” Hastily, she lifted her teacup, only to discover it was empty.

“You had a very odd expression on your face. Like your tooth ached.” Mama raised her head from her conversation and peered at her. “Please be careful to have a pleasant, gracious expression on when Lord Haxton enters.”

“Yes, Mama. No, I am fine. Just tired.” She rose and took her cup to the tea tray. “Shall I ring for more tea?”

“Please do. I suspect we shall go through several pots before the gentlemen join us.”

Elizabeth pulled the strip of tapestry-woven cloth. “Actually, I hoped to be excused, Mama. I am very tired, and I wanted to rise early and breakfast with the children. I thought we could spend the day together since I have not seen them since last week.”

“Oh, no, my dear.” Her mother shook her head and clucked her tongue. “The children have their own activities planned for tomorrow, and I insist you come with me to pay calls.”

“But—”

“Elizabeth, you cannot continue to coddle Kate and Colin, especially not Colin. You don’t want him to grow up cosseted like a lap dog, do you?” Mama fixed her with a gimlet eye.

“Of course not, Mama, but he’s only six years old.” Elizabeth looked to her sisters for support, but Dotty suddenly gazed intently into the fire, and Bella studiously inspected the bottom of her teacup. Precious little help to be had from that quarter. “He’s still a baby.”

“He’ll be off to Winchester in less than two years’ time. If you know what’s good for him, you’ll encourage him to be more independent now so it doesn’t go badly for him later.” Mama nodded vehemently.

A sinking feeling bloomed in the pit of Elizabeth’s stomach. “Dickon and I had agreed to allow him to study with a tutor rather than attend boarding school so young.”

“Nonsense.” Her mother rose as the door opened to admit the maid with a fresh pot of tea. “Colin will go to Winchester, then Harrow, then Oxford, just as your father did.”

“But Dickon said—”

“Your father and I have discussed the matter, Elizabeth.” Mama waved her hand as though that were the end of the matter. “We have decided it is really in Colin’s best interest to follow in this family’s traditions, since his father is no longer here. Ah, there you are, Wentworth.”

The maid scurried out as the gentlemen strode in. Everyone tried to talk at once, save Elizabeth, who retreated to the bay window overlooking the park opposite.

She mustn’t let her parents’ ideas upset her. Colin and Kate were her children, hers and Dickon’s. No matter what, she would raise them as she deemed fit. As she and Dickon had discussed in the long, lovely evenings after the twins had been born.

The park, now touched by the light of the half moon, had been a favorite place to play when she’d been growing up. She’d hoped her children might enjoy that as well. However, if the only way to raise them correctly meant she had to leave Worth House, then she would do just that. The children were all she had left of Dickon. If she had to marry another man to see them raised as she wished, then she would do so without a second thought. Of course, she would have to trust such a man without qualm, for the moment they married, the children would be considered under his guardianship. Perhaps she should write to Georgie and ask about her brother’s views on child rearing. Even if she never spoke to his lordship again, it certainly did no harm to ask. At least she would be prepared for that contingency.

Chapter 6

“That gold with a black lace overlay would look lovely on you, Elizabeth.” Lady Stephen Tarkington—Fanny, to her friends—peered at the delightful shantung silk through her quizzing glass. “Very elegant, I think.”

“You’re right, it would give a perfect touch of splendor. However,” Elizabeth paused, shaking her head regretfully at the bolt of fabric, “I simply cannot wear black to a wedding. Especially not Charlotte’s. It would seem as though I were tempting fate. I wouldn’t want to bring bad luck down on her for anything in this world.” She sighed and reluctantly moved on. “Not even for such a perfect gown.”

“I can’t say that I blame you.” Fanny hurried past three bolts of purple fabric, each one more hideous in color than the last. “Who in their right mind would wear this?” She touched the darkest of the three, a shade approaching the tones of an eggplant.

“I did when I went into half-mourning.” Elizabeth stared at Fanny, who blushed, her pale face turning a rosy pink.