‘If he didn’t think you were, he would not have agreed to let you act as his hostess. Anyway, if the party starts and your guests find fault with the flower arrangements, I should think them the most finicky bores and would prefer not to know them.’
‘And most likely you would be right.’
She smiled up at him, obliging Alvin to suppress a curse. Any number of females had smiled at him over the years. He might not be in Luke’s league, but he’d often been told that he was still considered worth pursuing. He had taught himself to remain immune to the most captivating of smiles, unsure if they were spontaneous or calculated. In Emma’s case, there could be no question that her smile was innocently and genuinely engaging. She had yet to master the art of flirtation, and a part of him hoped that she never would. Be that as it may, her smile and earlier blush when he first addressed her combined to put him on his guard. The chit appeared to have developed a temporary fixation with him. Luke would have his hide if he thought Alvin had encouraged her to harbour expectations. He adjured himself to ensure that he did not do so, intentionally or otherwise.
‘Where is everyone?’ he asked, moving a little away from her.
‘I was wondering the same thing just before you came down. I expect they will be here soon. I hope they arrive before Grandmamma. She is a stickler for punctuality.’
‘How is she?’
‘Oh, the same as always. She has a new companion, a lady not much older than I am.’
Alvin flexed a brow. ‘Most likely the lady I saw leaving Luke’s library just before I joined him there.’
‘Probably. We were dismayed when we realised how young she actually is. We didn’t think she would survive for a day, but we were quite wrong, which just goes to show that being young doesn’t necessarily go hand in hand with immaturity.’ She fixed Alvin with a significant look, obliging him to turn away first. ‘Anyway, we like Miss Latimer already. She is not afraid to express her opinions and takes no nonsense from Grandmamma, who seems to like her. Not that she would ever make that admission, but she rather enjoys being challenged, I think. Well, she must do because she is coming down to dinner this evening for the first time in quite a while.’
‘I am very pleased to hear it.’
Alvin was almost sure he was relieved when their tête-a-tête was interrupted by the arrival of the rest of the family—excluding the dowager countess. Alvin grinned, suspecting that she planned to make one of her flamboyant entrances. He had not seen any of Luke’s brothers since his arrival. He excused himself from Emma and joined them to exchange news and catch up with their various exploits. Paul and Luke, Alvin noticed, stood a little apart, talking in an undertone, until Luke’s sisters joined them.
With his back to the open door as he listened to one of Charlie’s tall stories, Alvin was at first unsure why a sudden hush had fallen over the room. He turned his head and somehow managed not to gasp at Lady Swindon’s bizarre appearance. She leaned on the arm of the young woman whom Alvin had indeed seen emerging from Luke’s library and had dismissed as an irrelevance. That had been a miscalculation, he realised now, studying her more closely as the rest of the family greeted the countess and Luke conducted her to a chair. Miss Latimer was not a beauty in the accepted sense of the word. Both of Luke’s sisters eclipsed her in that respect. But there was something engaging about her appearance, despite her old-fashioned and very ordinary gown. Her finely etched features, an improvement in her hairstyle, wide violet eyes and a figure than even her indifferent gown failed to disguise made her a very interesting package indeed.
‘You’re here again, are you?’ the countess complained as Alvin bowed over her hand. ‘You might as well move in.’
‘I am very glad to see you in such fine form, my lady,’ Alvin replied.
‘This is Miss Latimer, who is just as impertinent as you are,’ the old lady said, waving a hand vaguely in her companion’s direction. ‘This is Mr Watson, a friend of Luke’s, who can’t seem to keep away from us.’
Miss Latimer bobbed a curtsey and smiled. When she did so, a hint of amusement lit up eyes that ought to have been too large for her elfin face yet somehow were not. ‘I am pleased to make your acquaintance, Mr Watson,’ she said, offering him her glove hand. He took it in his and recklessly kissed its back. She looked surprised and quickly reclaimed it.
‘Don’t mind her,’ the old lady said. ‘She’s a parson’s daughter and doesn’t know any better.’
Miss Latimer looked suitably bemused, but not for long. ‘Her ladyship thinks me gauche,’ she said with a mischievous smile that Alvin returned.
‘Where are my grandsons?’ the countess demanded, banging her cane on the floor for emphasis. ‘You see what I have to put up with, Miss Latimer. They cannot even trouble themselves to talk to me when we are the same room.’
‘We were waiting for you to conclude your conversation with Alvin, Grandmamma,’ Charlie said, walking slightly ahead of his two younger brothers as he sauntered across the room. ‘How are you?’ he asked, bending over to kiss her cheek.
‘Dying, I expect.’
‘We are all dying, Grandmamma,’ Henry told her as he too kissed her, as did Sam.
‘You must be Miss Latimer,’ Charlie said, assessing the younger woman and allowing himself a slow smile of appreciation. ‘I am Charlie Beranger, and these are my brothers Henry and Sam.’
‘Gentlemen.’ She dropped a curtsey.
‘She is far too young to be of use to me,’ the countess complained, ‘but no one listens to anything I have to say.’
‘We listen when you say something sensible, Grandmamma,’ Sam said, taking his turn to smile at Miss Latimer, ‘but that doesn’t happen very often.’
‘Will you listen to that?’ The countess turned outraged eyes tinged with amusement upon Miss Latimer. ‘Young people nowadays have forgotten the meaning of respect.’
‘It’s scandalous,’ Miss Latimer agreed solemnly, a suggestion of a smile troubling her generous mouth.
‘Sit down, child. You’re making my neck ache, forcing me to look up at you.’
Miss Latimer did as she was told, perching elegantly on the upright chair beside the countess’s better upholstered one. Woodley, Luke’s long-standing butler, glided up on silent feet and proffered a tray bearing glasses of sherry. The countess took one without hesitation. Miss Latimer paused.
‘I suppose you have been brought up to believe that sherry’s the devil’s curse,’ the countess said.
‘I have never had an opportunity to try it, so I cannot voice an opinion.’
Alvin admired the manner in which she took a glass for herself, thanked Woodley and took a cautious sip.
‘Don’t worry,’ Alvin assured her. ‘One glass will do you no harm.’
‘I am not afraid of losing my senses, Mr Watson. I don’t think I am in danger of doing so, but I suppose by the time one realises one has lost control, it’s too late to repair the damage.’
He smiled. ‘Very probably. Do you like it?’
She paused to consider her response. ‘It’s a little sweet for my taste.’
‘Most ladies of my acquaintance have a sweet tooth.’
She lifted one shoulder. ‘I am not most ladies.’
‘More an opinionated baggage,’ the countess decreed, nodding so vigorously that the ostrich plume came perilously close to getting dipped in her sherry. She quickly finished her drink before it was wasted and asked Woodley loudly to bring her another.
‘No time, Grandmamma,’ Luke said, stepping in front of Woodley before he could respond. ‘We are about to go in.’
Miss Latimer put aside her barely touched glass when Woodley confirmed that dinner was served and offered the dowager her arm. Disappointed not to be able to provide that service for the engaging Miss Latimer, Alvin made do with drifting into the dining parlour with Luke and Paul, who had swept the ladies and Luke’s brothers ahead of them.
*
‘You came down early,’ Mary said, as she
linked her arm through Emma’s and they led the way into the dining room. ‘I came to look for you but you were not there.’
‘Don’t tell a soul,’ she replied in a conspiratorial whisper, ‘but I came down with the intention of catching Mr Watson alone.’
Mary groaned. ‘You obviously didn’t listen to a word of my advice on the matter.’
Emma screwed up her nose. ‘I wish now that I had.’
‘How did you know he would be here alone?’ Mary asked suspiciously.
‘Oh well…a premonition, I suppose.’
‘Emma!’
‘Oh, all right, perhaps someone accidently put the clock in his room forward by fifteen minutes?’
Mary gasped. ‘You did not!’
‘Hush, keep your voice down.’ Emma glanced over her shoulder. She would be mortified if any of her brothers overheard her admission. They would tease her mercilessly about her feelings for Mr Watson, to say nothing of telling the gentleman himself, and if that happened she would never be able to face him again. ‘I did not say that I did, or that I had asked anyone else to…’ She paused and allowed herself a mischievous smile. ‘But I suppose I might have done.’
Mary smiled and sighed simultaneously. ‘Don’t you think he will notice?’
‘He might, but he won’t suspect me. Anyway, it didn’t do me much good,’ she added disconsolately. ‘He was very affable and polite but left me with a speed that bordered upon insulting the moment the rest of the family came in. You must have noticed.’
‘I was talking with Paul, and did not. Sorry.’
‘Mr Watson seemed more comfortable with Grandmamma and Miss Latimer than he did with me. He certainly spent longer in conversation with them.’
‘Give him time to become accustomed to your being grown up.’ Mary giggled. ‘He certainly noticed that much about you. That gown enhances your figure, and I did see him glance at you several times while he was conversing with Grandmamma.’
‘You did?’ Emma’s spirits lifted. ‘Perhaps all is not lost then.’
Mary squeezed her sister’s hand as they reached the dining room and parted company. Grandmamma would take the chair at the foot of the table, from which she would hold court, tell salacious stories to entertain or embarrass according to her whim. Emma thought of all the trouble she had gone to with Mr Watson and fervently hoped that Grandmamma would decide against embarrassment, thereby frightening him off. Emma positioned herself half way along one side of the table in hope that Mr Watson would take the place beside her. She didn’t hold out much and so became flustered when she sensed him looming over her.
‘We did not have an opportunity to finish our conversation earlier, for which I apologise,’ he said. ‘May I?’ He waved towards the chair on her right.
‘By all means.’
Mr Watson swished the tails of his coat aside, seated himself and then shook out his napkin. ‘Your grandmother has a way of commanding everyone’s attention, which prevented me from returning to you.’
‘Oh, that she does, but her bark is considerably worse than her bite.’ She leaned slightly towards Mr Watson so that a footman could ladle soup into her bowl without risking any splashing onto her very best gown. ‘Do you see any changes in her?’ she asked, resuming an upright position.
‘Well…’ A disarmingly infectious smile played about his lips. ‘That’s hardly a fair question. It is hard to see through the peacock disguise.’
‘It’s ostrich.’
‘I was speaking metaphorically.’
They both laughed, but with affection rather than ridicule at her grandmother’s attire.
‘She likes to make a statement.’
‘She has succeeded. No one could possibly overlook her.’
‘I never knew that ostriches had yellow feathers, which just goes to show how shockingly wanting my education must be.’
The both paused to savour their soup.
‘You are right about Miss Latimer,’ Mr Watson said, having nodded his appreciation for the consommé and placed his spoon aside. ‘She seems remarkably poised for one so young. Luke mentioned that her father is something important at Salisbury Cathedral, so she must have led a sheltered life up until now.’
‘This will be quite a change for her then, but I suspect not an entirely unwelcome one.’ Emma smiled. ‘Besides, she has already proved that she’s a match for Grandmamma, which is more than any of her predecessors achieved. I suppose all the good works she was obliged to carry out have afforded her the experience to handle people from all walks of life without being intimidated by them’
‘Very likely. In my experience, even the lowliest of parsons believes his calling makes him equal to all ranks of society.’
‘I did not get the impression that Miss Latimer has ideas above her station,’ Emma replied thoughtfully. ‘In fact, her modest clothing and disinclination to put herself forward suggests just the opposite.’
Emma glanced across the table. Miss Latimer was seated beside Grandmamma, watching what she ate and drank without making it too obvious. That was wise. Grandmamma would likely eat less and drink more if she knew she was being observed. Charlie had taken a seat to the other side of Miss Latimer, and seemed very interested in keeping her entertained. There was a good deal of laughter from their end of the table.
‘You will be for London next season, I would imagine.’ Mr Watson’s voice recalled Emma’s attention. How could she have allowed it to wander and risk squandering this precious opportunity to impress him? ‘A cause for great excitement.’
‘Yes,’ she said, with a decided lack of enthusiasm.
‘You are strange,’ he said. ‘Most young women can’t contain themselves at the thought.’
‘I am not fond of crowds. Besides,’ she added, leaning towards him again to allow her soup plate to be removed, making her words sound like a shared confidence, ‘I am not good at conversing with strangers, or people who do not interest me.’ She fingered the stem of her wine glass and gave the merest suggestion of a shrug. ‘Not an admission I should probably make, I don’t suppose, but we cannot all bubble with confidence. Frankly, I would much prefer to remain at Beranger Court and save myself the ignominy of being paraded in front of eligible gentlemen like a prize brood mare and being found wanting.’
‘Hardly,’ Mr Watson said, smiling.
‘Well anyway, Luke seems determined that I should experience the rigmarole.’
‘Does he know how you feel about it?’
‘Lord no! And please don’t tell him. I should not have mentioned my doubts. Luke is putting himself to a great deal of trouble to make my season possible, and I would not repay him by seeming ungrateful.’
‘By considering matrimony and thereby providing you with an acceptable chaperone, I take it you mean.’
‘Yes. I wouldn’t mind if I thought he genuinely wanted…’
A loud guffaw from Grandmamma’s end of the table had everyone turning in that direction, including Emma and Mr Watson.
‘Grandmother would have us believe that she once saw the Prince Regent’s bedchamber,’ Charlie told them all.
‘Certainly I did, during some dreary function or other at the Brighton Pavilion.’ She shuddered. ‘Such a ghastly display of vulgarity, both the pavilion and the function in question. The prince was not in his bed at the time, I hasten to assure you. And he wasn’t even the prince at the time. I’m not quite that old. He was the king, and he was so fat that his old bed no longer supported him.’ Grandmamma clearly enjoyed having everyone’s attention. She kept them waiting by taking a long sip of wine. ‘I expect you want to know who showed me the room, but modesty forbids me from revealing any names.’
That announcement produced a raucous laugh from her four grandsons.
‘You don’t have a modest bone in your body, Grandmamma,’ Sam reminded her.
General conversation resumed. ‘She’s incorrigible,’ Emma said, shaking her head. ‘I suppose she thinks that being old gives her carte blanche
to behave as she pleases, and what pleases her more than anything is being the centre of attention and shocking people. We shall have to try and temper her excesses during the party, of course, or she will frighten away Luke’s potential brides.’
‘That I very much doubt.’ Mr Watson took a sip of his own wine and nodded when a footman approached to refill his glass. ‘I suspect she will only attempt to shock those whom she deems unsuitable. Unless I miss my guess, she is not nearly as senile as she would have us all believe.’
‘It’s an act, you mean?’
‘Very likely.’
‘That is what Miss Latimer thinks, but she has reached that decision awfully quickly, so I shall reserve judgement.’ She frowned. ‘It will not reflect well upon the rest of us if she has managed to see through Grandmamma’s façade in just a few hours, although I confess that I will still be delighted if she is right.’
‘It is in her best interest to gain an understanding of her charge. I don’t know the lady, but I would imagine that life here is a great deal more interesting than at Salisbury Cathedral.’
‘Mr Watson!’ Emma pretended to be shocked. ‘I’m not sure you should have said that.’
He laughed. ‘I cannot abide people saying what they think they should, even though everyone knows it is not what they are thinking. I much prefer plain speaking.’
‘Hmm.’ Emma bit her lower lip, wondering what to make of that statement. Was he encouraging her to reveal her feelings? No! Absolutely not. Women—unmarried women—who put themselves forward in such a manner soon gained the type of reputation that did not reflect well upon them or their families. ‘Well, I expect you are right about Miss Latimer’s circumstances and her relief to have secured this position. I am sure she is far better educated than Mary and me, but I expect her education was slanted heavily towards theology, which makes me very sorry for her indeed.’ Emma giggled. ‘Well you did express a preference for plain speaking, although that probably made me sound like a heathen.’
‘It made you sound refreshingly honest.’ He glanced down the table, his gaze lingering upon Miss Latimer as she laughed at something Charlie had just said to her. ‘And it seems to me that she is enjoying her newfound freedom, so it’s definitely in her best interests to get to grips with your grandmother’s foibles.’
A Sense of Belonging Page 8