He reassured her that funds had been set aside for her personal maintenance, as well as that of the maintenance of the townhouse, so that she need not worry about covering her expenses for the remainder of her life. And that included such costs as lady’s maids, modiste’s and entertaining.
And yes, Mr. Daniels was no longer employed by Milton Bloomington, but by herself, unless, that was, she wished to hire a driver more familiar with the city.
Imprinted memories of Chance sitting inside of the carriage pricked her thoughts–– of him holding Mr. Dog.
Sometimes beside her and other times from the opposite bench, but always those smiling eyes laughing into hers.
Memories that tortured her heart.
“I do have one question.” She spoke up.
“Anything, anything at all,” Mr. Burleson leaned forward.
“Would it be possible?” She twisted the ring on her hand. “To purchase a different carriage? This one…”
Mr. Burleson tilted his head. “I rather think I understand. You are recently widowed, and the carriage must remind you of your deceased husband.”
Aubrey had not thought of that.
“Well, um yes. Are there enough funds to purchase a different one? We can sell this one, of course.”
“But of course, Mrs. Bloomington,” he smiled sympathetically. “And Mr. Daniels?”
“I’m fine with him. It’s just the carriage…” Yes, she’d rather not be confronted with the memory of Chance—of Mr. Bateman—holding her comfortingly, or making her laugh, every time she deigned to take a ride.
“No trouble at all. Here is my card. Please, send for me if you think of anything else you require.”
“You are certain the coach will not be too great of an expense?”
“Of course not. And if you have need of anything, anything at all, simply contact my office.”
It was all rather overwhelming.
That afternoon, as she strolled through Hyde Park, which was a mere three blocks from her new home, and marveled that she had practically everything she ever could have asked for. No, she did have everything she’d ever asked for.
And yet she felt dead inside.
Upon arriving back at Autumn House, guests anticipating her return. Yes—actual guests—awaiting her in the small drawing room.
Chance?
She did not ask who, but rather rushed to the doorway and pushed it open impatiently.
Of course, it was not him. And Mr. Carrington had said “guests” not “a guest.” Two elderly ladies sat upon the lovely velvet sofa in the middle of the room. Backs straight, the two of them were dressed impeccably. At her sudden appearance, they both smiled and rose to stand. Another visitor, a pleasant looking gentleman who seemed as though he was close to her own age, had risen from the seat he’d taken as well.
“I—“ Aubrey stepped inside more slowly and then approached the two ladies. “Hello. I am Mrs. Aubrey Bloomington.”
The shorter of the two women, a woman with curling red hair piled high atop her head, bright blue eyes and an easy smile stepped forward and nodded. “I’m Lady Zelda and this is my dear friend, the Countess of Longthorpe—Lady Longthorpe—and her youngest son, Mr. Jeremiah. When we heard Autumn House was being opened up, we simply had to stop by and welcome you to the neighborhood.”
A lady? And a Countess? Aubrey dipped into an awkward curtsy. She’d never met actual titled people before. “My Lady, My Lady,” And then she turned toward the gentleman. “Mr. Jeremiah . Welcome and please, do sit down.”
“My but aren’t you a lovely young lady,” the countess smiled as she seemed to study her. “I must admit that we expected someone much older. Our condolences, for the loss of you husband last year.”
“Did you know Mr. Bloomington?” Aubrey couldn’t help but ask.
The two women glanced at one another. “A very. Very. Long time ago,” Lady Zelda responded. “Nearly forty years ago?” She turned to her companion to confirm.
At the other lady’s nod, Lady Zelda continued. “Indeed. And so, of course, when we heard you were taking up residence, we wanted to be the first to welcome you. And invite you to Lady Longthorpe’s ‘at home’ in two days’ time.”
