Rebecca wondered at the reason for the woman’s call. Had she heard about John and wished to express her disapproval? For even though Rebecca had come and gone freely at Wickworth as a girl, she had never been close to Lady Wilford, and she’d certainly never entertained her in the humble lodge. As the woman’s silence lengthened, Rebecca grew increasingly puzzled.
Rose, with great civility, offered refreshment, but the dowager declined.
“I shan’t stay long,” she said, then turned to face Lady Fitzhoward. “I came to apologize for my rude behavior when last we met. It was only that I could not place you and, at my age,lapses in memory are so vexing. Now that we are to be neighbors, I hope you will pardon me.”
Lady Fitzhoward narrowed her eyes. “You apologize even though you must now know I was once a lady’s maid?”
“Yes. As I recall, Lady Sybil spoke very highly of you and your unmatched skill in dressing hair. Even now, I quite envy your coiffure.”
“Well, in that case, we shall let bygones be bygones.” Lady Fitzhoward’s mouth quirked. “As it happens, I may have to return to arranging my own hair. My lady’s maid fancies herself in love with the hotel’s French chef.”
“Ah. That is a pity.” The dowager rose. “Well, thank you for receiving me. And now I shall bid you good-day.” Turning, she said, “Miss Lane, perhaps you would walk me to the carriage?”
“Oh. Of course.”
Both sisters raised their sparse brows high in surprise. The twin looks might have been comical were Rebecca not so uneasy.
Pausing to don her mantle, Rebecca attended her august guest outside.
In the garden, the dowager stopped and lowered her voice. “Is it true that your brother was sent to an asylum?”
Rebecca’s face heated. Before she could fashion a reply, the woman went on, “Frederick will tell me next to nothing. And Thomas left for London in a pet after giving me only the scantest account. In his anger, some of what he said was unintelligible and certainly not repeatable.”
She looked at Rebecca earnestly. “I cannot believe the son of our former vicar could be involved in any wrongdoing. His being sent to Dr. Fox’s asylum seems a patched-up business.”
Rebecca forced her chin up. “I am afraid I cannot contradict the report about my brother. He is ... not well. We believe a year or more under Dr. Fox’s care will help him.”
“I see. I am grieved indeed to hear it.” The dowager studied her. “Tell me ... is my son courting you?”
Taken aback, Rebecca faltered, “H-he is not.”
Rebecca expected the woman to be relieved. For while Rebecca might be a gentleman’s daughter, she was without connections or fortune. And her brother’s mental state called into question the family’s soundness as well.
But instead of showing pleasure, the dowager’s countenance fell. She said, “Frederick’s wife was a diamond of the first water, descended from a respectable and ancient family. Their fortune was splendid. You, Miss Lane, are nothing at all like her.”
The dowager glanced over and, perhaps seeing Rebecca’s injured expression, raised her hand. “That, my dear, is a compliment.”
She went on, “For years I blamed myself. I had encouraged him, extolling Miss Seward’s impressive connections and dowry. How I have repented of that. He has, however, exonerated me. Says he was bound and determined to marry her at any price. Dazzled by her beauty and what appeared to be her charming nature, which was, in the end, a ruse. ‘Favour is deceitful, and beauty is vain’ has never been more true.”
“Why are you telling me this?” Rebecca asked.
“Because I know you once admired and cared for my son.”
“That was years ago.”
“And now?”
Rebecca swallowed, but pride kept her from replying.
“Never mind,” the dowager said. “I would say it is none of my affair. But once a mother, always a mother. We never stop caring for our children, even when they become adults. When their hearts break, ours break with them. Of course, we are no longer the ones they turn to for advice and comfort. Relegatedto the background we may be, yet our children forever remain in the forefront of our thoughts and prayers.”
With a tremulous smile, Rebecca confessed, “You make me miss my own mamma.”
The dowager patted her shoulder. “I may have once nurtured selfish hopes that my sons would marry wealthy, lovely young ladies to give me pretty grandchildren and to add to the prosperity of the estate. But life has doled out some hard lessons. Now all I want is for my sons to marry kind and virtuous women who share our faith and will honor their marriage vows. I will not ask for pedigree or dowry or even that she likes me.” She gave Rebecca a wry grin. “The latter of which, I suppose, is impossible.”
“Not at all, my lady.”
The dowager Lady Wilford signaled the footman to open the door, then turned back to her. “I will take my leave before I meddle further. Good day, Miss Lane.”
