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She thought for a moment. “It should be someone dependable. Reliable. Someone who makes you laugh. Someone who understands you, and wishes to do nice things for you, and who treats you well. Someone who looks at you like you’re the only one in the room.”
Caroline stopped short, the hairs on the back of her neck tingling. It sounded an awful lot like Arabella.
Betsy sighed. “That sounds bearable, as long as he has dashing good looks and a fine sense of iambic pentameter. You cannot expect me to wed a man without literary sensibility.”
“There is more to life than poetry.”
“You say you want to be there for us—but you just want to meddle. If you thought so highly of marriage, you would do it yourself and leave us well enough alone,” Betsy snapped before she stormed up the stairs.
Marrying might solve all of her problems. It would give her a partner to help raise her brothers, and if she chose the right man, it would give them better standing in society which could help her sisters find better husbands. Guilt roiled in her belly, but she knew she couldn’t do it. Not even for the family.
Besides, she didn’t want to rely on someone else. She had managed well enough this far, and she would see her duty completed on her own. As she had vowed to her parents.
The next morning, Mr. Taylor strode into the parlor, his color high beneath his starched collar. “I see, Miss Reeve, that you have taken matters into your own hands.”
Caroline set down her pen, in the middle of making a list of what they needed from the draper, as well as a strict note to the modiste instructing her to ignore every plea that her sisters were sure to make for a high hemline. “I beg your pardon?”
“My aunt, Lady Margaret, has arrived in Inverley this afternoon. She claims to have always wished to try the waters of Inverley—and is asking me what on earth is this mysterious missive that she received from a distant cousin that she knows nothing about?” His tone was cool. He stood in the doorway, as she had not invited him to sit, nor was she inclined to if he had decided to visit her in a temper.
Caroline had taken Arabella’s advice and had written to several ladies whose names she found in the family Bible, but she had received no letters in return. It was most interesting that one of them had decided to come to Inverley straightaway. “Why hadn’t she heard of us? Did you not tell anyone in the family about us?”
“I wished to spare you,” he said, his cheeks reddening. “At least until you settled into your new life. I thought it would beoverwhelming to have a gaggle of Reeve relations swarming around Inverley, as feckless as your own branch.”
She laughed. “Are we all cut from the same cloth?”
“Every last one of us is born and bred from trouble.” Mr. Taylor grinned at her, his temper dissipating. “All except for you and I, of course. We are the sensible members, are we not?”
“And yet you are but a Reeve by distant association.”
“Well, Lady Margaret is here now, so you shall all have to meet her.” He frowned.
“Is she truly unsuitable as a sponsor?” Caroline asked. “I apologize for writing to her without telling you—but we do need someone to help us.”
“I would describe her as the terror of a thousand debutante balls.”
She was impressed. “Is she so fearsome?”
“You may judge for yourself at half past three when you call on her today. She will be expecting you in the tea shop next to the hotel.”
As it turned out, Lady Margaret was far from fearsome.
She was an elderly woman with short grey curls, her skirts in last century’s fashions, and her cheeks reddened with poorly matched rouge. But her eyes were bright and curious, and from the moment Caroline ushered Betsy and Susan into the tea shop, she was all smiles and laughter, delighted to meet them and roundly telling off her nephew for failing to introduce them sooner.
She dithered over ordering her tea, harumphing over the fact that the waiter maysayit was the same brew to which she was accustomed—but one never knew anything for sure when one traveled, after all, and it mightn’t be the same whatsoever. How was one ever to tell? A nice green tea was suitable for the afternoon, if not too hot. But then again, not too cold either, as she told the waiter severely, beckoning him back as he had started to leave, not too cold at all!
“We are so pleased you decided to visit us in Inverley, Lady Margaret,” Caroline said once everyone had a dish of tea in front of them. “You are wonderfully strong to brave the journey from Somerset.” She bit her lip. Had she known Lady Margaret’s age, she would never have suggested that she be their sponsor. “I hope you will not trouble yourself to think of London on our behalf, with its late hours. We would not dream of inconveniencing you.”
“Oh, but I know everyone, my dear. And I do so love London. It has been years since I’ve been to the city. Certain nephews seem inclined to coop up their relations,” she said, rapping her fan in front of Mr. Taylor’s teacup, “but there is nothing I love more than enjoying a glass of ratafia while watching the young people dance. This will all be great fun!”
Betsy urged a biscuit on Lady Margaret. “Did my sister mention that there areofficersin town, ma’am?” she asked, her voice as sweet as the sugar that Lady Margaret liberally laced into her teacup.
She gasped. “Officers! Why, my dear—there could be no greater honor than to be a military wife. We shall see you settled at once!”
Betsy grinned at Caroline. “I should like nothing more, ma’am. I shall be ever so diligent in following your instruction.”
“Myinstruction!” She laughed. “You young things shall be teaching me a thing or two, I do not doubt it! It is always the way.”
“You may be able to see why I told you that none of our relations were suitable,” Mr. Taylor murmured to Caroline as he refreshed her cup.
