Chapter 12
Twelve
Grace’s drawing room at Brentmere Park was a comfortable size with a blue theme and large windows looking to the west. Though it was the hour for supper, the late June sun bathed the room in warm light.
While Grace and Henry talked, Susanna surveyed the room with trepidation, hating the thumping of her heart and her inability to keep still.
Across the room, William Hartley, with his smiles and quips, was standing beside Mr. Scott.
Broad chested and a foot and a half shorter than William, the man seemed ready to be agreeable.
They were speaking to Miss Flora Witworth.
Susanna had a passing familiarity with the lady.
She was a dark-haired beauty with remarkably light blue eyes and statuesque proportions.
Indeed, with her fair complexion, it was hard to believe she had not walked out of a block of marble.
She spoke softly and moved with grace, the epitome of a delicate lady.
Miss Witworth’s presence amplified Susanna’s worries. What comparisons might Rosie make between them? She was on tenterhooks waiting for Ambrose to arrive.
In the weeks since realizing her change of heart, fate had conspired to keep them apart.
She did not see him about town or at Grace’s home.
Though he still occupied her thoughts and plans, she had begun to wonder if she had been mistaken in her feelings.
But seeing him that afternoon had removed all doubts.
Her entire body came alive at the sight of him.
She had not known what to say or where to look.
Why had he come early? She had thought it safe to indulge in a fast drive.
He had caught her acting like a hoyden, when she had been determined to be the model of his perfect partner.
Grace had not helped the matter by declaring they did not have delicate sensibilities.
It was yet another demerit in his eyes. Tonight, she would need to display her advantages.
She had spent the last few weeks increasing her ability to “converse on a variety of topics.” Since that requirement was at the top of his list, she thought it prudent to start with it.
Now all she needed was for him to enter the room so they might speak.
“Should I send a servant to fetch them?” Henry asked Grace in an undertone.
“And lose the opportunity to mock Rosie for being late?” Grace smiled up at her husband.
He chuckled and returned her smile. “An excellent point.”
As a bachelor, Henry Arden had been highly sought after. Susanna had never found him particularly attractive—he was too tall and broad shouldered. Of course, Grace had been immediately smitten with the kind, handsome gentleman.
“I imagine Miss Colley is to blame for his tardiness,” Grace whispered.
Susanna didn’t have the opportunity to ask for an explanation because Ambrose stepped into the room.
Her breath stuttered at the sight of him.
How silly when he looked quite ordinary.
Though his cravat was tied more extravagantly, he was dressed in familiar clothes—a blue coat and green waistcoat.
Her heart urged her to rush to his side.
But his side was occupied by a lady Susanna assumed was Miss Regina Colley.
Close to Susanna’s height, the woman had a more rounded figure that evoked Ruben’s paintings instead of Greek statues.
In the slanting sunlight, her hair was a burnished red, which was perfectly complemented by her emerald dress.
It seemed as if she had dressed to match Rosie.
Susanna gritted her teeth. She did not know Miss Colley, but she already disliked her.
Ambrose explained that he had encountered Miss Colley on the way to the drawing room and they had fallen into a conversation. Susanna suspected the chance meeting had been by design. No doubt that is what Grace had meant.
As soon as introductions were made, Brydges announced dinner and they all proceeded informally into the dining room. As they walked, Mr. Scott came to Susanna’s side.
“I hope we might become better acquainted, Miss Fenton,” he said.
“I am sure we will have ample opportunity in the coming days.”
“Why not begin tonight?” He offered his arm.
She glanced over at him. He was near her height with a smile that lit his dark eyes. In the past she might have been flattered by his attention; tonight she had no interest. But it would be impolite to refuse him and so she took his arm and allowed him to lead her to a seat.
Susanna tried not to frown as Mr. Scott settled her on the opposite side of the table from Ambrose and Miss Colley. How would she display her intelligence through conversation with him so far away? That she was sat near Grace was little comfort.
While dinner was served, she tried to console herself with the size of the party. It was small enough that the whole table might converse easily. There was still a chance to execute her plan.
As they ate, Mr. Scott peppered Susanna with questions about her family and interests. She returned the favor and soon she knew that he had five sisters, enjoyed outdoor sport, and loved dancing. She also learned that he laughed with very little encouragement.
His manners were perfectly calculated to please and flatter, but Susanna was unmoved. She was far more interested in why Ambrose was nodding and why Miss Colley was smiling. How frustrating to have a clear view of him but be too far away to speak.
As the second course was served, the conversation widened to the entire table and Susanna sat up straighter, hoping for an opportunity. The talk was centered on the journey from London.
“How fortunate you are to be such an easy distance,” Miss Colley said to their hosts. “The time simply flew by.”
“The Edgeware Road is straight, but you are being kind to call it easy,” William said. “The rains this year have created several ruts and holes. Why, I ought to demand my toll payment back.”
Miss Witworth gasped at the ridiculous statement, but everyone else smiled.
Susanna seized her opportunity. “There is a Mr. McAdam in Bristol who claims his method for road making will be effective in eliminating holes and ruts,” she said a little too eagerly.
“That would be marvelous,” Mr. Scott said. “I would not miss having to push a carriage out of mud.”
“What are these methods?” Ambrose asked.
Susanna grinned at the question and his eager look.
Last week she had found the small book on road making and purchased it simply because she thought Ambrose might find the topic appealing.
Surprisingly, she had enjoyed the book. She had not read all two hundred pages but understood the basic principles.
“He believes that two layers of small broken stones will protect the soil from the water and the wheels. He says that there is no need for a large stone foundation.”
“Really? What is his reasoning?” Ambrose leaned forward.
If they had been sitting beside each other, Susanna would have answered, but a glance about the table showed little enthusiasm for the topic.
“Perhaps we can discuss it in detail after dinner?” she said. “I could even lend you Mr. McAdam’s book on the topic.”
“A capital idea,” William said. “Now, shall we discuss tomorrow’s activities?”
Nobody objected to the change in topic.
Ambrose raised his eyebrows and sent Susanna a look that spoke of a shared annoyance for the elder Hartley.
She shrugged in reply, and his lips twitched.
Her stomach flipped at the silent communication.
Caught up in her success, she hardly marked Grace explaining the plans for a tour of the grounds.
“I am most keen to experience your grotto,” Miss Colley said.
“Some ladies find the darkness and dripping water frightening.” William smiled at Susanna.
“That is because some gentlemen jump out of the shadows,” Susanna replied.
William never failed to tease her about how he had scared her on her first visit to the cavelike structure.
“Oh, I will not be scared,” Miss Colley said. “I can read the most horrid of gothic novels by the light of a single candle and still sleep peacefully.”
“Are you a great reader of novels?” Susanna could not help asking.
“A very great reader,” Miss Colley returned enthusiastically.
Mr. Scott praised her before asking which type of novel she preferred.
Susanna resisted the urge to look at Ambrose. Would Colley’s love of novels lower her in his estimation? It was a silly requirement, one that Susanna also did not meet—only the highest sticklers objected to novels. But it was satisfying to know that Miss Colley wasn’t perfect.
The conversation about novels devolved into many smaller conversations, removing the opportunity for further words with Rosie. Over dessert, Susanna and Grace discussed the merits of the play Cymbeline with occasional comments from Mr. Scott.
When it came time for the ladies to depart, Susanna rose eagerly.
After her brief success, she was keen for another chance, but that would not come until they left the table.
Once in the drawing room, she would be better able to converse with Ambrose—as long as Miss Colley did not continue to monopolize him and Miss Witworth did not take her place.
Though they were guests, Susanna could not help seeing them as interlopers.
She did not want Ambrose looking at either of them as a potential wife.
As they walked to the drawing room, Susanna scolded herself for such petty thoughts.
The women did not deserve her ire merely because they were on his list. But when their presence kept her from Ambrose, it was difficult not to feel in competition.
Difficult not to wonder if he preferred their company.
It had been many years since Susanna had felt so unsure about her value, and she did not enjoy it.
Once in the drawing room, they all moved to the comfortable sofas. Susanna was too nervous to sit. “I think I will take a turn about the room,” she said.
Grace gave her a puzzled look but said nothing against the exercise.
Thankfully, neither of the other ladies offered to join her.
As Susanna began her walk, Miss Witworth and Miss Colley complimented Grace on the dinner.
As she moved away, she lost track of their words.
It seemed they spoke of the elegance of Brentmere and of the agreeableness of the party.
When Susanna drew closer, they were speaking of the Arden children, and Grace assured them that they would make an appearance tomorrow.
Since Susanna had been there for a week, she had already played with Jamie and snuggled little Alice.
Before Grace and Henry had children, Susanna had thought she would dislike being a mother.
Charlotte and Frank, her older siblings, were forever complaining about managing their children.
And when she was younger, Susanna had resented being made to mind her nieces and nephews instead of being with the adults.
But Grace loved motherhood, her eyes shone when she spoke of her children, and she hated parting from them. Susanna had come to admire that love, even though she had no expectations of being a mother herself. Recently those expectations had begun to change.
After two turns about the room, Susanna was still restless, her eyes constantly darting to the door in expectation of the men.
What should she do when they arrived? Go to Ambrose directly or wait for him to approach her?
What if he spent the evening divided between his two candidates? That would be unbearable.
She had never been one to simper or smile or draw a man in with wiles. She had no talent for such things and had not wanted to acquire it. Now she wished she had learned. How to bring him to her side?
Perhaps if she had McAdam’s book? That would provide a pretext for conversation.
A small part of her hated the effort she was exerting for his attention.
The amount of time she spent thinking of him was frankly mortifying.
But that did not stop her from making her excuses to Grace and leaving the room.
The book was in her bedroom. If she hurried, she could retrieve it and return before the men arrived.
If she settled in a corner with the book open, perhaps then he would come to her. It was a base plan, but she was reasonably certain it would work. And when it worked, she would be one step closer to showing Ambrose that she should be added to his list of candidates.