Chapter 29
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
“ I am so glad the Marquess allowed you to accompany me today!”
Phoebe smiled wanly as Daphne chattered on in the carriage all the way to Wickham Hall. While it was true that she missed her sisters, she was also worried about Charles, who was still sick back at Wentworth.
I do hope he is getting better , she thought to herself as they entered the manor. That thing that O’Malley gave him seemed to work. I only pray that he recovers soon…
“Phoebe?”
Phoebe startled and shot her sister an apologetic smile. “I am sorry. My mind wandered for a bit.”
“I do hope you did not get in trouble with Lord Wentworth because—”
“No, no!” she shook her head vehemently. “Actually, it was he who insisted that I accompany you.”
Daphne frowned. “But I do not see him today.”
“That is because he fell ill last night,” she confided in her sister morosely.
“And he still insisted you came with me?” Her younger sister’s surprise was written all over her pretty face. “That is very… magnanimous of him.”
Phoebe did not think that magnanimous was a word she could actually use on Charles. He was suspicious to a fault, with an arrogance stamped in his bones that came from years of being groomed to inherit a Dukedom. He was also fiercely intelligent and more than just a little overprotective.
Magnanimous , he certainly was not, but she loved everything about him all the same.
“Well, well, well, if it is not the new Marchioness of Wentworth.”
Both sisters whirled around to find Miss Thomas with an unusually saccharine smile on her usually smug face. When her cold gray eyes fell on Phoebe, they seemed to grow even harsher and her lips curled into a little sneer.
“We were wondering when you would grace us with your presence, my lady,” she continued. “After all, you left us so abruptly in the Spinster Club that we were rather bereft in your absence.”
Phoebe doubted Miss Thomas ever missed her, but she truly felt apologetic towards the other members of the Club. The wedding with Charles had happened much too fast for her to get her bearings, that she never got the chance to tell them of it personally.
“Seeing as I am no longer a spinster, I did not think it would be appropriate to join in any more meetings,” she replied, keeping a pleasant enough smile on her face. “As for my membership, I understand that it was revoked the moment I said my vows. I do apologize for failing to inform you of the personal details of my life.”
Daphne hid a snicker behind her gloved hand as Miss Thomas turned a shade redder, her normally wan cheeks tinged with a bright rosy hue. Her arrogant smirk faltered just the slightest bit before she let out an incensed sniff and brushed past the two sisters.
“I do apologize, Phoebe,” the youngest Townsend sighed. “I had a feeling Miss Thomas would be inclined to be rather difficult today, which was why I was so anxious about this entire tea party…”
Phoebe tilted her head slightly in curiosity. “If that is so, then why did you not refuse her invitation?”
Her youngest sister looked aghast at the suggestion. “Oh, no, no, no!” she exclaimed. “If I did that, then how would anyone ever want to invite me to another tea party again? Not to mention that these… ladies will talk and we are not even in London yet…!”
Phoebe could only sigh inwardly as she watched her youngest sister spiral into gloomy thoughts of being ostracized by all of Society and languishing in their London residence with nary a caller.
“Dearest,” she told her sister with an exasperated smile. “Miss Thomas is known all over London for her most disagreeable temper. Why, she always puts an effort into making one feel awful—which is hardly ideal for a hostess, but it is what it is.”
“She does have some influence…” Daphne pouted a little childishly.
Phoebe could only laugh. “Yes, and she has a great many more enemies than friends, I assure you. Otherwise, with her hefty dowry, how could she have become a spinster.”
It was an astonishingly uncharitable observation, that one, but Phoebe was not feeling particularly charitable towards Miss Thomas, who most probably was the one who leaked her journal to the scandal sheets. Fortunately, it had ended rather well and she was now married to a wonderful husband, while Miss Thomas continued to make everyone around her just as miserable as she was.
Both sisters shared a look before proceeding to follow the other guests out into the parlor, which had been set up for the tea party specifically. Wickham Hall was one of the prettiest estates in the country and Miss Thomas certainly spared no effort in hammering that particular point in.
Phoebe noted that a great many members of the Spinster Club were in attendance, and Miss Cartwright shot her a shy smile before looking away. The rest, however, were not as friendly, but did not snub her outright.
“Miss Thomas might be of considerate influence, I suppose, but I do not think anybody would be so audacious as to snub a Marchioness outright,” Daphne whispered with a sly smirk. “Not to mention that Lord Wentworth is the only heir to the Duke of Cheshire.”
“Perhaps they should have invited my husband, then. Or his title.”
Her younger sister chortled. “It might not mean much to you, but to some people it truly does.”
How could Phoebe forget that? When she had been mere Phoebe Townsend, most ladies would never have been inclined to give her the time of day, let alone invite her to a tea party.
Daphne, however, had some significant success in London on her first Season alone and gentlemen callers were a regular sight in the parlor of Townsend House, as well as the family’s London residence—which was a great deal more than what Miss Adeline Thomas had to show for.
Tea was served in dainty little cups and it could be said that the kitchens of Wickham Hall truly outdid themselves with the lovely selection of sandwiches, cakes, and scones that had been prepared for the guests. All the while, Miss Thomas preened as the other ladies lavished her with praise for the success of her party.
Phoebe would have been content to remain generally unnoticed. After all, she was merely there to accompany her younger sister, and her mind was still largely preoccupied with thoughts of Charles back at home.
“Oh, Lady Wentworth!”
Phoebe glanced up from her teacup to find one of the ladies who was in Miss Thomas’s inner circle smiling snidely at her.
“It was such a surprise when news of your marriage reached us. Do tell—was it every bit as romantic as they all say?”
“Miss Wingrove, I think that is too—” Miss Cartwright did not even get the chance, for Miss Wingrove practically mowed her down.
“Oh, Catherine—do not pretend you aren’t as curious as the rest of us,” she scoffed, her beady eyes still fixed on Phoebe.
Daphne looked as if she might pounce on Miss Wingrove at any moment, but Phoebe put a hand on her arm and shot her a cautious glare—it would not be prudent to engage with someone like Miss Wingrove, who had already come out looking for trouble.
In any case, trouble always came for those who went looking for it.
“But she is practically calling you out!” her youngest sister hissed under her breath.
“Yes,” Phoebe smiled placidly. “But you know what Mama always said about tussling with pigs, correct?”
Her voice was neither too soft nor too loud. It was simply enough to be heard by a few, who leaned in to hear what words of wisdom Lady Townsend had imparted upon her daughters.
Phoebe watched as Daphne’s eyes cleared and a mischievous glint shone in them.
“Yes, dear sister,” she replied in a sweet voice that was most contrite. “One must never tussle with pigs, for the swine are already covered in filth and you will only smear dirt upon yourself by engaging with them.”
A faint giggling arose from those seated closest to the sisters and Miss Wingrove turned a shade of red. In spite of their purported friendship, Miss Thomas did not even go out of her way to defend her, content to have her friends do the attacking for her.
Phoebe could only shake her head at how fickle and shallow friendships amongst some ladies of the ton could be.
“Well, we can only hope that we marry someone as dashing and mysterious as Lord Wentworth,” Miss Morton chimed in belatedly. “After all, is it not every woman’s dream to be saved by such a handsome man such as His Lordship?”
They were such pretty words on the surface, but Phoebe had been amongst such ladies to understand what was truly being said—that Lord Wentworth had to marry her after the scandal of their relationship broke out. Not only that, to add the word ‘mysterious’ was to imply that he was not like the other gentlemen at all, and not necessarily in a good way.
She quietly dabbed at her lips with a napkin and merely regarded them with a polite smile. There was simply nothing she could say to these women that would improve their impression of her. From the outset, they had been determined to stand against her and make every bit of this afternoon as uncomfortable for her as possible, over some inane sense of injustice of Phoebe marrying after being a self-proclaimed spinster.
That did not mean, however, that she had to simply sit there and endure all of it. She was a Marchioness now, and she outranked most of those in attendance. Besides, she was still worried about Charles.
So, she set the napkin down on the table, infinitely aware that all eyes were upon her. She stood up slowly and smiled at Miss Thomas.
“Thank you so much for hosting us today, Miss Thomas. I can only hope I might be able to return your hospitality in the future.”
She dared not wait for a reply as she turned around and calmly left the parlor, much to the astonishment of the ladies. Smiling widely, Daphne hurried after her, vaguely murmuring her goodbyes, much to the consternation of their host.
“Did you see her face?” her younger sister giggled, once they were safely ensconced in their carriage. “She looked as if she might hurl her scone at you and then me!”
“Daphne Townsend, I do not think it is a matter of pride to have your host feel so inclined as to launch food at you,” Phoebe sighed.
“Well, she most certainly deserved it!” Daphne scoffed, crossing her arms over her chest with a most obstinate expression on her face. “Just you wait until I tell Mama about all of this. She will never let that witch off, I tell you!”
Phoebe could only smile at her sister and shake her head. She was a grown woman now and married—she should not be relying on her Mama to avenge her over some pettiness in the parlor. She was grateful enough that none of the ladies had even mentioned Lord Edwin Oakley, as Miss Thomas was wont to do so whenever she felt backed into a corner.
Perhaps, now that Phoebe was married to Charles, she felt that the insult had lost its edge.
In any case, she would not be attending any tea parties or the like anytime soon. Nor was she inclined to host one of her own at Wentworth Park. The thought of having Miss Thomas in her own home sent a shudder of disgust running through her.
If this was the kind of company she would have to put up with, then she could very well understand why Charles preferred his solitude. She would really much rather spend her time with her husband and her cat over a handful of supposedly polite ladies who insisted on trying to make each other as uncomfortable as they possibly could.
She sighed in relief when Wentworth Park finally came into view. A month ago, she would never have dared to think such a thing, but she had to admit, it was a much-needed return to normalcy for her...