“Now, this is purely a game of chance,” the dowager said. Her eyes twinkled with mischief. “Let us see how you fare.”
Diana sensed a hint of challenge in the older woman’s eye as she dealt the cards. She met the dowager’s gaze steadily, refusing to be intimidated, despite the nerves that were fluttering in her chest. “I believe you may be surprised, My Lady. I have been practicing my skills.”
With a flick of her wrist, the dowager shuffled the cards, and the game commenced. Laughter and banter filled the air as the ladies played, with the dowager deftly managing the pace of the game. Diana felt a thrill of excitement as she carefully scrutinized her cards. It was not a bad hand, and Diana thought that if she played carefully, she might even win the game. She quickly devised a strategy that would keep her opponents on their toes.
The atmosphere around the table shifted as the game continued.
After each player had played their hand once, the dowager glanced around the table, looking a little hesitant all of a sudden. “Is it my turn?” she ventured. “I fear my old age is catching up with me. I think that I know what is going on, and then suddenly I forget everything!”
Diana chuckled along with the older lady, feeling that it was a good thing that Lady Louisa could see the funny side of her own forgetfulness. It was better to age with grace and a touch of self-deprecation, she thought, than to pretend that things were as they had always been.
With each round, laughter and playful jibes filled the air, gradually easing Diana’s tension. Yet, as the game progressed,she couldn’t shake the feeling that her nerves were tied not just to the game itself, but to the expectations that hung over her like a delicate veil. The stakes felt higher tonight, perhaps because of the unspoken dynamics at play within this gathering, where alliances and rivalries simmered just beneath the surface. With each card dealt, Diana felt the weight of her role in this intricate dance of society, aware that every move she made was being observed, analyzed, and judged.
“We have not seen you in society over these last few years, Lady Diana,” the dowager said, during a brief pause in the game. Diana felt that the air between them was thick with unspoken expectations, and the tension flickered like candlelight in the dimly-lit drawing room. But the dowager laughed again, a throaty and rich sound. “Or perhaps we have met many times before, and I have simply forgotten it! You see, I can remember the names of young men I danced with at balls more than fifty years ago, but I could not tell you what I had for breakfast this morning!”
Diana joined in the laughter, but sighed inwardly. Despite the dowager making light of things, she felt a sense of dismay that she must always be forced to defend herself and her actions, wherever she went. Every encounter felt like a trial, where she had to justify her choices to those who had never walked in her shoes.
“We have met before, My Lady,” Diana replied, her voice steady. “But it was some years ago.”
The dowager frowned, as if searching her mind for the memory. “I confess that I cannot remember it,” she replied, her tone clipped. “But I am sure that it was not recently. You have not been in society very much at all.” The repeated words carried with them an implied judgment that hung in the air, challenging Diana to defend her absence.
“We live a rather quiet life generally, My Lady,” she replied evenly, maintaining her composure. “But this season is my sister’s debut, and therefore it is right that we spend a little more time in company.” The words felt like a shield, though she knew they might not fully deflect the scrutiny of the dowager’s gaze.
“Ah, yes, your sister,” the dowager said, glancing across the room to where Grace was sitting with Cecilia.
Diana thought that her sister looked a radiant figure amidst the laughter and chatter, but she waited for the dowager’s verdict, rather than saying anything more herself.
“She is a very beautiful young lady,” the dowager said eventually. “Your father must have high hopes of a good match for her.” The compliment was layered, and Diana could sense an undertone in the dowager’s voice, despite her humor, as if she was comparing Grace’s prospects to Diana’s own.
Diana bit her lip, aware of the unspoken truths that lay beneath the surface. She could not very well reply that their father was showing little interest in orchestrating Grace’s entry to society, and that he had left the whole thing to her to manage. It wasa burden she bore quietly, determined to ensure Grace had the opportunities she deserved.
“We are all confident that Grace will make a fine match when the right gentleman comes along.” Her words were meant to convey hope, but they felt hollow, echoing back to her own unfulfilled aspirations.
The dowager narrowed her eyes, scrutinizing Diana with a keen intensity. “And you do not think that the right gentleman has come along just yet, is that right?” The question was sharp, and Diana felt the weight of it pressing against her chest.
Diana frowned, the uncertainty gnawing at her. She could not be sure if the dowager knew of Tristan’s alleged intentions towards Grace, but there seemed to be a thinly-veiled antagonism in her voice that she was not quite sure how to manage. “I am not sure, My Lady,” Diana replied, striving for a calm demeanor. “I am sure you will agree that it is important to be cautious in these matters.”
The dowager nodded, her expression unreadable. “I do agree, indeed,” she replied. “And I gather that you have been extremely cautious when it comes to your own prospects. Perhaps too cautious, in fact.” The insinuation hung heavy between them, and Diana felt a flush rise to her cheeks.
“I am not sure what you mean, My Lady,” Diana said, looking down again at the cards in her hand. The patterns on the cards began to blur as her thoughts drifted. While the conversation was taking this direction, and she felt herself put on the spot likethis, it was not easy to concentrate on the game. She wondered for a moment if that was the dowager’s strategy: to distract her so that she made a mistake. But surely the outcome of the card game could not be so important to the older lady? A mere game could not matter so much.
“Only that I have heard some things about you, my dear,” the dowager said, her tone dripping with implication. “That your own matrimonial ambitions have never been realized.” The words were a dagger, piercing through the veneer of civility that surrounded them. Diana’s heart raced, embarrassment flooding her senses.
As the game continued around them, she felt the weight of the world in that moment, trapped between her sister’s bright future and her own lingering uncertainties. Each card played felt like a silent reminder of her own choices, and the paths left unexplored.
Diana shrugged, trying to seem nonchalant. “It is of no consequence to me," she replied. "In fact, I find it rather strange that people seem to find it all so interesting. My sister’s prospects are far more important to me now. I am more than happy to remain at home with my father.”
The dowager nodded. “Well, I am sure that is very sensible.” She looked at the cards laid out on the table, then at the cards remaining in her own hand. “Now, let us concentrate, and finish this game.”
Diana felt a surge of relief that the interrogation seemed to be over, and was happy to focus her attentions on the game. As the final round drew near, Diana played her cards with a confidence that surprised even herself. With a bold move, she laid down her hand, revealing a winning combination. “It appears I have won,” she declared, the thrill of victory surging through her.
The dowager raised an eyebrow, a playful smile tugging at her lips. “Well played, Lady Diana. It seems you are a force to be reckoned with.”
Diana smiled, feeling a warmth blooming in her chest. She had entered the drawing room that evening feeling flustered after her encounter with Tristan, and almost like an outsider among this group of people, but she had held her own, despite the dowager’s probing questions and antagonistic comments. Not only had she kept her composure, but she had also won the game.
“Shall we play again?” she ventured to suggest.
The dowager clapped her hands, smiling broadly. “I think we shall!”
