“I think I would have liked her,” Laurasaid.
“There’s something about her which reminds me of you, not in looks, but in spirit,” Dorasaid.
“She looks more serene than I,” Laura said with a laugh. She suspected Dora was becoming overly sentimental. She gazed fondly at her aunt. Had she worried her terribly? “Nathaniel told me Olivia’s mother had red hair. There are other paintings of Lady Charlotte here, but nothing quite this detailed.” Laura studied the woman’s face for features like her grandson’s. She found it in the brow and high cheekbones. She touched the painted canvas as if she might connect with the woman who died so long ago. “Nathaniel was fond of her.”
Dora’s eyes shone. “There you are then.”
“She took care of her daughter until she passed away, despite the scandal.”
“Yes, I can see compassion and intelligence in her eyes.”
“If Nathaniel thinks I’m like her in some way, I must endeavor to live up to her.”
“Darling girl.” Dora put her arm around Laura’s shoulders and gave her a hug. “You already have.”
Chapter Twenty-Five
After the fresh, clear skies of Cornwall, London had lost a good deal of its charm for Laura. The dirty streets were crowded with coal smoke and yellow fog fouling theair.
She had chosen to stay with Dora rather than come under her mother’s scrutiny again, but that proved a mistake. Dora’s small townhouse was inundated with visitors. They crowded into her rooms and talked about nothing other than literature and art. Normally, Laura would have been delighted, and she wondered what had gotten into her. It was not like her to seek the peace of her bedroom when stimulating conversation was on offer. Her patience had worn thin as she waited for word from Nathaniel. She was tired and still not fully recovered from the chill. She yearned to go home to where she could hear the birds and see straight to the horizon with the smell of the briny sea on the wind. She decided not to wait much longer. If she hadn’t heard from him, she would leave within a fewdays.
When the last of a group of enthusiasts left, Laura suggested she and her aunt take the air. There’d been a thunderstorm earlier, but the rain had since stopped. They left the house intent on visiting the British Museum. Gray clouds still hovered low over the rooftops when they emerged from Tottenham Court Road Tube Station and hurried down Great Russell Street. When it began to rain again, they stopped to put up their umbrellas. An omnibus raced by, sending a wave of water onto the pavement and drowning Laura’s boots. Annoyed, she lowered her umbrella and bent down to inspect them.
“I say, do be careful with that thing.”
From beneath the ruffled fringe of her umbrella, Laura saw a pair of male legs dressed in browntweed.
“I am sorry,” she said, raising her umbrella over herhead.
“Laura?” Behind his glasses, Howard Farmer, her friend from university, stood before her. His hazel eyes crinkled at the corners. He removed his hat, and she noted how prosperous he’d become, his clothes good quality, his muttonchops trimmed. “How good to see you again, Laura. Lady Lanyon,” he said with a bow. “I beg your pardon.”
“It’s Laura, please. It is good to see you again.”
He eyed her carefully. “How are you?”
“In good health, thank you. Do you still attend women’s suffrage meetings?”
“But of course.”
“I would love to hear of the latest developments.”
Howard was a pacifist, who believed in the rights of men and women to vote. He’d taken part in a rally alongside her and the other women from theuniversity.
“You remember meeting the suffragist, Millicent Fawcett? She has cut ties with the Pankhurst sisters, as she believes their militant behavior will set women’s right to vote back for years. Millicent plans to sail to South Africa with other women to inspect the horrendous concentration camps where the Boer soldiers have been interned. She sees that as giving women responsibility in wartime and a revival of interest in women’s suffrage.”
“I’m inclined to agree with her.” Laura remembered their heated arguments about the war. “And I’m glad to see you haven’t joined the army. I confess to having lost some of my imperialistic zeal.”
He shook his head. “I had a change of heart and tried to enlist but was rejected on medical grounds.”
“I hope it’s nothing serious?”
He smiled, pushing back the spectacles on his nose with a finger. “Poor eyesight.”
“How brave of you to try.” She was pleased he was doing well.
A noisy humph drew Laura’s attention to her neglected relative. In her desire for knowledge, she’d quite forgotten her. “Oh, how remiss of me. You must meet my aunt, Miss Lawley. Dora, I’d like to introduce Professor Farmer.”
“Delighted.” Howard shook Dora’s hand, as Laura explained how they knew oneanother.
