by Candace Camp
Charlotte stopped as soon as she uttered these words and cast a quick, almost guilty look toward Sir Royce. Mary’s eyes went to him, but she could see no change in his expression; indeed, his face was blank. However, she could feel a rise of tension around the room. Oliver and Fitz glanced at Royce, then at each other.
Charlotte rattled on, a little breathlessly, to Mary and her sisters, “Vivian’s uncle, the duke’s younger brother, lives near Willowmere, you see, and, uh …” She looked almost beseechingly at the earl.
Quickly, he put in, “Certainly. Consult Lady Vivian, if you wish.”
Mary could not help but wonder what had just happened beneath the surface of the conversation, but Charlotte was already plowing ahead.
“Good,” she said, beaming. “That’s all settled. Then all that’s left is the matter of clothing.”
The earl let out a small groan. “Of course. I knew it would come down to that.”
“Well, of course you did,” Charlotte agreed. “It’s quite obvious. They cannot be seen in public in these garments.”
Mary looked down at her dress. Their clothes were a trifle dated and had been worn for some time, but she had never guessed that their frocks were so unpresentable as everyone here seemed to think.
Charlotte turned to the girls in great good cheer. “Your come-outs will require whole new wardrobes, of course, but for now, we must come up with a few new things for everyday wear. I know! I’ll see if Vivian would like to accompany us on a little shopping expedition. We can go to Grafton House and purchase some fabrics. I know a seamstress who can whip up some dresses for you. The finished frocks can be shipped to you at Willowmere. And, of course, we must visit the milliner’s. I am sure you must need new bonnets—and gloves. Oh, and slippers!” She smiled broadly. “This is going to be such fun.”
Somewhat stunned by this flow of words, Mary said nothing, visions of rolls of fabric—dainty dimities and elegant silks and sprigged muslins—filling her head. She cast a sideways glance at her sisters. Rose looked happier than she had in days, and Lily was positively aglow. Even Camellia was smiling.
“We can go tomorrow afternoon—no, wait, I must call on Ludley’s deaf old grandmother tomorrow afternoon. It’s a great trial, for she cannot hear a word one says, so that one has to shout. And she takes snuff—can you imagine! She’s an utter throwback, of course—she still wears panniers and face paint and a moth-eaten old wig. But she’s the power in his family, and poor Ludley lives in absolute fear of her.”
“You might mention that Ludley is your husband,” Royce put in in an amused tone. “I believe you have quite befuddled your audience.” He nodded toward the Bascombes, who were gazing at her in confusion.
Mary glanced at him, almost smiling; but one look at his handsome face reminded her all over again of how painful it had been last night to hear him discount her. Her features froze before they could reach a smile, and she turned back to Charlotte. She could feel Royce’s eyes upon her, but she steadfastly ignored him.
“I’m sorry! Sometimes I am such a rattle. Well, the dowager baroness is neither here nor there. The fact of the matter is that we cannot go shopping until the day after tomorrow. But that will give me time to invite Vivian along, so it turns out just as well, doesn’t it?”
As Charlotte continued to discuss the arrangements for the shopping expedition, Mary’s thoughts turned inexorably to the depleted state of her purse upstairs. The thought of new and fashionable frocks was a powerful lure, but she felt sure that Charlotte was unaware that her cousins’ resources were far more limited than her own. Much as Mary hated to put a damper on Charlotte’s enthusiasm, it would be even worse to have to admit their inability to buy a new wardrobe later.
Steeling herself, Mary said, “It sounds lovely, Cousin Charlotte. But, well, I’m afraid that we—I don’t think we could—” A blush rose in her cheeks, and she lifted her chin a little. “The truth is, we haven’t enough money to buy anything.”
Charlotte stared at her blankly. Lily let out a long-suffering sigh and sagged back in her seat. Besides that, there was only silence. Mary felt sure that she had made another faux pas; no doubt these people did not discuss anything so crass as money. But Mary could not let Charlotte proceed merrily with her plans when there was no hope that Mary and her sisters could buy anything.
Finally, the earl spoke up. “I fear you have misunderstood, cousin. The bills will be sent to me.”
Mary turned to him, astonished. “But, no—I mean, I—you should not have to buy us clothes.”
The earl lifted one brow. “You are my charges now. Did you think I would not provide you with the necessities?”
“Well, yes, of course.” Mary had to force herself not to squirm under the man’s cool gray gaze. “But I didn’t think—I mean, it seems too much. You shouldn’t have to pay for our clothes as well.”
“I can hardly expect you to wear the same frocks for the remainder of your lives, now, can I?”
“No, of course not,” Mary agreed, feeling more foolish than ever.
The earl inclined his head. “Then it is agreed.” Amusement lit his eyes as he said, “Perhaps you shall provide a valuable restraint to our cousin’s spending habits.”
“Ludley never complains,” Charlotte told him haughtily.
Mary had to marvel at the other woman’s ease with the formidable earl. Mary felt she had to square her shoulders and screw up her courage whenever she faced him. But that ease, she supposed, was what came from belonging … as Mary and her sisters did not. As they never would.
It was not long before Charlotte took her leave, promising to see the girls in two days for their shopping expedition. Warmly Mary bade her good-bye, and since Sir Royce had risen and walked with them to the hall, Mary had no choice but to turn to him as well. Her smile, however, fell from her face, and the nod she gave him was decidedly frosty.
Charlotte moved toward the front door, the other girls trailing along and happily discussing the prospect of shoes and hats and dresses, but Sir Royce took Mary’s arm, holding her back.
“Do you plan on not speaking to me for the rest of our lives?” he asked in a low voice.
Mary made herself look at him. Royce was smiling at her, and she could not deny the sensation that twisted inside her at his smile. Why did he have to have that appealing cleft in his chin? And must his eyes be such a vivid green, like a leaf after the rain?
“Of course not,” she answered in a cool tone. “No doubt we will have occasion to speak now and then. But it seems unlikely that we shall spend much time around each other in the future.”
“Does it?” His eyebrows quirked up. “The Talbots are a close family.”
“As I recall, you have little interest in being tied to the Talbots. Besides, you will marry according to your station, and our paths are unlikely to cross.”
“Mary …” He sighed. “I understand your desire to punish me. I deserve it for my clumsy and unthinking remarks. But I did not mean to hurt you. I would not have done so for the world. Do at least give me some hope that eventually you will end my punishment.”
“I don’t know what you mean. I am not trying to punish you. I am merely speaking the truth, as you did. I have no liking for deception.”
“Deception!” He frowned. “I did not deceive you.”
“Of course. No doubt it was I who misunderstood. I am accustomed to simpler people. I took amusement and mockery for friendship.”
Royce looked startled. “Mockery—no, Mary, you must not think that I—”
Embarrassed that she had revealed too much of her own hurt, Mary shook her head, giving him a quick, tight smile. “Nay. ’Tis silly to belabor the point. Excuse me.”
She pulled her arm from his grasp and hurried to rejoin her sisters in the hallway. With a sigh, Royce followed her. He did not, as she had half feared, try to talk to her again. Merely bowing to her sisters, he gave Cousin Charlotte his arm, and they left.
Mary turned back to her
sisters and was somewhat surprised to find all three watching her. She raised her brows questioningly. “Is something the matter?”
“I was about to ask you the same thing,” Rose replied. “Is something wrong between you and Sir Royce? Has he offended you?”
“No. Of course not. There is nothing wrong.” Mary turned away and started toward the stairs. If she had hoped to leave the others behind, she was disappointed, for all three girls followed on her heels.
“Then why did you avoid him?” Lily asked “You hardly said two words to him the whole time he was here.”
“You didn’t even smile at him,” Rose added. “It was quite obvious.”
“And just now, when he was talking to you, you looked … upset,” Lily finished.
“The man can be annoying.” It would have been a relief to tell her sisters about the conversation she had overheard. But it would serve no purpose other than to upset her sisters and set them against their new relatives. Mary did not want that. It was important, especially for the two younger girls, that they get along with the earl. Besides, the girls liked Sir Royce, and it seemed too cruel to tell them how he really felt.
So she said only, “I cannot remember what nonsense he was talking, but I am sure it was nothing important. You know how he is.”
Rose shot her a doubtful glance, but Mary ignored it.
“Let us talk about something more interesting,” she said as she went up the stairs toward their rooms. “Like our shopping trip with Cousin Charlotte.”
Predictably, this topic quickly diverted her sisters’ minds from Sir Royce.
“Isn’t it wonderful?” Lily asked. “Just think—dresses and hats and shoes! Even gloves. I don’t know how I shall contain myself, waiting for tomorrow to pass. Did you look at Cousin Charlotte’s dress?” Lily let out a rapturous sigh.
“Well, I am sure the earl will not wish to buy us anything as beautiful as that,” Rose told her. “It must have been terribly expensive, don’t you think? But it would be wonderful to look not so dowdy.”
“Clothes are all very well,” Camellia admitted as Mary opened the door to the room she shared with Rose, and they all trooped in after her. “But I don’t see why we have to have someone looking after us. We aren’t children.” She threw herself onto the bed and turned on her side to face them, propping her head with her hand.
“No,” Lily agreed, sitting down on the trunk at the foot of the bed. “But it’s clear that we don’t know a lot of things we need to know in order to live here. Think of all the forks and spoons last night. Did you know what to do with them? I didn’t.”
“No, but it’s silly to have that many. You need only one of everything.” Camellia set her jaw. “You never saw Mama lay out so many eating utensils.”
“Mayhap not, but I’ll warrant she knew which one to use,” Mary put in. “We aren’t at home any longer, Cam. We cannot live the way we did there. If we are going to live here, we must change our ways. Learn how to do things properly.” Mary might have decided not to reveal to her sisters what she had overheard, but she was determined that no one would have an opportunity to talk about the Bascombe girls in that way again.
“I refuse to turn into some dried-up old stick like those aunts!”
“I don’t want you to,” Mary shot back. “But I will not have anyone saying that you are not as good as they are.” She fixed each of the other girls with a firm gaze. “Do you want to have people laugh at you because you don’t know which spoon to use? Do you want to step on your partner’s feet because you don’t know the steps to a dance?”
Camellia grimaced, but she did not argue.
“We are going to go to this Season that Cousin Charlotte was talking about, and we’re going to show them that we are not country bumpkins.”
“I think the Season sounds like fun,” Lily announced. “Cousin Charlotte was telling me that you go to ever so many parties and dance and talk and flirt, very discreetly, of course. And there are plays and opera and—”
“I don’t care about all those things,” Camellia protested.
“Maybe not. But Lily does. And I care about all of you having good and happy lives here.” Mary swept her sisters with a determined gaze. “I want you to marry and have children and all the things that you deserve. You won’t get any of that if you’re immured in some house out in the country—which is, I warrant, where the earl will leave you if you can’t learn to at least masquerade as a lady.”
“Mary’s right,” Rose said. “I don’t want to go to all those parties and have people staring at us and talking about us, either. But it seems to be the way they do things here. I don’t want anyone to say that we couldn’t do it. Do you?”
“No!” Camellia’s retort was as swift as it was predictable.
Mary hid a smile. Rose had a way of finding just the right words to get Camellia and Lily to do something.
“Well, then,” Rose continued, “you will have to listen to whomever the earl hires and do what she says.”
“Oh, all right,” Camellia agreed grudgingly. “I’ll listen to her and learn to do things the way they do here. But I’m still going to be the same person.”
“Of course you are.” Mary gave Camellia a swift hug. “We are all going to be the same people.”
Dinner that night was a much smaller affair, with only the Bascombe girls and the earl present. Fitz, the earl informed them, already had plans elsewhere, and he had not invited anyone, even Royce or the aunts. Noting that the earl had declined to don formal attire this evening, instead wearing the same clothes he had worn during the day, Mary could not help but soften a trifle toward him.
However, since the earl was not blessed with the ease of conversation that Fitz or Royce possessed and Mary and her sisters were still largely in awe of the man, conversation proceeded in a rather ponderous manner, with a great deal of time given to the weather and the details of the Bascombes’ trip across the ocean. It was something of a relief when the meal ended, and the women were able to leave the table while Stewkesbury stayed for his customary glass of port.
The rest of the evening passed rather slowly as well. In their spare time at home, Lily had often read to the others aloud as they mended clothes or darned their stockings. However, Lily, thrilled by the size of the library here, had been very disappointed to find that none of the books in it were of the exciting sort she liked.
“Not one by Mrs. Radcliffe,” she announced in an offended tone. “They’re all history and philosophy and boring things like that!”
“Nothing with even a skeleton or two?” Rose teased. But they all had to agree that none of the volumes would liven up their evening.
At home there had always been something with which one could occupy oneself—if not mending, then old garments to be torn into cleaning rags and bandages, or flour sacks to be hemmed into dish towels, or their few dishes of silver to be polished. But the silver salt cellar and serving utensils had been sold to help finance their trip, and they had brought only their best clothes, so there was nothing to be mended or disposed of. Mary had brought her knitting needles and crochet hook, but no yarn, which would have taken up too much space.
They searched fruitlessly through the drawing room for a game or even a deck of cards to while away the time, but found nothing, and after a time they decided to retire early.
The next morning Fitz returned to the house, looking slightly rumpled, as they were going down to breakfast, but he managed only a smile and a perfect bow before hastening upstairs to his bed. The earl breakfasted with the sisters, then informed them that after an hour or two in his study, he would be going to his club for lunch.
The girls, left alone, once again faced the prospect of a dull day.
“I know.” Camellia leaned forward, her gray eyes lighting with interest. “Let’s go exploring.”
“Where?” Rose asked. “There’s nothing but city out there.”
“That’s what we’re going to explore.”
Li
ly straightened, a smile beginning on her lips, but Rose looked doubtful. “But we haven’t any idea where to go. What if we get lost?”
“Then we’ll ask someone how to get back to this address,” Camellia responded. “Anyway, it can’t be that hard. Mary managed to find her way all the way back to the inn the other day.”
“That’s true,” Mary agreed. She had not enjoyed her walk through the city, but at the time she’d been worried about finding her way back and had not really looked at anything. “I got lost a few times, but I did finally get there. This time I shall pay more attention to where I’m going.” She stood up, smiling at Rose. “It might be fun. At least it will be something to do.”
There was still a frown creasing Rose’s forehead, but she nodded, willing, as always, to go where her older sister led. They got their bonnets and gloves, for, Mary thought to herself, they were not such heathens as to go out bare-headed and barehanded. But as they trooped downstairs, they hesitated at the sight of the footman standing at the ready in the front hallway.
Mary suspected that the earl would not be best pleased at their expedition into the city alone, but, she thought, the servant would hardly try to stop the earl’s cousins from doing what they chose. Holding her head high, she marched toward the front door, her sisters following in her wake like ducklings. To her relief, the footman sprang forward to open the door for her.
Mary gave him a regal nod. “If my cousin asks, tell him we have gone for a walk.”
Their steps quickened as they went out the front door and down the steps to the sidewalk. They turned up the street, buoyed by the sudden rush of freedom. The day was warm, if a little gray, and there was a bit of breeze to stir the air. And while what lay about them might not be as scenic as the view of trees and winding road that they saw when they stepped out their door in Three Corners, it was filled with activity. Before they had gone one block, they had already seen two gentleman riding by on horses, a grand carriage rolling in the opposite direction, and two young women walking along at a far slower pace than the Bascombes, with a woman in a maid’s uniform trailing along behind. The two young women cast a look askance as the sisters overtook them, and Mary was sure she heard a smothered giggle behind them as they walked on.
