Dinner was mostly full of talk of the ride that morning, which allowed me to sit silently and observe, grateful at least that my pantaloons and shoes were now out of view. Carrot, of course, was seated at the bottom of the table and Rowland at the top, with me on Carrot’s right and the two women across from me. It should have been an honor to be seated at the host’s right, but I could think only of the honor, instead, that was accorded to Rowland that he took the top of the table as a matter of custom. I thought it must mean that he frequently dined with Carrot, and, indeed, he seemed quite at home at Lanham-Hall. I could not help wondering if Carrot was equally at home at Thornfield. I pushed that thought out of my mind and concentrated on my dinner.
Partway through the meal, the subject arose as to what entertainment we should have for the evening. “Music, of course!” Carrot responded. He smiled at both of the ladies. “With such musical skill in our presence, how could we not!”
Miss Kent turned to Rowland. “And you as well, Rowland; shall we hear from you?”
“A duet, perhaps?” he responded.
“And you?” Miss Gilpatrick asked me. “Do you sing?”
I flushed. “Not in public,” I said, laughing to cover my embarrassment.
“Everyone sings,” Rowland said laconically. “I’m sure you do, as well.” I turned to him in surprise. What did he know of me? Why would he say such a thing?
“I’ve heard him,” Carrot put in. “Many a sea mariners’ song we’ve shared, have we not?” And without waiting for a response from me, he went on: “And he reads. We had a brilliant mentor in the art of reading when we were boys, and I daresay—”
“That settles it!” Miss Kent interrupted. “Music and reading! What better way to spend an evening. In fact, Thomas, I was perusing your library, and I saw—”
“Perusing my library!” Carrot laughed. “And what caught your eye? Tacitus on war? Or was it Julius Caesar? The collected dispatches of Wellington, perhaps?”
“Don’t act the fool,” Miss Kent admonished. “It doesn’t become you.”
I was surprised both at the tone of her voice and at Carrot’s docile reaction to it. He was, after all, the lord of the manor, and what was she? Well, indeed whatwasshe? I had no idea. There had been no title to her name, simply Miss Kent. But she did have a quick wit and a quicker tongue. “Yes, I saw those boring things,” she went on. “Though God knows who would want to readthem. And I surely did not see what I might have been looking for. It seems you have no books by Jane Austen in this house, even though everyone knows she was the best writer England has produced since William Shakespeare—”
Rowland laughed outrageously at that. “Since William Shakespeare? Jane Austen? That simpering little thing who wrote only of women seeking husbands? As if we don’t have enough of that in our real lives without having to read about it too?”
Miss Kent ignored him completely. “But I did see a book by the author ofWaverley. Has anyone read that one?”
“I have, in fact,” Carrot said. “ButRob Royis better.”
“You have that!” Miss Kent said.
“Yes, I do.”
“Then it’s decided,” Miss Gilpatrick said. “Lydia and I and Rowland shall play and do duets, and later Fitzcharles and the young Mr. Rochester will read.”
Carrot shot a glance at me and I nodded assent. We had all been forced to read at Mr. Lincoln’s and he did not permit anything but the most professional of performances. We were both excellent readers.
And that is how the evening progressed. After our brandy and cigars—and after the women had returned from doing whatever it is they do when men have brandy and cigars—we had music and reading. Rowland was a strong tenor and he sang with each of the women, who also sang solo, and even Carrot sang once or twice with Miss Kent. Twice I was asked to sing, but I steadfastly refused.
When we turned to the reading, I, as guest, was given the honor of starting the book. It could not have been a more affecting beginning:
How have I sinned, that this affliction
Should light so heavy on me? I have no more sons,
And this no more mine own.
I was transfixed from the first words, but, ever conscious of my place, I yielded to Carrot much sooner than I would have wished. We were all so entranced with the reading that by the time we parted for the night, we had read well into the first book ofRob Roy, and I had made a mental note to buy my own copy at the first opportunity.
As the evening ended and the gathering broke up, I was pulled aside by Miss Kent. “You have a wonderful voice for reading, full and powerful,” she said. “You have it in you to be a singer, if you wish it,” she said.
Flattered by both her words and the attention she was paying me, I gushed, “Of course!”
“Tomorrow I could give you some training,” she suggested.
I smiled broadly. She was a lovely person, with a piquant face surrounded by curls, and I could hardly believe the attention she was paying me. “I would like that very much,” I said.
“Tomorrow morning, then. Just after breakfast. Thomas will be inclosed in his library for a time and your brother will be off riding. The house will be quiet.”
