Chapter Twenty-Four
The following Tuesday, Dorothea picked up Gilbert and Carter in the elegant Gillingham carriage to attend the Landrys’ dinner party.
Although she was not, in particular, looking forward to the evening, Dorothea had resigned herself to it, as she wished to assist her brother in his suit of Miss Wells, who would also be present.
Dorothea hoped to spend most of her time that evening speaking with Diana’s aunt, Mrs. Steele, who had proven herself to be a sensible, intelligent sort of woman—the kind of person with whom Dorothea enjoyed spending time.
She was also determined to be civil to Mrs. Landry and to give her a second chance, but her first impression had not been favorable and, therefore, she had determined that it would be for the best to keep Mrs. Landry at a distance, socially.
Certainly, she would not invite such a woman into her inner circle of intimate friends.
She gripped her gloved hands tightly in her lap as they rode to dinner, a feeling of dread growing in her chest. But, remembering her promise last year to her sister, Charlotte, to attempt to be less of a snob, Dorothea vowed to try to keep an open mind and be pleasant and gracious.
As they were shown into the drawing room, Dorothea had to admit it was not the horror of décor she had expected.
It lacked some elegance in Dorothea’s opinion, but that was, most likely, because the family had inherited this home along with their new country estate.
Still, it did not seem quite correct and Dorothea scanned the room, trying to assess what was wrong with it.
There was an expensive pianoforte in one corner, the seating arrangements were well placed, and the proportion of the room was also good.
Still, somehow, the entire effect seemed off.
She finally perceived that there were too many items placed together in the room without any real thought of the overall harmony.
Cluttered. That was the problem, she thought.
Not that it is any of my affair, but I could certainly give her some advice.
“Lady Gillingham, you are most welcome,” Mrs. Landry’s booming voice cut through her thoughts.
Dorothea turned to see Mrs. Landry and a tall, well-favored older gentleman next to her approach.
The lady of the house was dressed in ruby red silk shot through with gold thread and a matching shawl.
The necklace of rubies she wore were nearly invisible against the red gown, and Dorothea immediately thought a strand of pearls or jet glass would have been a better choice.
The ensemble was topped off with a red silk turban that sprouted far too many feathers held together with a large jeweled pin—also red.
Was it a ruby? No, far too large to be real.
It was likely glass. Mrs. Landry’s ensemble was a touch ostentatious for a home dinner, perhaps, but Dorothea did her best to set her own opinions aside.
“And Mr. Kendall, Mr. Milbourn,” Mrs. Landry continued, “how lovely to see you as well. May I introduce you to my husband? Geoffrey, darling, you were absent when last Mr. Kendall and Mr. Milbourn were here at luncheon. And this is Lady Gillingham, who is Mr. Kendall’s sister. We are so honored to have her join us.”
Bows and curtsies all around, after which Gilbert and Carter excused themselves to join Mary and Diana, who were seated across the room, their heads together, deep in conversation. Mrs. Landry laughed as they took their leave and pointed to her daughter and her friend.
“Your brother is quite taken with Miss Wells, Lady Gillingham,” she said. “Even my darling Mary cannot compete. Ah well, the heart wants what the heart wants, is it not so? I shall have to leave off encouraging him towards my own girl.”
Dorothea had to wonder if she had heard correctly—Mary Landry compete with Miss Wells?
It was laughable. It would be like comparing a broken down nag of a horse to a thoroughbred in its prime, Dorothea thought, then gave herself a little shake for being so uncharitable.
Mary Landry was likely a very pleasant young lady.
It struck her as quite remarkable for the girl to be so unhandsome, as both her parents could be called well-favored.
Mr. Landry was slender, with salt and pepper hair and gray eyes, a fine nose, and a handsome cleft in his chin.
While Mrs. Landry was past being called a beauty, Dorothea could easily perceive that at one time, the woman had likely been quite attractive, although the only true sign of it now was the same, lustrous brunette hair that her daughter had.
It is as if the poor girl got few of the good features of both her parents. Such a pity.
She chastised herself once more for her cruel thoughts and forced herself to be more civil.
“It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Mr. Landry. I understand you have recently come to town after inspecting your new estate. Do you find it to your liking?”
“Thank you, Lady Gillingham, I do. But I must confess I am quite overwhelmed with the new responsibilities that accompany it. You may be aware that I have been in trade my entire life, and while I feel quite at ease discussing business, I am utterly out of my depths when it comes to managing an estate, the rental lands, and the like.”
Dorothea felt a pang of sympathy for the man.
It could not be easy to suddenly find yourself in an entirely new class.
She recalled when she arrived at the very grand Haverstone Estate after marrying Reginald.
Even though she had grown up as the daughter of a gentleman, she had been quite nervous about putting a foot wrong as she joined the Gillingham family, as they were so far above the Kendalls.
She also recalled how kind and generous her mother-in-law had been to her.
Perhaps more so than she had deserved. The memory prompted her to attempt to assist Mr. Landry.
“A good steward is what you need, sir,” she said, firmly. “Was there one at the estate when you inherited it?”
“There is, and he is most capable, at least—that is what I have been told. Still, there is so much to learn. So many employees to know. I suppose I should say that my situation is one in which I do not even know what it is that I do not know!” He gave a warm, throaty laugh.
“But I do not wish to bore you with such trivialities. I shall figure it all out in due time, no doubt.”
Dorothea smiled. “It has always been my experience that the housekeeper is your most reliable source when it comes to the reliability of the employees on an estate. Inquire with her as to the capability of your steward. She will have heard if there are matters of which you should be concerned.” She turned to Mrs. Landry.
“Indeed, I should recommend that you also consult her on all matters until you feel yourself quite capable. A good housekeeper will be able to tell you who the hard workers are, and who are the ones with a tendency towards shirking. She can also advise you as to which neighbors are worth spending time with. In time, no doubt, you will find yourself quite at home in your new life.”
Dorothea was startled to see Mrs. Landry’s eyes become moist. Was her simple advice such an act of kindness that it should so move the woman? How perplexing.
“You are so good to share your opinion, Your Ladyship,” Mrs. Landry said.
“Indeed, I am quite honored that you take the trouble. Pray, do not let our concerns keep you from enjoying the party. I know that Mrs. Steele is most eager to speak with you again. See—there she sits. Do go on in. We have a few more guests to greet and then we shall have dinner.” She gave a deep curtsy.
Dorothea returned the gesture with a smaller bow of her head and moved into the room to join Mrs. Steele. As she did, she thought to herself how proud Charlotte would be of her.
I have kept my snobbery quite under control, after all.
Dinner was a success. Even Dorothea had to admit that the Landrys employed a fine cook. She was even tempted to inquire if they had a true male chef, or just a very good female cook who had, perhaps, studied under a chef. She decided to limit herself to general praise of the food and wine.
Following the dinner, the ladies returned to the large drawing room, while the gentlemen stayed back and enjoyed some port.
Charles Kirkpatrick was among the guests, which rather surprised Dorothea, considering the recent little scene at the art exhibition, but when she subtly inquired about the matter with Mrs. Steele, she learned that Diana had specifically requested of Mrs. Landry that the future duke be included.
Well, Mrs. Steele had added, it is all for the best, as it evened out the numbers and the dinner party gave everyone a chance to make a fresh start.
Dorothea had nodded in agreement, even as she noticed the cool manner between Gilbert and Kirkpatrick.
He had barely greeted her, as well, but that was to be expected after her cutting remark regarding his father’s mistress.
When the gentlemen joined the ladies, Dorothea saw Diana nudge Mary, who then turned to her mother and said, “Mama, we have all been sitting for such a long while. Will you please play for us that we might enjoy a dance?”
“Oh, yes, what a lovely idea. Do play for us, please, Mrs. Landry,” Diana chimed in. “Mary has told me you are quite talented at the pianoforte.”
“Oh, I do not wish to make a display of myself, dear,” Mrs. Landry replied. “I should be neglecting my duties as hostess if I play.”
A chorus of objections came from most of the guests. Mrs. Landry looked to Dorothea as if seeking her approval.
Dorothea smiled and said, “I should very much enjoy hearing you play, Mrs. Landry, and it certainly seems as if the younger guests wish to dance. Do oblige them.”