Finding the Bluestockings Heart (The Colchester Sisters Book 3)

by Charlotte Darcy

  The only problem was, Verity did not really know what her current mood was. She did not feel low spirited at all, but she was not entirely sure she was high-spirited either. She felt a little as if there was something she had forgotten, as if she had left home to go into town but had forgotten her purse. It was that sort of feeling, nothing catastrophic, just a needling sense that there was something she should be thinking about.

  She was wondering idly if she were, perhaps, becoming unwell, when she thought of Mr. Irving Ayres quite out of the blue.

  Verity really had enjoyed his company the previous evening and had been glad, in the end, that she had agreed to attend the assembly rooms with her brother after all. Even when she compared it to evenings spent there with her beloved sisters, Verity had had an uncommonly good time.

  Irving Ayres had proved to be a most amusing man. But not amusing in the way that men often thought they were; no, he was truly amusing.

  He made intelligent observations and voiced them well, making Verity laugh so much on one occasion that her brother had turned from his lively conversation with Miss Meriton to satisfy his curiosity for a moment.

  But Amos had very much left her to it, hardly spending a moment with her for the rest of the evening. So, she thought that she could easily conclude that Irving Ayres was a good man, otherwise, Amos would not have left her alone with him. Not alone with him exactly, for Amos was only a few feet away. A casual observer would have thought everything entirely proper, that they were almost a part of the same party, so to speak.

  But to all intents and purposes, Verity had enjoyed the entire evening in the sole company of Irving. And what was more, she had liked it.

  Irving had looked very well indeed, a far cry from his well-worn walking apparel, that was for certain. He wore black trousers and tailcoat with a pale green waistcoat beneath. The contrast was subtle and striking all at once and the predominantly dark outfit suited his blonde hair and tanned skin very nicely.

  When she thought about it, Verity realized that Irving was a very handsome man. No doubt his handsomeness would have been the very first thing her sister Jane would have fixed upon. But Verity had barely noticed it until he had become a little more interesting to her.

  He was engaging conversation all round; he talked well of scientific subjects such as their shared interest of microscopes and was an amusing social commentator to boot.

  Verity knew that she herself was a little cynical of society and its myriad motives, she had even been teased for it by almost every member of her family, but she had never felt able to give voice to her opinions of society to anybody else. And yet it was all very easy with Irving, for it was clear that he saw what she saw and perceived it in much the same way.

  Verity was shaken from her reverie when her brother seemed to burst into the drawing room without any warning.

  “Amos!” she said, drawing away from the piano.

  “Forgive me, I could hear your beautiful playing from the hallway and thought I must come in and get the full benefit,” he grinned at her.

  “I was not playing, I was simply striking the occasional key.”

  “Yes, I perceived as much,” he chuckled, “so, I actually thought I would come in here and find out why.”

  “Does there need to be a reason?”

  “Oh, Verity, would you mind awfully unraveling just enough to talk to me properly?”

  “All right, consider me unraveled, Amos,” she said and wandered over to the fireplace. “Since it is only the two of us, shall we have tea a little early?”

  “Not only have I already asked for tea to be sent, my dear, but I have put in a request that we each have a slice of that lemon cake cook made, the one with the sugary coating.” He advanced into the room and sat down on the couch, patting the seat beside him to indicate that he would like her to join him.

  “You are very attentive today.”

  “I am just hungry, and I have not been able to get the lemon cake out of my mind since my first slice yesterday.”

  “Well, I suppose at least you are honest.” Verity sat down next to him and laid her hand in his. “So, what are you doing with yourself today?”

  “Idling, much as normal,” he said with a grin. “I have been in a little world of my own today, if I am honest. Miss Meriton is such a beauty, is she not?”

  “She is very beautiful to look at, Amos,” Verity said. “But what is she like? You seemed to talk to her for the entire evening.”

  “She certainly seemed like a very nice young lady.”

  “In other words, you were doing more staring than listening,” Verity said with a mock exasperated sigh. “Really, Amos, you are nearly thirty. Is it not time that you learned to look beyond a pretty face?”

  “And is it not time that you chose to look upon a pretty face once in a while?”

  “What on earth do you mean?”

  “Well, not a pretty face, but perhaps a handsome one.” He shrugged and squirmed. “Not that I find Irving Ayres particularly handsome, but I believe young ladies find him so.”

  “Yes, he is a handsome man,” Verity said and felt a little heat rising in her cheeks.

  Ordinarily, Verity could have declared anybody to be handsome and been entirely unaffected by it. The truth of the matter was, she liked Irving. He seemed to have come out of the blue and landed in her world in a most pleasing way. But she had no idea how to say any of that to her brother without him teasing her terribly.

  “But?” Amos said and rolled his eyes.

  “But what?”

  “Presumably there is something wrong with him.”

  “Such as what?” Verity said, feeling confused.

  “Oh, so you find him handsome and agreeable? Well, that is a good start.”

  “A good start to what?”

  “Really, you would try the patience of a most experienced interrogator. Why can you never elaborate?”

  “I already have. You asked me if I think Irving handsome and agreeable and I said yes.”

  “No, you said nothing.”

  “Amos, you are wearing me out already,” she said and took a deep breath. “Your friend, Mr. Ayres, is very pleasant. He is handsome and agreeable. There, are you satisfied?”

  “Forgive me, I am interfering,” he said with mock humility. “But I thought you might at least have invited the poor man for afternoon tea next week. After all, he is a new acquaintance of yours and you seemed to find things in common.”

  “Perhaps I should have invited him to tea,” Verity said, almost to herself. “But I am afraid things like that do not occur to me by instinct. I know they ought to, Amos, but it seems that I am not built in that fashion.”

  “Well, there is no reason why you cannot still make an invitation, is there? I could give you his address and you could write to him.”

  “Oh, no,” Verity said and felt suddenly a little panic stricken. “No, I do not think I would be at all comfortable with that.”

  “I wonder if you would be comfortable with my inviting him? He is an old school friend, after all, and it would seem quite natural for me to invite him here, would it not? To have afternoon tea with us, of course, not just myself.”

  Verity gave it some thought. Perhaps that was the thing which had been niggling her, giving her the idea that there was something she had forgotten. And she really would like to see him again, for she could hardly say how much she had enjoyed herself at the assembly rooms.

  “Very well, if you would like to invite your friend to afternoon tea, I have no objection to being here.”

  “If I did not know you as well as I do, I would find your response somewhat negative. But since I have great experience of your flat expressions, I shall take it that you would be pleased for me to invite him.”

  “You may take it as you wish, Amos.”

  “Then I shall do just that and say no more upon the subject. I can tell that I am on the verge of vexing you and I am not sure that it is a sensible course of action fo
r me to take.”

  “No, it is not,” Verity said sternly but laughed, nonetheless. “Ah, here is tea. You have been saved by the arrival of lemon cake.”

  “Yet more reasons to like it,” Amos said and squeezed her hand as the maid came into the room and set their tray down.

  Chapter Eight

  Whilst Irving had been pleased to receive the invitation from Amos, he wondered if it had anything to do with Verity at all. A part of him had wanted to make some excuse, believing that this was simply nothing more than Amos’ determination to have his sister and friend somehow joined.

  But he had so enjoyed his evening spent in Verity’s company at the assembly rooms that he knew he could not turn it down if there was any possibility at all that Verity would welcome his presence in her home.

  It was a bright day and spring was most definitely edging ever closer towards summer, raising Irving’s spirits as he made his way to the Colchester family estate.

  He had never visited the home of his friend before and was pleased to find that it was very similar to his own in terms of wealth and station. He knew it ought not to matter, and yet he found the idea that they were of identical backgrounds rather comforting.

  “Do come in, Irving.” Amos greeted him warmly when he was shown into the drawing room.

  “Good afternoon, Amos. I trust you are well?” he said, and Amos nodded vigorously in confirmation. “And Miss Colchester, how nice it is to see you again,” he said, turning to her and bowing.

  “Good afternoon, Mr. Ayres,” she said and gave him that curious, perfunctory nod that he had seen before. “It is a very fine day, is it not?” she said hurriedly, as if trying hard to make the sort of conversation that one ordinarily would make with a new guest for afternoon tea.

  “Very fine indeed,” Irving said and wanted to stamp on his own foot tor not coming up with something better than a simple agreement.

  “Well, take a seat. I am pleased to say that we will be able to offer you some very fine lemon cake this afternoon,” Amos said with a flourish. “The cook made it for us last week for the first time and I was so pleased with it I begged her to make another one for today.”

  “Then I am looking forward to my tea better and better.”

  They all took their seats, Irving in an armchair and Amos and Verity side-by-side on the couch opposite. The room was very pleasant indeed, of a similar size to his own drawing room and decorated well, if not in the most up-to-the-minute style.

  He allowed his eyes to flicker to Verity now and again, immediately taking in how beautiful she looked. She was wearing a light blue gown with short sleeves which had a pretty little frill of white lace around a modest neckline.

  Her dark hair was coiled neatly at the back of her head, but it had been done so loosely, giving it a softness and a fullness that he thought suited her very well. And, as always, her intelligent green eyes against her pale skin were the highlight of her beauty.

  “I am surprised not to see Miss Meriton here, Amos,” Irving said, teasing his friend as a means of turning the conversation from the weather. “You seemed very well pleased with that young lady at the assembly rooms.”

  “I was very well pleased with her, it is true,” Amos said and then paused for a rather lengthy period. “But I am not entirely sure I would invite her to afternoon tea.”

  “For heaven’s sake, why not?” Verity asked and looked exasperated with her brother. “You spent the entire evening with her and ignored Irving and me entirely. Surely you did not desert us in such a fashion for a young lady you could take or leave.”

  “I am afraid that it is only in the days which have followed that I have decided that I could take or leave her.” Amos shrugged.

  “You are as fidgety and inattentive as ever, Amos,” Irving said with a laugh. “But I daresay it is part of your charm.”

  “Oh, I rely upon it,” Amos said and looked up as the maid came in bearing a well laden tea tray. “Ah, thank you, Muriel. Not a moment too soon for I am extraordinarily hungry.”

  The maid said nothing, she simply smiled in a way which suggested that Amos was always extraordinarily hungry.

  “And how have you been, Miss Colchester?” Irving asked, feeling curiously nervous but knowing that he must draw her in somehow.

  He could not spend the entire afternoon using Amos as a crutch to lean upon. He wanted to discover if he was simply there by Amos’ design or if Verity truly wanted his company. And it seemed more important to him now than ever.

  He had come to realize that what had begun as an act to simply appease an old friend, had now become something else. He had truly thought that he would meet once with Amos’ sister, fulfill his little responsibility, and be done with it.

  What he had not expected however, was to find himself thinking about that young woman more and more, remembering their conversations in such detail as he thought he might never forget them.

  “I have been well, Mr. Ayres,” she began little falteringly. “I cannot say that I have been greatly occupied, not with any physical activity. But I have been reading a good deal,” she said, giving a very neat account of her diversions since he had last seen her.

  “And what have you been reading, Miss Colchester?” he asked, hoping for that common ground which seemed to bind them a little.

  Perhaps a little botany book or some technical pamphlet on microscopes? That would do very well to keep them talking, at any rate.

  “I have been reading a book about Mr. Inigo Jones,” she said with some caution, undoubtedly as a result of having those around her roll their eyes at such a pastime.

  “Oh, the architect? Yes, I daresay that is very interesting,” he said, inwardly rejoicing that she had struck upon yet another area of interest for him. “I am quite an admirer of that Roman type of architecture he blessed our country with.”

  “And so am I, Mr. Ayres. I think the buildings of the last century have such wonderful lines and gravitas. And I do believe that many of the buildings, if not all, owed much to Inigo Jones’ vision… and please call me Verity.”

  He nodded and smiled. “Then you must call me Irving… I think our dear Inigo inspired a great many architects who followed him. And who would not be inspired by the Queen’s House in Greenwich.”

  “Precisely,” Verity said, sitting forward a little with those green eyes wide and engaged.

  “Have you seen the Queen’s House, Verity?”

  “I have seen it twice, Irving. My father took me on both occasions because Amos would not.” She gave an amusing sideways glance at her brother. “But I am bound to say that Amos missed out on a great treat.”

  “Yes, indeed. The Tulip Staircase alone is enough to render one speechless.”

  “I agree, Irving. I spent so long staring at it that I believe I remember every detail.”

  “The Tulip Staircase?” Amos said and winced and shrugged all at once.

  “Oh, Amos, it is a beautiful spiral staircase in the Queen’s House in Greenwich. It is absolutely glorious to stand beneath it and look up. It is such a large staircase and seems to spiral away into the heavens,” Verity said wistfully.

  Irving could not take his eyes from her; she was staring into the middle distance as if seeing the staircase again for the first time and she looked more beautiful than ever.

  She was not a young woman who saw beauty only in her reflection or the cut of a gown, she saw it in stone structures and the magnified study of plant life. Verity Colchester was a woman with interests, and they were interests which clearly meant a great deal to her.

  And in that much, Irving knew them to be the same.

  “That is a perfect description, Verity,” Irving said and knew that he was going to have a very fine afternoon indeed.

  “Would you like some cake, Irving?” Verity asked brightly, leaning forward to the low table where the tray had been set.

  “Yes, please,” he said and smiled at her, pleased that she smiled back with equal warmth.

 
; As the afternoon went on, Irving became more and more convinced that Verity had been very pleased for her brother to invite him for afternoon tea. As much as this was Amos’ wish, it seemed to be Verity’s also.

  But he knew he could take nothing for granted, for she was most certainly not anything like any other young woman he had ever met.

  Nonetheless, he allowed himself a little warm glimmer of hope that he might have finally found the woman he had searched for all these years.

  Chapter Nine

  Before Irving had even left the drawing room on the afternoon he had come for tea, Verity had already decided to invite him to join her at a public lecture at the town hall.

  Having discovered that he also enjoyed architecture, she had thought that he would make very fine company at such an event. Ordinarily, she would have begged Amos or one of her parents to go with her, but if Irving would agree to it, surely he could accompany her instead?

  “Amos, could I please have Irving’s address?” she said as the two of them ate a late breakfast together some days later.

  “Yes, of course,” Amos said and seemed strangely delighted. “Are you thinking to invite him to afternoon tea again? Or perhaps even dinner? I am sure that our parents would find him very fine company.”

  “No, I was not thinking of anything of that nature,” Verity said airily, and Amos looked a little disappointed. “No, there is a lecture that I intend to go to at the end of the week. It is one of the town hall public lectures in that room they set aside for such things,” she said and laughed when Amos pulled a face. He had attended with her on a number of occasions and it had been a most difficult thing to keep him still throughout. “It is about 18th-century architecture. That is why I was reading the book about Inigo Jones, you see. I have planned to attend this lecture and realize now that Irving might enjoy it also.”

  “And so, you were going to write to him to let him know that there is a lecture in the town hall?” Amos said and speared a cooked tomato, spraying the tablecloth with juice and pips. “Goodness, tomatoes are such awkward little devils.”