“Eight days from today,” Mother replies, tension returning to her posture as Beth slumps in her seat. “In fact, we probably should go, Beth. The Ashmonds are expecting us for dinner, and we’ll need to change.”
“Oh, but we’ve just poured tea,” Meredith says quickly. “Could we finish? Lord Havenfort, perhaps you could show Lady Demeroven the gardens? The roses there would make such a lovely bouquet for Beth.”
Beth holds her breath as both Mother and Lord Havenfort consider Meredith’s suggestion. It’s forward, but not glaringlyso. And Mother does love flowers. It’s one of her greater regrets, that they haven’t spent enough time in London to cultivate a garden. The ones at the Demeroven estate up north are splendid. Mother sometimes even works them herself.
“I suppose,” Mother says slowly. “For another twenty minutes. If you don’t mind, Lord Havenfort.”
“Not at all,” Gwen’s father says, offering his arm. “I’m great with flowers.”
“I remember,” Mother says, quite without thinking given the way her eyes widen.
But Lord Havenfort just chuckles and leads her from the room. Beth blows out a breath and Gwen slouches in her seat.
“Well?” Meredith says.
“Well what?” Gwen asks as she strokes Beth’s palm.
“Go to the window. My goodness, you’re both dreadful at this.”
Gwen snorts and stands, pulling Beth up and then taking her arm to guide her toward the window. Beth fans herself as if she simply must get some air. Meredith immediately joins in on her mother’s conversation. Albie, Bobby, and their uncle are far too immersed in what sounds like racing bets to care what Beth and Gwen get up to.
Gwen tugs Beth up to the large picture window where their parents stood some minutes ago, and together they look down at the lovely back gardens. They’re even more resplendent from above. Though in fairness, the last time Beth saw them, she was too busy kissing Gwen’s brains out before breaking both of their hearts to care for the florals.
Beth spots their parents, chatting together on a stone bench beneath a leafy green tree. She can’t quite see their faces.
“Do you think it’s working?” Gwen wonders.
Beth forces herself to smile despite their dwindling timeline. “They’re not fighting.”
“They weren’t fighting before you dumped us either,” Gwen counters.
“We didn’t—” Beth looks up and finds Gwen smirking down at her. “Shut up. They were... more than friendly then, but I don’t know that that’s enough. Mother will be throwing away a sure status match.”
Gwen sighs. “And Father’s gun-shy.”
Beth watches as Gwen leans against the windowsill. She looks beautiful in the sunlight that angles through the window, whisps of her blond hair surrounding her like a halo.
“We’ll just have to push them,” Beth says, rallying her resolve.
“Right. Shove them, more like,” Gwen agrees.
“You think if we threw them both down the stairs, we could lock them up together to heal?” Beth wonders, smiling as Gwen snorts.
She glances back down at their parents. But Lord Havenfort is alone now.
“Beth, time to leave.”
Beth sighs and turns to find her mother in the doorway to the Harringtons’ library. Gwen quickly squeezes her arm before stepping around her to go join Meredith. They’ve done all they can. This is all she and Gwen get. A measly two hours and middling progress, if any, in their efforts.
“Come along, dear,” Mother prompts, and Beth nods, forcing herself across the room to curtsy politely to Lady Harrington before following Mother out.
“Did you and Lord Havenfort have a good chat?” she asks. They take their bonnets from the doorman and step into the late afternoon sun for their waiting carriage.
Everything’s so precise now. Carriages always waiting, schedule always full. She misses the emptiness of their life in the country. Hell, even the first few weeks of the season were more relaxing, when they attended every event in sight. There wasn’t this pressure.
There wasn’t this sadness, is more like it. She could handle the bowing and scraping and dresses and tulle if every single moment didn’t remind her of what she’d lost. And if Mother ever seemed even a tenth as cheerful when they’re with the Ashmonds as she did in the library today.
Mother looks back at her, eyebrow raised, before she lets herself be handed into the coach. Beth follows behind, casting one longing glance at the upstairs window before the footman shuts the coach door.
