Chapter 7 #3
but do not think I wish for it, for you would be quite out.
After all, you and Sophia have already secured a husband in your first season, so it will be no victory for me to do so.
My only true ambition is to have a drawing room full of flowers, so there is no room to sit. Then I will have forged my own path.
She had run out of room at the bottom and turned the page horizontally so she could write crosswise, though it was only two lines.
Dorry should still be able to read it. She added her love, then stood to look around the drawing room.
Her mother had left, likely to return to her bedroom.
She was stronger than she had been, but one could not precisely call Lady Poole industrious.
It was up to Camilla to direct things now, she supposed, on the very slim chance that they were to receive callers.
At noon, she sat in the drawing room with a book in hand. Joanna was also reading, and Tilly sat on the sofa and embroidered. Their mother would join them in a bit, she had promised, and the housekeeper was prepared to bring tea at the right time.
A loud knock on the front door brought Camilla’s eyes to Joanna’s. “It appears we are to have visitors after all.”
“I knew we would,” Tilly said confidently, going to collect Joanna’s and Camilla’s books and bringing them over to a side table along with her embroidery. “It is a shame we cannot continue to embroider while we receive visitors. It is more pleasant to discuss things while our hands are occupied.”
“Yes, it is a wonder,” Joanna said. “We might hand them our darning to keep their hands busy and free ourselves up for other amusements later in the day.” Tilly made a face at her.
“Lady Milton. Miss Bernice Milton,” Turton announced.
Camilla was pleased, since it was her objective to befriend Bernice.
Last season, they had seen them less often, because the youngest daughter, Abigail, had been preparing for her marriage.
Neither Camilla nor her sisters felt any warmth toward Abigail, so it was a welcome change that she would no longer be joining the Miltons on morning calls.
“Good afternoon,” Joanna greeted. “I will go and find my mother. She will surely wish to see you, Lady Milton.”
“When did you arrive in London?” Camilla asked.
“At the start of the season. Sir Humphrey missed his dinners at the club, I believe, and was anxious to be back.” Lady Milton gave a tittering laugh.
“Have you attended many balls before last night?” Camilla addressed this question to Bernice, hoping her mother would allow her to answer. It was not to be.
“We hardly have a night at home, do we, Bernice? What with all of our particular friends, and my youngest so suitably connected. She married Mr. Quarles, you know. No title, but quite a fortune—”
“Yes, we had heard,” Camilla replied when Lady Milton had paused to wait for her confirmation. She hoped she would not feel the need to elaborate.
The door opened and Lady Poole entered, followed by Joanna.
Thank goodness their mother had arrived, for she knew just how to handle Lady Milton.
All she did was to listen and murmur a reply when required, which answered very well.
So successful was her mother’s handling of Lady Milton, Camilla was able to engage Bernice in a private conversation under the guise of showing her a gown in La Belle Assemblée.
“How do you find life without your sister at home?”
“Not much of an improvement, I am sorry to say.” Bernice brought her quiet regard to Camilla’s. “My mother still speaks to me in the same way, except that she seems more frequently in a sour mood than before. I suspect she misses my sister’s company.”
Camilla dropped her eyes to the magazine, not wishing to add to Bernice’s discomfiture.
“I am sorry to hear it. And has your relationship with Abigail improved? I was often at odds with my sisters in the past—well, except for Sophia. No one can be at odds with her. But my sisters and I have all grown closer in the years since.”
Bernice shook her head. “Abigail is not like your sisters. My mother has spoiled her for her whole life, and as a result, I do not think she knows how to be kind. Whenever I see her now, she takes pains to remind me that she has married before me and that her husband is very wealthy.”
Camilla sighed and glanced at Lady Milton before leaning in to speak. “I am sorry to say such a thing about your blood relation, but Abigail is insufferable.”
Bernice smiled. “You would only be saying what I say in my head all the time.”
Camilla met her gaze, suspecting she would also appreciate having a friend. “Perhaps we might spend more time together, if you would like that.”
“I would,” Bernice replied warmly. “Very much, in fact. Thank you for proposing it.”
The Miltons were to be the only visitors that afternoon, which suited Camilla.
Contrary to her show of indifference and her private purposes for shunning Pembroke, she found it in her to regret he had not come.
But then, it was hardly surprising since she had given him no reason to do so.
She had made a wise decision, however, and would continue on with the course she had set.