CHAPTER FOURTEEN
“Isn’t it wonderful, Mama?” Laura demanded, having just described her meeting with Lucinda Cahill in the cloakroom at Almack’s.
Mother and daughter were in Mrs. Marsh’s bedchamber, where they had repaired upon returning from the ball.
Annabelle was seated at her dressing table removing her jewellery, her eyes fixed on Laura’s radiant expression in the mirror.
Without waiting for a reply the girl hurried on, “Just think, if we had not come to London I might never have known that I had any relatives apart from my uncle’s family. Did Papa ever mention a female cousin to you?”
“No, never.” Annabelle had removed her earrings and now motioned for Laura to undo the clasp of the diamond necklace. “After his father died he never spoke of his family again. Are you quite sure Miss Cahill was not mistaken? I would expect that Marsh is a rather common surname.”
Laura looked up from her task and their eyes, so similar in shape and colour, met in the mirror.
“It was Mrs. Cahill who made the connection. She told her daughter that she and her male cousin — Papa — were the only children of brothers, and that they had not kept in touch after she married and moved to Northumberland. She must have known where to reach Papa, for she tried to re-establish contact with him upon his marriage and on more than one subsequent occasion, but he never responded. They had not known of his death — it was Miss Chandler who told them. Lucinda — Miss Cahill — said her mother would have written to you except that she has been ill recently. I … I hope I was not being presumptuous in assuring her that you would welcome their call?”
Mrs. Marsh could not mistake the anxiety in her daughter’s face.
“Of course not, my love,” she replied, at her most soothing.
“At the worst it will be a case of mistaken identity, but I do hope for your sake that Miss Cahill and her mother will turn out to be the extended family you have never had. I … I did not realise how much you longed for a larger family.”
“Well, I do not believe I did when I was growing up. I accepted things as they were without much reflection on the subject,” Laura said candidly, “but I liked Miss Cahill immediately, and it would be … comforting to have someone from Papa’s side of the family in my life.”
Mrs. Marsh accepted the necklace and swung away from the mirror, her loving gaze assessing the girl’s mobile features. “I do understand, dearest. I shall be happy to welcome Mrs. Cahill and Lucinda.”
“Thank you, Mama.” Laura gave a huge sigh of satisfaction and executed a few dance steps, unable to contain her elation. “This has been the most exciting night of my life.”
“Not entirely, I trust, because you may have discovered a lost relative?”
Annabelle’s tone was light, but Laura glanced at her a bit uncertainly and brought her whirling to a stop, saying, “Of course not. Once I was reasonably sure I would not disgrace myself — and you — on the dance floor I began to enjoy myself very much. And, though it does not become me to say so, I confess it was gratifying to find that Sophie and I were never without a partner, even for the waltzes.”
“Any female who recalls her first season can sympathise with that feeling, love. This ball broke the ice for you both, greatly increasing your acquaintance. You will never again feel yourself a total stranger at a party.”
“Thank goodness for that. We certainly met multitudes of people tonight. I only hope I will remember their names the next time we meet.”
“It was quite a coincidence, was it not, that you should stumble across the man who helped you the day Henry was hurt?”
“Coincidence is such a mild word for the most embarrassing few seconds of my life! I wanted to sink through the floor when I saw Mr. Redmond looking at me in a way that showed me he’d not forgotten the lie I told on that day. He even teased me a little about being too well-dressed for a governess.”
“It was not the action of a true gentleman to remind you of your lapse.”
“Oh no, Mama, I am persuaded he simply wished to explain that he understood why I did it, so we might put the incident behind us. I found him interesting and more conversable than most of the younger men that I met tonight. I hope you did not take him in dislike?”
“No, no,” her mother assured her. “I found nothing to dislike in his manners or address, and his person is quite attractive, do you not agree?”
“Yes, in a comfortable sort of way.” Laura gave a big yawn and laughed. “Well, I am for bed, Mama. Sleep well.” She bent down to kiss her mother’s smooth cheek and drifted out of the room, humming a tune and leaving Annabelle staring thoughtfully at the door.
Though physically depleted, Laura found her mind was too full of impressions from the evening just past to permit sleep immediately.
Once in her nightclothes, she set about recording those impressions in her journal, beginning with the all-important encounter with Lucinda Cahill, the details of which she wished to fix in her memory.
She then made a conscientious effort to list as many new persons as she could recall, including any pertinent descriptions to assist in identifying them in future.
By this time the yawns were coming continuously, signalling that it was time to crawl between the sheets.
Before she succumbed to sleep though, she allowed her imagination to run ahead to the proposed meeting with her newly discovered relatives, indulging a tentative hope that they would become part of her life in the future.
Laura arose the next morning with a heightened sense of anticipation that events soon confirmed.
The sound of the door knocker could be heard at any hour of the day, and the poor footman or Jimson toiled up the stairs with visitors’ cards and requests to see the ladies of the house.
Over the next few days they received calls from several matrons with daughters who had been present at Almack’s, and even more from gentlemen whose acquaintance dated from that evening.
Invitations poured in for receptions, balls and musical evenings.
Laura was privately amused at the degree of satisfaction her mother and Sophia derived from this influx, and secretly appalled at learning that they intended to accept nearly all of them.
When Laura innocently asked why they were going to what was described as an intimate evening with friends at the Dunston residence, when both girls had found Miss Dunston’s disparaging comments about several of her contemporaries and her air of haughty condescension singularly off-putting, Sophia explained, “The Dunstons are very well connected in society, and there are two unmarried sons who will doubtless invite their friends to their sister’s soirée.
Besides, if we are to have a creditable turnout for my party we cannot afford to appear standoffish. ”
Even had a guest’s delicacy not been in question, the cool logic of her cousin’s rationale would have kept Laura silent.
Sophia had already returned her attention to her task, and Laura followed suit, fixing her eyes on her fingers inscribing the invitations to a birthday ball in her best copperplate script.
The girls were seated on opposite sides of a table desk in the saloon, applying themselves to this chore while Annabelle enjoyed the indulgence of playing her favourite pieces on the pianoforte for their pleasure.
Into this tranquil scene a few minutes later came Jimson to announce the arrival of Mrs. and Miss Cahill.
Laura jumped up, her face alight, and hurried over to greet her young relative and meet her father’s cousin and former play-fellow.
Eagerly she searched the older woman’s countenance, seeking some resemblance to her father.
The squarish shape of her face was similar, and Mrs. Cahill’s dark brown eyes, beneath straight heavy brows, were familiar too.
Her nose was a more refined version of her male cousin’s, and her smiling mouth was essentially different, mobile with well-curved lips.
She was as tall as her daughter and more strongly built, with broad, square shoulders that brought James Marsh to mind.
By the time she reached this point in her comparisons, Mrs. Marsh and Sophia had joined them. The formalities were quickly accomplished and Annabelle arranged everyone around the central group of settees and chairs, having already dispatched Jimson for refreshments.
“So you are Jamey’s daughter,” Mrs. Cahill began in a rich contralto, beaming a smile from Laura to Annabelle as she added, “A blind man can see that she favours you, ma’am, but she has the Marsh chin.”
For an instant both Marsh women were goggle-eyed and dumbstruck at hearing the formidable James referred to by a nursery name.
Annabelle recovered first, but her voice was rather feeble as she agreed with her guest’s assessment, adding, “But you share a strong family resemblance with my husband, ma’am, more than Miss Cahill does. ”
“Yes, I’ve always thanked providence that Mr. Cahill had enough influence to override the standard Marsh physiognomy that definitely works better in males.”
“The Marsh look has done you no harm, ma’am,” Laura said daringly.
“Ah, but that is because I have enough charm to compensate for the big bones — plus my husband admired my seat on a horse,” Mrs. Cahill replied with a complacent candour that endeared her to Laura and produced a ripple of amusement in the others.
“Is this your first season, Miss Cahill?” Sophia inquired of the blushing Lucinda.
“Yes, and I am enjoying myself hugely.”