Lady Elsbeth had lived with Jane for almost a year. She joined the Grantley household when her brother-in-law, Sir Jasper Grantley, grew restless and decided it was once again time to shake England's dust from his boots. Nonetheless, Lady Elsbeth did not pretend that in the time she’d lived with Jane she’d come to understand her niece. So different were Jane’s public and private selves that sometimes it was like living with two different people. In another person, Lady Elsbeth might have laid the blame for the public persona on shyness, but that was not the answer in Jane’s case, for she possessed quite a bit of confidence. It was almost as if she lacked confidence in other people, as though she were burdened with memories of a shattering disappointment which left her as skittish as a young colt.
No matter. The underlying truth was glaringly obvious. Jane was twenty and without marital prospects. Considering that she possessed a handsome competence and stood to inherit more from that freewheeling adventurer she called a father, herattitude was simply not to be understood. Nor, to Lady Elsbeth’s mind, countenanced. Lady Elsbeth sighed to herself.
“I know you are not overly fond of your Aunt Serena," she began slowly.
“Elsbeth,” Jane interrupted, “do not try to wrap it up in clean linen. You know as well as I that Lady Serena Tipton has the manners of a grasping, conniving shopkeeper.”
“Jane, I must protest! That is unjust.”
Her niece glared at her, the emerald of her eyes deepening in color. "And her daughter Millicent would make an alley cat yowl,” she finished defiantly, her chin jutting forward, her posture rigid.
Lady Elsbeth sighed."I have always known there is animosity between you two; yet neither party has seen fit to explain the matter. It is very daunting to be caught in the middle of something when one doesn’t even know what that something is . . .” She looked expectantly at her niece.
Jane’s lips thinned and her eyes took on a faraway expression, but she did not explain. She waved her hand airily, dismissing the conversation. "It was all a very long time ago and probably best forgotten,” she declared firmly.
Leaning back in her chair, Lady Elsbeth philosophically accepted her failure. She’d held little hope of Jane confiding in her at this juncture, though her reticence did increase her curiosity. One long slender finger restlessly tapped the letter. "That is why," she began carefully, “I was interested in Serena’s letter. She writes most sincerely about your situation and laments your single state.”
Actually, she had scolded her younger sister for her failure to find Jane a husband, but Lady Elsbeth did not see fit to divulge that information to Jane. "She believes you are merely lacking the proper environment for attracting gentlemen. She even praises us for retiring to the country when we did, for she isconvinced a rural setting will be more conducive to matrimonial matters.”
“Oh, really, Elsbeth. What does she take me for? A milkmaid?”
Lady Elsbeth laughed. "My dear, I hardly think anyone could make that mistake. No, she writes that the social whirl has become too artificial and therefore not a proper conduit for making alliances. That is why she is in Margate for the summer, visiting Aunt Agatha Arbuthnot.”
“Toadying Great Aunt Agatha for her East India Company riches? I thought Tipton left her comfortably well-heeled."
“Jane, this penchant of yours for cant has got to stop. But to your statement about enough, I don’t think the wordenoughexists for Serena."
“That I believe.”
“By the way, Serena advises against traveling from London to Margate by way of a Margate hoy, though sailing on those sloops is popular these days. I gather she is annoyed that the middle classes share its popularity.”
“I’ve always known Lady Tipton to be an insufferable snob.”
“Yes, that I shan’t argue with you. She has been like that ever since our brother Simon died in a riding accident. He was her twin. They were devoted to each other, and Simon was everyone’s darling. I don’t know why it should have altered her as it did, but there it is. But I’m digressing. Serena says she has achieved the notion that a provincial environment inspires matrimony."
Jane choked and sputtered on a sip of coffee."That is the most featherbrained notion I have heard! Next to you being too old, that is.”
She coughed lightly to clear her throat; then her eyes narrowed until they resembled a stalking cat’s. "I wonder who told her that, for I doubt she thought it up. The woman is notcapable of an original idea. And I ask you, Elsbeth, who does she expect me to marry? This neighborhood is hardly replete with eligible single men. The only one I can account for is Henry Culpepper, and since he is only eight, I sincerely question his eligibility.”
“There is the Earl of Royce,” Lady Elsbeth suggested. "Though I don’t think she means for you to marry him. I gather she has set her sights on him as a possible second husband for Millicent.”
“Royce! He hasn’t been in England for years! Or has the prodigal returned? Is he at Margate wooing and ruining? Odd that. With his hedonistic reputation, I would have thought if he were in England, he’d be with Prinny’s crowd in Brighton!”
“Didn’t you know? Heisin England! And in residence at Royceland Hall. He has been for a week or more, according to Mrs. Chitterdean. I swear that dear woman fatigues me just watching her. She is a wonderfully amiable soul and such a dedicated helpmate for Reverend Chitterdean. They are well wedded in that respect. But she also manages to know all the news in the neighborhood more swiftly than any servants who, I swear, Jane, are generally the first to know everything.”
Jane dabbed her napkin to her lips to brush away crumbs. "I can well understand Mrs. Chitterdean’s knowledge. Most likely, the earl paid a duty call on the reverend, for isn’t the reverend’s living from Royce’s gift? But how came Lady Tipton by her information?”
Lady Elsbeth shrugged."Serena wrote, assuming I was as well informed as she.” She looked swiftly over at her niece, then dropped her gaze to her correspondence, her fingers nervously creasing one corner of a cream bond card. "The earl’s presence at Royceland is the reason she is coming here next week,” she added with studied lightness.
“What?!” Jane exploded out of her seat, much in the manner Lady Elsbeth envisioned she would upon hearing that bit of intelligence.
“And Millicent,” she continued quickly. " I gather they will be bringing a small house party with them. A group on their way to Brighton for some social event or other. She convinced them to break their journey here.”
“If she is coming from Margate, Penwick Park is not on the road to Brighton. Besides, she is taking a great deal for granted.”
She paused, a frown drawing her raven brows together."You should write back to her and say this is not a good time for a visit. Say the children are sick, or something.”
“Jane, so long as the Earl of Royce is in the neighborhood, I doubt anything would give her a moment’s pause. And you know, your sister Mary espouses an open house policy. I’m certain she and Delbert often have the strangest assortment of people here.”
