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Theo exchanged a look with Becky. Mr. Cleever had advised that Janet and Ian retain their positions at Mannering and maintain the property as best they could until its future—and that of its young mistress—could be determined, but neither servant had ever been known for their wits. “Muttonheaded” was one of Grandfather’s many epithets for Mannering’s servants. “As bird-witted as Francis Mannering was close-fisted, and a churl.” Indeed, Francis Mannering had never been shy about tossing around his own descriptions about his servants. Of course, he did not attend to household matters unless they directly affected him, and such selfishness curtailed the Drakes’ ability to manage their other duties. Be that as it may, the Drakes’ loyalty could never be questioned. In fact, they had faithfully nursed Clara until Theo had encouraged Clara’s and Becky’s removal to be cared for at Stapleton Court during Clara’s last weeks.
Lady Bellingham sailed into their knot of conversation. “Ah, my dears. Has there been any more word about your uncle’s return, Rebecca?”
“Actually—” Ian began.
At Becky’s indrawn breath, Theo judged it best to not upset her further. “We cannot say for certain.”
“When you do know, you must be sure to inform us. I was thinking, during Mr. Crouch’s sermon, how wonderful it would be to host a turtle dinner for the conquering hero.”
“Indeed.”
“Yes! Don’t you think that would be a most marvelous treat?”
At the expectant look, Theo could only murmur, “I must confess such a treat has not come my way before.”
“I’m not surprised.” Lady Bellingham patted her arm. “Such treats are not inexpensive, and thus are reserved for the most important personages, after all. But just think—how wonderful it would be to honor such a distinguished visitor to our part of the world. Oh! And what say you to a Venetian breakfast?”
“A what, madam?”
“A special afternoon garden party. Or perhaps we should have a ball. Yes, a masquerade could be the very thing, wouldn’t you agree?”
“I am not certain that this occasion would see a masquerade as being considered quite the thing,” Theo said cautiously.
“Oh, that’s right. I was forgetting. You poor dear.” Lady Bellingham gave Becky a look of sympathy. “How dreadful all of this must be for you.”
Becky’s pleading eyes drew certainty that they should effect their departure quickly. But just as Theo began to make their excuses, Frederick Bellingham moved closer and was quickly pulled by his mother into the conversation.
“Ah, Frederick. You would not say no to a ball for our hero, would you?”
“Our hero?”
“Why, Captain Balfour, of course! We were discussing this just last night, were we not? That it would be good to honor his arrival with all manner of functions and activities such that I’m positive he’s not had the chance to enjoy for some time. How could one, after all, when one has been so very busy fighting for so long? And a ball would give you a chance to dance with dear Miss Stapleton here.”
Frederick blushed, and Theo’s heart pinched in sympathy for him. The poor fellow was a worthy soul, and his holding a candle for Theo had not gone unnoticed this many a year. But even if he wasn’t several years younger, she could never seriously entertain him as a matrimonial candidate no matter how she liked him. Only one man had ever piqued her interest, but he’d made it very clear she had not piqued his.
“W-would you do me the honor of standing up with me for the first two dances, Miss Stapleton?”
His embarrassment made her agree, an acquiescence she instantly regretted as his eyes lit. Oh dear. She had no wish to encourage the boy. “But only if such a thing should indeed take place,” she reminded softly. “And I feel it wise to caution you that Captain Balfour may feel it somewhat inappropriate to be dancing when he would still be mourning the loss of his sister.”
“Of course, my dear,” said Lady Bellingham. “One always wishes to observe the proprieties, and we would not be so heartless in planning a large entertainment when people are still so sad.” She patted Becky’s shoulder, before her attention was diverted. “Oh, Mrs. Cleever,” she called across the church grounds, “I wonder, what say you to a Venetian breakfast when dear Captain Balfour arrives? Excuse me, my dears.”
Theo’s lips curved in wryness, and she was not unhappy when the heavy moisture in the air resolved into a light shower of rain. She made their excuses to Frederick and beckoned for Becky to join her in the carriage.
“I cannot understand why people are so insensitive.” Becky slumped in her seat. “Don’t they know my uncle is a villain?”
“He can hardly be considered a villain,” Theo objected gently. “Not when he has saved so many people’s lives and been awarded a medal from the King. And please, dear Becky, remember, he was your mother’s brother, and therefore must be afforded some measure of respect.”
“I cannot believe he would only send a man of business to look in on me,” she grumbled. “You would think he would have a care at least.”
“I’m sure he does,” Theo said, as her mother and the general finally drew near the carriage.
“Detestable popinjay,” muttered her grandfather. He waited for Theo’s mother to sit next to Becky, then hefted his way inside and to his seat. “Dares to sermonize for goodness knows how long, then has the temerity to tell me I should not disagree when he says that an eye for an eye is not a precedent that we should follow. Have you ever heard such nonsense?”
“Very bold-faced indeed.” Theo lowered her gaze and bit her bottom lip to stop an indiscreet smile.
“Where would we be if we simply turned the other cheek all the time?”
“I wonder.”
