Chapter 10
The evening of the dinner at Lady Snowden’s came. I was not anticipating a very entertaining or particularly pleasant evening, but when I realized I was being paired with a widower, a Mr. Watkins who looked to be almost sixty years old, my heart sank. This was worse than I’d imagined.
“My first marriage was happy,” Mr. Watkins told me during the first course of the meal. “And I cannot see any reason why my next marriage wouldn’t be just as happy.” He took another slurp of his leek and fennel soup.
I feigned great attention on my food.
“I have a large estate in Kent, and I would not be troubled if my next bride should be entirely without a dowry. I don’t desire such a thing, nor do I need it. . . and my children are all married and have homes of their own. I am quite lonely in that big house, with only the servants for company.
“I have a townhouse in London also, and I come here most summers,” he went on. “A good country house party is one thing, but there is nothing so interesting as attending several different parties a fortnight. Do you not agree, Miss Moore?”
“Yes, of course.”
“You are from Yorkshire?”
“No, sir. From Buckinghamshire.”
“Oh, that is very well, for Buckinghamshire is not so far from Kent, is it?”
“Not so far as it could be, I suppose.” I didn’t smile. Indeed, I was afraid of showing the wrong kind of interest.
The rest of my conversation with Mr. Watkins went on thusly, with him regaling me with his possessions and his pastimes.
He barely mentioned his children, although he did speak fondly of his dead wife.
I was glad he seemed to have had an affection for her, but if I’d been interested in becoming the next Mrs. Watkins, I might have grown tired of his mentioning her so often.
Jeremy had of course been paired with Miss Snowden, and Juliet was seated beside a Mr. Owens from Surrey. He was young and reasonably good-looking except for an unfortunate habit of grinning, showing all his teeth, and saying “isn’t it?” at the end of every sentence, even if it didn’t make sense.
“I do love a good fence to jump, isn’t it?” he said. “My mother doesn’t approve of my jumping, but a good horse is fond of jumping, isn’t it?”
Juliet seemed to put forth a valiant effort to ignore this habit, and she said, “I love to jump fences very much. My brother scolds me terribly when I do, so I must avoid letting him see me.”
“Isn’t it?” Mr. Owens grinned bigger than ever.
Jeremy, for his part, was smiling at something Miss Snowden was saying, and I suddenly felt an even worse sinking of my stomach than when I realized I must keep company with Mr. Watkins and his aspirations for a new wife.
Could Jeremy truly be forming an attachment to Miss Snowden? Could he not see that she had no very great feeling, nor was she likely to fall far from the tree of her mother, the self-righteous—
I needed to stop that train of thought. After all, why should I care who Jeremy Beaumont preferred? And I was not Miss Snowden’s judge. I knew very little of her, truthfully, and I must think kindly of others if I hoped to be thought kindly of myself.
After dinner I positioned myself so that Mr. Watkins wouldn’t be able to sit beside me when he and the other gentlemen joined us. Juliet seemed to be employing the same strategy, as she sat next to me but with Miss Snowden on her other side.
“You were very well-looking at the ball here the other night,” Miss Snowden said to Juliet. “Your blue gown was the perfect color for your eyes and complexion.”
“Thank you. I do love a ball. There is nothing more enjoyable than dancing.”
“I quite agree,” Miss Snowden said. “Although a brisk run on a good horse through the countryside is nearly as enjoyable, especially when one is tired of society and wishes to be alone with one’s horse.”
“Oh, yes, I know just what you mean.”
Lady Snowden was the only other person in the room, and she did not appear inclined to speak. So I said, “Miss Snowden, I have heard that you are very accomplished at playing and singing. I do hope to hear you tonight.”
“Well, I do not sing for everyone, but when the gentlemen have joined us, I may.” Her manner was chilly, and she immediately turned back to Juliet and smiled. “I daresay we should sing a duet. I have a lovely number that would do very well. Come and I will show it to you.”
Miss Snowden and Juliet moved to the pianoforte, which was in the far corner of the room, and soon they were sitting together on the bench and studying a sheet of music and talking.
Lady Snowden let out a very deep sigh, then cleared her throat loudly before taking a sip of tea. She leaned back against the armchair where she was sitting and closed her eyes. A few moments later, I heard a soft snore.
I sat listening to the bits of conversation I could hear coming from Juliet and Miss Snowden.
I turned my thoughts away from Lady Snowden’s snoring, Miss Snowden’s coldness, and my dread of Mr. Watkins’ unwelcome attention, and I allowed myself to dwell on the letter I’d recently received from Mother.
She said my brothers were getting along very well.
She didn’t answer my question when I asked if Diana missed me and if she was calling for me.
Sometimes I cried myself to sleep at night thinking of her wondering why I had left her.
She was too young to understand that I would come back. She needed me, and I’d abandoned her.
I had to blink back tears just thinking about it.
And now that it was getting warmer, I missed the country.
I missed having picnics under the trees, playing with the new kittens and puppies, and riding my horse just to get away from the noise of my brothers.
I missed Lavinia, with her sensible attitude and her imperious way with our younger brothers, who pretended to behave in front of her, but made goofy faces when her back was turned. And I missed cuddling my baby sister.
My chest ached as I wished I could hold her and smell her freshly washed hair. How many times had I rocked her to sleep, singing soft lullabies and kissing her plump cheeks? I loved making her laugh. The sweet sound of baby laughter must be the best sound in the world.
“Miss Moore.”
The sound of Mr. Watkins’s voice instantly cleared the pleasant memories from my mind, and I nearly panicked. What excuse could I give for running from the room? Instead, I groaned inwardly, realizing he was going to sit beside me and talk to me the rest of the night.
Jeremy saw what was about to happen, which only made it humiliating as well as exasperating when Mr. Watkins plopped himself down beside me.
But I couldn’t be rude, so when Mr. Watkins said, “And here we are. There is nothing so agreeable as a dinner party. Are the ladies about to sing and display their talents?”
“I believe so.”
Lady Snowden roused herself, sitting up straight after her nap and clearing her throat.
Lady Snowden’s dinner partner had been a Mr. Greensleeves, and that gentleman, while staring at Juliet and Miss Snowden where they sat at the instrument, said, “Let the ladies play and sing! I haven’t heard a good song in over a fortnight.”
“Mr. Beaumont, you sit over there where you can better hear the music.” Lady Snowden nodded at the settee closest to the pianoforte.
He sat where she indicated.
As Mr. Watkins began telling me about his hunting dogs, I could feel Jeremy’s eyes on me. But I wouldn’t let him pity me. The trick was how to converse politely with Mr. Watkins while not giving him the impression that I could be interested in marrying him.
“My grandfather kept hunting dogs,” I said. “My father doesn’t care for hunting, but we always have a few dogs—”
“Where was your grandfather’s estate?”
“In Buckinghamshire.” I didn’t tell him that it was more of a large farm than an estate, but we did have tenants.
“And he hunted, did he? Foxes or pheasants?”
“Mostly pheasants.”
“And he kept dogs? What breed?”
The conversation continued until, thankfully, Miss Snowden began to play. She and Juliet sang a duet while the rest of us listened in silence. No one dared talk while Lady Snowden’s daughter was exhibiting her talent.
They both had good voices, although Miss Snowden hit a few wrong notes, and Juliet more than once sang on the wrong beat. But we all clapped politely when the song ended.
“Very lovely!” Lady Snowden called. “Play another one.”
Miss Snowden appeared to be trying to persuade Juliet to sing another with her, but she declined and came to sit near me while Miss Snowden began a second song.
Jeremy kept his eyes on Miss Snowden. I tried to judge his expression, but only seeing his profile, I couldn’t quite tell if he was expressing delight or simply polite attention. But I was glad of the break from talking about hunting dogs.
All too soon, Miss Snowden’s song ended. “That was splendid, my dear,” Lady Snowden was saying.
Miss Snowden stood and went to sit beside Jeremy.
I half expected someone to ask me if I’d like to play, but I was grateful no one did.
The rest of the evening dragged by very slowly. But finally, Jeremy and Juliet announced that it was time to take their leave. A jolt of relief went through me, and I stood to go.
“I shall call on you,” Mr. Watkins said. “You are staying with the Beaumonts, I understand?”
“Yes.” I tried not to grimace. If only I could have dissuaded him, but it was too late now.
“Last night was so tedious.” Juliet sighed and rubbed her eyes.
“Mr. Owens, poor man, was not the best conversationalist. And you, Amelia, having to endure Mr. Watkins talking on and on about his horses and his dogs, his poor dead wife, and where he likes to hunt and what he likes to shoot. I wonder that you were still sane by the end of the evening.”
“Bless you for noticing.” I sighed. “It was all I could do not to burst into tears at one point. My fear is that he will call on me today and ask me to marry him.”
“How horrid that would be! He’s so old. He couldn’t possibly think you’d say yes.”