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“One would have to ask them, my lord, but no one does,” I answered, frowning. “They are simply told their place and forced to remain there. Their only freedom to venture outside is when they are deemed mature enough to be married, and once married, they are sent to another drawing room.”
“You speak as if the women in here have no choices. My dear, tell him, could you see yourself doing anything else?” Lord Fancot looked to his wife, who jumped slightly, as she was not expecting to speak. “Do you so greatly dislike your drawing room, my dear?”
“I much prefer it to a workhouse or farm, for certain.” Lady Fancot laughed, brushing her red hair behind her ears.
“See.” Lord Fancot nodded proudly. “You advocate for a position none desire—”
“I dislike drawing rooms.”
Verity’s comment brought silence as she ate a bite of lamb. Everyone’s attention was now on her.
“I do enjoy reading, but I must admit the sole purpose of my study of the pianoforte, arts, and embroidery was to be proficient enough that my governess would leave me be.”
“My dear girl, whatever else could you wish for?” Lady Fancot asked.
“I…I think I would have liked to go to university,” she answered.
“University? To study what?” Hathor asked her.
Verity smiled slightly. “Writing.”
“To write you must learn to read. That can be achieved within your own home,” Lord Hardinge spoke again.
“If so, why do men attend university?” She glanced to him and he did not have an answer. None of them did. I tried my best not to smile.
Not sure what to say in return, they looked to the marquess, who had not said a word. Neither had his wife, strangely.
“Charles, do you hear this?” Lord Hardinge questioned.
The marquess nodded his gray head. “I do, and sit amused at how the doctor has deflected the initial topic regarding his lack of desire to marry.”
Damn. I had hoped they would have moved on.
“Ah yes,” the marchioness spoke up. “For I do not understand why your reasoning would interfere with obtaining a wife.”
I did not wish to dwell on this matter, so I smiled and said, “I fear I have no drawing room.”
Verity giggled beside me, as well as Hathor and even Silva. But still the elders would not let me free.
“Of course, she certainly will not be a grand lady expecting a sizable estate to manage, but she will at least seek a small home of her own to live in. A small foyer could even do,” Lady Fancot stated.
“Mother, not all of us must marry.” Henry tried to ease the interest off me.
“All of you most certainly must,” said the marchioness finally, lifting her spoon. “Amiable young men such as yourselves are surely in need of a wife, and thus a wife is out there in need of you all. You ought not disappoint them. The sooner you find your wives, the better.”
“Mother, I am one year Darrington’s senior and did not wed till this very year,” Damon replied, trying to help as well.
“Do you take that as a thing of pride? Had you come to your senses earlier would that not have made life easier for Silva? Right, my dear?” she pressed back, and looked to the young blonde in question.
Silva’s eyes widened as she looked between her husband and mother-in-law. “Yes, it would have, your ladyship.”
Damon could only sigh.
“See? And besides, Damon, you were not in nearly the same situation as the doctor, as not only do you have multiple homes but a great many people to watch over you. Dr. Darrington dedicates his life to those in need. A wife would do him good and would watch over him, for we do more than languish in fine rooms,” the marchioness stated.
“That comes in time,” Lord Bolen stated before looking down toward me. “You ought to think wisely, for marriage is a serious commitment.”
“Has Lord Bolen not been engaged twice and never married?” Hathor said so softly that I thought I misheard it. However, the look on Henry’s and Verity’s faces said I had not.
“A commitment we must all make. And I shall see it done, for I am marriage’s very own advocate.” The marchioness drew our attention once more. “I could very well introduce you to Mrs. Frinton-Smith’s niece Edwina. She is quite lovely.”
“Those are the bakers on West Elm?” Lady Fancot questioned.
“They also own several inns in the countryside. I hear they are acquiring a copper mine in Cornwall as well.”
Beside me, I noticed Verity’s grip on her fork tighten, but I was not sure why.
“Thank you, your ladyship, but I believe your efforts are better served on Henry,” I replied, my final attempt to save myself. Henry looked to me wide-eyed, his nose flaring.
Better you than I, I thought as they began to hound him while the butlers brought out the next course on sliver trays.
