by Maureen Lang
“That’s right, sir,” he said. “Thursday, you know.”
Reginald slapped his forehead as if Thursday meant something. “Have my days mixed, Fisher. Thought today was Wednesday, without sessions running into the evening.” He turned to Cosima. “Ah, well, we’ve wasted a half hour. Peter is at Parliament, no doubt along with his father. We shall have to wait and meet him tomorrow.” He turned back to Mr. Fisher. “Unless . . . is Mrs. Hamilton at home?”
The butler nodded, eyes downcast, voice tentative, as if careful of what he said. “Shall I say you’re here?”
Reginald smiled broadly. “Yes, Fisher!”
Without a word but with a barely discernable flick of one wrist, Mr. Fisher dismissed the servant at his side, and the younger man hurried off. Mr. Fisher then turned and led them through the wide, walnut-paneled entryway. Cosima caught Millie’s uncertain glance, but they both followed.
The drawing room to the left was not large, though the ceilings were so high it gave the feeling of space. Cushioned chairs, wide settees, and lounging seats sat here and there, most near the fireplace. A glistening mahogany piano stood before tall windows, beyond which Cosima spotted another courtyard. She was surprised to find so much outdoor space in the middle of a thriving, dense city like London.
“Fisher,” said Reginald, “why don’t you take my friend’s maid along with you? You might even offer her tea.” Reginald looked from Cosima to Millie and back to Cosima, as if expecting her assent.
“This is Millicent O’Banyon, my companion,” said Cosima. “I’m sure she would welcome refreshment after our journey.”
“Go along then, both of you,” Reginald said briskly before Mr. Fisher could respond. “At once.”
Reginald’s impatience was obvious, along with a glint of something else in his eye as he watched them go. Disdain—Cosima was sure of it.
Cosima stood silent as they left, unsure of the behavior Reginald expected of her. He had proclaimed himself a snob. Did that mean he expected his prospective wife to be one too?
When they were alone, the harsh look in Reginald’s friendly blue eyes disappeared. “No wonder I’m drawn to you, my dear. You’re very like Peter and his family. So kind to everyone, whether above or beneath you.”
She wondered what he meant, but a moment later yet another servant came to divest them of gloves and hats while someone else brought in tea and biscuits.
In the midst of all this commotion, a woman entered who was obviously no servant despite her wide-brimmed straw hat, her garden gloves, and the broad, flat basket full of flowers dangling from her arm. Dressed in green crinoline lined with embroidered petals along the wide bodice and narrowly cut waist, the woman might have blended into any lovely garden. Flawless, creamy white skin glowed with a touch of healthy pink in her cheeks. Clear blue eyes and copper hair competed for the claim of her best feature. But to Cosima, that must be this woman’s smile, with kindness so obvious in her eyes and her full lips parted to reveal stark white teeth. She was the picture of welcome.
“Reginald, how pleased I am to see you! Peter said you were traveling, and that’s why you missed our little soiree the other night.”
“A pity.” He kissed her cheek, then drew Cosima nearer with a hand to her elbow. “But when I tell you my news you will understand.” Reginald allowed a moment of silence as the two women studied one another. In that time Cosima guessed the other was older than her first impression. With little lines along the edges of her mouth and eyes and beginning to form on her neck, the woman must be close to the age of Cosima’s mother.
“Lady Hamilton,” said Reginald slowly, “may I present to you Cosima Escott, my fiancée.”
“Fiancée . . .” Initial surprise transformed immediately to pleasure. In the next moment, Lady Hamilton thrust off her gloves and tossed them with the flower basket to a nearby side table, pulling Cosima into a warm embrace. “Fiancée! Oh, how wonderful!” Then she opened one half of the embrace to pull Reginald into the circle. Despite Reginald’s smile, Cosima felt his stiffness as clearly as Lady Hamilton’s warmth.
“Come, sit and tell me everything.” She led them to settees near the tea service, where a maid was already pouring. “I want to know how you met, when you plan to marry, where you will be living—and oh! Reginald, I have a lovely idea. Why not be married right here, if you plan to marry in London? We have the gardens out back, the gazebo and canopy of heaven itself. I’ve dreamed of a wedding here for simply decades and would love to see such a dream come true.”
“Peter and the girls will fulfill that dream for you, Lady Hamilton,” said Reginald gently.
She nodded, still smiling but no longer looking at Reginald. Instead she looked at Cosima. “My, but you’re lovely, Miss Escott. Let’s see, Escott . . . you must belong to the London Escotts in one way or another, but surely not from John, since I know both of his daughters. You are related to Merit Escott, aren’t you?”
“Merit Escott is my grandmother.” Cosima ignored her inner reluctance to admit such a relationship. Merit Escott might be related to her by blood, but in reality the name represented nothing of the familial title “grandmother.”
“Yes, Cosima is Charles’s daughter, from Ireland,” said Reginald. If he’d expected to shock Lady Hamilton, he failed, for the smile on her face never wavered.
Lady Hamilton reached over and patted Cosima’s hand. “So Reginald has brought you all the way from Ireland. How lovely! Tell me, wherever did you meet one another?”
The woman’s obvious excitement would have delighted Cosima had she more enthusiasm about the possibility of a forthcoming wedding. But their “courtship” was little more than an arrangement, a barter for whatever social betterment Reginald thought he might find in marrying her. And what was she getting out of this prospective marriage? A future, as her mother called it.
But the truth did not seem appropriate for this woman, with her romantic notions of a wedding celebration under the canopy of heaven.
Feigning shyness, Cosima looked at Reginald.
“Cosima’s cousin Rachel Escott should receive all the credit, Lady Hamilton.” Reginald took up the story gallantly. “If it weren’t for Rachel, I might never have heard about Cosima. As it was, Rachel told me of a cousin she’d never met—how she lived in a fine old estate across the sea and how Rachel wished she could meet her someday. You know, few of us in this younger generation care about what happened before we were born. When Rachel told me she was fairly certain Cosima was not wed, my interest was immediately piqued. I sent my Mr. Linton over to verify the story first, of course, but no sooner had he sent word with the news that Cosima was indeed free to receive my courtship than I packed my bag and set out to claim her.”
“How romantic!” Lady Hamilton laughed and touched Reginald’s forearm. “I’ve always said you’re a man of action, Reginald. Peter says so too.”
He glowed under her compliments, and Cosima didn’t blame him. Lady Hamilton’s smile of approval might come often based on the lines around her mouth, but somehow that didn’t seem to diminish its value.
“Does Peter know?” she asked.
Reginald squared his shoulders, eyes twinkling as if he had a secret. “Not yet. That’s why we stopped in, actually—so he could take one look at my lovely Cosima and let rivalry do its work. We’ll have him thinking about marriage soon enough. Cosima and I haven’t even completed our journey. We’ve come straight from the ferry ship here.”
Immediate distress filled Lady Hamilton’s eyes, and she looked at Cosima. “Reginald didn’t allow you to rest after your journey all the way from Ireland?”
“We’re a bit disheveled, I admit,” Cosima said. “But Reginald’s carriage was comfortable, and I’m not nearly as tired as one might expect after such a trip.”
“Oh, but Reginald has been remiss!” Lady Hamilton scolded, hopping to her feet. “You must allow me to offer you a room, Miss Escott. Your betrothed must be so swept away with his dreams of your weddin
g that he’s forgotten all manners.”
Before Cosima could protest, Lady Hamilton sent the attending maid away to prepare a room in which Cosima might freshen herself.
“I have no desire to trouble you, Lady Hamilton,” Cosima said. “Truly, I’m perfectly fine to finish our journey to Reginald’s.”
“Surely you’re not staying there?” Horror laced her words.
“I’m traveling with my companion, of course. We left arrangements up to Reginald.”
Lady Hamilton took one of Cosima’s hands in hers, directing her to her feet and looping Cosima’s arm in her own. “Reginald is such a sweet, innocent boy, but you simply cannot stay under the same roof, my dear! What would people say? Unless . . .” She turned back to Reginald, who was following the conversation with what appeared to be an amused smile on his face, despite the fact that his plans were obviously being altered before his eyes. “You hadn’t expected Cosima would stay with Dowager Merit, had you?”
“I suppose that might be a possibility. We plan to dine there this Friday evening, when Cosima will meet them for the first time.”
Lady Hamilton patted Cosima’s hand. “My dear, you must be overwhelmed with all that’s happening. First Reginald whisks you away from your home with the intention of marriage, forever changing your life. Then he expects to double the size of your family in one simple dinner party. Well, I have no idea how flexible you are, but I don’t assume you would like the pressure of living under the same roof as family members you’ve only just met.”
“To be perfectly honest, I hadn’t given it much thought,” Cosima admitted. “That is, I have thought about meeting my grandmother, but I hadn’t actually realized I might stay with her.”
“I have the perfect solution,” said Lady Hamilton, “and I’ll not take no for an answer. You’ll stay here, of course.” She led Cosima from the drawing room back toward the grand foyer. As Lady Hamilton walked and spoke, she swept her palm upward to draw attention to the large expanse of the home. “We have plenty of room, and my girls will love having a visitor so near their age. I anticipate you’ll get along famously.”
Another surge of uncertainty rose then quickly faded. Lady Hamilton’s invitation was indeed appealing. Reginald was nearly as much a stranger as this woman, but she offered sincere welcome. Reginald might be every bit as welcoming, but there was something about him. . . .
Staying here would allow Cosima to get to know Reginald from a safe distance. And this gracious woman offered that very opportunity.
“Reginald,” said Lady Hamilton, “tell your lady she must stay. I can see on her face that’s all she’s waiting for.”
Reginald studied Cosima as if to discern her thoughts. But there was something else there, Cosima thought. It was almost as if he was pleased at the development.
“Only say what you desire, my dear,” he said, “and I’ll see it done.”
Relieved that he was so amenable, she smiled. Why did she have any qualms about him? “I think Lady Hamilton is right. Perhaps it would be more proper for Millicent and me to stay here.”
Relief flickered in his eye. “I want only what is best, my dear. For you and for us.”
“Then it’s decided,” said Lady Hamilton. “Oh, wait until I tell the girls!” She turned to Reginald, practically shooing him off. “You go on now, Reginald. Go home and have a bath after your travels; that’s what I intend to offer Cosima. When you’re freshened and rested, you may come back to claim her company for a time. Now off with you!”
Reginald laughed, taking one of Cosima’s hands at the same time and kissing it in a polite farewell. Then he headed toward the door.
Lady Hamilton led Cosima up the stairs to a room decorated in pristine white and cheery yellow, with flowered wallpaper replicated in the bedding and curtains. As a hostess, Lady Hamilton was obviously quite experienced, commanding every comfort for her guest: tea and a light repast; a bed; and a bath with warmed, scented water, fine soap, and soft, heated towels. A maid arrived to unpack the trunks brought from Reginald’s carriage, and before long the same maid extracted a gown from one of the trunks for pressing, taking away Cosima’s crumpled traveling suit as well.
After Cosima’s bath, the maid returned in time to help Cosima with her hair, sweeping it up in a fashionable chignon. All this was done without Millie, who Cosima was told was well cared for and given a bed upstairs with the other maids.
Moments later, one of the Hamilton maids appeared at the door again, standing ready to show Cosima the way to dinner.
* * *
“Cosima,” said Lady Hamilton as she rose from her seat in the small sitting room where they had met earlier. “How lovely you look! Come and meet my family.”
Cosima couldn’t help but feel welcomed all over again with Lady Hamilton ushering her farther into the room. Two young women sat near the fireplace, and along with a tall, middle-aged man, they stood and approached—all with strikingly similar smiles.
“This is my husband, Lord Graham Hamilton. And these lovely girls are our daughters. Beryl and Christabelle, meet Cosima Escott—” she paused as if for dramatic effect—“Reginald’s fiancée.”
Lord Hamilton had stretched his hand in greeting, but his daughters swept past and grabbed both of Cosima’s hands in theirs, successfully circumventing their father’s.
“Reginald’s fiancée!” said the one called Beryl. She was taller than the other, perhaps older, with the same creamy white skin of her mother but dark hair like her father. “Oh, Mother said she had a surprise guest for dinner, but we had no idea!”
Christabelle, fair and pretty but on the plump side, giggled. Her laugh was infectious, and Cosima felt like laughing along. “Who would have ever thought Reginald would find such a gem?”
The girls laughed, and their mother partially hid a smile behind a raised palm, while Lord Hamilton looked on with something between amusement and consternation on his face. He was dark where his wife was pale, yet handsome for an older gentleman, with heavy brows and a full mustache. Though age drew his skin downward, he looked fit and healthy, the whites of his eyes all the more stark for the contrasting darkness in the brown centers and shrouding brows.
“A pleasure to meet you, Miss Escott,” he said, and at last his daughters parted to let him extend his hand once more. “My wife has told me you’ve come from Ireland.”
“Ireland!” said Beryl, taking up Cosima’s hand again. “Oh, you must tell us all about it. Mother and Father are such bores, Cosima. Well, they’re positively sweet, but bores all the same. They won’t let us travel a bit, not to Ireland, not even to the Continent.”
Cosima smiled. “It’s been my experience that concerned parents are often bores, Miss Beryl. I’m told the world is an unpredictable place, especially far from home.”
“You sound just like Mother,” Christabelle said with another giggle.
“It simply isn’t fair, that’s all,” said Beryl with a pout. She caught Cosima’s gaze and held it. “They let our two brothers travel as they will. Why, one of our brothers is in Africa! Imagine being able to see such a foreign land. I think it’s vastly unfair to have been born a woman.”
“I’ve done precious little traveling myself,” Cosima said, “but I can say this about it: I believe the idea of it outweighs the reality. Seasickness and bumpy roads, stale air on trains and road dust isn’t as glamorous as it might sound.”
“And you’re here to marry Reginald!” Christabelle sounded breathless. “I can hardly believe it. You’re so pretty . . . and did you say you’re an Escott?”
“That’s right.”
“I believe Reginald has always wanted to marry an Escott, the way he and Rachel—”
“That’ll be enough talk of such nature, Christabelle,” broke in Lord Hamilton firmly. “It’s time to go in to dinner. Shall we?”
Lord and Lady Hamilton led the way, and the girls escorted Cosima, one on each side. Even as Cosima surveyed the large dining-room table set with crys
tal and china, silverware and fresh flowers, she couldn’t help but wonder about Christabelle’s words. Strangely enough the notion that her cousin Rachel might be more than a simple acquaintance of Reginald’s didn’t concern Cosima in the least.
Dinner passed in pleasant company. Beryl, whom everyone called Berrie, pressed Cosima with questions about Ireland. Cosima was only too happy to answer. She’d been gone from home a short time, yet it felt as if she’d been away far longer. She’d send a note home in the morning to let her family know she’d arrived safely.
Christabelle, on the other hand, asked questions about how Cosima and Reginald had met. “The wedding will be such fun,” she exclaimed. “And Peter will be the best man, no doubt. Oh! You haven’t met our brother Peter, have you, Cosima?”
Cosima shook her head just as she took another bite of beef with Yorkshire pudding. Compared to the simpler fare she was used to at home, she’d never tasted anything quite so delicious.
“Oh, you’ll love him,” Beryl said proudly.
Christabelle chimed in with another laugh, “Certainly, everyone does. It’s a good thing you met Reginald first, or you surely would have fancied Peter instead.”
“That’s true enough,” Beryl confirmed. “Ladies tend to like Peter, with or without a title, though I must say they can’t really separate the two, can they?”
“Girls,” said Lord Hamilton with a warning in his tone. “Let’s direct the conversation to something a bit more edifying, shall we?”
Beryl looked surprised by the gentle rebuke. “Reginald and Peter are the best of friends, so it’s a matter of fact that Cosima will get to know Peter quite well. Isn’t that right, Father?”
“Yes, I suppose that’s true.”
“And so we should tell her something about him, shouldn’t we? That he’s kind and handsome and clever, even if he is a bit of a bore sometimes. But I suppose it’s natural for me and Christabelle to find him something of a bore, isn’t it, since we’re his sisters. We’ve always hoped he would bring home dashing young men for us to fancy, but Father keeps him so busy between politics and charity that all he’s ever done is bring home Reginald.”
