Amelia and Charlotte gathered their outerwear and changed into walking boots. They went slowly, Amelia’s walking stick clacking against the paving stones as they went. They did, indeed, go to the park a short distance away, footmen trailing behind them like sentinels.
“Andrew loves this path,” Amelia said. “He often walked here with his father and mother. My younger son lived in the townhouse with his family. I enjoyed having them there and was pleased to save them the expense of leasing other rooms.”
“You must miss them.” Charlotte felt great sympathy for her hostess. Losing so many family members would be a sore trial.
“I do,” she replied. “I am an old woman. I have been without Anthony for longer than I care to admit. Andrew’s father, Arthur, has been gone nearly twenty years, and Lewis for even longer.” She sighed. “Anne will not marry. And if Andrew does not have a child, our line will die. There are no more de Bourghs.”
“I am dreadfully sorry.” Charlotte patted the hand that held her arm. Amelia needed the extra support, and she did not mind giving it.
“I wonder what you would do, Miss Lucas, if you received an offer of marriage from a man you did not love.” Amelia turned and regarded Charlotte steadily. “You are a practical sort. I wager you would accept it.”
Charlotte nodded. “I once wished for love, but at nearly eight-and-twenty, I cannot afford to be so exacting. My brother will eventually seek a wife, and once my mother and father are dead, he will begin to resent caring for an older, unmarried sister.”
“What of love?”
She shook her head. “My chance for love came and went a long time ago. I never had a bloom, as they call it, and I fear I grow plainer as I age. Wrinkles and lines appear almost overnight. No, if I am to marry, it will likely be a marriage of convenience.”
“Such a sad perspective. Marrying for love is infinitely preferable. I wish that happiness for you. Any man would be pleased to have you as his bride.”
“You are not the first to say that. Unfortunately, I do not seem to be the sort of woman who attracts a man.” It did not hurt to say this. Charlotte had come to that conclusion years ago.
“Mayhap your fortune has turned,” Amelia murmured. “Time will tell. Now, let us turn back. I grow weary and I think I shall rest before dinner.”
Charlotte complied, and they turned their steps back to de Bourgh house. Amelia went to her chamber, leaving Charlotte to entertain herself.
She spent her time in reflection. Amelia was correct; Charlotte had been granted the opportunity to change her fortunes. Her hostess wished her to stay until at least July. Would that be enough time to find a man and secure a proposal? If she were honest with herself, she did not want to return to Lucas Lodgewithout one. Her mother and father had been far too eager for their eldest to accompany Lady de Bourgh to town, even though she had so recently returned from Kent.
Their behavior hurt, though she understood its impetus. Her father was not a wealthy man, and he had another daughter he would need to marry off as well. She would take advantage of her position as Amelia’s guest and do all she could to find a husband. Surely, there was a widower looking for a mother for his children, one who did not need a handsomely dowered bride.I can only hope.
Chapter Thirty
May 25, 1812
London
Elizabeth
Lady de Bourgh—Amelia’s—carriage arrived promptly at eleven. Elizabeth and Georgiana said farewell to Darcy and left the house, both eager to partake in the delights of Bond Street. Georgiana’s companion remained at the house; her new sister-in-law was enough of a chaperone.
“Good morning, my dears,” Amelia said cheerfully. “Let us make haste. We have a full day ahead of us, and after we are done, we shall likely be in need of a nap.”
The other three ladies laughed good-naturedly. “Shopping has always been a trial for me,” Elizabeth confessed. “My mother favors more embellished styles than I prefer. We were forever arguing about lace and ribbons.”
“There is no need to gild the lily, Elizabeth. You are lovely enough without needing feathers and fripperies. Your figure would be hidden by an overabundance of lace, anyway. No, understated elegance is the order of the day. And you, Charlotte, should lean toward subtle embellishments. You have a fine figure. We will strive to accent that.”
Charlotte nodded agreeably, a small smile on her face. It pleased Elizabeth that her friend could partake in the delights of town alongside her.
“What about me, Lady de Bourgh?” Georgiana asked. “I am not yet out, but my brother said I could purchase two new gowns.”
Amelia examined Georgiana with a critical eye. “You are tall and fair. Blues and blushes would look marvelous on you. Adornment on your sleeves and hems, certainly, and perhaps some lace on your collar. Yes, I think that would do nicely.”
Georgiana nodded, smiling widely. Her excitement seemed barely contained.
In short order they arrived outside Madame Dubois’s Modiste Shop on Bond Street. Amelia directed the coach to return in two hours, and all four ladies paraded inside.
“My Lady de Bourgh! What a pleasure it is to see you!” Madame Dubois’s French accent sounded genuine, and Elizabeth nodded as Amelia introduced each of her companions.
“Darcy, did you say?” Madame Dubois said. “I had heard Mr. Darcy married, but two ladies here yesterday declared it must be some mistake. They were wrong, I think.” Madame smiled at Elizabeth and directed her to stand on a little platform that stood in front of several tall mirrors.
