Chapter Eight
LILA SCRUBBED EACH place on her body where she’d put the oil until she feared she would take the skin right off. She washed her hair twice, and Katherine took the dress and petticoat to the kitchen where she said she would soak them in vinegar overnight before laundering in hopes to save the items.
By the time dinner was announced, Lila could still smell the lavender, but it was no longer making her ill.
She dressed in a navy blue dinner dress and had Katherine be extra attentive to her hair in hopes of making up for the spectacle she’d been that afternoon.
Not that Mr. Luthford had noticed, seeing as how his nose did not work right.
The odds of such a thing! If nothing else, she needed to give the extra attention to make herself feel worthy of his company.
Perhaps he would not know she was trying to repair her deficit, but she would and she hoped presenting her best self would ease her fractured opinion of herself.
She did not remember that they had dinner guests until she entered the parlor to find Mrs. Mason with Mr. and Mrs. Marchett and their youngest daughter, Jenny.
The Marchetts were dear family friends and the hosts of next week’s masquerade ball—an event that had become less important to Lila as Mr. Luthford had overtaken her thoughts.
The very man of those thoughts, dressed in a black evening coat and shiny black breeches that looked as fine as anything she’d ever seen before, was there too, and she smiled at him.
Not having to keep to her wretched plan put her at greater ease with herself and his company, which was a relief.
Uncle Peter joined them just before they went to the dining room.
Mrs. Mason was seated beside Mr. Luthford on the opposite end of the table, and Lila tried not to look their direction too often.
Though she could not hear what they said, Mrs. Mason smiled a great deal, and Mr. Luthford seemed as easy with her as he’d ever been with Lila.
By the end of the meal she was only too happy to get Mrs. Mason away from the table.
When the men joined them, Jenny entertained them at the pianoforte while the adults conversed about the room.
Mr. Marchett was aware of some property in Longdon, and the men began discussing how Mr. Luthford might best go about seeing it.
This left the women to talk amongst themselves, which they did with the ease of women who had known each other all their lives.
At one point the men moved into Uncle’s study to consult a county map, and though Lila had resisted the temptation to pry when the women had been alone earlier, she could no longer hold back her questions for Mrs. Mason.
“What do you think of Mr. Luthford?”
“He seems kind,” Mrs. Mason said with a smile. “And a very good conversationalist.”
“Yes, he has so many exciting stories,” Lila agreed, though she hated that he’d shared those stories with Mrs. Mason, who seemed very undeserving of the attention. Never mind it was Lila’s idea to invite the attractive widow.
“Only . . .” Mrs. Mason said, letting her voice drift off as though thinking better of what she was about to say.
“Only what?” Lila said, hiding her eagerness to hear the answer.
“Only, I sense a certain restlessness in him,” she said. “As though he is resigned to this change in his circumstance but not fully glad for it.”
“Really?” Mrs. Marchett said. “Did he not give up his commission of his own volition?”
“That is what he said,” Mrs. Mason confirmed. “But he said it with such necessary acceptance. Why, I had the impression he would prefer to remain abroad.”
“Surely he could, if that is what he wished,” Mrs. Marchett said.
“Many military men marry, and their wives either follow the drum or set up in some port city nearby. Why, my brother’s wife traveled with him for a great many years.
She lived on a ship for six months and in a grass hut for almost nine. ”
“What a wonderful adventure that would be,” Lila said, seduced by the image of such a life. It took a moment to realize the other women were looking at her in confusion. “Do you not sometimes long to experience a life different than the one you live?”
“No,” Mrs. Mason said with a shake of her head. “I have no desire for any life outside of Shropshire, though I would not mind an extra pound or two to use toward extra comforts. That is as different as I care to be.”
Mrs. Marchett laughed and Lila smiled politely, but as the conversation moved toward comings and goings of mutual friends, Lila reviewed the time she had spent with Mr. Luthford and some things he’d said that had her wondering at his possible wanderlust. Was he sad to leave the life he’d lived for so long?
If so, why had he left it? Even if he were determined to marry, why not find a wife that might go with him?
“Lila?”
Lila blinked, having been inattentive to the conversation. “I’m sorry, do repeat the question.”
“I asked how your costume was coming for the masquerade.”
“It is nearly finished,” Lila said, wondering how it was that the enthusiasm she’d felt for the ball last week was so different now.
She would dance the first dance with Neville, but might she dance another dance with Mr. Luthford?
With such thoughts, it did not take long for her enthusiasm for the ball to return.
Thinking of both men gave her a queer feeling, as though she were being untrue to one or both of them.
She reminded herself she had made no promise to anyone, and, like Eloise said, to ignore the stirrings of her heart did not seem like a very wise undertaking.
The conversation seemed to drag on for hours until finally Lila and Uncle Peter said good night to their guests—with Mrs. Mason and the Marchetts leaving via the Marchetts’ carriage, and Mr. Luthford walking down the lane to the gravel drive, despite a light rain that was beginning to fall.
When the door to the house was shut behind them, Lila made the expected compliments on the night and turned toward the stairs.
“Before you go, Lila,” Uncle said. She turned in time to see him motioning to Wilhite, who was apparently prepared. “Neville wrote to me this afternoon and included a note he asked I give you.”
“Neville,” Lila said, but his name did not bring with it the warmth of sunshine or the giddiness of kittens. She took the letter—still sealed—from Wilhite, but she looked at her uncle. “He comes home soon,” she said.
“Yes. It seems he’s been writing to you more privately these last months than he did when first he left us.”
“It does seem to be that way,” Lila said noncommittally.
He looked at her another moment, the line between his brows rather pronounced, but then it softened. “Ah, well, good night, my dear.” He gave her a quick kiss on the forehead and headed to his study where he would end the day with a final glass of brandy.
Lila went upstairs to her room and sat at her desk before breaking the seal on the note, eager to read what was written there. She wondered if perhaps Neville’s writing would rekindle the flame that seemed to be fading these last days.
Dearest Lila,
It is with a heavy heart that I write you with the news that I will not be returned to High Ercall in time for the Autumn Masquerade on Friday next.
We have arrived in Liverpool, but there is business both here and in London that I must attend to before I return.
I am very sorry for it, as I have looked forward to taking you to the floor that night, but will instead anticipate the delight in seeing you as soon as I can conclude my business.
I promise to make up for the disappointment.
With much affection,
Neville
Lila did not read the letter a second time, as she once might have.
Instead, she lowered the paper into her lap and felt another level of burden removed from her shoulders.
Neville would not come back next week. And he would not be at the ball.
Some part of her wished he were not bowing out, but another part was not disappointed at all.
She had just been given the chance to further explore these strange new feelings she had toward Mr. Luthford, and she would make the most of it.