A Lesson in Friendship

by Jennifer Connors

  Chapter 3

  If there was one thing that Ginny hated most about the time period, it had to be the late nights most of the aristocracy kept. They didn't leave their houses until dark, returning right before it was light, then sleeping most of the day. Throwing off her internal clock was one thing, but add that to the turmoil she already felt living yet another novel, and Ginny was lost. Add to that a champagne over-indulgence headache, and there was no getting Ginny out of bed before she absolutely had to.

  Her maid, MaryAnn, entered with a tray to entice her from her slumber. The contents smelled delicious and Ginny's rebellious stomach gave her away. MaryAnn left the contents on her side table and went about picking out clothing for the day.

  Forced to sit up and inspect the tray, Ginny realized that no matter how depressed she was, she never gave up food. Some people can't eat and be sad, but that had never been a problem for Ginny. If anything, she ate more when she was sad.

  Partaking of a buttered roll and a cup of tea, Ginny asked her maid, “So, what's in store for me today?”

  “Pardon, my lady?” MaryAnn asked, turning from her task of pulling some of the many layers of under garments that Ginny would have to endure.

  “What must I do today?” Ginny replied, thinking that maybe her language had confused the maid.

  “I was told that you will be receiving visitors. Your mother has already chosen which dress you should wear.”

  Ginny rolled her eyes and thought about ordering the maid to choose something different just to be contrary. In the end, it seemed like more work then it was worth. If her “mother” wanted to choose her outfits, fine with her. If she wanted to choose her husband, it hardly mattered.

  After being dressed in some pink frock, with cap sleeves that puffed out to epic proportions, Ginny entered the breakfast room. There, her mother and sister were already eating. Since Ginny had already eaten in her room, she sat next to her sister and served herself another cup of tea. She was sure there was coffee somewhere, but her head told her tea, so she obeyed.

  “It is nice to see you up early today, my dear. I am expecting many visitors.” The cheerfulness her mother exhibited could only be described as pathetic. It was painfully obvious that she was unhappy. Her husband ignored her, in favor of his much younger, much more buxom mistress. He only made appearances when he had something to complain about and everyone thought that this was nothing but normal.

  Ginny chose to remain silent. The less said, the better, she figured. Her heart wasn't in it, but she would muddle through as best as she could.

  “I noticed last eve that you spent much time with Lady Penelope.” Although a statement, her mother made it sound more like a question. As in, why would you spend time with Lady Penelope?

  “Yes, I did.”

  Scrunching her face in confusion, she asked the next obvious question. “Whatever for?”

  “Mother!” This was from Charlotte, who had a heart made of gold.

  “I only ask because she hadn't shown any interest in the girl before. Was it a lack of choices?”

  Ginny rolled her eyes, in full view of Lady Weston. “No, mother. I happen to like Lady Penelope. She's honest, unlike many of the other girls being introduced this season.”

  Her mother made a tsking sound. “Surely you could associate with girls more likely to... share your interests.”

  Ginny and Charlotte exchanged questioning glances, with Charlotte finally shrugging her shoulders. “And what interests would that be, mother?”

  “Getting married, of course.”

  “Lady Penelope wants to marry, mother.”

  “But she is unlikely to since she is homely and wears spectacles.”

  “Mother!” Again, from Charlotte.

  “Mother, Lady Penelope will not only marry, but she will marry someone who respects her and her keen mind. She will never be an ornament to some titled gentleman, to be used as a hostess and heir making machine.”

  “Sarah!” Charlotte was getting quite a workout. Ginny had to admit that her statement was petty and childish, but she wasn't going to sit there and let her mother beat up on her new friend just because she didn't fit some ideal in her mind. Above all, if Ginny had to be stuck playing yet another heroine while nursing her own loss and misery, she would damn well bring everyone down with her.

  Lady Weston recovered well, putting on a pinched smile and continuing to eat her breakfast. Ginny, who knew she should feel badly but didn't, turned and stared out the dining room window. It was already after noon and all Ginny wanted to do was go back to bed. She had better come to peace with her situation or it would get ugly.

  The footmen came to clear the dishes and the women left to refresh themselves before all gathering in the large parlor. After only fifteen minutes of waiting, they had their first callers of the day: Lady Hammersmith and her daughter, Penelope.

  Penelope sat next to Ginny and Charlotte, with her mother sitting near Lady Weston. Their topic of discussion was the overwhelming success of the musicale and how everyone loved Mr. Richter's playing. Ginny was thrilled not to be a part of their conversation.

  “Did you enjoy yourself last eve, Lady Sarah,” Penelope asked, looking shy and uncertain.

  “We agreed to drop the 'lady' part, didn't we?” Ginny asked, hating the formality.

  “To be honest, I could not remember. I awoke with quite a headache this morning.”

  Ginny laughed softly. “So did I. Too much champagne, I think. Perhaps we should move onto something stronger, like whiskey.”

  “Sarah, you will do no such thing. And how much champagne did you have? Is that why you were being so forward?”

  “Geez, Charlotte, lighten up. We were having a good time, right?”

  Giving her sister a strange look, Charlotte finally responded, “Twas a good time. I enjoyed listening to Mr. Richter play.”

  Looking at Penelope, Ginny whispered, “But you wouldn't mind a private concert, would you?”

  Penelope laughed into her handkerchief, making it sound like a cough. Charlotte gasped and Ginny felt like a teenager again. What a ridiculous thing to say, especially for a thirty year old. But, if she had to play the part, she might as well go all the way.

  “Sarah, I am only out of mourning. I have not considered marrying again.”

  Looking to her sister in earnest, Ginny said, “You're a widow, Charlotte. You don't have to marry him to enjoy his company.”

  Charlotte turned a brilliant shade of red and Ginny knew she'd gone too far. Her sister had tender sensibilities. She might think about sex, but she could be tortured for a hundred years and never admit it.

  “I'm sorry, Charlotte. I just think sometimes that you must be lonely. And I didn't mean anything...” Ginny searched her mind for a proper way to say what she wanted to say. Her mind was a total blank, so she just waved her hands around for a minute, then took a sip of her tea. Charlotte looked at her as if she'd lost her mind, which, she supposed, she probably had.

  “Mother and I are to go shopping tomorrow afternoon on Bond Street. I was hoping that both of you would like to join us.”

  Ginny looked at Charlotte, mostly because she had no idea if they had plans or not. For a moment, Charlotte looked stricken, but the look disappeared as quickly as it had flashed across her face. It was finally Charlotte who responded.

  “I do believe we are available.”

  Recognizing that something was wrong, Ginny came to her rescue. “I'm not sure, Penelope. I remember something, but maybe I have the days wrong. Can I send you a note later and let you know for sure? Or will we be at the same function this evening?”

  “I am attending the Thurston Ball this evening,” Penelope stated.

  “Yes, we will be attending as well.” Charlotte responded, looking a bit distracted.

  “Then I'll let you know tonight.”

  Penelope and her mother took their leave soon after and several maids came in and cleared the dishes left behind. And none too soon, since
several other ladies, mostly of her mother's age, visited as well. For over an hour, Ginny was forced to listen to inane chatter and gossip. Not that gossip disturbed her, but since she knew none of the people, it just became boring.

  During a break, Lady Weston left to refresh herself and left her two daughters alone. Ginny finally had a chance to ask Charlotte what had bothered her about shopping. When she saw how disturbed her sister was by the question, it made her heart break.

  “I haven't any money, Sarah. Mr. Stevens left me with very little. If not for mother, I would be destitute.”

  Ginny's jaw must of have dropped, because her sister reached over and closed her mouth by pushing up on her chin.

  “Tis nothing to be concerned about, dearest. I have everything I need. Mother takes care of me.”

  “But my father gives you nothing.” It was at that moment that Ginny flashed on a memory of Sarah's. She remembered her father speaking to her mother about having to take care of her “other” child. Although the man was a rich as Croesus, he was a petty and bitter prig.

  “I have not spent any of my allowance this month. I will give it all to you. You must be in need of things for yourself. A few new books, perhaps.” Ginny was trying to coax a smile from her sister, but it didn't work very well.

  “I do not want any charity, Sarah.”

  “Charity? Is that what you think this is? Perhaps I just want to pay you back for all the times you went without so you could give something to me. Or all the times you stayed with me even when I was being a total snob. Or because I never got you anything for your last twenty birthdays.”

  “But what will you use? You will have nothing for yourself.” Charlotte looked so earnest. Ginny realized how much her sister needed to get married again and have children of her own. She would be an excellent mother.

  “I can get more, you know that. I just have to ask father. He's never a tightwad with me.”

  “Tightwad? Where did you learn that term?” Charlotte looked cross all of a sudden.

  “I heard someone say it last night.” Another statement that Ginny made sound like a question, hoping her sister would buy it.

  “Some gentlemen should learn to only use that type of language at their clubs. I doubt very much they ever think that a young girl could overhear them.”

  Letting out a silent breath, Ginny smiled. The footman entered and announced yet another visitor.

  “Lord Conway.”

  Both girls had only a moment to stand before Lord Conway made his way into the parlor. Ginny remembered the man, of course, but couldn't remember any of the conversation they'd had together. He definitely fit the mega-hunk build, and if he was calling on her, he was probably the one she was supposed to marry.

  Both girls did a curtsy and Charlotte invited him to sit. He sat across from them, on a cushioned chair.

  “Would you care of a cup of tea, Lord Conway?” Charlotte was also a great hostess, since it never occurred to Ginny to offer him anything.

  “No, thank you, Mrs. Stevens. I came to ask if Lady Sarah would like to take a drive with me this afternoon. I apologize for the short notice.”

  Ginny suddenly realized that she needed to say something, but didn't for the life of her know what. Did she want to go for a drive with him? It certainly beat the hell out of sitting in the parlor, listening to old ladies wax enthusiastically about the latest fashion or gossip. Did she want to encourage him in his obvious quest for her hand in marriage? Not really.

  Ginny looked at her sister questioningly. Charlotte, in her attempt to be subtle, twitched her eyes as if to say she hadn't any other plans. Turning toward Conway, Ginny simply said, “Sure.”

  A look of confusion crossed Lord Conway's face that almost made Ginny laugh out loud. He moved his body slightly closer and asked, “Pardon?”

  Charlotte gave her a beseeching look and Ginny turned to him once again and stated, “It would be a pleasure to go driving with you this afternoon, my lord.”

  Smiling, he looked at her as if he expected something else. When Ginny did nothing, he looked confused again. Ginny turned to Charlotte with a look of “What now?” Charlotte covered her mouth with her hand, to hide her smile, and cleared her throat.

  “I believe that Lord Conway wished to leave now, my dearest. Perhaps you should fetch your wrap and bonnet.”

  “Oh!” Ginny exclaimed and left the room to fetch her things. The whole time, she wondered why he would ask to take her out and make it sound as if they would go later, all the while expecting her to leave immediately. This time period would drive her crazy, she thought as she attired herself properly for a drive in the park.

  As she returned to the parlor, her mother had returned and was speaking to Lord Conway. Ginny had never seen the woman so giddy, practically drooling over the guy herself.

  “If you're ready, Lord Conway.” Ginny kept her voice even, not wanting to encourage her mother. It would be bad enough when she returned, she knew from the memories she held of the woman.

  “Yes, indeed. Thank you so much again, Lady Weston. I shall take good care of your daughter.” He bowed to her and turned to offer an arm to Ginny.

  They left the house and Lord Conway assisted Ginny into his curricle. Once seated, he walked behind the conveyance and climbed into the driver's seat. Taking the reins from the groom, they set off for the park.

  “Tis a delightful day, is it not, Lady Sarah?” he asked, sounding cheerful enough.

  “The weather, huh? I'm sure we can find topics more fascinating than that, Lord Conway.”

  “For instance...” he asked, curious where her mind would take them.

  “I don't know. Why don't you tell me about your family? Do you have siblings? Are your parents still alive? Do you live nearby or is your home in another part of the city?”

  Laughing, he began to answer. “My mother is still alive and very much likes to stick her nose into my personal affairs. I have two older sisters and a younger brother, all of which are married and settled. My home is only a mile or so from here. Is there anything else you would like to know about me?”

  Turning her head to regard him for a moment, she wondered how she should play this. Ginny had no intention of encouraging a romantic attachment, so what was left? Could they be friends? She doubted he thought so, but that would be what she wanted.

  “Do you have a mistress?”

  Coughing suddenly, Ginny thought he would drive the horses into a cart parked on the side of the road. Conway recovered quick enough, but not before he was shocked to his very core. Surely he misunderstood her. No well bred lady would ask such a question.

  “I beg your pardon?” he asked, hoping against hope that he'd misheard her.

  “You heard me perfectly fine. I know what you're thinking, you know. You're thinking that I'm an ill-bred hoyden, with little to do but torture you. But you asked if there was anything else I wanted to know, so...”

  “Surely you do not blame me for your inquiry.” His voice was incredulous and it served no purpose but to increase the size of Ginny's smile.

  “I find that everyone feels this need to protect my sensibilities. The truth is... I don't need anyone to protect me from life's vulgarities. I'm not some china doll that will crack under the pressure.”

  Conway turned his vehicle into the park and remained silent. He considered what she'd said and determined that maybe she wasn't like most of the girls of his acquaintance. He decided to test her, to see if she would indeed not crack under the pressure.

  “I do not currently have a mistress, but I have in the past.”

  “Why don't you have one now?”

  Raising an eyebrow, he didn't have a ready answer. “Well, I suppose, that after I released my last mistress, I had not gotten around to... searching for another one.”

  “Are you looking to marry now? Or are you just testing the waters around the new batch of débutantes?”

  Conway's head was nearly spinning from her inquiries, but he endeavored t
o keep up.

  “I am of an age where a man wishes to settle down.”

  “So, will you maintain a mistress when you're married?”

  “I do not know. Perhaps.”

  “So, marriage vows mean so little to you?”

  “If I were to marry for reasons other than love, I would imagine that the vows would mean little to me.”

  “Then why marry?”