Miss Newport picked up her own cup. “It must have been grand to have someone to protect you and tease you in equal measure. Was growing up with a brother as delightful as I imagine?”
“Actually, I was the older sibling. So I tried to protect him, but sadly I failed. He was hurt because of me.”
Miss Newport stilled, cup halfway to her lips. Her sparkling eyes dulled. “I am sorry. I sympathize with you. I failed to protect someone I loved too.”
“Oh?” Rebecca asked expectantly.
Miss Newport looked down, her stillness transformed into a sudden flurry of little agitated movements—lowering her teacup, adding another lump of sugar, followed by a rapid stir.
“I should not have mentioned it,” she said. “You will think me maudlin.”
“May I ask who?”
“My sister. My little sister.”
“Oh...” Rebecca breathed. “I am sorry.” She impulsively reached over and squeezed the woman’s hand.
They sat in silence, but Miss Newport did not expand on her reply.
Instead, Selina diverted the attention to Lady Fitzhoward. “And have you any siblings, my lady?”
Lady Fitzhoward sipped her tea, then answered somberly, “A sister.”
To lighten the conversation, Rebecca said brightly, “Sisters, the both of you. Now I envy you! It must be wonderful to have someone so close to you, sharing dresses and confidences and all your secret hopes and romantic dreams.”
“I wouldn’t know,” Lady Fitzhoward replied. “I haven’t spoken to mine in years.”
Meanwhile, Miss Newport wiped damp eyes with a serviette. “You make me quite miss my Edie. Do let’s talk of something else. What a gloomy trio we are!”
“Then tell us something of your career,” Lady Fitzhoward suggested. “Might I have seen you in something in Cheltenham?”
“You very well may have. I performed several roles at Watson’sTheatre and even once played opposite the great John Kemble.”
“Ah! I thought you seemed familiar. That explains it.”
They spoke about music and theatre for several more minutes, then Miss Newport rose and excused herself, thanking them both warmly for their company and friendly conversation.
When she had gone, Rebecca said quietly, “It was kind of you to join us, my lady.”
“What? You are shocked I should show polite interest in the woman because she is an actress? I have not such a high-and-mighty opinion of myself, whatever you must think of me.”
“Not at all. I was simply ... pleasantly surprised.”
Lady Fitzhoward took another sip of tea, then set it down with a frown. “What is this? What’s wrong with a traditional, strong black tea?”
“I could ask for some.”
“Never mind. Thing is, Miss Newport reminds me of someone.”
“Who?”
“I know you will think I am deluding myself, but she reminds me of myself, as a much younger woman, of course.” She sent Rebecca a shrewd look. “Wait and see. You too may be unhappily surprised by the changes age and loss bring. You will not believe it, but I was once reckoned a handsome woman. And like many handsome women, I relied too heavily on my looks. Used them to get my way, sometimes to my regret. I see a bit of that in her. A hollow, costly pursuit, in the end.”
Rebecca glanced over and saw Miss Newport speaking to Thomas Wilford on the stairway landing. “Mr. Wilford seems to admire her.”
“Yes, although his brother clearly does not approve.”
“Will that stop him, do you think?”
