Frances and Euphemia both automatically played along with the game, enjoying Winifred’s flights of imagination and childish enthusiasm. Lady Levene also peppered the conversation with many small questions about the details of their first week together at Westall Park. Frances supposed that she was trying to ascertain whether Winnie was happy with her new stepmother and hoped she was content with what she heard.
When they arrived at the lake, Frances jumped down first and lifted Winnie from the seat, before offering an arm to Lady Levene. The old woman took it with surprisingly little resistance and leapt lightly to the ground.
“You’re a strong, healthy young woman, for all that you’re so pale,” Euphemia commented in warmly approving tones. “I’m glad to see that. There’s too many young ladies pleased to be helpless these days, not eating their food and mooning about in wet dresses over Byron’s poetry and suchlike.”
Frances could not help laughing at this characterization of some of her peers. She did know a few young ladies of this ilk, although they tended to grow out of it.
“It’s just the fashion,” she returned. “I dare say it will be something else in by the time Winnie is grown. Tight-lacing, high-heeled boots or powdered wigs again, perhaps.”
“What’s a powdered wig?” Winifred asked curiously as her great-grandmother tied up the horse beside a patch of long grass that he was already happily munching.
“A hot, sweaty headdress that I hope neither of you will never have to wear,” returned Euphemia Wilson. “Dreadful things. I always hated them, but as you say, my dear, they were the fashion once and we all wore them. Now, where is my favorite seat, Winnie?”
The little girl led them happily to a conveniently fallen tree near the lakeside and Euphemia Wilson parked herself there with a long sigh of satisfaction as she looked out over the lake.
“I used to come out here and look at this view almost every morning when I was first married to my second husband,Ambrose’s grandfather. Of course, this tree wasn’t there then, and I was spry enough to sit on the ground…”
Frances listened with interest while helping Winifred to take off her shoes and stockings and giving her permission to paddle as long as she tucked up her skirts and did not go in past her knees.
“I can understand that,” she said, taking a seat beside the older woman and stretching out her legs. “It is a lovely view. Westall Park is probably the most beautiful estate I’ve ever seen. You must have been sorry to leave, Lady Levene.”
Euphemia shrugged, although not with indifference.
“I had to move on with my life after thirty years of happy marriage here. I would have been too sad to remain here alone with my memories. It would have turned me into a tired old widow like all the others. Anyway, with my son and then my grandson installed at Westall Park, I’ve never left completely.”
“True. I gather from Winnie that you visit often and that she and Ambrose are always pleased to see you.”
“Haha!” laughed the older woman, slapping her leg. “Ambrose is not always pleased to see me, although he loves me well enough. If he’d known I was bringing Lady Kempleforth here that day, for example, he might have found himself engaged on important business until we were gone.”
“Ambrose did say that you long wished him to marry and provide Winnie with a stepmother,” Frances commented, amused and pleased at this confirmation that his feelings had rather mirrored her own about the matchmaking process.
“How diplomatic you are, my dear,” remarked Euphemia. “You are both tactful and good-hearted. Ambrose chose well.”
“Thank you,” replied Frances, with a small hesitation. “Although I suppose much of the credit must go to Lady Kempleforth, rather than to either of the parties involved. It was an arranged marriage after all.”
“Arranged, certainly, but my grandson was set on you, my dear,” insisted the old lady, with twinkling eyes. “I don’t pretend to know why, and I doubt Ambrose would confide that in me, but the fact remains that no one but you would do.”
Frances gazed out again over the lake, her skin warm with the compliment and her blood pulsing with the peculiar idea that Ambrose had married her from some sort of preference rather than purely convenience.
“Knowing this, it surprises me a little to hear from Winnie that you and my grandson spend so little time in one another’s company,” continued Euphemia.
Frances looked back at the older woman more sharply this time. Had this been the true purpose of her previous questions to the child? Had she wanted to ascertain the truth of her grandson’s marriage?
“We speak to one another every day about Winnie,” Frances answered calmly. “I wish to be a good stepmother, but Ambrose is still her father and I do not seek to replace him. It seems important that they still have their own time together.”
“It might also be important that the three of you might have time together as a family,” Euphemia suggested. “Winnie would like that, I feel. I have never seen her take to someone so quickly before. It shows that Ambrose was right in his instincts about you, I feel.”
Frances nodded slowly at this reasonable idea, trying to follow Lady Levene’s train of thought.
“Then again, the two of you might also benefit from spending some time together without Winnie,” Euphemia added. “You might even find that you enjoy one another’s company.”
At this, Frances stood up and turned away her face completely, almost panicked. She had taken great care not to be alone with the duke since their encounter in his room on the wedding night, and did not want to have to justify this to anyone, particularly not his indomitable grandmother.
Three husbands and what seemed like countless children and grandchildren… As a woman who obviously thrived on love and marriage, it seemed inconceivable that Euphemia could understand Frances’ determination to keep her distance from Ambrose’s bedroom.
“I hope I have not made you angry, my dear,” said Euphemia’s voice, more gently now. “It was not my intention, but I am an interfering old woman with less tact than most.”
This cheerful admission of fault made Frances laugh again even though there were tears in her eyes, for some reason. She swiftly wiped them away with her handkerchief before turning back to her present companion.
