Chapter 36
Thirty-Six
The shadows were starting to extend themselves as the entire party gathered in the drawing room for tea.
It was a relief for Aurora to step into the much-loved room.
As she looked around at its Wedgewood blue walls and white trim, comfortably but not overly furnished, she appreciated it truly for the first time after the over-heated, over-stuffed red walls of Lady Wentworth’s taste.
It both soothed and steadied her for whatever tonight’s gathering might bring. At least, so she hoped.
As she looked around, she spotted her mother nervously fussing with Moore, the butler, about last-minute touches with the tea things.
She knew her mother did not wish to appear countrified or parvenu in their habits and manners before these members of the Ton.
The actual fact of dealing with all these highborn personages here, under her roof, had her flustered, though Aurora could tell she was trying not to show it.
She noted the occasional nervous glances which her mother shot in the direction of Lady Wentworth, when that worthy personage swept into the room, her husband in tow.
Aurora found a comfortable seat from which she could watch Lady W.
take in the room in its entirety and observed those sharp eyes (at least sharp when it pertained to the business of Marriage and those details which betrayed class and breeding) dissect every little piece of the space.
Never looking in the direction of Mrs. Hardcastle, her ladyship selected a settee with a good view of the proceedings.
Lord W. scuttled behind and perched on the edge of the cushion next to her before sinking back into it and preparing to close his eyes.
Aurora watched her mother take a deep breath and square her shoulders.
Mrs. Hardcastle left the tea things to approach the Wentworths and curtsied.
“Lady Wentworth. Lord Wentworth. I hope your accommodation is to your liking. I know they are not up to London standards, but I do hope you find them acceptable. And comfortable.”
Lady Wentworth bestowed a look of cool courtesy on her hostess and graciously acknowledged this address with a slight nod of her head.
Lord Wentworth pushed himself up to his feet, made a brief bow, and resumed his seat.
“It is plenty tolerable,” her ladyship stated, “for the country and these environs. We thank you and hope to discompose you for a short while only.”
“Oh, it is no trouble at all, your ladyship. We should be delighted to have you visit for as long as suits. The tea will be ready shortly.” With another brief curtsey, Mrs. Hardcastle returned to the tea table to fuss some more.
Aurora felt her heart going out to her mother. I have learned a great deal these past months. Mayhap this will all be over soon. At least for Mama’s sake, if not for mine.
And then Missie made her own graceful entrance, searching for the seat which would leave no doubt she remained the Incomparable.
As she intended, all conversation ceased while she held the moment.
She caught Lady Wentworth’s discreet glance directing her to a settee which both met that criterion and offered a clear spot for her suitor to attend to her once he had appeared.
Her gown was a rich, dark blue with fabric that softly embraced her figure while her neckline’s daring flouted the sedate company.
She floated down rather than sat and became a breathtaking statue.
Even after all these months, Aurora acknowledged Missie could still draw everyone’s eye, casting those around her into a silent, stunned orbit about her person.
Why is she insisting on doing this now, here, in my home, where I will be announced a bride-to-be?
she briefly wondered. But then, she knew.
There was no generosity left in Missie Wentworth, even to someone she had called a friend.
The voices in the room subsided to a tense murmur, if that.
Missie said nothing and looked at no one.
Aurora felt almost frozen, like a bird on the outside of a pane of glass, beating its wings to get in, yet unnoticed by anyone on the other side.
But then the sound of a bright voice preceded the entrance of the next small group of guests, and she felt a debt of gratitude to its owner as some of the tension evaporated as that new sound approached.
Marjorie was happily chatting with her father as the two of them entered, telling him about her day.
The Duke of Galloway followed behind them, obviously eavesdropping and enjoying himself immensely.
Aurora’s old nurse had led the little girl on a thorough tour of the house, directing her to climb up and down stairs to look at both the attics and the cellars.
It was clear from the narrative that the nurse had not done much of the actual climbing, but rather delegated the athletics to Marjorie.
This caused Aurora to smile in memory of the woman’s management of her own youthful energies.
His daughter had thereby released all the long travel kinks out of her system without exhausting herself thoroughly and was therefore in a cheerful mood.
Marjorie saw Aurora, let go her father’s hand, and skipped over to sit beside her.
Aurora gathered her into a quick hug and gave her a kiss.
“Oh, Rorie! Why do you make such a fuss over the child!” exclaimed Missie, seemingly out of the clear blue.
The room fell silent. Aurora heard what almost sounded like a growl coming from Alec and turned briefly to see the Duke of Galloway put a restraining hand on his arm. She heard a sharp intake of breath from Marjorie and hugged the little girl closer to her. “Pardon me?” is all she said.
Missie’s laugh was brittle. “Children should be seen and not heard. To have a child at tea with a room full of adults is most untoward. And unnecessary. In the way and underfoot. And a complete menace besides—spills and messes. Perhaps when en famille, but that is certainly not the present moment.
“When I have children of my own, they shall remain in the nursery until they are old enough to be sent away to school or to learning deportment in the schoolroom, depending upon their sex. Even when we should be in the country.” Missie took out her fan and began a rather more intense than usual waving of it in front of her face.
“La! But I am famished. When is the meal to be served?”
It was incredibly rude. Aurora felt the others in the room almost take a step back. Out of the corner of her eye, she watched Lady W. actually reach for her husband. She gazed up at her own parents, whose faces were mortified. Oh, I must do something. Aurora, do something!
“We shall be called into the dining room in approximately five minutes,” Aurora was finally able to get out, pleased that her voice was not shaking.
“And may I suggest—” She frantically cast around in her mind—what was it she might suggest?
“May I suggest that we plan to have a picnic tomorrow? There are some lovely views a handful of miles from here. It will get us all out into the sunshine. And I should like you to see the country hereabouts.”
Missie only tutted and fanned harder, but Lady W. spoke up. “That sounds most pleasing, Aurora. Yes, let us have a picnic.”
Was that relief in her voice?
The butler arrived a few moments later and announced the meal.
They quietly filed into the dining room and undertook a largely silent repast, except for an occasional murmur requesting this or that dish to be added to their plate.
Aurora was never more thankful to have an evening end in her entire life.