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The Unassuming Curator

Page 10

by Sian Ann Bessey

“I say, Dunsbourne. Are you the gentleman producing that rather splendid cider I’ve been hearing about?”

“I am, my lord.”

“Well now, I should very much like to hear more about your operation. We have a large country estate in Gloucestershire ourselves. Excellent grazing land, but I have wondered about introducing some fruit trees.”

“A worthwhile investment, my lord,” Adam said. “Have you considered what variety of trees you might plant?”

“Oh dear,” Lady Farwell whispered to Phoebe. “I think our husbands may be lost to us for the time being.”

Phoebe laughed lightly. “So it would seem. What are your interests, my lady?”

When Lady Farwell launched into a description of some new furnishings she had recently acquired, Lady Millward tapped Emily’s arm. “Come, Miss Norton,” she said softly. “Unless you wish to offer your input on the advantages of velvet curtains over silk, I suggest we allow Phoebe and Leonora to continue this conversation without us.”

Making a mental note to locate a book on fabrics in the near future, Emily followed Lady Millward farther into the room.

Lady Farwell’s penchant for decorating was immediately apparent. Chairs upholstered in gold fabric sat on either side of an elegant green sofa boasting cushions with gold tassels. More chairs were positioned near the windows. These were upholstered in blue and matched the heavy curtains. Candles flickered in brass candelabras on two end tables and the mantelpiece, the light picking up the colors of the flowers in the vase near the pianoforte and the multicolored rugs on the highly polished wood floor.

“What a lovely room,” Emily said, pausing to take in the art hanging on the robin-egg-blue walls.

“Leonora’s flair for beautifying a house is undeniable,” Lady Millward said. “She is fortunate that Charles has the means to keep up with her purchases.”

“Yes, I suppose she is.” The furniture at Dunsbourne Manor would appear very shabby in comparison to these pieces, but Emily experienced a moment of longing for the faded red armchair in the drawing room at home where she was wont to curl up and read. No matter their elegance, these chairs lacked the worn look that spoke of familiarity and coziness. “Do you think Lady Farwell takes comfort into consideration as well as style and color?”

“A worthy question,” Lady Millward said. “One that I believe my nephews can likely answer after we offer ourselves as reinforcements.”

“Reinforcements?”

“Indeed.” Lady Millward’s eyes sparkled. “The Dowager Lady Pendleton has them in her sights. Knowing Benedict and Henry as I do, it is unlikely that we will be needed, but I rather hope that we will.”

Chapter 4

The Dowager Lady Pendleton had taken very little time to complete her deliberate appraisal of the room and its occupants. From his position at Benedict’s side, Henry had watched her gaze pass over his mother’s elegant new sofa, the elaborate flower arrangement, old Lord Basingstoke and his son, Colonel Eastberry, to hover on him. He’d felt her brief assessment before her attention had shifted to his brother.

“Lord Benning!” she said, her wide silk skirts billowing as she neared them. “A word, if you please.”

Henry lowered the arm he’d been resting on the mantel. “Brace yourself,” he whispered. “She’s coming in with guns blazing.”

“The lady may be accused of many things,” Benedict muttered, “but feeble, she is not.”

“Nor subtle.”

Benedict’s lips twitched. “No. Definitely not subtle.”

The elderly lady came to a stop before them, and both gentlemen bowed.

“Good evening, my lady,” Benedict said. “Welcome to Benning House.”

Setting her cane before her, she placed both hands on it and acknowledged his greeting with a slight inclination of her head. “Thank you, my lord. I am glad of the opportunity to renew my friendship with your dear mother.”

Given that the Dowager Lady Pendleton had entered the room after having exchanged little more than a few brief words with their mother, Henry doubted their supposed friendship had experienced much renewing as of yet.

“I am sure she is delighted that you are come,” Benedict said.

“Yes, of course.”

The sentiment was expected, it seemed. Henry suppressed the urge to raise his eyes to the ceiling, knowing full well what was to come next.

“My granddaughter, Lady Aurelia, has spoken of little else since we received your mother’s kind invitation,” she said. “I must say, it came as quite a shock to learn that she has yet to be formally introduced to you, my lord. After all, she has been in London since the start of the Season.”