Chapter 8
Chapter Eight
After the ladies withdrew from dinner, they settled happily in the drawing room beneath Lady Hartwell’s solicitude.
The baroness quickly had the six women in places of comfort.
A chair for Mrs. Holly near the fire, the Misses Norman settled at a card table, and Mrs. Elgin and Juniper given the pianoforte and sheets of music for the entertainment of all.
“We have an even number,” Mrs. Elgin, the young widow, said with a bright smile. “Perhaps we could have dancing for any who wished to enjoy such exercise.”
“Oh, you young people,” Mrs. Holly, her mother, said from her chair. “Forever looking for reasons to pull up the rugs and move about furniture. Matilda, dear, let us not turn Lady Hartwell’s drawing room into a den of chaos. Listening to music this evening is enough excitement for all of us.”
Mrs. Elgin did not seem put out by her mother, which surprised Emily somewhat. The young widow was better practiced at schooling her features than Emily, given that Emily could not seem to keep herself from giving away all her feelings with a look.
Perhaps that had saved her, though, at the table.
“If exercise is wanted, the garden is open for exploration,” Lady Hartwell said, gesturing to the doors open on one side of the room, letting in a soft evening breeze.
“I had lanterns hung along the paths and above my favorite of the roses. I do hope everyone who wishes to take a moment in the garden will do so.”
That tempted Emily. Yet leaving the room so soon after entering might strike some as rude.
Instead, she drifted toward a curio cabinet in one corner of the room, the little shelves filled with dainty works of art made with glass, jade, and clay.
Many of the pieces were shaped into flowers and painted with delicate patterns.
Lady Hartwell joined her there. “You have found my treasures,” she said quietly, her eyes bright and hands folded elegantly before her.
“I have enjoyed collecting these. I have only added one or two for myself. The rest have been gathered by my sons or friends when they see a thing they think I will like.”
There were tiny placards, folded cards, with information about each piece set before it. The writing was minuscule, but legible. Emily bent to read one.
Rose of Jerusalem, Olive Wood, Purchased in Greece. Gift from Her Grace, the Duchess of Montfort, August 1815.
“Oh. How clever. Writing information about each piece in such a lovely way.”
“Yes. The place where it was acquired, when, and who gifted it to me,” Lady Hartwell said, a small flutter of her hand gesturing to the cards.
“It was Lyness’s idea and handiwork, of course.
He enjoys the intricacy of the miniature signs.
And it rather makes me feel like I have a museum in my keeping.
Cataloging the information where anyone can see it. ”
Mr. Eastwood had created the placards? That made her bend again to examine them closer. The writing was neat and tidy, and still somehow elegant despite the size. His penmanship was absolutely beautiful.
“Which do you like best?” Lady Hartwell asked.
It took Emily a moment to realize the baroness meant the roses and not the script.
“Oh. They are all so beautiful. Let me see.” One piece looked so thinly sculpted that she could only imagine how brittle it would feel, how careful one had to touch it. “This one,” she said, pointing to the delicate rose.
She immediately experienced sympathy for the inanimate object.
In that moment, she felt somewhat fragile herself.
The conversation at dinner had been difficult to follow, when she understood what was being said.
So often, the men on either side of her had spoken of people she did not know and events—such as the upcoming races—wherein she had no experience.
The dishes served that evening had all been new to her, and she was certain she had not eaten the main course in the way intended.
She likely should have dipped the meat in the sauce that was next to it, instead of mixing them together on the plate.
Dipping was certainly the more delicate option.
“Yes, that is a marvelous piece. Lyness chose that one for me. Of course, it says so on the card. He found it in a market, in France, when he visited a handful of years ago.”
“He went to France?”
“Of course. He visited as many countries in Europe as he could in a year. I am glad his interest and age corresponded to a time of relative peace for such things. A decade ago, it would have been too dangerous for him to travel in such a way.” Lady Hartwell smiled fondly at her display of treasures.
“I think he enjoyed the adventure of it. I hate to have my sons far from me, though I think it an important thing for men of distinction.”
Looking at the rose again, and Lyness’s careful penmanship, Emily said, “I have hardly stirred outside the county of my birth before we went to London. And now I am here, of course. I have not even wondered what other places might hold.”
“I think travel is good for the young,” Lady Hartwell said, her hands adjusting the shawl around her shoulder as she spoke.
“Perhaps I do not encourage it enough. I know Roman has no wish to stir far from York, but with the right persuasion, he might travel the kingdom a touch more.” She gave Emily a significant look to punctuate that statement.
Jack’s guess that Lady Hartwell wanted to play matchmaker for her eldest son seemed more feasible by the moment.
Several feet away at the gaming table, the twin sisters burst into giggles as one attempted to shuffle, only to send the cards scattering to the floor.
“I can help,” Emily said, hurrying to assist. And get away from the expectant smile of the baroness. She bent swiftly, and her head rewarded her for the abrupt movement with a sudden dart of pain.
“Thank you, Lady Emily,” one of the twins said, her smile tight. Did she not, in fact, want help? Or was she merely self-conscious about the clumsiness of the accident? Perhaps it was Emily herself that was the problem.
Her head had ached even before the ghastly London gossip had come up.
She had hoped to never have to think of that awkward occasion again.
Nothing terrible had actually happened, of course.
Some mean-spirited members of Society had decided to spread rumors about her being a snob, acting above her station, and luring men into courting her for the amusement of breaking their hearts.
It had all been baseless. Fabricated by those who were offended she did not wish to associate with them, due to their mean-spirited nature.
Having high standards for friendships and courtship had spectacularly backfired, and it had taken the cleverness of friends in London to curtail the rumors and leave her—and her family’s—reputation intact.
She had taken care to limit new friendships until she was certain of a person’s character, after hearing numerous warnings about people taking advantage of her state as a new noble.
That care had been labeled the snobbery of an upstart, and Society did not forgive people acting above their place in life.
That horrible experience had cemented her decision to leave London for the less strict society of York.
The other sister accepted the deck of cards with hardly a lift of her eyes. Both had been so cheerful a moment before.
What if the London gossip continued to stand in the way of Emily finding friends?
Finding a husband? She did not want to think on it, though she craved understanding and friendship.
She missed forming acquaintance and deeper connection over simple things, and conversation about more than the weather and fashion.
Though Juniper and Jack tried, Emily found herself lonely and without people to confide in.
Her brother and sister-in-law wanted to soothe her, the rest of her family were carrying on in London and had their own problems, and that left Emily with few people to share her true thoughts and feelings. Her worry about the gossip…
Lady Hartwell had not been bothered by the gossip, though. Surely that was a good thing? Jack and Juniper both thought Roman Eastwood a good match for her. Yet they had asked only that she be civil to him—and she had been.
But when she looked toward the door, wondering when the gentlemen would join them, it was Lyness she hoped to see first. His sympathetic expression, warm sense of humor, and gentle way of listening had set her at ease more than anyone else.
That would never do.
She needed to take in cooler air. She stepped closer to her sister-in-law, who examined the musical selection with eagerness to find another piece to play, and tilted her head toward the doors. “May I step outside alone?”
Juniper looked toward the windows. “I think so. The gardens are within full view of anyone in this room. Lady Hartwell said they are well lit. I see nothing wrong with it if you are not away overlong.”
Nodding her understanding, Emily slipped between the thin curtains and out into the cool night.
Immediately, she drew in a deep breath. The air was scented with roses, and a soft breeze tugged at her hem in welcome. For a moment, with the heady smells of fragrant flowers and the night air, she missed her home in the country terribly.
It would be ungrateful to admit it, even to herself, so she tried to put the longing aside. Tried not to think of the stone walls covered in honeysuckle, the bright green of the fields stretching in every direction, interrupted by the occasional copse of old trees with broad green leaves.
She stepped deeper into the garden. Nothing within growing higher than her chest made it easy to stay in sight of anyone standing at the doors or windows of the Hartwell townhouse.