“My dear LadyGillingham, that almond tart was simply scrumptious.” Mrs. Sanders dabbed at her mouth with the linen napkin and sighed. “I do not suppose your pastry chef would be willing to part with the recipe? I should so like my own cook to add it to her repertoire.”
“I believe I can convince her to do so.” Dorothea smiled and rose from the table. “Shall we go into the sitting room and continue our delightful discourse there?”
Mrs. Sanders and Charlotte followed her out of the dining room, Charlotte trying very hard not to sigh with exasperation. She looked with longing out the window at the sunny weather, but she knew she must endure another twenty minutes or so of polite and banal conversation before her sister’s guest would depart. At least very little had been demanded of her socially during lunch, Charlotte thoughtwryly—mostly because Mrs. Sanders utterly monopolized the talk. She scarcely paused in her near constant babble, except to eat.
As they left the dining room, Dawson appeared with an envelope on a silver salver.
“This has just arrived for Miss Kendall,” he said in his sonorous voice, holding the salver out to Charlotte. She picked it up and examined the writing on the envelope.
“Gracious, I never would have expected Lavinia to write me so soon. I have been here but two weeks. I do hope nothing is amiss at Clayton House. Perhaps she is sending along the latest news from our brother, Gilbert?” She turned questioning eyes to Dorothea who nodded gently.
“Why do you not excuse yourself to read your letter, my dear? I am certain Mrs. Sanders will not mind, and I have something to discuss with her which will be of little interest to you.” She turned to her guest. “Is that acceptable, Mary?”
Their guest nodded genially. “Ofcourse, Miss Charlotte wishes to read her letter at once. I am certain it contains nothing at all to be concerned about.”
Although she privately wondered how Mrs. Sanders could possibly be so assured of the contents, Charlotte thanked her politely and hurried upstairs to her bedroom.
Mrs. Sanders and Dorothea continued into the sitting room and made themselves comfortable. A footman served them each a sherry in a delicate crystal glass before leaving the ladies to themselves.
Mrs. Sanders took a sip and smacked her lips at the fine quality of the liquor. “Delightful. Dorothea, your sister is such a dear girl. How old is she again?”
“She will be one and twenty this summer.”
“I see. Why is she not taking another Season in town? She must secure a husband before her bloom is gone. You remember Miss Beatrice Donovan, do you not? Thought herself so high and mighty—only a duke or viscount would do for her, though she had but little to recommend her as far as looks were concerned. Well, she waited too long. Turned down five completely respectable offers holding out for a lofty match with someone of noble rank and what was the result? She ended up eight and twenty, unmarried, and governess to her brother’s three children—her bloom entirely vanished—oh, entirely. She regrets her high ambition now, I assure you.”
Dorothea smiled evenly and took a sip of her drink before continuing in what she hoped was a casual voice, “Oh, Charlotte is not so foolish as all that, be at ease. As for why she is not in London—well, my sister has lately suffered from bouts of fatigue that simply make it impossible for her to do another Season. She does not have the energy at present to attend the endless rounds of balls and parties. That is why she has come here to Haverstone—fresh country air and plenty of beef broth will soon put the roses back in her cheeks. And, who knows? Perhaps a match may be made here.”
Mrs. Sanders nodded sagely before giving a small gasp. “Heavens. I nearly forgot to tell you of the most amazing news.” She scooted her ample behind forward on her chair to share the gossip. “Mr. Robert Morton has returned to Brentwood. He has left town entirely.” She sat back with a smug smile, waiting for Dorothea’s reaction, which was genuine surprise.
“Returned to the country? I had not heard.”
“As he is your closest neighbor, it surprises me you have not. His arrival back home was quite sudden. He arrived only two nights ago.”
Dorothea pondered this news as she took another sip of her sherry. “I thought he was on a mission to secure a wife now that he has inherited,” she finally said.
“As we all did, my dear. For as you know, any man with a sizeable estate—even though Brentwood cannot compare to Haverstone—surely must wish to marry and secure his family lineage. Otherwise, any heirs of his younger brother will inherit. And, youknowhow Idislike spreading gossip, but rumors even reached my ears from London that he was quite taken with a certain Miss Phoebe Graham—a middling wealthy heiress making her first Season after returning from the West Indies. Despite that, for whatever reason, Mr. Morton has absolutely returned to the countryandis still single. Wouldn’t that be a fine thing for your Charlotte? Pity her dowry is so small.”
Dorothea had been waiting for this precise moment. “I should hope to see my sister marry for love over money, but her dowry is quite substantial, in fact.”
Mrs. Sanders gave her a quizzical look. “It is well knownyourdowry was a mere thousand pounds. I assumed Miss Charlotte’s would be the same.”
“Itwouldbe, except that my dear husband has graciously decided to…augment it. To a considerable degree, truth be told.” She lowered her eyes and took another sip of her sherry to give her guest time to process this fresh gossip.
Mrs. Sanders gave a tiny squeal and leaned in. “Oh? And, may one ask towhatdegree?”
Dorothea bent her head close and lowered her voice. “I know I can count onyourdiscretion, but my sister’s dowry is now—” she paused a moment, enjoying Mrs. Sanders’s eager countenance, “—six thousand pounds.”
The elder lady leaned back and fanned herself. “Heavens, your husband is generous beyond all measure. What a lucky man who secures your sister’s affections.”
“Indeed. Not that Charlotte needs such a fortune to gain a husband—she is handsome enough, a gentleman’s daughter, and highly accomplished. But, her dowry will certainly be a lovely additional benefit to any match, do not you agree?”
Mrs. Sanders simply nodded in reply as she savored this juicy tidbit.
*
As soon asMrs. Sanders left, Dorothea went straight to her desk, took out a sheet of paper, opened her inkwell, and wrote an invitation to Mr. Morton to come to dinner. Finished, she gave the letter to a footman, instructing him to deliver it at once to Brentwood. Then, she sat, well satisfied with the day’s transactions.
Mr. Morton would be a good match for Charlotte. Even though I promised her plenty of time before she would have to begin working to charm a man into proposing, I cannot allow her to wait now. Mr. Morton is quite the best prospect for miles. How lucky that he has returned from London still unattached.
