Lizette’s eyes grew reflective. “My mother loved to paint and she instilled that in me when I was old enough to hold a paintbrush.”
“My condolences on your loss,” Octavia murmured.
“My mother died not long ago, and I still miss her every day,” Lizette admitted. “It is a grief that goes on and on.”
A heavy silence descended over the room as they all retreated to their own thoughts.
Anette’s mother stepped into the room. “Dear heavens, why is everyone so solemn?” she asked as she glanced around the room.
Lizette spoke up. “I’m afraid that was me,” she admitted. “I spoke of my mother and how much I miss her.”
Compassion filled her mother’s eyes. “You had a good mother.”
“That I did,” Lizette agreed.
Her mother walked closer to the paintings. “I see that my daughter has painted…” Her voice trailed off. “Is it sheep and a windmill?”
Anette perked up. “They are,” she replied. “How did you know?”
Her mother gave her an amused look. “It was a lucky guess.” Her eyes shifted to Lizette’s. “Beautiful job, as always.”
“Thank you,” Lizette replied.
“It is a shame that your talent cannot rub off on Anette,” her mother joked.
Rising, Lizette said, “Everyone is talented in their own ways.” She retrieved her painting supplies. “If you will excuse me, it is time I must depart.”
After they all said their goodbyes to Lizette, Anette’s mother sat down next to her and directed her comments towards Octavia. “How is your mother faring?”
Octavia seemed to be trying her hardest to look brave, though Anette noticed a subtle quiver in her lip.“She is well,” she replied.
“She is not far from my thoughts,” her mother said, “but you do not have to be strong here, Child. It is perfectly acceptable to show emotion around one’s friends.”
“Thank you, my lady,” Octavia acknowledged. “It has been a rather difficult time in our family.”
“You should join Anette when she goes to Vauxhall Gardens with your brother and Caleb,” her mother suggested. “I do believe you are in need of a distraction.”
Octavia’s eyes lit up. “I do enjoy looking at the pavilions there.”
Her mother nodded in approval. “It has been decided, then. You shall join them and have a grand time.”
Anette had to admit that it would be nice for Octavia to join them. With any luck, Roswell would spend his time conversing with his sister and she would be free to admire the architecture with Caleb.
Her mother continued. “What if you and Roswell joined us for dinner beforehand?” she asked. “It has been some time since we last dined with one another.”
“I shall speak to my brother, but I would enjoy that,” Octavia said.
Anette pressed her lips together as she tried to keep the dissatisfaction off her face. She knew what her mother was attempting to do and it wouldn’t work. Pushing her towards Roswell would only backfire spectacularly.
A sleepy-eyed Mrs. Harper stepped into the room and met Octavia’s gaze. “Are you ready to return home?”
“I am,” Octavia said as she rose. She smiled down at Lady Oxley. “I hope to be seeing you this evening, my lady.”
Her mother rose. “Family does not make use of titles, and I consider you as one of my own,” she said before embracing Octavia.
Octavia’s eyes were moist as she dropped her arms and took a step back. “You are too kind,” she murmured.
After Octavia departed from the drawing room, Anette turned to face her mother and said, “I know what you are attempting to do.”
