Chapter 1 #2
I wasn’t a “wee lass” anymore, but it was Papa’s way, to address his grown-up children as if they were still small. He did it to all of us, so I didn’t protest. He did possess an odd sense of humor.
“I’m taking this basket of food to the Parkers. Mrs. Parker has a new baby, and Cook has made her a meat pie.”
“Very good. You are a good girl.” He patted the top of my head, even though I was as tall as he was. “Although I suspect you are going just so you can hold the new babe.”
“I do love to hold the newborns.”
“I’ll walk with you, then fetch you after I’ve visited John Franklin, just the other side of the Parkers’ farm.”
“We want to go too!” Nathaniel and Matthew cried, bounding out of the house.
“Come on, then,” Papa said, “but don’t commence whining on the way.”
Papa talked of everything except my trip to London as we walked along, Nathaniel and Matthew playing their own game of war as we went. They went on with Papa when I stopped at the Parkers’ house.
After a short visit with the Parkers and their new baby, who, much to my delight, slept in my lap the whole time, I was collected by Papa, who told the new parents that the baby was “the picture of health and heartiness and will be as big as his father.”
Mrs. Parker gave him a gratified smile.
“It feels like the deserts of Arabia,” Nathaniel said as we walked along.
“I’m hungry. I never ate my breakfast,” Matthew said.
“You did too,” Nathaniel argued.
“Did not.”
“I’ll send you to the deserts of Arabia if you don’t stop your whining,” Papa said, threatening, as he often did, something none of us believed he would actually carry out.
They were quiet for a few moments, then picked up their bickering where they’d left off.
“So you’re going to London with your aunt and uncle,” Papa said, ignoring them.
“Well, look out for yourself. Your aunt is a good woman, but she is not the most vigilant, and your uncle never notices anything that isn’t right in front of his nose.
Besides, he’s got important business, being a member of Parliament and suchlike. ”
“Yes, Papa. I shall be well.”
“I know you will. I know. But don’t go attaching yourself to some Scotsman who will take you too far away from your old papa.”
“I’ll try not to.”
“Your ma would have you married off to the first gentleman with a house and a few quid, but you are too good for ninety-nine out of a hundred of those dandies in London. And no matter what anybody says, you don’t have to marry at all, you don’t.”
“Thank you, Papa, but I want to marry.”
“Aye, and move away from here.” He sighed.
“Amelia is not moving away!” Matthew cried.
“You’re not, are you?” Nathaniel asked, his eyes big.
“As I told you before, I’m only going to London for a bit. I’ll be back before you know it.”
That seemed to satisfy them, and they went back to each claiming victory over the other in their game of war.
When we reached home, the boys took their whooping into the kitchen, no doubt to find a bit of food and drink, and Papa and I went into the sitting room, where Mama was singing the baby to sleep.
“Tell Amelia,” Papa said, addressing Mama, “that there is no need for her to find a husband this Season. She is yet a bit young for all this marrying and leaving.”
“No one’s pointing a gun at her head,” Mama said with a bit of irritation in her voice, “but it would be well for us all if she made a good match, as you know. You just don’t want to admit that she’s grown.
Want to keep all your children small and ignorant, but they have to grow up whether you like it or not, Mr. Moore. ”
“Hmph.” Papa scoffed, looking away from Mama. “I have to go over the accounts,” he mumbled, stalking off toward his study.
I sat down beside Mama.
“Don’t listen to your father when it comes to growing up and getting married.
It’s his way of mourning his baby birds leaving his nest. But you are old enough to start your own family,” Mother said softly.
“It is perfectly natural for you to want to be mistress of your own home, to have a husband and children.” She gave me one of her sweet smiles before taking the baby into her bedroom to lay him in his bed.
I was sure she was right. But first I had to find a husband, which seemed a rather selfish business, competing with other young ladies for the wealthiest suitors.
The very idea was a little abhorrent, but it was the Season; it was what young ladies did.
I supposed the best I could do was pray that the right gentleman would find me and fall in love with me, and that I wouldn’t need to “compete” for him.
I could also just enjoy it. In London my aunt would no doubt take me to parties and balls. I would, hopefully, receive attention from gentlemen, I would dance and attend concerts, have gentlemen calling on me, and I would not need to take care of the needs of anyone else.
Would I enjoy the time away from the country, attending parties in London? Or would I long for my siblings, my mother and father, and the comfort of home?
Perhaps it would have been better if Lavinia was the oldest girl. She would have been much more objective about making the best match. But for good or ill, I was the one on whose shoulders the rest of my siblings’ futures depended.