"Is it? I thought it was rather practical. One must consider these things at my age." Aunt Bertha smiled without opening her eyes. "Go back to your needlework, Margaret. I was only jesting.”
She was asleep again within minutes, leaving Vanessa to smother her laughter behind her hand and Lady Wayworth to fume in offended silence.
The rest of the journey passed without incident. No highwaymen appeared, much to what Vanessa suspected wasAunt Bertha's genuine disappointment. The roads improved marginally as they drew closer to London, the countryside giving way to villages and then to the outskirts of the city itself.
London rose up around them in all its chaotic glory, the press of buildings, the rumble of carriages and the shouts of street vendors and the general air of purposeful activity that characterised the capital. Vanessa watched it all through the window, feeling the familiar mixture of excitement and exhaustion that London always inspired.
Another season was upon her bringing with it yet another opportunity to repeat her same mistakes.
***
The London townhouse was exactly as Vanessa remembered it: elegant, well-appointed, and already bustling with servants preparing for their arrival. The housekeeper, Mrs. Abbott, greeted them at the door with the calm efficiency of a woman who had been managing the household since before Vanessa was born.
"Lady Wayworth. Lady Vanessa. Mrs. Crawford." She bobbed a curtsy, her grey hair neatly pinned beneath her cap. "Everything is in readiness. The fires have been lit, the beds made up fresh, and Cook has prepared a light supper for whenever you wish to dine."
"Excellent, Mrs. Abbott. As always, your competence is a comfort." Lady Wayworth swept into the house with the air of a queen reclaiming her throne. "Have the trunks brought up immediately. And send word to Lord Wayworth that we have arrived safely,he will be anxious to know."
The next several hours were consumed by the chaos of settling in. Trunks were carried upstairs and unpacked. Rooms were aired and arranged. Lady Wayworth inspected every cornerof the house with a critical eye, finding fault with the placement of a vase here, the color of a curtain there.
Vanessa had barely finished changing out of her travel clothes when a knock came at her door.
"Come in."
Edward appeared in the doorway, looking windswept and slightly muddy from his ride. "We have survived another journey. I was not certain we would, around the third hour, when Mama began discussing the decline of modern morality."
"You escaped. I had to endure it."
"You have my profound sympathy." He dropped into the chair by her window with the casual grace that had always characterised his movements. "I have also come bearing news. I stopped by the club on my way here, and I encountered several gentlemen who were most eager to discuss the upcoming Season."
“My spirits are quite elevated…”
"It gets better. Apparently, the Crawfords have already arrived in town. Miss Crawford was seen at the lending library this morning." He said the words with studied casualness, but Vanessa caught the slight flush that crept up his neck.
"Helena is in London? How wonderful. I must call on her tomorrow."
"Yes. That would be... yes." Edward cleared his throat. "Perhaps you might mention, when you see her, that I…that is, our family…would be pleased to see her at any events where our paths might cross."
"Edward Wayworth, are you asking me to put in a good word for you with my best friend?"
"I am doing nothing of the sort. I am merely suggesting that it would be pleasant to see Miss Crawford during the Season. In a purely friendly capacity."
"A purely friendly capacity."
"Indeed.”
Vanessa studied her brother with growing amusement. Edward, who had never shown the slightest discomfort around women, was actively avoiding her gaze. His ears had gone quite pink.
"You are quite taken with her” she said.
“I have always been fond of Miss Crawford, as she is your friend…and it would be strange if I had an aversion to her.”
"That is not what I mean, and you know it." Vanessa leaned forward, her own troubles momentarily forgotten in the face of this delightful development. "You are interested in her. Romantically interested."
"I am…" Edward stopped, sighed and ran a hand through his already disheveled hair. "Is it that obvious?"
"To me, yes. To Helena, probably not as he has a tendency to assume the best of people, which unfortunately includes assuming that handsome rogues like yourself could not possibly be interested in someone as quiet as she is."
"She is not just quiet. She is..." He trailed off, searching for words. "When she speaks, it matters. She does not fill silences with meaningless chatter like so many others. She thinks before she speaks, and when she does speak, it is worth hearing."
