CHAPTER SIXTEEN #2
“I know I have been over-anxious about my son of late,” she confessed with a sheepish little moue, “but his father’s death was so sudden and so shocking…
” Her voice trailed off as she presented a cup to Annabelle, who emitted a little sound of sympathy.
Lady Hastings blinked rapidly and said, “It is necessary to keep oneself from … hovering, especially when one has only one child, do you not agree, Mrs. Marsh? Or is this perhaps not a problem with a daughter?”
“Oh, no, I quite agree with you. If we coddle our children, male or female, how will they ever achieve independence of mind or spirit; in short, become fully adult?”
The matrons exchanged a look of perfect understanding before Lady Hastings turned eyes of nearly as bright a blue as her son’s on Laura and inquired as to her preference with her tea. “Goodness, you really do favour your mama strikingly, my dear.”
“Only in appearance, I fear, ma’am,” Laura replied with a wry twist to her mouth. As her hostess’s expression grew keener, she blushed and accepted the cup, grateful to be able to concentrate her gaze on its steaming contents.
“Well, I always say one cannot expect to find an old head on young shoulders,” Lady Hastings stated comfortably.
“Very true, ma’am,” Annabelle, said, giving her daughter more time to recover her countenance as their hostess began to describe the contents of various silver dishes on a large tray.
While Laura sampled a dense rich fruit cake and nibbled a maid-of-honour, Annabelle asked about Lady Hastings’ recent journey.
That lady beamed at her. “Marvelous. Always in the past, you see, a trip of more than thirty minutes in a closed carriage would leave me prostrate the next day, but this time I was fine except for a slight queasiness and a touch of the head-ache, which I did not regard, as both went away shortly after I arrived. It is remarkably invigorating to be here in London again. I am looking forward to revisiting those places and activities I have enjoyed in the past.” She turned a smile on her young guest that radiated a similar warmth as her son’s.
“Is this your first visit to London, Miss Marsh?”
“Yes, ma’am.” Laura swallowed quickly and brushed a crumb from the corner of her mouth with her serviette.
“And is your season everything you dreamed it would be?”
Sensing that the question was more genuine than mere civility dictated, Laura gave it due consideration.
“When I was seventeen I believe I had large expectations for a season, but I am turned twenty now and no longer harbour unrealistic fancies. Certainly I have found a good deal of pleasure in becoming acquainted with the grandeur of the capital, and have enjoyed a number of social events too.”
Lady Hastings listened closely to this measured account, her head tilted to one side. “And what do you find most pleasurable, and least?” she added with a twinkle in observant blue eyes.
Laura grinned. “I’ve discovered that I love to dance, and I must confess that I am not fond of walking tamely in the park.” The smile faded and she sighed. “I really do miss the more active style of country living and being outdoors without troubling about a chaperone or an attendant.”
“I apprehend that my son brought you to one of my favourite places in London, the Physik Gardens in Chelsea.”
She knows! Laura could feel her facial muscles freeze as she gazed at the amiable — and knowing — visage of Jack’s mother. She ran her tongue around her pulled-in lips and was compelled to clear her throat before she could produce a weak assent. “Y … yes indeed, ma’am, a lovely peaceful spot.”
Taking pity on the discomfited girl, Lady Hastings turned to Mrs. Marsh and said with disarming frankness, “Though I say it who shouldn’t, Jack is more sensible than most gentlemen of those little attentions that please females.”
“Indeed, ma’am,” said Annabelle, laughing, “the truth requires no apology. As a disinterested party, I have no hesitation in corroborating that statement. And permit me to add that my daughter and I are sensible of the many kindnesses Lord Hastings has performed on our behalf since we arrived in town. This is in addition to being a delightful personality whose company must always be welcome on any occasion.”
“If you could have been privileged to know my husband you would recognise that Jack is his image — not so much in appearance, for there he is a combination of both his parents, but in character and disposition. Like his father, Jack’s nature is essentially simple, in the best sense of that term.
There is nothing cunning or devious in his makeup, and he credits others with his own goodness of heart and gives them the benefit of the doubt until they persist in proving him wrong.
” Lady Hastings’ face broke into a mischievous smile and she abandoned her serious tone.
“Also like his father, he has been in no rush to marry and set up his nursery. My friends and family all warned me that John was a charming care-for-nought who would make a poor husband despite being considered a ‘good catch’. But my instinct told me that his attentions to me and his respect for my … individuality, if you will, and my intelligence were genuine, not merely assumed in a spirit of competition because I was considered a toast of the town that year.”
Laura’s posture of rapt attention during this fascinating soliloquy was equally genuine, and she had no difficulty in believing that the vivacious little lady with soft silver curls and the brilliant complexion of a young girl had been a diamond of the first water in her salad days.
Lady Hastings paused at this stage. Laura, her ears and nerves at the stretch, let out an unconscious little breath as Annabelle prompted her to go on. “Obviously you prevailed against popular opinion, ma’am.”
“Yes, and never regretted my choice in one-and-thirty years of marriage.
John settled into married life with a happy grace that ensured our domestic felicity.
When his father died he was prepared to assume the full responsibility of the estate.
He quickly became an excellent landlord and master, and was always a wise and loving father — “ She stopped suddenly, offering a trembling smile. “I beg your pardon for running on so.”
“Not at all,” Annabelle assured her gently. “Yours was indeed a terrible loss, but your words are a great tribute to your husband’s memory.”
Laura sat motionless as her mother murmured in soft tones, until Lady Hastings recovered her composure and began to inquire about upcoming events like the Royal Academy’s annual exhibition.
Her own contributions were negligible during the remainder of the call, consisting in equal parts of vague seconds of the others’ opinions and brief replies to direct questions.
She barely heard her own voice above the voices in her head replaying Lady Hastings’ proud comments on the similarities between her husband and son. Her deep love for both was obvious.
Laura’s instincts told her Jack’s mother’s words were directed at her, but to what purpose?
A doting mother might well seek to punish a woman who had the temerity to refuse her son, but she could feel this woman’s good will and understanding in the sympathy of her glance and the kindness of her smile.
How much had Jack revealed about their last meeting?
Laura determinedly smothered the little seed of hope that her unfair accusations might not have cost her his friendship and regard. After all, he had kept away from any location where there was a chance of encountering her these past two days, including his own house!
By the time the Marsh ladies took their leave of Lady Hastings, Laura’s initial apprehension at meeting Jack’s mother had been replaced by a dull malaise in which vague regrets and unidentified longings preyed on her spirits whenever her mind was not sufficiently occupied with timely subjects or tasks as the day wore on.
She dressed with exceeding care for the evening ahead, selecting a simple gown that achieved distinction from its fabric — a vivid silk in the shimmering aquamarine colour of Caribbean waters — and allowing Sukie to exercise her creativity at dressing hair.
She accepted the young maid’s proud admiration for her mistress’ appearance with gratitude and relief.
If beauty was a woman’s armour, it was comforting to know that she would not be totally exposed this evening.
She sighed and left the sanctuary of her room with her head high, striving for some shred of her mother’s serenity.
Sophia, too, seemed less animated than might have been expected of a young woman about to be honoured with a gala ball.
She looked ravishing in a gown of pink sarcenet over a white slip, and Laura was pleased to see her wearing the spangled silver scarf that was a gift from her aunt and cousin on her birthday.
Her dark curls gleamed beneath a wreath of pink rosebuds, and diamonds sparkled at her ears, but Laura privately thought her cousin appeared a little pale, despite the warm pink costume, when she joined the Marsh ladies in the saloon to await their guests.
Dinner had been a rushed affair in the morning room so as not to disturb the caterer’s preparations in the dining room, where supper would be served.
When the ladies had risen to go upstairs, Sir Oswald had asked his daughter to stay behind.
Watching father and daughter enter the saloon a few moments later, Laura received the startled impression that all Sophia’s natural effervescence had drained away.
She glanced quickly at her uncle and read only prideful satisfaction on his aristocratic features.
Laura returned her eyes to Sophia, and her lips parted to inquire if she felt faint, but the sound of the door knocker below announced the first of their guests. She hesitated, then pressed her lips together.