Chapter 7 #3
“Such a sad, tangled history,” Mabel said, selecting a lemon biscuit from a dish she’d neglected to carry out with the tray. “I am glad Swidhelm has taken an interest in the Glen.”
Orla rose and drew the drapes against the morning sun. “He’s not interested in the Glen, Mabel Fielding. Well, not primarily in the Glen.”
“If his current industry is indicative of lack of interest, then I cannot imagine how he behaves when fascinated.”
Swidhelm apparently needed little sleep. He was out with the steward at first light and poring over ledgers until the still watches of night. His correspondence grew by the day, both incoming and outgoing, and several trunks had arrived from his London address.
York merchants were making regular deliveries—wines, spices, cloth, all manner of tools, and two new plows among them. Yesterday, a crate of books had arrived, much to Wealtha’s ire and Mabel’s delight.
“Mabel, his lordship is fascinated—with you.” Orla moved around the room, adjusting drapes, rearranging the irises on the sideboard, and smoothing a finger down the mantel.
“I beg your pardon?”
“He is a man in the grip of an infatuation. He hides it well, but I see how he looks at you over supper and how he truly listens to what you say when he asks you a question.”
Orla was being ridiculous. A rare occurrence, but when she took an odd notion, she could cherish it as fiercely as Wealtha cherished her collection of bonnets.
“Why ask a question if one doesn’t intend to listen to the answer?”
“In Swidhelm’s case, he asks because he enjoys knowing how your mind works. He likes to hear the sound of your voice, even though you have never quite lost your rustic accent. He is putting the Glen to rights for you.”
As odd notions went, Orla was outpacing even Wealtha’s grander delusions.
“Step-mama, I fear you are in error. Swidhelm is conscientious by nature. His upbringing was complicated by awkwardness and secrets, then by outright scandal. He’s determined that his own affairs remain orderly and above reproach. ”
“How prettily you protest and how sincerely. I am relieved you do not return his interest, Mabel, for he has put you in an awkward situation.”
Mabel would dislike Step-mama’s next conclusion. “Awkward in what regard, ma’am?”
“He must not offer for you, of course. He’s a new peer and a man of means.
If he moves in Town circles, and his connection to the Glen becomes known, then sooner or later, somebody will recall that Fielding girl from Yorkshire who made such a dreadful cake of herself not so many years ago.
A man in thrall to proper conduct would be horrified at the news of your social failings in the very society must now accept him as a peer. ”
Mabel’s past was always mentioned gently and indirectly, and yet, the memories stung all the harder for Orla’s pretended delicacy.
“Richard has made absolutely no indication to me that he holds me in any special affection. You are building castles in Spain, ma’am.”
“I hope I’m wrong, because if he’s harboring a tendresse for you, you must dissuade him, Mabel. For your own sake—his overtures could end only in mortification for you—and for Wealtha’s sake as well. The sooner Richard leaves us in peace, the happier she will be.”
What about for Richard’s sake? Every day he spent at the Glen, he seemed more relaxed and at home.
“I will consider your counsel, though I maintain that Swidhelm’s presence at the Glen bespeaks the actions of a conscientious new peer and not some passing infatuation for the Glen’s resident spinster.
If you’ll excuse me, it’s menu day, and Cook frets if I’m tardy to the discussion.
She’s determined to achieve Mayfair standards while his lordship bides here. ”
“Mind your step, Mabel. You call him Richard. He calls you Mabel. You have caught his fancy, and the past cannot be undone. At the very least, you must discourage him from prying into family history—his own as well as yours—and help us to focus his sights on a return to Town. His poking about here can do little good now that he’s shown the colors, and he’s a source of constant upset to Wealtha. ”
Mabel’s past was not to be mentioned, but neither could it be allowed to rest, of course.
“I like him,” Mabel said. “I respect him, and I do call him Richard, as do you and Wealtha. He pointed out to me the awkwardness that would result if I alone in the household insisted on formal address.” A slight twist on the sequence of events.
Mabel rose rather than indulge in further remonstrations, which would serve no purpose. “I hope you plan to join us at the assembly, ma’am. Whatever else is true, you seem to be faring a little better for having met his lordship at long last.”
“I must not overdo,” Orla replied, “but I would love to see Wealtha on the dance floor. I’ll consider attending, provided I can make an early evening of it.”
“We will both make an early evening of it.”
Mabel withdrew, holding her temper on a short leash. Orla usually came down to supper, but other than that, she’d had little enough interaction with her long-lost nephew. She was always agreeable to him, provided he avoided the topic of family history.
Richard was not smitten with Mabel, though he did appear to be growing attached to the Glen.
Mabel was a little smitten with him, which she attributed to two factors.
First, she was a spinster with too little experience of men and the world.
This had precipitated her downfall in Mayfair, and though she was older and wiser, she was still… susceptible.
She knew this about herself and could manage accordingly.
The second factor that fueled Richard’s attractiveness was the man himself. He was a gem and a gentleman, and any woman of sense would be drawn to him. He liked hard work, though he was never too serious, and he was no high stickler.
That he was a fine, healthy specimen of masculinity was no bad thing either.
More importantly, she liked him. She a-little-bit-more-than-liked him and intended to enjoy the novelty of the attraction without allowing any disastrous attachments.
He would in all probability head back south long before winter, and then Orla and Wealtha could bask in the newfound cachet of their connection to him and to his resources.
As plans went, that would do. And Orla was wrong about something else: When Richard used familiar address, he did not call her Mabel. He called her Amabel, and to blazes with being modern and sensible.