Chapter Fourteen #2
Winifred found it strangely freeing to wake up the following morning to the realization that what she had hoped for with varying degrees of intensity, and denial, for the past few months—in London, at home in Bath, and here—was just not going to happen.
By her own choice. Owen had offered and she had refused.
She could have lain in bed and let her mood spiral downward into depression.
It was finally over, that dream. Instead, she bounded out of bed, threw back the curtains at the window, drew a deep breath of the fresh morning air through the open window, and felt herself fill with excitement for the coming days.
The Earl and Countess of Stratton’s new guests would be arriving, starting this afternoon with the earl’s elder half brother—the late earl’s by-blow, whom Colonel Ware credited with saving his life in the Peninsula, or at least his leg.
But her excitement extended beyond the arrival of new guests and the fete on Saturday. Her mind was exhilarated too about the future in general. She could do whatever she wished with it. What an unbelievable gift the future was.
First on the agenda was to be a walk into the village after breakfast. Last night she had agreed to accompany Stephanie to a choir practice at the church.
She had liked Sir Ifor Rhys the first time she met him at Cartref.
She had been enthralled by the music he produced from the great pipe organ when she attended church on Sunday.
Now she looked forward to hearing what he could do with a choir.
According to Stephanie, he could make stones sing if he wished.
This morning Winifred would hear two of his choirs—the children’s, which would sing at the ceremony that would open the fete, and the adults’, which would sing at a midday organ and choral recital on the same day.
Listening turned out to be pure pleasure. Winifred thought of how much both choirs would be appreciated if they performed a concert at home in Bath. Stephanie had a solo part with the adult choir. She had a pure soprano voice. Winifred would have loved to hear more of it.
“You are an enormously talented singer,” she said as they walked home together later.
“Thank you.” Stephanie blushed. “But I take no particular credit.”
“Sir Ifor is clearly a talented musician himself, and he recognizes talent in others,” Winifred said.
“He would not have singled you out to sing solo before a crowd of people at the fete if he did not see talent in you. No doubt he has helped nurture you. But even if he were not here, you know, you would still have the voice. And you would surely have chosen to use it and share it, even if only among family and friends. But I will not embarrass you further. It seems to be a role sometimes thrust upon me at our arts center, though, that of chief encourager. That is the name one group gave me, anyway. I only hope it was meant as a compliment. I have noticed, though, that many people belittle their own talents and never develop them to the full simply because they lack belief in themselves or are afraid of appearing boastful. So they deny themselves the happiness of knowing who they really are. Oh dear. Sometimes I do run on and on. You may tell me to be quiet anytime you wish.”
But Stephanie was laughing as she linked an arm through Winifred’s.
“Very well,” she said. “I believe you. I am the best soprano in the world, and Boscombe and its surrounds are privileged beyond belief that I will condescend to sing to them.”
Winifred joined in her laughter.
“What a happy week this is going to be,” she said. “It must be lovely for you to have all the rest of your family coming home for the occasion. Are you especially close to your sister?”
“I am now,” Stephanie said. “It was not always so. Pippa is almost six years older than I. It was too wide an age gap to bring us close when we were growing up. But it is surprising how that gap seemed to narrow as we grew older. I sometimes spend time with her at Greystone Court when she cannot come here. I was there for several months while she was expecting Pamela. The twins were terribly energetic—at least, Emily was. Christopher has always been the more placid twin. Lucas—my brother-in-law—is fond of saying Christopher would not even fight for his rights when he was born. Emily is half an hour older than he. I was able to take some of their care off Pippa’s hands while I was there, though they have always had an excellent nurse, and Lucas is a very attentive husband and father.
He does not make an excuse of his busy duties as Duke of Wilby. ”
“Family is terribly important, is it not?” Winifred said, smiling. “I missed my own very much when I spent a few weeks in London with my father earlier this spring. It is lovely to have them all here. It was extraordinarily generous of the earl to invite us all.”
“I am very glad he did,” Stephanie said. “I love your mother. She is so full of fun and energy. And the children all seem to look out for one another. I cannot wait to see Mama’s portrait your father has painted.”
“And one more member of our family will be coming this week,” Winifred said.
“Did you know Bertrand Lamarr—we never think of him as Viscount Watley—is Mama’s stepbrother?
My grandmother married his father eleven years ago, and we all love him—and Estelle, his twin sister.
Is he not the most amiable gentleman you have ever known?
Not to mention handsome. I danced the opening set of a ball at Archer House with him this spring, and I could see I was the envy of every other woman present.
I hope he finds the perfect bride one day so he can live happily ever after.
Estelle wants it too, now that she is married herself.
Mama always says the poor man has become the victim of the worst possible oppressors, well-meaning female relatives. ”
She turned her head to look at Stephanie, expecting to share laughter with her again. But her friend was grimacing. “I wish he was not coming,” she said. “But I beg your pardon. He is your relative, and you are eager to see him again.”
“Has he made himself…objectionable to you when he has been here before?” Winifred asked. But it was hard to imagine.
“No,” Stephanie said. “He has only ever been all that is amiable. It is just that I really do not want to see him again. The first time he came here with Owen, I was seventeen and I was absolutely smitten. Not in a good way, I must add. I was mortally afraid that if I smiled at him or made conversation with him, he would think I was flirting. I thought he was perfection and I was just the opposite. Everyone kept telling me when I was a child that my baby fat was adorable but it would go away when I grew older. I waited and waited, but it never happened. It still has not, for that matter. And I had this great shiny moon face and still looked like a child of twelve. I went to extraordinary lengths to hide from him, and when that was impossible, I blushed from my toes to the crown of my head and could never think of anything to say. It was downright humiliating.”
They had come to a halt on the bridge over the river. The sun was sparkling on the water as it flowed beneath.
“Oh, dear,” Winifred said. “But that was all some time ago. It is altogether possible he has forgotten—if he even noticed. And you are very far from being unattractive. You have a lovely, well-proportioned figure, even if it is a bit fuller than some would consider the feminine ideal. Sometimes I lament my very shapeless figure, but all the lamentations in the world will not change it. I know also that I am not pretty. I decided long ago that I am as I am and that actually I am quite happy about it. I would hate to be someone else.”
Stephanie laughed. “I used to think it was so unfair that Pippa is flawlessly beautiful,” she said.
“But I would not want to be her. I want to be me. I doubt Viscount Watley has forgotten, though—unfortunately. I met him again when I was nineteen and Mama persuaded me to go to London for a come-out Season. It was disastrous. He was at the very first ball I attended, and he was so pleased to meet us again and introduce us to Lady Estelle Lamarr, his sister. She was his female counterpart—beautiful and poised and charming. And slender. But you know her, of course. I went all to pieces, Winifred. I tripped and stammered and blushed—and fled from London as soon as I could. Pippa and Lucas were in town, but Pippa was increasing at the time and longed to be back home. When Lucas took her there well before the Season ended, I went with them. I had never in my life been happier for an excuse.”
“Oh, poor Stephanie,” Winifred said.
“That was six years ago,” Stephanie said.
“I have grown up since then and am very happy with my life even though I am still single in my middle twenties. But enough about me. I am glad for your sake and your mother’s that Viscount Watley is coming here tomorrow.
I am glad too that you and your family are staying for the fete.
It is my favorite event here, though it no longer happens every year, as it used to when I was a child.
All we need now is for this perfect weather to last. It surely will not be unkind enough to rain upon us on that one special day, will it? ”
“It would not dare,” Winifred said as they walked on. “I do look forward to meeting your eldest brother this afternoon.”
“Oh, me too,” Stephanie said. “I adore Ben.”