Chapter 6 #3
Though she did not feel her brain had produced a very helpful comment, it did at least prod at her pride. She took a breath, pasted a smile to her face and stiffened her spine. She probably looked as if she was about to have some manner of fit, but at least she was still there.
To her great relief, she discovered Nat seated on her left, and Uncle Charles on her right, with Reverend Honeywell before her.
Della sat to the right of the reverend, opposite Lord Charles, with the dowager at the head of the table.
Nat’s Mama sat on the reverend’s left and Meg prayed she got through the evening without offending her, or anyone else for that matter.
White soup was served, and the company fell quiet for a few minutes whilst everyone settled themselves to their meal.
“Are you longing to stab me with a fork?” whispered Nat, leaning close to her.
“Not the fork,” Meg murmured back, touching a finger to the sharpest knife waiting in the ranks of cutlery before her.
He made a choked sound and returned to his soup.
The soup was taken away, and the table laid with the most overwhelming display of food that Meg had seen in her entire life. She sent Nat a look of sheer panic, but he just smiled calmly at her.
“It’s my job to serve you, just eat a bite of everything, and you’ll survive,” he advised her.
This appeared to be sensible advice, so Meg sat back and allowed Nat to fill her plate. The food was exquisite, and if all she’d had to do was sit and eat, Meg would have considered herself fortunate indeed.
“So, you hail from Hereford?” Uncle Charles asked as he reached for his wineglass. He sat back looking at her expectantly, and Meg set down her knife and fork.
“I do. A little out of the way village near the Welsh border.”
“A beautiful part of the country,” he said approvingly. “Excellent hunting. Remote for a young lady, though, I would imagine. You came to town, I suppose, for the season?”
Meg shook her head, wondering if she dared reach for her own wine or if her hand was shaking too badly to make the attempt.
“No, I never did. My father did not approve of such things, considering dances and town life frivolous. It was remote, though I believe I considered myself content. My father was a serious scholar, and I am afraid you will think me an odd creature, but I am rather bookish myself.”
“Ah, clever, are you? What the devil are you doing with Nat here, then, eh? Ha!” he said, chortling at his own joke. “Never was a fellow for books, were you, my boy? Lord, the number of schools that fellow got thrown out of. I lost count.”
“No, sir,” Nat replied good-naturedly. “But I’m clever enough to know a good thing when I see it.”
“Indeed! Oh, indeed. Always had an eye for a pretty girl. Quite so, never short on charm either, I’ll say that,” he added, setting down his glass and returning to his dinner.
Meg let out a breath of relief and did likewise, but her reprieve was short-lived.
“So, my dear, when is the wedding, and are you planning a honeymoon?” Lady Louisa asked, but carried on speaking before Meg could take a breath.
“We must get your trousseau ordered for you at once, for these things always take twice as long as one expects. Do nothing until I speak to you, for I know all the best warehouses and will advise you. I remember the trouble there was over my own, endless shopping trips and fittings, it was quite fatiguing. Where are you proposing to live once you are married? I saw the most splendid house for sale in Mayfair. Such a pretty property, with a large garden too, and a lovely blue front door. Or was it burgundy? No, it was definitely blue, I remember because it was the exact same shade as the gloves I wore that day. Nathaniel’s rooms in town are hardly the thing, though, so we must find you a place at once.
You will find a townhouse in London for the season?
And in the summer? Have you made plans?”
Meg opened her mouth more than once to reply to Lady Louisa but could not fit in a word, and when the lady finally subsided, and Meg tried again to tell her they had not yet had the time to discuss such things in any detail, the dowager got there before her.
“Heavens, Louisa! It’s a whirlwind romance, they’ve only just got engaged this moment. Don’t interrogate the child, and if you must, give her the time to answer one question before asking another five and letting your tongue run on like a fiddlestick.”
Lady Louisa stiffened, glaring at her mama. “I’m sure I shan’t say another word on the subject, or any other,” she replied indignantly.
“That would be a first,” the dowager muttered, though all too audibly.
Meg kept her eyes on her dinner and prayed she would not be drawn into a family squabble.
“Little Valentine is a marvellous place to raise a family,” Reverend Honeywell piped up. “And set to be quite the fashionable summer retreat. I hear tell there are plans for a magnificent hotel to be built to cater for the ton when they descend on our little idyll.”
“Truly? How marvellous, but surely that won’t be ready for next year?” Della asked with interest.
“No, I should not think it will be, but I believe The Mermaid’s Tale is fully booked already, and proprietors of The Ship Inn are spending a pretty penny on restoring their property too, making certain it is ship-shape in time,” he added with a grin at his own pun.
“I suppose it’s that Adamson woman. The widow,” the dowager said, nodding sagely. “I like her. She’s got pluck.”
“It is indeed,” Honeywell replied, accepting a refill to his wineglass from a footman. “And I heartily concur, though she is no longer Mrs Adamson, remember.”
“Oh, yes, she married some wicked fellow, did she not? A criminal, wasn’t he?” the dowager asked, her eyes flashing with curiosity.
The reverend hesitated, levelling a surprisingly stern expression upon his host. “Your grace, I believe you are a good Christian and feel sure you would not hold a fellow’s past against him.
Jasper King is a fine man, one who has risen through adversity to become a successful businessman.
We owe him our admiration, not gossip and censure. ”
“Oh ho! A scolding, how delightful! Though, while I make no bones about enjoying gossip, I never said a word of censure,” the dowager retorted gleefully. “I like a wicked fellow myself. All the interesting men are a little wicked, aren’t they?”
“Grandmama!” Miss Vinnie said, caught between laughter and shock.
“Well, they are, no use pretending otherwise,” the lady said stubbornly. She looked around the table, apparently selecting her next victim, and Meg’s heart gave an uneven thud as the dowager’s gaze rested upon her.
“I’m sure Miss Bancroft agrees with me,” she said provokingly, quirking an eyebrow at Meg.
“Gee-Gee,” Nat said, giving his aged relation a warning glance. “Behave, you dreadful creature.”
Gee-Gee preened, not displeased with this telling off. Still, Meg was not out of deep water yet as the dowager returned her attention upon her.
“Do you ride?”
“Yes, I do,” Meg said, relieved to hold her head up on this point at least. For, had she not learned, she and her father would have been far more isolated than they had been. “Though I’m afraid I don’t—”
“Yes, you do,” Nat whispered urgently, correctly assuming she’d been about to deny having a riding habit. Meg looked at him in surprise before turning back to the dowager, who was leaning forward expectantly.
“Don’t what? Speak up, gel, don’t mumble. Can’t stand it when folk mumble at me,” she said crossly.
“I d-don’t— That is to say, I have not ridden for some time,” she managed, flustered now.
“That’s of no matter, it will come back to you. Nat will find you a nice steady mount until you’ve got your confidence back. What about dancing? If you lived so sheltered, did you ever learn?”
Meg felt her colour rise. She had known that this would come up and had stiffened her resolve not to feel foolish when she made her confession, but she had not expected to do so in front of the entire family.
“I learned a few country dances when I was a little girl. I might be able to remember those, but not much else,” she admitted.
The dowager nodded. “Thought as much. Well, don’t look so mortified, it ain’t your fault your papa was too selfish to see you properly prepared for the world.
That’s what comes of having no wife. Men can become egoistic creatures if they don’t have someone to keep ’em in line.
Mind, I suppose females are no better at times,” she added, sending her daughter a frustrated glance.
“Nat. You’ll have to see to it. Della can play for you.
Best teach her to waltz and whatever else you think she’ll need to learn.
Can’t have everyone gawping at her during the Christmas ball. ”
“It would be my pleasure,” Nat said, giving Meg such a look of amused delight she could not hold his gaze.
The dowager nodded, satisfied, and returned her attention to her meal.
Somehow, Meg got through the rest of the evening without incident and was blessedly relieved to excuse herself for an early night on account of being fatigued by their journey.
Before she left, Nat arranged to take her for a ride after a late breakfast and bade her goodnight with a surreptitious wink and a whispered, “Well done.”
As she made her way back up the stairs to her room, she reflected that, despite a few moments of panic, she had rather enjoyed herself and had liked Nat’s relations very much indeed.
With a heavy heart, Meg made herself remember this was temporary and she ought not get too comfortable.
Enjoying a brief spell of luxury and excitement was one thing but giving it up again would make her feel even more wretched if she grew too used to it.
This was not her life and never would be. She was merely borrowing it for a little while, and she forgot that fact at her peril.