Chapter 38
Thirty-Eight
After a rest and refresh, the party reconvened in the drawing room, as they had the night before, to await the evening meal.
Aurora ensured she was down first so she could see her mother well settled with the arrangements, greet the two dukes, welcome the Wentworths, and await Missie, who did not disappoint.
A slight high color in Missie’s cheeks indicated that her bonnet’s slipping a bit earlier in the day was not without effect, and all the rice powder in the world could not blot out the fingers of sunlight that had touched her skin.
Missie had just taken her seat when the door opened again and Marjorie entered, the shadowy shape of Peg behind her in the hall.
The little girl moved further into the room as the door shut behind her.
Marjorie’s eyes searched the room for her father, and then Aurora.
Clearly still on her best behavior, she quietly stepped forward in Aurora’s direction and prepared to make a curtsey.
However, as she did so, the little girl suddenly lost her balance and fell forward.
She hit the floor hard, with a thud which shook the tea things.
Everyone froze. Both Alec and his cousin turned from where they had stepped to personally accept the cups of tea to carry to the objects of their attention.
The Duke of Selkirk had snapped to in a way that had the Duke of Galloway worriedly looking at him, then back to Missie. Alec started toward his daughter.
Marjorie scrambled to her feet on her own, however.
She had a white, determined look on her face and shot her father a glance.
He subsided, though Aurora saw this took great effort on his part.
He let Marjorie take the remaining steps to Aurora.
She made her curtsey, though it wobbled a bit on the way down and then back up.
And then launched herself into Aurora’s embrace, but she did not cry.
Aurora encircled her with her arms and drew her down to the sofa.
Missie sniffed. “I know you are a complete and utter romantic about things, Rorie, but this is too much. As I said last night, it is simply not done. And after a day outside, at a picnic? We are to be subjected to more of this child’s presence?
All those weeks of effort and training, and you have learned nothing. You will never be one of us.”
Lady Wentworth had not sat closer to her daughter so as to leave room for the Duke of Galloway.
Nevertheless, standing up and crossing to Missie would have been beyond her at that point.
She stayed where she was, a look of dread on her face indicating that events had left her control and disaster was imminent.
Lord Wentworth, for his part, had thoroughly woken up and ineffectually kept patting his wife’s hand, saying “There, there,” under his breath, as though she were a recalcitrant horse.
Mrs. Hardcastle, from her post with the butler and the tea things, made an inarticulate sound, but seemed unsure of how to act next.
Her husband, who had entered the room last, had arrived soon enough to hear the thump of Marjorie’s fall, followed by Missie’s speech.
He crossed quickly to his wife. She turned to him and reached for his hand, which he gave her.
Both said nothing further and instead looked at their daughter.
Aurora shot a glance over at Alec. The look on his face was fierce.
He had not seen what caused the fall, but Aurora could see he was suspicious as to its cause.
She feared he was about to say something they might all bitterly regret.
Even more than the words out of my erstwhile friend’s mouth? Or what I believe she has done?
Yes. Even more.
Aurora felt Marjorie’s tight grip on her waist. Oh, this is ridiculous. We must stop this!
She quietly removed Marjorie’s hand but did not drop it as she came to her feet.
“Missie,” she began, “you have been a good friend to me over the years. I always considered it to be so. In fact, I believed you to be the best.” She paused.
“In point of fact, Lady Marjorie is not your child. And you do not have the raising of her. You are welcome to whatever judgment you choose. I certainly cannot stop you. But you do not have the right to punish or harm her in any way.”
Aurora paused. A soft hiss from Missie told her that her suspicions were correct. She had been the reason for Marjorie’s fall.
“Also know this: I will not banish Lady Marjorie from this drawing room. She is a young person who is a member of this party. How is she to learn how to behave as an adult if she cannot directly observe adults? She is not some wild animal let out of a zoo for special occasions.”
Here, Aurora looked down at Marjorie and smiled. “I have it on very good authority that she is not a bear.” Marjorie tremulously smiled back at her.
The room was so quiet, Aurora could hear Alec’s exhale from where she stood.
“I know I presume in my parents’ place,” she continued, “but this is still my home as well. It is not yours. If you find the way it is managed so distasteful, I shan’t impose on your time or request your presence any longer. You are free to leave whenever you wish.”
Aurora had been looking generally in the direction where Missie was, but this was the first moment she looked directly at her.
Missie’s mask was frozen even harder into place than it had been on their carriage ride here.
Her lovely gray eyes were dark as slate, and, if looks could wound, or even kill, Aurora knew she would be lying on the carpet, bleeding from a thousand cuts.
What had happened to her friend? Where was the person she believed she had known for years?
Had she ever existed? And for someone whose manners had been honed to the finest exactitude, how could she be so incredibly rude?
And how could she purposely hurt a child?
Missie stood, eyes snapping at Aurora. “Well, that is the way the wind blows. I should have known. Blood will out.” She turned to look at the Duke of Selkirk, and whatever she saw in his face momentarily caused her to quail, but she rallied.
“I wish you well of your choice, sir. I believe you may come to regret it. Come along, Mama, Papa. We must prepare to depart. We are not wanted here.”
Missie swept out of the room. Crestfallen, Lord and Lady Wentworth scurried out after her.
With an apologetic look at his friend and a quick murmur of, “Let me see if I can address what is amiss,” Lord Galloway stood to follow the Wentworths. He bowed to Mr. and Mrs. Hardcastle, then to Aurora, and gave a quick wink at Marjorie.
The room fell silent again.
When a hiccupped sob came from Marjorie, her father was across the room in two strides picking her up and murmuring into her hair.
He swayed back and forth, attempting to comfort her.
While she was eight now and not a tiny child anymore, she clung to him as if she were.
Mr. and Mrs. Hardcastle found the nearest sofa and collapsed into it.
Aurora’s knees buckled and she, too, sat down abruptly.
She indulged in a moment of burying her face in her hands, then used those hands to push herself to stand again.
“I think we each need a fortifying cup of tea. Even Marjorie, Alec.” Aurora addressing him so informally would normally have been remarked upon, but no one appeared to register it.
She turned back to the butler, who had remained in his position near the tea things, and had him pour and pass around the steaming cups (with plenty of cream and sugar for Marjorie) and thick slices of cake.
While he did so, Aurora walked over to her parents, hugged each lightly, kissing her mother on the cheek.
Instead of returning to her former place, though, she kept on walking and took a seat beside Alec, where he was sitting with Marjorie.
She put one hand on his back and reached across him to touch the little girl’s nearest arm and gently caressed it.