Chapter 19
Mrs. Lynn
“I always look upon her as able to persuade a person to anything! I am afraid of her, as I have told you before, quite afraid of her, because she is so very clever …”
Jane Austen, Persuasion
“Why, Mrs. Rutherford, here you are!” cried Mrs. Lynn as she breezed into the room. “Mr. Rutherford was asking if I’d seen you.”
Rosalind was quite certain this was a lie, but let that pass. “I came to see how Miss Cynthia was doing.”
“Well, we were of the same mind.” Mrs. Lynn laid her hand on Cynthia’s shoulder and beamed tenderly down on her pale, angry face. “How are you, Cynthia? Can I send for anything?”
“You need not concern yourself with me,” Cynthia croaked.
“But I do,” said Mrs. Lynn earnestly. “As you are so dear to Sir Anthony, I don’t see how I can help myself.”
Cynthia responded with a cold glower. Mrs. Lynn sighed and threw up her hands.
Rosalind got to her feet. “If Mr. Rutherford is looking for me, then I should return to the party. Mrs. Lynn, let us allow Cynthia her rest. I’m sure it will do her good.”
The look Mrs. Lynn returned was quietly speculative. “Yes, yes, of course,” she said. “Good night, dear.” She planted a small kiss on Cynthia’s forehead. Rosalind wondered if that gesture was meant to soothe Cynthia, or to convince Rosalind of Mrs. Lynn’s tender feelings for the young woman.
When Mrs. Lynn straightened, she made a small, slightly mocking curtsy toward Rosalind.
“Mrs. Rutherford?” She indicated Rosalind should proceed her out the door.
Once Cynthia’s door was closed behind them both, Mrs. Lynn caught up to Rosalind so that they walked side by side down the narrow, dim corridor.
“It was very good of you, Mrs. Rutherford, to come and keep Cynthia company. I try my best, but I confess the child tries my patience sorely. Poor thing. She is so jealous of her sister’s engagement.
She cannot help but try to draw attention to herself with her sighs and tears and woes.
I suppose it is understandable. She was jilted so cruelly. You will have heard of it by now.”
It was a blatant invitation to gossip. “No, I had not heard.”
“Yes. So very sad. A young man met in passing. He flirted, probably out of boredom, and she, naive creature, took him seriously. Began to hint to the entire neighborhood that she was engaged. Then, of course, he left as lightly as he came, and she became a complete laughingstock. A rather shoddy tragedy, really.”
And a very neat way of letting me know that Cynthia’s word is not to be trusted.
“Then I am sorry for her,” said Rosalind. “And it was good of you to take time to check on her. I know you are very busy managing your gathering downstairs.”
Mrs. Lynn laughed her sparkling laugh. “Why, Mrs. Rutherford!” she cried. “Are you accusing me of being a managing female?”
“Oh, never,” said Rosalind lightly. “But one can see you have taken the Kinsdale household well in hand. I truly admired the skill with which you diverted the gentlemen when Admiral Walsingham made his unexpected appearance.”
“Oh, that.” Mrs. Lynn waved her words away. “It is only that I have such a dislike of unpleasantness. Especially between gentlemen. They are such children, really, and their tempers are so easily spoiled.”
Rosalind returned Mrs. Lynn’s conspiratorial smile. “Still, it is plain to me that this is a house and a family that very much needs someone who can steer matters in the correct direction.”
At these words, Mrs. Lynn’s countenance shifted. The sparkle and lightness she affected dimmed, replaced by something sharper, and much colder.
“You are quite perceptive, Mrs. Rutherford,” said Mrs. Lynn. “I begin to wonder what else you have seen.”
“What should I have seen?” replied Rosalind.
“Well, that depends entirely on who you really are,” said Mrs. Lynn.
It took all Rosalind’s years of practice to hold her face still.
Mrs. Lynn smiled, as if she had just selected a winning card for her hand. “Now, I shall make a confession.” She leaned forward and said in a stage whisper, “I followed you.”
“Did you?” Rosalind considered the narrow stairs and the straight hall she had traversed to get here. If Mrs. Lynn had followed her, it had been at a distance.
“Elizabeth noticed you had gone upstairs, and I came to see what you might be doing. I confess I may have listened a moment at the door before I entered. But then, I am a wicked, designing woman, am I not?” she paused. “And you are Miss Rosalind Thorne.”
Rosalind said nothing.
“What, no protestations? No insistence that you don’t know what I mean?”
“Would it matter?” asked Rosalind.
“Not in the least,” declared Mrs. Lynn.
“Then you will agree it is best that I save us both the trouble.”
“You are very cool.”
Rosalind made no answer to this.
Mrs. Lynn’s eyes narrowed. “I shall, of course, have to tell Sir Anthony.”
“Very well,” replied Rosalind calmly. “Shall we go now?”
That surprised her. “Now?”
“Yes,” said Rosalind. “If we are to lay our cards on the table, as the saying goes, this is a most apropos time and place, do you not agree?”
“You would choose to be humiliated in front of half of Bath society?”
“The half of Bath society represented downstairs is more likely to be amused by my presence than anything else,” said Rosalind.
“I do not fear for my reputation personally or professionally in this case. But, as I am sure you understand, I will have to tell Sir Anthony why I am here and who asked me to come.”
She met Mrs. Lynn’s gaze directly. That lady did not flinch, or look away. Neither did she offer any protestation of her own.
“I must admit, I expected more … dismay at having your veil ripped away.”
“I expected to be recognized,” Rosalind told her. “And I thought it would probably be sooner rather than later. Bath is a small world, and large swaths of London society pass through here.”
“Yes. That they do.”
There was another burst of laughter from below, and an indistinct shout. A muscle in Mrs. Lynn’s cheek twitched.
She is worried what is happening in her absence. She expected to have the upper hand with me by now. Rosalind felt an unusual, but genuine, prickling of her pride.
“Since you recognize me, Mrs. Lynn, I expect you have some idea why Miss Clara has asked me to Bath.”
“One of the things I most admire about the Kinsdale girls on the whole is that they are all quite direct.” Mrs. Lynn meant this, Rosalind felt sure. “Clara has made it very clear she suspects me of being up to no good, as has Cynthia.”
“What answer do you make to those suspicions? Or do you mean to suggest that it is Miss Cynthia’s jealousy that drives her?”
A fresh burst of laughter erupted from below them. Mrs. Lynn glanced toward the stairs. She clearly wished to be back with her company. Rosalind did not move.
When Mrs. Lynn smiled again, it was a strangely wistful expression.
“Clara Kinsdale is an intelligent and perceptive young lady. Which, I’m sure you will agree, is a surprise, given the family she comes from.
” Mrs. Lynn drummed her fingers for a moment on the stair railing.
“In fact, I should not be surprised to learn that Clara and her fiancé paraded you before me in order to frighten me off as quickly as possible.”
Rosalind said nothing.
“Yes,” Mrs. Lynn went on thoughtfully. “A good choice of strategy. I am indeed frightened, and, given the circumstances, I fully intend to be off. As soon as matters can be arranged, in fact. You may, if you choose, tell Clara and Cynthia as much.”
Rosalind felt her eyes widen. It took her a moment to find an answer to this declaration.
“How long do you think it will take you to arrange matters?”
Again, Mrs. Lynn gave her that arch, wistful smile. “Not very long. When you are a woman in my position, Miss Thorne, you learn the value of being prepared to make an orderly retreat. Sir Anthony seemed an ideal mark for my needs—”
“Mark?”
“Match, I meant.”
You did not.
“But now that his daughters have acted so decisively on their suspicions”—here she nodded toward Rosalind—“I would be a fool to believe that I could lodge snuggly or comfortably in the bosom of the family any longer, or that his grace would be inclined to assist his father-in-law with any additional request for money.” She did not, Rosalind noticed, make any allusion to the gaming parties she had been running from the Kindsales’ home.
“What I would ask, if you would be so kind, is that you give me one more day to make my excuses. Let the party play out. Then, tomorrow I will let it be known I have received a letter from some relative. Perhaps my goddaughter?” she mused.
“Yes, a goddaughter should answer nicely. She will be suffering from an illness or some other sudden disaster, and beg me to come to her. I will go, promising to return as soon as may be. Will that suit?”
“Admirably,” said Rosalind. “You understand that I plan to stay in Bath at least a fortnight, and will remain in contact with the Misses Kinsdale—”
“To make sure I am truly gone?” Mrs. Lynn interrupted. “I would not expect anything less. But I also ask you to believe that I’m not such a fool as to try to return once I know the jig is up.”
Rosalind found she could well believe this.
“So,” Mrs. Lynn went on briskly. “You may let Clara know her engagement is in no further danger from my presence. Again, all I ask is that you do so quietly, and let me take my leave. Both she and his grace will surely be able to see the advantage of that. The last thing either of them will want is more controversy.”
“I will regard this conversation as a confidence,” said Rosalind. “Unless a change of circumstances requires me to do otherwise.”
“That is all I could hope for.” Mrs. Lynn’s smile turned coldly polite.
“Now, I really must return to the party. Some of my friends can become a bit boisterous if there is not someone there to manage their high spirits.” She picked up her skirts and breezed past Rosalind, taking herself down the stairs without looking back.
Rosalind, on the other hand, stayed where she was for a long moment, trying to understand what had really just happened.