Chapter 23 - William
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE- WILLIAM
As was now their custom, the ladies disappeared into their respective bedrooms, followed by their maids and the tissue-wrapped parcels. William settled himself in his usual seat next to Dahlia on the leather sofa—the only piece of furniture in the room that was large enough for his frame.
He tossed several letters he’d brought along to read between dress showings next to him and sighed. “I suppose you’re glad to see this nearly at an end.”
Dahlia shrugged. “Your sisters are delightful, and I'm glad to call them my friends.”
“Yes, but now you’ll be able to sketch someone new for a change. I know your imagination must be itching to do so.”
“On the contrary, it's been a delight to remain with the same subjects for so long.”
One by one, Dahlia approved the ensembles. Only two of them needed slight alterations, but nothing that would take more than a day to complete. Eventually, the ladies redressed in their day dresses and joined them in the sitting room.
“I, for one, am grateful that this endeavor has come to a close.” William sighed dramatically. “I fear my pocketbook may never recover.”
“Don't be ridiculous,” Claire said. “I've looked at your numbers and everything's fine. Besides, with our history, you shouldn’t joke in such a manner."
"Apologies. It was unthinking of me."
Of all his sisters, Claire was still by far the most sensitive about their financial situation. Instead of seeing it as an intrusion, he was glad she’d looked at his ledgers. If that was what she needed to feel secure, it was a small price to pay. He should have suggested it himself.
“Dahlia, I’m in raptures over that sea-green gown,” Lily said.
Claire rolled her eyes. “You’re always in raptures over everything.”
“That’s not true.”
Beatrice huffed a laugh. “Leave it to you to fault her for her good nature. As if her optimism and enjoyment of life is a bad thing.”
William interrupted before the squabble could come to a rolling boil. "Suffice it to say that with these gowns and your well-funded dowries, none of you should find any impediment to finding a husband, if that is what you wish.”
"What about you, William? Do you think you'll marry soon?" Margaret asked.
He laughed, stretching out his legs and interlacing his fingers behind his head. "I couldn't possibly. Not until all of my sisters are settled."
Beatrice blinked. "But there are eight of us; surely you don't mean to wait so long. It might be years."
"I'm not all that old," he teased. Rachel frowned at him in apparent confusion, so he added, "I still have plenty of time."
Rachel's eyes slid to her sister, but when William turned to Dahlia in curiosity, her expression was bland nothingness. However, both Beatrice and Lily were frowning at him now, too.
"Ah," he said, in sudden understanding, "I suppose that's an offensive statement to you ladies who are looking to marry posthaste, but my priority at the moment is to focus on your happiness, not my own."
“It’s not that…” Lily stammered.
He reached for a letter and tore open the seal. “Rest assured, dear sister—the moment I meet a lady who tempts me toward the matrimonial state, you all shall be the first to know of it.”
Rachel's eyes narrowed; she stood abruptly. "I wish to go home."
Such proclamations would have been considered shocking had they come from anyone else, but Rachel was prone to such fits of bluntness, and both he and his sisters were quite used to it by this point.
Dahlia rose gracefully and kissed Margaret's cheek. "It was lovely as always."
William's head was bent over the letter. There was a discrepancy in last month's numbers from Bombay, and he intended to find the source before he wrote his steward with a solution.
"Will we see you ladies tomorrow?" he asked.
"No,” Dahlia said firmly. “There are no more ensembles that require my attention; therefore, our agreement is complete."
William frowned. He thought it had become more than an agreement as of late. He felt as if there was some unspoken meaning in her words he was missing. He glanced up; his sisters were looking everywhere but at him.
"You won't miss the company of this house?" he asked.
"Of course, your sisters are welcome to visit us as often as they desire." She turned toward the ladies and smiled warmly. "And I sincerely hope you do."
"Of course," Lily stammered. "We'll visit as early as tomorrow if that wouldn't be unwelcome."
"Please do."
Dahlia gave a beautiful, formal curtsy. He frowned. Was it his imagination or did the motion have a nearly mocking flair to it?
"Until tomorrow, ladies." She met his eyes and gave a curt nod. "Goodbye, Lord Cavendish."
William frowned after Dahlia as she swept from the room. She’d left an awkward silence in her wake, though he couldn't surmise the source of it.
"That seemed rather abrupt," he finally said.
Beatrice grinned. "On the contrary, brother. That was a long time coming.”
"You know," Claire said, her head cocked in a thoughtful expression, "I think I quite like her after all."