Chapter 18 #2
They all toasted and drank. Everyone ate in silence for a few moments, then Beatrice looked over at Tilda. “I’ve never cared much for needlework either, but I do it when necessary.”
“The irony in that is you’re awfully good at it,” their mother said.
Beatrice laughed. “Regrettably, yes. I much prefer riding.” She looked at Tilda. “That’s why Courtenay and I live in Wimbledon. It allows us to keep more horses, and we have space to ride. The country estate is just so far from London. Do you ride?”
“No,” Tilda replied. “I’ve never felt the need to learn. Living in the city as I do, I have many ways in which to move about.”
“That is true, but you might consider it for recreation.” Beatrice wanted everyone to love horses and riding as much as she did.
She’d always been exceptionally disappointed that her sisters preferred reading and music.
“It’s most invigorating. You mentioned preferring to activate your mind, and I feel the same.
One of the things I like most about riding is I can think without interruption as the wind rushes over me and the ground passes beneath me.
I can lose myself in thought. It’s most restorative. ”
“That does sound intriguing,” Tilda admitted. “Though, I’m not sure I’d want to lose myself in my thoughts whilst riding a horse. I’m afraid I would find myself on the ground.”
Beatrice smiled. “Not with practice, you wouldn’t. Something tells me once you put your mind to something, you make a success of it.”
“Except for needlework,” Mrs. Wren said, sending her granddaughter a warmly teasing look. “I’m afraid she’s not successful at that.”
“Is that because she tried and failed, or because she didn’t really want to put her mind to it in the first place?” Beatrice asked with a faint smile.
Tilda had just swallowed a piece of lamb and put her hand to her mouth briefly. Hadrian could see she was smiling. She swallowed and nodded at Beatrice. “The latter, actually. I honestly can’t say if I’d be good with needles, since I haven’t tried, nor do I plan to.”
“Nor do you need to, dear,” Mrs. Wren said. “You manage the household beautifully. It’s quite a feat, since we’ve more than doubled the size of our staff in recent months.”
“Should we look forward to being invited to dinner at your house then?” Courtenay asked with a laugh.
Hadrian knew his brother-in-law was trying to be amusing, but in the context of his other oblivious questions and comments, he could be taken as rude.
Thankfully, Tilda’s expression held mild amusement. “You never know.”
“Where did you find your new retainers?” Beatrice asked. “I find myself in need of a new maid. Mine has decided to marry.”
Tilda set her silver down and reached for her wineglass. “Surprisingly, I’ve found them through some of the investigations we’ve worked on. In fact, we know of a lady’s maid who is searching for a new position.” She looked to Hadrian. “Isn’t that right?”
Hadrian nodded. “She’s here now—temporarily—because I was going to offer her a position as a maid at Ravenhurst House. But I was rather hoping she’d find employment as a lady’s maid, since that was her most recent position.”
Mrs. Wren told Beatrice about their maid, Clara, and how she’d come to them after having worked for one of Tilda’s clients.
Meanwhile, Tilda leaned slightly toward Hadrian and whispered, “Should you tell your sister that Bannet worked for a murder victim?”
“What’s that you say?” Courtenay asked with a tone of alarm. “Are you discussing murder?”
All eyes at the table snapped to Courtenay.
“Beatrice, we should tell you that the maid, Bannet, was most recently lady’s maid to Miss Delia Chadwick,” Hadrian explained.
Hadrian’s mother frowned deeply. “That poor young woman who was kidnapped and murdered.”
“Yes,” Tilda replied evenly. “Bannet is devastated, as you can understand. We hope that, wherever she goes to work, people will be kind with her.”
“That would be quite bizarre.” Courtenay forked a large piece of lamb into his mouth.
Beatrice’s light brown brows drew together. “Such a tragedy. That poor girl and her family.”
Their mother nodded. “I met Miss Chadwick just before the Season started at a tea hosted by the Duchess of Alnwick. Miss Chadwick was rather quiet, but that’s because she stuttered, and her mother seemed to encourage her silence.
I saw her again recently, not long before she so tragically died, and she was much improved.
She spoke quite smoothly. It’s always so sad to see a flower blooming, then snipped too soon. ”
Hadrian blinked at his mother’s rather florid words before taking a drink of claret.
They finished the course, and as the footman came around to pick up the plates, Courtenay snatched up his wine glass very quickly.
“I’m not quite finished with this yet.” His movement was uncontrolled, and some of the claret sloshed onto Tilda’s sleeve.
Hadrian was unaccountably outraged. He loved that gown, and he knew she didn’t possess a great many fashionable garments.
Beatrice gasped softly. “Courtenay, you must be more careful.”
Courtenay waved his free hand. “You know how clumsy I am. ’Tis a shame I lost that wine, though.”
Tilda turned her head toward the footman who’d moved close. She spoke softly as she used her napkin to dry her sleeve. “May I have another napkin?”
The footman hastened to provide her with the replacement and took the soiled napkins when she was finished. Tilda readjusted herself and sent a warm smile to Beatrice across the table. “I understand you have four children. What are their ages?”
Beatrice launched into a lengthy description of her children, whom she loved dearly.
As the sorbet was served, Tilda listened intently and seemed genuinely interested in each of them. Hadrian couldn’t help thinking she could be their aunt.
He realized he had no idea what Tilda even thought of children.
Some people didn’t care for them. Seeing his sisters with their children had encouraged Hadrian to want to experience fatherhood, but even more, he’d felt it was his duty to provide an heir.
Now that he’d fallen in love with Tilda, he imagined miniature versions of her with her keen intellect and brilliant curiosity. She would make a fine mother.
They finished dinner in relative peace. Courtenay only put his foot in it once or twice more, and as with his prior offenses, Tilda handled each with aplomb.
Instead of remaining in the dining room to drink port, for Hadrian didn’t particularly want to spend time alone with Courtenay, he suggested they all adjourn to the drawing room.
Hadrian made sure to sit beside Tilda on a settee with room for only the two of them. “Thank you for putting up with Courtenay,” he whispered. “Perhaps I should have warned you, but he truly doesn’t mean any ill. I will say he outdid himself tonight with his comments.”
“He strikes me as the sort of person who perhaps can’t think or see past himself,” Tilda said diplomatically.
“That’s a fair description. Sometimes I wonder what my sister saw in him when she agreed to their marriage, but they share a passion for horses, and perhaps that’s enough.
” Hadrian leaned closer to her. “Have you been able to turn your thoughts away from the investigation this evening? I find it’s lingering in the back of my mind. ”
“Surprisingly, yes,” Tilda replied. “That doesn’t mean I’m not looking forward to tomorrow. It was very disappointing not to be able to speak with anyone at the Albion Theatre this afternoon.”
They had gone there first, but everyone they wanted to speak with had not yet arrived. They could have returned later, but they hadn’t time, so tomorrow it would be.
They were, however, able to speak with the property manager at the Adelphi Theatre.
As with Mr. Jesson of the Britannia, he’d discussed some of the things he made for special effects.
He was not as forthcoming as Jesson, however, citing secrecy and preserving the “magic of theatrical display.” He’d been a very serious sort.
Tilda’s eyes glinted with anticipation as she regarded Hadrian. “I can’t decide which I’m most looking forward to tomorrow: returning to the Albion or hearing what Teague discovered from his investigation into Spring-heeled Jack’s performance last night.”
Hadrian grinned, sharing her excitement. “I feel the same.”
He caught his mother watching them. “We should stop whispering,” he said to Tilda. “It’s being noted, and it’s probably rude.”
Tilda arched a brow at him. “Only ‘probably?’”
Hadrian laughed.
A short while later, Tilda and her grandmother departed. Hadrian’s mother, sister, and brother-in-law prepared to leave as well.
Hadrian pulled his mother aside for a moment. “I hope tonight changed your opinion somewhat of Miss Wren.”
“Is that why you invited her and her grandmother?” she asked. “I should have realized. You know I think highly of her as an investigator, but I confess I am seeing her in a different light. I just don’t know if she’s up to being a countess.”
“You saw how she comported herself at dinner.” Hadrian kept his voice even despite wanting to shout Tilda’s charms from every rooftop. “She managed an obnoxious guest, an infirmity, and a wardrobe mishap. Plus, she was engaging and perfectly mannered.”
“I can’t argue with any of that, but I also can’t forget that she works for a living and is expected to support a household with her income.
” His mother’s brow puckered briefly. “Whilst I may support her professional endeavors, that doesn’t mean I want my son’s wife to be a common private detective. ”
“There is nothing at all common about Tilda.” Hadrian worked to maintain an evenness and warmth to his tone. “Mother, you’re going to have to relinquish some of your ingrained expectations. The world today is not the world you knew as a young woman entering into marriage.”
Her brows pitched together as she regarded him with something akin to alarm. “Your advocacy of her is quite passionate. Is there anything I need to know?”
“I have no news to share as of yet, but if I’m fortunate, I will. Soon. I hope you’ll be as happy for me as I hope to be.” Provided Tilda agreed to marriage.
“I will be very happy indeed when you take a wife.” She looked a bit uneasy, and Hadrian chose to ignore that. “I only hope you know what you’re doing.”
“Have I disappointed you yet?” he asked.
She smiled and patted his arm. “No, you have not. Good night, dear.”
Hadrian bid her, his sister, and Courtenay good evening. His mother was coming around, and he was certain Beatrice was quite in favor of Tilda. They’d got on very well.
Now, he could only hope that Tilda would also be convinced that they belonged together.