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Chapter Five
Constance found herself wanting to hover in the Alcotts’ presence. It was terribly unlike her. Perhaps the time spent on the boat returning to England had addled her mind. Everything about her reactions these past couple of days had been unlike her. She didn’t hate them; she just wasn’t perfectly comfortable with them.
A farming, land-owning gentleman? When had she ever found one of those attractive? Especially one who had never left his own village? That was nearly anathema to her. He didn’t even have a title at present. And yet walking with her hand in his elbow, while the most chaste of activities, had filled her belly with thrills she hadn’t experienced in an age.
Perhaps she had eaten something off at lunch. She tried to console herself or convince herself, Constance wasn’t sure which, but she knew, deep in her heart, that it was the steadiness of the gentleman that had somehow drawn her after the flightiness of the last couple of years. Perhaps it was true, you were always drawn back to your roots.
She had read somewhere that women were always drawn to men just like their fathers. Constance didn’t think Mr. Alcott was anything like Lord Moore. But their circumstances struck her as similar.
Giving her head a slight shake that set her dark curls to dancing, Connie tried to put thoughts of gentlemen far from her mind. Reminding herself that she had only chatted with Mr. Alcott for so long because she had been endeavouring to keep him distracted so he wouldn’t notice his sister’s absence, but even she wasn’t convinced that had remained true. It had been the allure of his steadiness. She could admit it to herself in the silence of her thoughts. But that was as far as it was going to go. She wasn’t about to change her course at this late date. She quite liked being an eccentric nomad, she insisted even to herself.
Now it was time to find her straying companion and get on with being entertained.
When Constance finally found Miss Smith, she appeared to be deep in conversation with Lord Merton, one of their fellow guests. Connie lifted an eyebrow as Peggy’s eyes rounded when they caught sight of her, as though she had been caught out doing something scandalous. Connie supposed, in a certain way, she was. Peggy ought to be keeping Connie company, not the viscount from the Bath region.
But Constance had known coming here was a risk. Peggy was tired of accompanying her around the continent. Her impoverished circumstances had made it necessary for her to accept the charitable position, but if she could snag a wealthy gentleman, she could settle down and have the life she’d always wanted.
The sinking in her stomach was to be ignored, Constance admonished herself. There were other impoverished cousins to embroil in her ventures. She had no intention of forcing anyone into her company. And really, her family ought to have ensured Peggy was provided for long before now. Or Connie should have seen to it herself.
And so it was that she did not march over to the duo and insist upon being included in their conversation. She also tried very hard not to stare and speculate. With that in mind, she approached the ladies gathered at the other end of the room. They appeared to be doing needlework, Constance realized too late. She despised the activity and had none of her own to contribute to the industriousness she observed.
“Do sit down, Lady Constance, and join us. We can send your girl or a footman to fetch your own projects, if you’d like.”
Constance wasn’t certain who the woman was referring to as her girl. If it was Peggy, Connie was all the more determined to allow her to marry out of her service to Constance. But if the woman meant her maid, it would beyond silly to call her down only to send her back up. Not that there was any needlework to be found in her rooms. Any repairs to her garments were performed by her maid. And since she had left home, she had never again picked up stitching of any sort. But she needn’t admit to these harpies how she felt about the activity.
“Oh no, we needn’t disturb anyone on my behalf. Perhaps one of you needs help sorting your threads or straightening your strings?” Connie hoped her smile wasn’t too toothy or crooked or in any other way displaying the total lack of sincerity in her offer. Not that she wasn’t sincere in her offer, it was just that she was instantly not enamoured with the ladies who seemed so determined to bend her to their form.
She quickly called herself to task within the confines of her own mind. She shouldn’t paint them with the same brush as most she’d met. Constance prided herself as viewing people as individuals, just as she hoped people would view her. Perhaps the offer of fetching non-existent needlework from her room was a genuine lack of realization that there could be a lady who didn’t have a stitching project on the go rather than an attempt at shaming her for not doing so.
“You could help me, if you have a mind to,” her hostess, Lady Adelaide, called to her. “I am uncertain quite how I managed it, but my basket is nothing but a bundle of knots. If you have any skill at helping me detangle it, I would be so very grateful.”
A grin struggled to stretch her face too wide for convention but Constance fought it as the women shuffled around so she could be seated next to their hostess’ sister-in-law. “I’d be happy to help,” Connie managed to say with a straight face. And it wasn’t even a lie. She did love to help and she actually had quite a skill at detangling. It was just the seriousness of the assembled ladies that struck Connie’s sense of absurd quite firmly. But she ignored the urge to giggle. It would get her ostracized instantly.
“So, as I was saying, my oldest daughter has finally presented her husband with his heir. After three daughters she was beginning to despair. A fine, healthy boy who is already wrapping his three sisters around his tiny little fingers, of course.” Constance turned to watch Lady Alcott preen under the congratulations from the gathered women and had to fight her inappropriate amusement once more. Connie wondered how the woman thought this was any sort of accomplishment on her part. Although, she realized, that was particularly uncharitable of her in this instance. As her direct descendent, one could actually consider the child an extension of its grandmother so Connie accepted it was possible to consider congratulations in order.
“What have they named the boy?” she asked when it was her turn to say something. She thought it a reasonable question. She didn’t know overmuch about babies but his size, weight, and health had already been discussed at length.
But the other ladies looked at her as though she were a simpleton.
“His name is a foregone conclusion, my dear,” Lady Alcott finally responded. “Since he is the heir, of course.”
Constance tried to keep her face as smooth as possible, but she was puzzled over the other woman’s words. While Connie could accept that there would be titles the child would be saddled with at birth, did his given name need to be inherited as well? She supposed it didn’t really matter. He would be addressed as his titles by everyone anyway. But it was much more intimate when there was a personal name that could be used, in her estimation, for those particularly intimate friends or family members. But this was one more area in which she was an oddling, she could see. Perhaps returning to the continent or finding some other destination would be the best thing for her after all. A quick glance over her shoulder showed that Peggy had disappeared once more. The search for another cousin would have to commence immediately. Connie managed not to sigh audibly.
Thankfully, the conversation had resumed swirling around her and no one seemed particularly concerned with her ridiculous question nor her ensuing preoccupation. Constance continued fumbling with her hostess’ string.
“Don’t let it bother you,” Lady Adelaide whispered in a barely audible breath. “Until you have a child of your own on the way, you don’t give these sorts of topics the first thought.”
Connie smiled at the kind woman. She hadn’t expected the offer of friendship, but she appreciated it immensely.
“How are you finding life at Everleigh?” Constance asked the rather broad question, wondering how the lady would answer it and hoping the other women didn’t consider it rude that they start their own, private conversation.
“Complicated,” the viscountess answered with a light laugh. “But that’s part of what I love about it,” she added. “We might have much in common. I just solved my situation more conventionally than you did.”
Connie again wanted to stare at the viscountess. She wished they were alone so she could hurl all her questions at the other woman. But she managed to bite her tongue and keep them to herself. But they must have written themselves upon her face despite her best intentions.
“Shall we stroll in the gardens after this?” Lady Adelaide asked, still keeping her voice low, the invitation intended for Connie alone. Not used to such friendly gestures, Constance’s heart swelled. It was an odd sensation. She hoped she wasn’t coming down with something. She had already questioned her own health multiple times in recent days. She would have thought rusticating in the country would be good for her health, but she might be strange in that as in everything – different from everyone else as always.
She didn’t bother answering, allowing her smile to be reply enough. Of course, she would stroll with her hostess.
