“They had a dance,” I acknowledged. “That is hardly something to hold against her.”
Lavinia’s countenance shifted from hawklike to delighted. “A dance with one sister and an engagement with another.”
“The prince danced with many.” Refusing to meet Mathilde’s eye, I watched Morwen hurry to finish, nervous on her behalf. One of the teacups clattered in her hand.
Lavinia chortled. “If I didn’t know better, I would say your family has worked out some kind of magic charm.” She turned to her son. “Finnian, what do you think of the matter?”
“I—” he began, reaching with both his hands to tuck his hair behind each ear.
She nodded. “Yes, I agree. It should be Mathilde.”
Mathilde half stood, abruptly, and catching herself, sat back down.
“Mathilde,” I repeated. I looked at Finnian, the heir to the largest estate in the county. He was not bad-looking, he just had not yet grown into his face. I reasoned that he might be suitable indeed in a few years’ time—what with his inheritance and his parents’ oversized property. And it would place one of my daughters just down the road. “We are flattered,” I said, decisively. Mathilde was practical. Unlike Rosie, she wasn’t interested in an affair of the heart. Already, I could see how Elin’s engagement might turn our fortunes. It was easy to forget about the roof upstairs. About Rosie’s cracked heart. About the prospect of Lavinia as a mother-in-law.
Mathilde opened her mouth to protest, and I held up my hand, silencing her as effectively as I could.
Lavinia cleared her throat. “Etheldreda, please come with me. I have something in my carriage I need to show you.”
“Very well,” I agreed. Still unwilling to risk eye contact with Mathilde, who stood, fully this time, hands pressed to her stomach as if it pained her.
“Please,” she said, “I would love to see the carriage as well.”
“No, no,” Lavinia called. “You mustn’t.”
“Mama—” Mathilde turned to me, her fingers digging in further at her waist.
“We’ll be back presently,” I assured her.
“Please,” she said again, but when I began to follow Lavinia to the door, her hands shifted from her belly to her hips and she glared at me.
When we were through the doorway, Lavinia turned back to me and revealed, in a fake whisper: “I did not really have something to show you.”
I kept my eyes ahead, ignoring my daughter behind me. “I assumed.”
“But,” Lavinia continued, “young love must have space and air to bloom.”
And money, I thought. I did not judge myself—for it is true and I did not say it aloud.
I do not know exactly what transpired in the state room after Lavinia and I exited, but when the Enrights’ carriage departed a short while later, Mathilde did not wait until it was out of sight to turn to me. “Surely, you are jesting,” she hissed.
“Be practical,” I insisted, hand still raised in a farewell gesture. I lowered it. “Why else did you go to the ball if not to encourage visits such as this? We have a window of opportunity. Think of your future.”
“That is exactly what I am thinking of!” she cried.
“Then we are aligned.” The carriage now safely out of sight, I turned and headed along the path toward the side of the house.
“This is preposterous,” she called after me, and then picked up her skirts to follow. “Mama, he is seventeen years old. His chin is covered in spots. We have nothing in common!”
“He has not even proposed,” I told her, over my shoulder. “Do not discourage affection until you understand your options.”
“He spoke only of mallard ducks.”
“You do not have to accept. But it would do you well to consider it.”
“Ducks!”
We rounded the corner of Bramley and came to the rear yard, the hole in the roof visible above us. “We will obtain more proposals and choose which is best. Mathilde, do not make that face at me. This is a good thing. Elin’s engagement bodes well. You have to see the possibilities of every situation, to see the possibilities in your life,” I urged her, stopping at the path that led to the mews. “To believe in what you are able to become!”
