Her hands began to shake. She clasped them together and forced them still.
A week, she thought. He’s given me a week.
She would find a way. She always had.
But even as she returned to the library and picked up the discarded book, her hands would not stop trembling.
CHAPTER 12
The next morning, Lavinia entered the music room to find Lady Sophia already at the pianoforte, her back ramrod-straight but her fingers delightedly drumming a light, off-tempo rhythm upon the keys.
"Good morning, Lady Sophia," Lavinia called, setting down her reticule with more confidence than she actually felt. The aftershocks of the prior day's interview with Mr. Crawley had left her poorly rested and slightly brittle, but she was determined not to let it show.
Sophia swiveled in place. "Good morning, Lady Lavinia." There was a brief upturn of her mouth that might blossom into a true smile.
"Did you practice your scales?" Lavinia asked, approaching the pianoforte.
"I did, but I dislike them," Sophia replied with an honesty that would have scandalized most music masters. "They are like boiled potatoes. Necessary, but uninteresting."
Lavinia hid a smile behind her hand. "You must have been reading my thoughts, Lady Sophia. I was about to suggest we begin today with something more interesting."
Sophia's fingers stilled. She waited, expectant.
"First, however, may I ask how the tea with your father went yesterday?" Lavinia perched on the edge of the bench, careful to leave a comfortable distance between them.
Sophia’s fingers curled in her lap. "It was... more pleasant than I anticipated."
"Did you spill?" Lavinia asked.
"Only a little." Sophia held up her fingers. "He said nothing of it. He even took two scones."
"I am pleased to hear it." Lavinia reached into her reticule and withdrew two delicate lace fans—one in pale blue, the other in cream. "Today we shall practice the art of the fan."
Sophia examined the fans with surprise. "I thought fans were only for balls. Or for very warm weather."
"There is much to be communicated with a fan," Lavinia said, offering the cream one to Sophia. "In fact, it is the most efficient means for a lady to express herself in public, especially when actual words might get her into trouble."
Sophia took the fan, holding it as if it might bite. "Are we to have a lesson in subterfuge, Lady Lavinia?"
"Call it—" Lavinia spread her own fan with a flick of the wrist, "—a lesson in self-defense." She demonstrated the correct way to grip the rib, the subtle wrist movements to open and close, the gentle arc of motion for maximum breeze. "A lady never fans herself too vigorously. It is a mark of desperation."
Sophia imitated her, tentatively at first, but then with increasing assurance. The pale lace shimmered in the lamplight.
"Very good," Lavinia said. "Now, if you wish to express interest in a conversation—" She raised her fan to just below her chin, eyes peering over the top. "Like so."
Sophia copied the gesture, looking suddenly much older, much more like the young woman she would soon become.
"And if you wish to end the conversation?" Sophia asked, lowering her voice as if imparting a secret.
"Lower the fan. Close it, tightly but quietly," Lavinia demonstrated. "Never snap. Snapping is vulgar."
They exchanged several rounds of signals, inventing their own meanings for each. With the fan half-closed: 'I am bored, but cannot escape.' Fan covering mouth: 'I am laughing at you, not with you.' At one point Sophia nearly did snap her fan, but Lavinia stopped her with a gently admonishing look.
After half an hour, the lesson began to dissolve into laughter and mimicry of various society ladies, Sophia’s impersonation of her own aunt nearly causing Lavinia to drop her fan entirely.
The girl’s cheeks were pink with suppressed amusement when she finally said, "Lady Lavinia, may we go outside today? The drawing room is always so stuffy, and you said the garden was lovely in spring."
Lavinia considered it. She remembered the incident of the previous lesson, when she had taken Sophia outdoors without first seeking permission, and the Duke's stern warning that followed. "I think it a capital idea, Lady Sophia. But we must first obtain leave from your father."
