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“Of course, you will!” Aunt Joan said. “You just have to find out what the two of you have in common.”
“I care nothing for fancy parties or fashion,” Lucy pointed out. After all, what would a fine lady have to do with an ordinary woman of modest means? And an orphan, no less! Young, fashionable ladies who were recently debuted were interested in fashion, the London Season, and gossip of the ton, all things that Lucy had no interest in or experience with.
“Then talk to her about things that you do care about,” Aunt Joan said, sitting down on the bed. “Just be yourself, Lucy.”
“I’ll let you rest,” Lucy said, resigning herself to going alone.
“When you return, please wake me,” Aunt Joan said. “I want to have enough time to dress before dinner.”
“Of course.”
Lucy left the rooms, walking to the parlour to meet Miss Sweet. Together, the two young ladies headed outside. Lucy wished that her aunt would have come—she didn’t think she would have much in common with Miss Sweet.
“The pond was put in by my father,” Miss Sweet explained, cutting into Lucy’s agitated train of thought. “The gardens were my mother’s doing. She loved the flowers. She spent a great deal of time fixing them to look just as she envisioned.”
Lucy looked at the lush cornucopia of flower beds—there were lilies, roses, and hydrangeas, surrounded by fruit trees and neatly trimmed box hedges. A grey stone path led through it, winding lazily through the foliage.
“It’s beautiful,” Lucy murmured, her artist’s eyes drinking in the sight. The late Lady Thornbridge certainly had an eye for detail. The colours all blended into a picture of exquisite profusion.
Lucy inhaled, smelling the sweet scent of the flowers. The air out here in the countryside was much fresher than that of the city, though she didn’t say so. It hadn’t the smells that London did.
“It’s the best place to sit and read,” Miss Sweet told her. “Of a morning, I like to bring my book here, to this bench.” The wooden bench was made of sleek ash. Lucy glanced around. It was so quiet and peaceful. The soft sound of the wind, twining its fingers through the leaves, was all that she heard.
“I imagine it would be,” she commented, her curiosity piqued by Miss Sweet’s comment about reading. “What are you reading right now?”
“Robinson Crusoe.”
Lucy looked at Miss Sweet, astonished. “I love that book,” she confessed, realizing that she had underestimated Miss Sweet.
“Do you really?” Dinah grinned. “I find it terribly exciting.”
“As do I!”
“To think, anyone at all could find themselves stranded on a desert island,” Miss Sweet commented. “It’s good to know how to survive.”
“True,” Lucy murmured. “I always felt a little akin to Mr. Crusoe. I felt as though I’ve had to survive in a world that’s a little bit hostile to a person like me.” What she meant was, an orphan.
Miss Sweet nodded. “I, too, have felt that way. If you’re female, then you must survive in a world run by gentlemen.”
“That’s true,” Lucy mused, finding the conversation to her liking. “I’d much rather be allowed to call myself an artist and a scholar, rather than merely being considered accomplished.”
“As have I,” Miss Sweet admitted eagerly. Lucy realized that she had just met a potential friend, if their friendship could survive the long weekend.
Then came the sound of horses’ hooves, clopping on the hardpacked dirt of the drive. Both of them turned to see two gentlemen getting out of a very fancy barouche-landau.
One was extremely handsome, even from a distance. He had black hair and was dressed in a midnight blue frock coat, which showed off his broad shoulders. His breeches were pale cream, and his boots shone. The other was brunet, similar in height, but with less of the attraction of his companion.
“My brothers have arrived,” Miss Sweet said, raising her hand and waving to them.
Lucy swallowed and nodded. She didn’t dare ask anything more. To do so would be to betray her decided attraction to the one.
