***
BEATRICE WAS HUMMINGas she wandered into the confectionery nearly at closing time the next day. She’d done something she almost never did — slept the day away, knowing her sisters could handle the shop. Often Charlotte opened, then Amity came to make chocolates, while Beatrice showed up midday, going directly to the back room. Later, she would close up by herself or with Amity, if she stayed the whole day. All three of them were hardly ever there at the same time for more than an hour or two unless it was a holiday, with Easter and Christmas being their busiest times.
Thus, when Charlotte asked Amity to make tea despite it being almost time for her to leave, and Amity agreed to drink the brew rather than hot chocolate, Beatrice knew something was up.
“You spent most of the evening dancing with Mr. Carson,” Charlotte said, once they had their mugs of steaming tea in hand.
So, her sisters were worried about her becoming attached to the one man at the ball she wasn’t supposed to and whom she could never have.
Truthfully, during the excitement of the event, she’d worried about that herself. At home in the wee hours, she’d wrestled with her thoughts and feelings, finally concluding she’d mistaken friendship for something more. And while it had been easier to talk and dance with Greer, as she’d come to think of him, than with any other man, she must attribute such to their familiarity with one another. That didn’t mean she was developing deep and lasting affection for him.
Nevertheless, when she laid her head upon her pillow and drew the American’s ascot out from underneath, giving it a hearty sniff, tears had pricked her eyes.
“Did I?” she asked, keeping her face placid.
“You know you did,” Charlotte said, then turned to Amity. “She did.”
“We didn’t have cards,” Beatrice pointed out, “so I really couldn’t keep track. I also danced with a viscount by the name of....” Her mind emptied, and all she could think of was Greer, with his slightly tussled hair as he whirled her around the dance floor.
“Lord Melton,” Charlotte supplied, while Amity pierced her with those rich brown eyes, both wise and warm.
“Yes, of course. Lord Melton,” Beatrice agreed. “He was nice, too. I danced with him nearly as much as I did with Mr. Carson, I believe.”
“She didn’t,” Charlotte said to Amity.
“Stop doing that,” Beatrice scolded. “I didn’t realize you were spying on me.” She glared at her tattletale younger sibling.
“I wasn’t,” Charlotte protested hotly. “We were supposed to be looking out for one another, weren’t we? In any case, all I did was search for you occasionally, and I always seemed to see you with Mr. Carson.”
“At the next dance, I shall endeavor not to dance with him at all, if that will make you happy.”
“I don’t think Charlotte is worrying about her own happiness,” Amity said softly, and Beatrice felt suitably chastised.
“I know.” She glanced at her younger sister, who looked uncharacteristically glum. “I apologize.” Brushing a stray curl from behind Charlotte’s ear, she added, “But you needn’t worry, at least not as to me and Mr. Carson. He told me he is pursuing Lady Emily St. George.”
“How exciting!” Charlotte said, returning to her usual enthusiasm with alacrity. “To think your plan might succeed.”
“Yes, to think.” Beatrice sipped her tea and avoided Amity’s questioning gaze until her eldest sister shrugged and let go of whatever thoughts were swirling in her inquisitive brain.
“Mother said you have quite a treat coming up later in the Season. In fact, we all do, for Henry and I shall attend as well. It’s a fancy-dress ball.”
“How exciting!” Charlotte exclaimed again, this time with a clap of her hands, and then, unable to contain her happiness another instant, she whistled her happiest note.
“Good God!” Beatrice said with a shake of her head. “Did you hear dogs barking in response?”
They all laughed and immediately, their interest turned to who would wear what costume.
Meanwhile, there were more events to get through, and increasingly, that was the feeling Beatrice had — that she must persevere, endure, and get through each one. Greer often had Lady Emily on his arm, and Beatrice found Lord Melton to be persistent in his pursuit of her, although she was careful not to lead him on since her regard for the viscount had not grown. She didn’t even want to try out a kiss with him. In truth, she felt more dispirited as the Season progressed, longing for the end of it. Charlotte, however, seemed to be feeling the opposite, growing ever more comfortable and happier.
Naturally, Greer still escorted them, but spoke no differently to her than he did to Charlotte. And when they did dance, as if by unspoken agreement, he remained politely distant, with no outbreaks of laughter between them, and never more than one dance. At the end of an event, when he took them home, he dropped them off with the briefest of parting words.
As soon as the sun was strong enough and no rain threatened, they attended a boating event. With lilacs in bloom and violets peeping from under every bush in Syon Park on the banks of the Duke of Northumberland’s home, they were helped into long row boats, powered by strong men from the London Rowing Club.
Beatrice sat on a cushioned bench seat with Charlotte behind her, each of them partnered with a single gentleman of good repute. Lord Melton was nowhere to be seen, which bothered Beatrice not at all. As usual, her attention was on Greer in another boat, seated as he inevitably was with Lady Emily.
Down river they traveled toward Kew Bridge and under it, and then they were rowed back up to the duke’s home. Although they were not welcomed inside Syon House, their medium-sized group of debutantes and eligible men were allowed to tour the neo-classical Great Conservatory, designed, as they all knew, by Charles Fowler, who’d also given Londoners the grandiose Piazza at Covent Garden.
Holding Charlotte’s arm, Beatrice exited the glass-domed conservatory for the exploratory stroll of the gardens. Somewhere close, they were to find an idyllic picnic already set out for them by their hostess, a friend of the sixth Duke of Northumberland and his kind duchess.
