Chapter Two #2
The dowager’s smile grew. “Oh, dear. I can see your aunt and uncle have dampened your enthusiasm.” She slipped her arm through Arabella’s and guided her from the room and toward the grand staircase. “If I told you we are soon to have a house party, would that lift your spirits?”
Arabella nodded. House parties required a great deal of work. She would have plenty to do, which would help secure her welcome here.
“Wonderful,” the dowager said. “For now, though, let us focus on getting you settled.”
Arabella ran her hand along the banister as they climbed the stairs.
The earl must have often done the same. He had been at home here, happy and content.
She could so easily picture him in this place, greeting guests in the entry hall, standing at the top of the stairs.
Were he here just now, he would smile at his wife in that way he always had, with love so palpable no one seeing his expression could ever have doubted the depth of his feelings.
He had loved his wife with an open affection few gentlemen allowed.
And Arabella knew with absolute certainty that he would have welcomed her here as well, hugging her as he had so often done.
Of course, she was much older now, but she wanted to believe that he would not have stopped comforting her with those paternal embraces she had depended upon so much.
“Your room is just down here.” The dowager’s voice broke the spell of Arabella’s reminiscences.
“I should warn you, we will be removing to the dower house when the party ends, so you will need to pack again. Let that guide you as you decide which items to pull out and which to keep tucked away until we are settled for good.”
The dower house. It made sense. Philip was married, making his wife the true mistress of the Park.
That the dowager had remained in residence at the manor house as long as she had was, in all actuality, unusual.
Yet Arabella felt more than a twinge of disappointment.
The dower house was not the place she had dreamed of all these years. It had not been his home.
Still, she would be nearby, which was a comfort, and she would be in a position to help and to be companion to the dowager, which would have pleased the earl. There was great reassurance and a sense of purpose in that.
Philip, the current Lord Lampton, stepped from a room only two doors farther down the corridor than they presently were. He wore a jacket of bright green, not an unusual choice for the flamboyant young earl, though his waistcoat was a subdued grey, the influence of his wife, no doubt.
He grinned when he spotted her. “Arabella.” They had known each other all her life, which didn’t truly make their use of Christian names entirely proper, but it didn’t make it utterly absurd either. “I see Mater was able to steal you away after all. She was very determined to manage the thing.”
All the Jonquil brothers had been rather impish growing up.
The entire neighborhood had stood in mingled amusement and wariness, wondering what mischief they would get into next.
None of the brothers had been as endlessly entertaining as Philip.
Arabella had sometimes tiptoed down to the banks of the Trent to watch the brothers enact one of their paper-boat battles or chase each other around the trees and brush.
More than once, Philip’s antics had set her laughing loudly enough to give away her hiding spot.
None of them had chastised her. She had even been invited to join in.
The brothers had all grown more solemn after their father’s death.
Philip’s transformation had been more heartbreaking, owing to the weight he’d then carried and the drastic change it was from his carefree personality.
Over time, he had shed that soberness in favor of an almost ridiculous degree of dandification.
No one could be entirely certain why. Arabella could not remove from her mind the memory of him, nineteen years old, only days after burying his father, sitting on the low wall of the Hampton House back garden, his arm around her as she’d cried.
That was the Philip she remembered and the one she more and more often saw peeking through his mask of frivolity.
“Good afternoon, Lord Lampton.” She curtsied, as was proper.
He laughed, the sound so familiar to anyone who had been a child in the neighborhood while he was growing up. “I don’t imagine I will ever grow fully accustomed to being called that by someone who knew me when I was a ragamuffin young pup.”
“You are a number of years older than I,” she said. “That does help a little.”
The famous Jonquil smile lit his face. “I’m not quite in my dotage yet.”
“Thank the heavens for that,” the dowager said. “If you were anywhere near your dotage, that would put me in the realm of an ancient relic.”
“Hardly.” Philip kissed his mother’s cheek. “I haven’t forgotten about our planning appointment. I will meet you in the sitting room in a quarter hour, fully prepared to commit myself to all manner of inconvenient and miserable things in the name of your house party.”
The dowager nudged him teasingly. “You love those ‘inconvenient and miserable things.’ Do not attempt to convince me otherwise.”
Philip tugged foppishly at his waistcoat. “I do enjoy a gathering.”
“What you enjoy is an audience.”
He laughed once more, then disappeared down the corridor. The dowager led Arabella to a room at the far end.
“This room was Stanley’s,” she said. “I am afraid it is not very feminine, but it does afford a nice view of the east garden. When we relocate to the dower house, you can choose from three different bedchambers.”
“Thank you.”
The dowager watched her a moment, her expression unreadable. At last she said, “I am glad you are here, Arabella. I so hope you will be happy at the Park.”
“I know I will be. I know it.”
The dowager nodded. “I will leave you to your unpacking. If you feel up to it, I would appreciate you joining us for our planning session. I could use some extra eyes and hands in the final arrangements for this party.”
“Of course.”
She stepped inside her temporary bedchamber, intent on hanging up her gowns and placing her smallclothes in the clothespress as quickly as she could so as not to be late.
The room was, as the dowager had pointed out, rather masculine, with heavy fabrics and darker colors, but it was also very pleasant.
The large window let in a great deal of light, brightening the space.
She would be very happy here for the interim. She also intended to remain busy enough that her time in this corner of the house would be limited.
“Whatever you are asked to do, you consider it a command,” her aunt had said on the drive over.
Arabella would consider it a privilege. She was at last part of the earl’s household; she would not allow this long-awaited dream to die.
She had not been permitted to bring much with her, though even had she brought everything she’d owned, it would have looked sparse in this bedchamber.
Laying out her things required little more than a moment.
Last of all, she pulled a glove from the bottom of her portmanteau.
Hidden inside the thumb was her gold chain and glass bead.
She held it a moment, comforted by it as she always was, before clasping it around her neck. She set her open palm against the bead, where it hung over the bodice of her gray gown. Her pulse pounded beneath her fingers, echoing her nervousness.
“I am here at last,” she whispered. She would not squander this opportunity.
She found the dowager in the sitting room but only after wandering a bit in search of it. Philip and his wife had not joined her there. The dowager patted the seat beside her on the sofa.
“Is there anything I can do for you, Lady Lampton?” Arabella asked.
“You really are going to have to stop calling me that. The title also belongs to my daughter-in-law. You will confuse everyone when she is also present.”
Arabella acknowledged the truthfulness of that but didn’t know what would be proper.
The dowager absentmindedly twisted her black-bead necklace around her finger while she thought. “My mother-in-law had everyone call her ‘Old Lady Lampton’ after her husband died. She thought it was hilarious. To her credit, it was.”
Arabella could smile at that. “Is that where your son gets his sense of humor?”
“Most likely. His father was quite entertaining too.”
Entertaining was not the word Arabella most associated with the late earl, but it still fit. She had seen him join in his sons’ antics many times, and he had always been quick with a jest or a laugh or an irresistible smile.