The three of them sat at table together as usual that evening. Sir John at the head, Lady Mayfield on his right, and Hannah across from her. Most of the time, Lady Mayfield directed her chatter across the table to Hannah, effectively ignoring Sir John. Occasionally, she directed a question his way, or a bit of news, or a barb.
That night, however, Marianna Mayfield’s gaze swung like a pendulum from Sir John to Hannah and back again, browneyes speculative above her raised wineglass. “You two are certainly quiet.”
Neither replied for several moments.
Then he said, “I suppose it was the storm. Neither of us slept well last night.”
His wife’s arched brows rose high. “Neither of you?”
“Well, I don’t know how anyone could sleep through all that thunder and lightning,” he clarified. “Did you, Miss Rogers?”
Hannah licked dry lips. “No, I did not fall asleep until quite late, I’m afraid.”
“Pity.” Marianna smiled. “I slept like a lamb.”
Hannah felt Lady Mayfield’s gaze linger on her profile. When she glanced up, the woman was watching her curiously. “Perhaps that was what Mr. Ward meant. He told me he thought you ... missed me ... last night. He said he found you wandering the corridors quite late in search of me.”
“I heard your shutters banging and went to shut them.”
Her brows shot up once more. “Really?” She glanced at her husband, eyes sparking with mischief, but not, Hannah thought, suspicion. “Sir John mentionedheshut them.”
Hannah felt her cheeks warm but strived for a casual air. “We ... did so together.”
“The shutters made quite a racket,” Sir John added. “Which you would know. Had you been here.”
Another course was laid, and Marianna changed the subject, to Hannah’s great relief.
No doubt to avoid more such awkward encounters, Sir John took himself away for a time, visiting his other properties. His absence gave Marianna the freedom she relished, but it added guilt to Hannah’s already aching conscience—that he should have to leave on her account.
He returned several weeks later. Hannah saw little of him, forhe spent the majority of his time in his study or in Mr. Ward’s office. She wondered what sort of business or arrangements kept the two men so busy.
She found out soon enough.
Marianna stormed into the drawing room that afternoon, eyes blazing.
“I cannot believe what Sir John did.”
Alarm jolted Hannah. Had Marianna found out somehow?
“Has he not mentioned it to you either?” Marianna asked.
Hannah stared at her mistress. “Mentioned ... what?”
“He has let a place in Bath. Do you know how I longed, how I begged to live in Bath when we first married? But no, he would deny me. And now, now that I wish to remain here, he says we will go, whether I like it or not.”
“Why should you not like it?” Hannah murmured distractedly, her mind spinning with the news and what it would mean for her.
“Don’t be coy, Hannah. You know perfectly well why.”
“But would you not enjoy all the entertainments Bath affords?”
“I admit the plan has some appeal, if only for a few months. Bristol is so dreary in the winter. In Bath, there are balls and concerts in the assembly rooms. All the best people come for the Bath season, and I should enjoy more variety in society. It won’t be the same as London, of course, but might prove diverting....”
“I am sure it shall, my lady.”
Marianna inhaled an audible little gasp. “I shall have to order new gowns!”
How quickly Marianna had resigned herself to the move. Far more so than Hannah.
