“TheLondon Gazettesaid you went to Manchester to get it done,” Kimberly said.
“Really?’ Helen asked. She turned to her in surprise. “TheMayfair Chroniclementioned Liverpool. Looks like they both got their gossip wrong this time.”
“I’m just glad I won’t have to have my eyes couched ever again,” Louise said. “And I do feel as though my vision is improving a little with each passing day.”
“Does that mean you’ll be able to discard your spectacles eventually?” Helen asked.
“Don’t be silly,” Kimberly chided. “Of course she shan’t be able to after having her lenses removed.”
“Unfortunately, she’s right,” Louise told Helen. “I may even need thicker ones for reading, especially on my left eye. It’s still not as good as the right one.”
“Well,” Helen said brightly, “at least you can see and that’s what matters.”
“I like to think so,” Louise agreed. She still needed to have her eyes checked, but since they felt fine she’d not yet made an appointment.
Kimberly smiled as if she held a different view but preferred not to argue. “Mr. Fairbanks asked us about you during your absence. He was very interested in knowing when you would return, so I’d not be surprised if he calls on you within the coming days.”
“I do believe you’ve caught his notice,” Helen added with a splash of enthusiasm.
“Oh. I see.” One month ago this news would have delighted Louise. Her heart would have pitter-pattered with increased excitement. Now, a flat, uncaring feeling assailed her.
Kimberly frowned. “You don’t look nearly as thrilled as I would have thought.”
“Perhaps she hasn’t grasped the magnitude of it yet,” Helen suggested. She leaned forward and peered at Louise while speaking to her as if she were daft. “Mr. Fairbanks, the man you’ve praised to the heavens for years, written sonnets about, and spoken of until I wanted to throttle you, has finally become an admirer of yours.”
Louise could only nod. She knew this was monumental. Or that it would have been for the woman she’d been four weeks earlier. Now all she could think of was that he was not Mr. Berkly.
God, how pathetic. How stupid and downright unlucky.
More unlucky still, her perspective on this had not changed by the time Mr. Fairbanks called the next day with a bouquet of roses and asked Louise to join him for a walk in the park. She took his proffered arm while Mama and Papa beamed with pleasure, and wished she’d feel something besides indifference.
To her dismay, she did not.
Whatever power Mr. Fairbanks had once wielded over her, whatever ability he’d had to weaken her knees and make her insides flutter, was gone. Which was just about the most impractical observation she’d ever had since acknowledging that it would be so much simpler to pine for his attentions than for Mr. Berkly’s.
“I must confess I was stunned to learn you’d left London in order to have your eyes operated on,” Mr. Berkly said as they strolled along Mount Street toward Park Lane.
Louise frowned. “I’m not sure why.”
“Having someone stick sharp objects in one’s eyes isn’t exactly the sort of thing one tends to agree to. Not willingly, at least.”
She glanced at him. “You do realize I’ve had my eyes couched several times. Yes?”
“Of course.”
“And how exactly did you imagine that was being done without a sharp object being stuck in my eye?”
“I must confess, I never really gave it much thought.”
Louise sighed. Clearly not. “I chose to have my lenses removed in order to avoid having to go through additional operations in the future.”
“Was it very painful?”
“Of course.”
“Then my admiration for your stalwart bravery isn’t misplaced.”
They crossed the street and entered the park while Louise wondered what she’d ever seen in this man. Compared with Mr. Berkly, he seemed to lack substance. Then again, what did she really know of him? They’d never conversed with each other at length.
