“I was never so glad to sit down in all my life,” Mrs. Marsh confessed as she settled into the carriage with a smothered groan after several hours of shopping. “I had forgotten what a punishment the streets and pavements of London can be for the feet.
Either I am ageing at a distressingly rapid pace or these shoes were a dreadful mistake.”
Both girls hastened to assure her that unless she chose to announce otherwise the world would certainly believe on the evidence of its eyes that she was their elder sister.
Mrs. Marsh’s laugh was as young and carefree as a girl’s as she pursed her lips at the earnest young ladies. “Now you are pouring the butter boat over my head,” she scolded. “In less than two months I shall be nine-and-thirty, quite old enough to be a grandmother in the ordinary course of events.”
Laura turned a wounded look on her cousin. “Can this be a subtle hint that we are very nearly on the shelf, Sophie?”
“Oh dear, there is clearly nothing for it but to consign propriety and decorum to the winds and learn to cast out blatant lures to any gentlemen unwary enough to speak to us.” Sophia’s expression was all innocent concern.
“I know! We’ll dampen our petticoats to make them cling,” Laura suggested. “I warrant that will give us an edge on the competition.”
“It will give you an edge on contracting an inflammation of the lungs!”
Ignoring her aunt’s dry interjection, Sophia countered, “Or, if that ploy has gone out of fashion, we might disguise ourselves as page boysà laCaro Lamb and confront the men we fancy in their own dwellings. That should make an impression!”
“Your papa would make a fine impression on your backside if you were so lost to all sense of decency. I can see that I had better add classes in deportment to the dancing lessons we’ve arranged for next week,” Mrs. Marsh added as though making a mental note to herself.
Sophia giggled, but Laura, knowing herself to be woefully ignorant about social interaction among people of theton, or even in country circles, was unsure whether her parent was simply responding in kind to their teasing. Consequently, shewas relieved to discover a twinkle lurking in the sea-green eyes so like her own.
Mama was so much fun lately, like a fairy princess released from a spell. It was becoming more and more obvious that her mother was an entirely different creature this spring from the loving and sweet-natured but vaguely melancholy person her daughter had always assumed her to be. It was as if, with the ending of her difficult marriage and this return to the scene of her happy come-out, a joyous spirit, previously unsuspected, had been freed from captivity. Yesterday when they had called on her godmother, she and Sophia had been astonished to find the two old friends dissolving in fits of laughter brought on by reminiscences of their “salad days”, as Lady Bentley termed their shared bow to society. The girls had produced sympathetic smiles while secretly wondering what experiences could have been amusing enough to send middle-aged ladies into gales of merriment twenty years later.
Laura experienced a sharp twinge of guilt when she remembered how close she had been to refusing to come to London this spring. She might never have discovered this facet of her mother’s personality had they remained in the country, mired in the daily routine of life on the farm. It was not overstating the case to conclude that being in the city had rejuvenated her parent.
And despite Laura’s own insecurity and misgivings, she must own to feeling very alive and interested in the urban scene herself at present. Certainly she had enjoyed her adventure with Aubrey and Henry the other day, a recollection that brought another twinge of guilt with it. She straightened abruptly on the seat.
“Mama, I nearly forgot! Were you able to speak with my uncle about young Henry yet? He dined away from home the past twoevenings, and was gone from the house when I came down this morning.”
“Yes, love, I saw Oswald before he went out today, and explained about the boy. He is not personally acquainted with Lord Exton, who evidently came into the title fairly recently, but he has heard from two acquaintances that his lordship is a man of solid worth. Your uncle has no objection to your leaving a card. Let Aubrey do it. If you remain in the carriage it will occasion no talk. The decision to continue the acquaintance belongs with Lord Exton at this stage.”
“Thank you, Mama. If Aubrey is free when we get home, we might go immediately and then send the carriage back to the mews, rather than call the coachman out again; that is, if there is nothing you wish me to do for you this afternoon?”
“No, my dear. My plans for the afternoon begin with removing these wretched shoes at the earliest possible moment and end with settling into my room with one of the new books we just selected at Hatchard’s. Did you enjoy the lending library?”
“Oh yes, it was wonderful. I didn’t know where to turn my eyes, there were so many new books beckoning to me. I noticed that people met and chatted with friends there also.”
“I noticed that someone tried to meetyouat Hatchard’s,” her cousin chimed in.
“What do you mean, Sophie? I don’t know anyone in London except the Chandlers and my godmother.”
“Well, there was a dark attractive stranger watching you for several minutes while you browsed around the shelves. He was just about to speak to you when Aunt Annabelle came up to say she was ready to leave. He looked so crestfallen when you turned to follow my aunt that I nearly lost my countenance,” Sophia added with a look of pure mischief.
“Even perfectly respectable men will try to scrape up an acquaintance with a pretty girl when she is perceived to beunattended,” Mrs. Marsh said matter-of-factly. “I remarked more than one gentleman ogling you also, Sophie.”
“So did I, dear aunt,” Sophia replied with demure satisfaction, “but my cousin was so bemused by mere books that she was oblivious to more vital concerns.”
“Minx!” The smile that accompanied the accusation turned to a grimace of pain as Mrs. Marsh’s sore feet continued to protest their confinement. She closed her eyes and let her head fall back against the headrest.
Out of respect for Mrs. Marsh’s aching extremities, the girls sank their voices to mere whispers for the remainder of the drive to Mount Street.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Her eyes fixed on the gleaming brass knocker on the black-painted door, Laura sat in the Albright carriage waiting for Aubrey to return. She was a little surprised that he had been bidden to enter Lord Exton’s house upon discharging his errand of inquiring for Henry and leaving their card. Perhaps the servant who had answered the knock had been unaware of the waiting carriage.
She angled her neck for a glance upward and sighed. The blue skies of the morning had given way to increasing clouds over the past hour, dimming any hopes of another outing with Aubrey today. After dawdling through shops and the lending library all morning she was longing to stretch her legs and widen her knowledge of the neighbourhood. Even as she formulated the wish a few drops of rain spattered the pavement.
At that moment the door opened, disgorging Aubrey, accompanied by a tall man whose fashionable dress set him apart from the serving class. While she let down the window she had time to assess the man’s age at some few years younger than her uncle, despite the sprinkling of grey hairs at his temples.
