CHAPTER NINE #2
Annabelle knew that Laura had agreed to come to London solely for her mother’s sake.
For her daughter’s future she had accepted the sacrifice eagerly, though she’d been troubled by Laura’s reluctance and had searched her conscience repeatedly, trying unavailingly to absolve herself from the sin of selfishness, for she had wished to revisit the scene of her own salad days when life had beckoned so promisingly.
She’d tried to be inconspicuous in her attention to Laura’s every reaction to London’s unfolding attractions, seeking crumbs of comfort for her conscience in each little display of pleasure or interest from the girl.
As her fingers danced along the keyboard of the pianoforte while she watched two very attractive young women acquiring a graceful accomplishment that would assure them hours of carefree pleasure, Annabelle felt as if a burden were being lifted from her shoulders, and her overactive conscience took a deep breath of relief.
Whatever the reason for Laura’s mischievous twinkle, she was at this moment the very image of a light-hearted girl prepared to step fearlessly into the future.
Her mother breathed a fervent prayer of thanksgiving as the music and the lesson came to an end.
Laura’s whimsical wish to witness Sophia’s reaction upon first encountering her little brother’s tutor was not immediately granted, but the Mount Street ladies could not complain of a dearth of attractive male callers.
Two days after the first dancing lesson found Mrs. Marsh and her daughter ensconced.in the former’s spacious bedchamber, where they were engaged in the homely activity of refurbishing Laura’s old straw bonnet with some teal blue silk flowers they’d discovered in a shop on Oxford Street the preceding afternoon.
Sophia, who had called her cousin’s attention to the flowers — claiming, rightly as it turned out, that they were an exact match to Laura’s newest driving dress — was spending the day with Dolly Chandler.
“Bless Sophie for spotting these flowers among so many,” Laura said, angling her head as she checked the positioning of a spray at the base of the bonnet’s crown in the mirror over the dressing table.
“I never would have thought of them in association with my new dress if she had not insisted they were the perfect trim to give this bonnet new life.”
“Yes, Sophie has a marvellous sense of colour,” her mother agreed, reaching out to take the hat as Laura removed it.
“She has a sense of style too, like you, Mama. She seems just to know what will be most becoming without even trying a garment on. I despair of ever acquiring the knack.”
“It is not surprising that you haven’t the knack, or rather the confidence in your own judgment yet, love,” Mrs. Marsh replied, repositioning the flowers and adding two cut from another spray to the arrangement taking shape under her fingers.
“After all, fashion has not played a significant role in your life to date. By the same token, Sophie has not yet acquired much knowledge in the area of holding household.”
“Sophie’s prospective husband is in for a rude surprise in that department, although mayhap it won’t signify, at least not at first,” Laura said thoughtfully.
“That is what good housekeepers are for, to prevent that sort of surprise. Sophie was not meant to be the wife of a poor man.”
Laura chortled at the hint of dryness in her mother’s tones, and Mrs. Marsh, glancing up from her project, joined in. Mother and daughter were laughing together like girlish contemporaries when Sukie knocked at the door.
The little maid entered and curtsied. “Mr. Jimson says as how Lord Hastings has called and are you receiving this morning, ma’am?”
“Yes, of course, Sukie. Tell Jimson to show Lord Hastings to the saloon.” Mrs. Marsh abandoned her task when the maid had gone and gave her daughter a quick glance.
“Your hair is a bit ruffled from trying on the bonnet, dearest,” she said, tucking a stray curl of her own back under a vastly becoming lace cap as she watched Laura shove impatient fingers through tresses that were nearly identical in their honey colour but thicker in texture and curlier than her mother’s.
And a good thing too, Annabelle mused, noting that the girl’s ministrations had precious little effect on the attractive disorder.
Laura’s interest in her appearance was not intense enough to supply the patience required to have straight hair curled and arranged daily in the shorter styles of the present era.
Fortunately, the artless disarray that was the frequent result of her neglect was singularly becoming to her daughter’s mobile features and quite reflective of her somewhat turbulent nature.
Laura seemed half again as alive as the young ladies one met with in society.
There was no point in trying to mould her into a languid lady of fashion, Annabelle concluded as she headed down the corridor with the vibrant creature she and James had managed by some divine intervention to produce from their disastrous coupling.
Laura opened the door and her mother preceded her into the saloon, pleased as always to greet the young man she had liked from their first meeting.
The amenities completed and Sophia’s absence explained, they all sat down, the Marsh ladies sharing a sofa while Lord Hastings cautiously eased on to one of the deceptively fragile-looking gold chairs.
“I am in luck to find you at home today,” he said with flattering enthusiasm.
“We were so sorry to miss you the other day,” Mrs. Marsh replied. “Assembling a wardrobe for the girls has meant that we are obliged to be out a good deal, but hopefully we shall soon have a regular ‘at home’ day to receive our friends.”
He leaned forward with a smile for both, but addressed his petition to Mrs. Marsh.
“It is a perfect day for driving, and it occurs to me that Miss Marsh, being newly arrived in town and previously much engaged with matters of primary importance, might not as yet have visited many of London’s points of interest. I should be delighted to offer my services as guide in the cause of her introduction to the sights if there is some place you would especially like to see,” he finished, flashing his winning smile at Laura alone.
Laura’s surprise was succeeded by a speculative gleam in her blue-green eyes.
“Why, thank you, sir, you are most kind. Aubrey and I have a particular desire to see the effigies of all the kings in the horse-armoury at the Tower, but it would have to be after lunch because he is with his tutor in the mornings.”
“Laura, my dear, Lord Hastings may not wish — that is —”
“You were about to say that there might not be enough room for three in my curricle, were you not, ma’am?
” Lord Hastings interposed, coming to his embarrassed hostess’ rescue, “but if Aubrey does not object to being a trifle squashed between us, the Tower sounds like a splendid objective for this afternoon.”
Annabelle knew that her daughter’s pretty expression of gratitude did not equal the warmth of her own thanks to Lord Hastings, and she sighed inwardly as she turned the conversation to other matters during the rest of the short call.
Laura participated with cool good sense, displaying none of that subtle awareness that generally distinguished the manner of a marriageable young woman who realises that she has been singled out by an attractive man.
It was beyond question that Laura lacked her cousin’s instinctive awareness of the romantic possibilities ever present in the reactions of persons of the opposite sex to each other in ordinary social intercourse.
Sophia, however, was female to her fingertips while Laura’s interests, and perhaps even the way her mind worked, were closer to those of the stronger sex.
Having said all that, Annabelle could still only speculate on whether her daughter sensed that Lord Hastings might have made the initial move in a campaign to fix his interest with her.
In this delicate early stage of attraction matters could go either way on a personal level without much emotional damage to the parties involved.
On a worldly level it would be an unequal match, and there was frequently more than the feelings of two young people at stake in such situations.
It would be unwise to raise Laura’s hopes at this point even if she’d shown some partiality for Lord Hastings, which, her observant parent reluctantly conceded, was not the case.
On the other hand, what mother would choose to stand by while her unconscious offspring whistled a matrimonial prize down the wind?
But that was true only if said offspring agreed with the designation, of course.
Patience and distance must be her role at present, Annabelle decided, but not without some qualms and self-doubt.
When their visitor took his leave after settling on a time for the outing, Annabelle confined her remonstrations to her daughter, for the poor manners she’d displayed in presuming a gentleman’s invitation to her might be interpreted to include another person.
“I know it was very forward of me, Mama,” Laura agreed with a deplorable want of penitence, “but I have been trying to figure a way to bring Aubrey to the Tower, and Lord Hastings’ offer seemed heaven sent.
It is only an hour or two of his life, after all, and he seems a good-natured soul,” she added airily, leaving her parent uncomforted and bereft of words that could begin to address the larger issue of Laura’s seeming unawareness of what her London stay might mean for her future.