Aunt Clara chuckled. “My afternoon has been blessedly quiet, but I’m finding I like the solitude. I will admit when I first moved into this cottage I worried over some of the changes my life would be forced to endure, but a certain added quietness has been rather pleasant.”
“You still have Miss Darling.”
“Yes, but she is not forever at my side, which suits both of us well. She feels responsible for Mrs. Clifton, you know.”
“How so?”
“She was the housekeeper at Thornbrook Hall for Emma’s entire childhood. The woman is blind from contracting scarlet fever after helping to care for Emma’s parents, and Emma has always felt a particular fondness for her. I don’t begrudge her the visits to the rectory to see Mrs. Clifton, of course, or her lengthy walks. She is young, despite what she may say about spinsterhood and white caps.”
“Caps!” Owen said, startled.
“Can you believe it? She told me only this morning at breakfast she believes it is time she begins wearing them. And before reaching the age of thirty. I cannot stomach the notion.”
“It is absurd.”
“I knew you would agree with me,” Aunt Clara said with feeling.
Owen glanced at her sharply. “Miss Darling is young. I’m merely stating a fact.”
“Yes. Of course.” She looked past him to the window. “I assume, because you refuse to sit, that you came here before returning home?”
“I did.”
She nodded, getting to her feet. “Then I will send you home with a small warning.”
He pulled the gloves through his hand, waiting for her to continue. “You are beginning to make me nervous.”
“No, it’s nothing like that. Only…I wish to be mindful. It is a delicate matter.”
“I hope you know you can speak plainly with me.”
Aunt Clara crossed the room and stood in front of him, looking through the window toward Buckley Place. “Your parents have begun to instigate small changes in the household. Not anything concerning, of course, but it is an old house and the servants are used to having things done a certain way. If they are offended—which I am not saying they are, of course—butifthey are, a gentle nudge from you toward the new ways might convince them that you are happy with the changes and ease some of the staff’s unpleasant feelings.”
Owen’s stomach dropped.
“Not that I am telling you there are any unpleasant feelings, of course. Only that it ispossible. As the man of the house and Edward’s choice in heir, your opinion might go a long way in convincing some of the older retainers to accept the new ways.”
“What the devil have my parents done now?” he asked.
“Owen, be reasonable. They only wish to modernize.”
“You are too charitable. I’d better go.” He leaned forward and kissed his aunt’s cheek. Her kindness was a balm. He’d missed her, and though it must have pained her to see changes at Buckley Place, and the servants certainlyhadcomplained for her to hear of them, she was attempting to broker peace.
“Will you dine with us tonight?” she asked.
He fought the temptation to agree. After a week away, his parents might take offense to an immediate absence. “I had probably better dine with my parents tonight. Would you like to eat with us at Buckley Place? There is something I’ve been meaning to show you in the house.”
Aunt Clara looked again toward the large estate, emotion clouding her expression. “Soon, Owen. We are busy just now, I’m afraid. Too much to do to prepare—oh, that reminds me. Tomorrow we are having a dinner party, if you find yourself available. It will be small, only a handful of friends.”
His smile widened, eager already to see Miss Darling. Even Catherine could not find fault in him attending a dinner party of friends at Primrose End.
Not that he would care if she had.
He swallowed the disappointment that he could not entice Aunt Clara to the house sooner, but he knew she would come for the ball, and that was only two more days. “I wouldn’t miss it for the world.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
Buckley Place was in an uproar,made clear the moment Slater opened the door, his eyes widening and one corner twitching just slightly. “Glad to have you home, sir.”
