by Georgie Lee
‘Mr Rathbone, when you wrote to say you were bringing a guest you could have given me at least some hint as to her importance,’ Mrs Charton scolded with a laugh.
Before he could answer, they were surrounded by nearly all the other female guests and some of their husbands. The women chattered and chirped, offering excited congratulations. The men were more sober as Philip made the introductions, acquainting Laura with the Moseleys, the Feltons, Mrs Gammon and Mr Jones.
‘Enough of this ladies’ business, Rathbone, come and give us your opinion on all those uprisings in Manchester. Jones doesn’t think the weavers have the right to riot, but I say they do,’ Mr Moseley, a lithe man with a long chin, insisted. ‘If anyone can get to the meat of the matter, it’s you.’
At last Philip turned to Laura, truly acknowledging her for the first time since she’d come downstairs to join him in the carriage. ‘If you’ll excuse me.’
She gripped his arm, preventing him from leaving.
‘What shall I tell the ladies about our engagement?’ she whispered, the women’s excited voices keeping her from being overheard. She hadn’t dared to broach the subject, or break the silence between them in the landau.
‘Whatever you wish. The men aren’t likely to ask for details so you needn’t worry about me contradicting your version of events.’
This slim reassurance given, he strode off with Mr Moseley, the damage from this morning evident in his swift dismissal of Laura in favour of his friends.
Fear rippled through her, but a comforting hand on her arm steadied her. She turned to find Mrs Charton drawing her deeper into the room.
‘I know we must be very intimidating with all our fussing,’ Mrs Charton offered. ‘But your announcement is the most exciting news we’ve had at a gathering in some time.’
‘It is,’ Mrs Moseley chimed in, joining Laura on her other side. Mrs Moseley was near Laura’s age with round cheeks and her round stomach indicated she was expecting a baby. ‘And for it to come from Mr Rathbone is most unexpected. I don’t know what to make of it.’
Neither did Laura, but she resolved to appear happy and excited. It wouldn’t do any good to worry and raise pestering and pointed questions among the wives of his associates.
Mrs Charton stopped them before the fireplace. Inside, a cosy fire consumed a thick pile of coal. Despite the warm spring day, the night had taken on a chill. ‘Allow me to introduce you to everyone.’
The women formed a tight circle around Laura as Mrs Charton made the introductions. Mrs Felton was closer to Mrs Charton’s matronly age, but plump and short where Mrs Charton was slender and tall. Even Mrs Gammon with her wide bosom and round hips had stolen away from Mr Connor to join the conversation.
Only one woman showed no interest in the discussion and Laura guessed she must be Mrs Templeton.
She remained across the room near the escritoire, her willowy form akin to the table’s fine legs, her bust as full as the round clock behind her. Her long fingers with long nails sharpened almost to claws tightened on the wine glass she held as she observed Laura.
Laura swallowed hard, wondering at the true depth of Philip’s interest in the woman. It was impossible to gauge it when he remained with his back to all the women as he talked with the men.
Whatever disappointment his indifference created, there was little time to entertain it as the women began to question Laura about the proposal. She stammered as she answered, doing the best she could to describe it without revealing the pistol, Seven Dials or her uncle’s true financial situation. Then, with a few well-placed answers, she shifted their interest from the proposal to the wedding itself, focusing on the finer points of her dress, the only details of the ceremony she possessed. Nothing else had been settled or, if it had, Philip had not seen fit to inform her. She could well imagine him appearing in her room one morning with the news the vicar of St Bride’s was standing at the altar and ready to perform the ceremony. After this morning, she didn’t care how it happened as long as it actually happened. Only that would end the bleak uncertainty hovering around her.
The conversation with the ladies continued until the butler appeared to summon everyone to dinner. Philip and Mr Jones, a well-turned-out bachelor, stood deep in debate. Laura watched as one by one the other ladies’ husbands came to lead them down to the dining room, leaving her to stand alone by the fireplace. She feared she might have to go by herself, but at last the gentlemen ended their discussion and Philip came to fetch her.
‘How are you fairing?’ He held out his arm to her.
She took it with the same hesitation as she had outside the carriage, unsure if his question was driven by manners or genuine concern. She glanced to Mrs Templeton and saw her full lips press thin before she recovered herself and fixed them into a wide, if not cunning, smile.
‘I’m doing well. Mrs Charton is very nice, as are all the ladies.’ She inclined her head to where Mr Connor and Mrs Gammon sat together on a sofa situated so far at one end of the room it was nearly in the hallway. ‘Mr Connor is certainly enjoying himself. He’s barely left Mrs Gammon’s side since we arrived.’
‘Nor is he likely to do so at any time this entire night.’ He cocked an eyebrow at her to drive home the meaning of his words.
Laura’s eyes widened, but not in surprise at Mr Connor’s nocturnal activities. No, she was more surprised at the way Philip spoke to her with the ease and comfort of a long friendship. It gave her hope they could move past what had happened and reclaim some of the intimacy which had developed between them over the past few days.
Mrs Gammon wasn’t the only widow looking to snare a bedfellow this evening. Mrs Templeton strode across the room towards them. With each step, her large breasts jiggled above the edge of the blue silk dress, which clung to her round hips. The silk was of inferior weave and not as well cut as Laura’s. She guessed Mrs Templeton had paid more attention to the way the colour emphasised the whiteness of her skin and the red curls piled thick against the back of her head than the quality of the material. Her dress reminded Laura of the buxom young women who used to stand across the street from the rookery in their garish second-hand frocks, trying to entice men. Hopefully, Mrs Templeton wasn’t as experienced a temptress as those women, or Philip as willing as their clients.
The widow met them near the door to the hallway, all but blocking their way.
‘Mr Rathbone, it’s a pleasure to see you tonight,’ Mrs Templeton purred, standing so close in front of Philip that, if she took a deep breath, her breasts would brush his chest. ‘I’ve missed you at all the dinners of late.’
Laura slid her hand up Philip’s arm, making her claim on him clear. If Mrs Templeton noticed, she didn’t seem to care, remaining far closer to Philip than propriety dictated.
‘I’ve been greatly occupied.’ Philip’s even voice and posture offered no clue to his thoughts about the widow’s appearance or her proximity.
Mrs Templeton laid one finger on his chest, the large garnet adorning it sparkling over his dove-coloured waistcoat. ‘You’re always occupied with the wrong business.’
She slid a wicked glance at Laura before focusing back on Philip.
Laura wanted to pull Philip away from the cat’s claws and chide the widow for behaving so inappropriately. Instead she stood firmly beside him, biting her tongue to keep silent. Laura hadn’t seen Mrs Templeton in intimate conversation with any of the women, but it didn’t mean they wouldn’t rally to her defence if Laura insulted her. If Philip still intended to honour their engagement, Laura couldn’t afford to make herself an outcast among the wives of his associates and friends.
To her relief, Laura didn’t have to pull Philip away. He moved back without any prompting, placing a more appropriate amount of room between himself and the widow’s breasts. Whatever dance Mrs Templeton hoped to engage him in, he wasn’t rising to the invitati
on.
‘Allow me to introduce my betrothed, Miss Laura Townsend.’ He levelled his hand at Laura.
‘Miss Townsend. A pleasure.’ The slight sneer along the curve of Mrs Templeton’s lips told Laura it was anything but pleasurable.
Laura didn’t allow her smile to falter and matched Mrs Templeton’s shallow curtsy with a deep, polite one. ‘It’s a pleasure to meet an old friend of Philip’s.’
‘I’m not so old as some are young and inexperienced.’ She fixed her eyes on Philip, but he ignored her, turning instead to Laura.
Laura couldn’t discern if he was proud or embarrassed by her exchange with the widow. Hopefully he admired her ability to face the subtle sneer of this woman as much as he’d admired her ability to stand up to Mr Williams.
Before any of them could say more, Mr Jones appeared at Mrs Templeton’s elbow. A head taller than her, Mr Jones wasn’t afraid to inspect the assets the widow so blatantly displayed. ‘May I escort you in to dinner?’
‘You may.’ She took his arm, flashing Philip an enticing smile before following the more accommodating Mr Jones from the room. Mr Connor and Mrs Gammon followed close behind them.
If Philip regretted the widow’s departure, it was difficult to tell as he led Laura downstairs to the dining room.
* * *
Dinner itself was a far more relaxing affair than the introductions in the drawing room. Laura was seated between the friendly Mrs Charton and Mr Connor, who remained deep in conversation with Mrs Gammon, who sat on his other side. Yet for all the welcome Laura received from the other ladies, she felt Mrs Templeton’s attention on her frequently. Philip was unlucky enough to be seated next to the widow, who leaned too close to him as she listened to Philip’s conversation with Mr Moseley, offering her opinion on many occasions. Philip kept his gaze on his plate whenever she spoke. Once, he raised his eyes to meet Laura’s before shifting them back to the fish. Laura wondered if this reluctant show of attention was for her benefit.
‘I’m so happy to see Mr Rathbone entering back into life again,’ Mrs Charton observed, drawing Laura’s attention from Mrs Templeton.
‘Have you known Philip a long time?’
‘Oh, yes, since he was a very young man and his father began doing business with Henry.’ She nodded to her husband, who raised his glass to her, the open affection between them touching. ‘Mr Rathbone’s father used to bring him here when he was teaching him the business.’
‘What happened to Philip’s parents?’ There was so much about his life and past he hadn’t told her.
‘Fever—seven years ago. Took his father first and then two days later his mother died. It was all so sudden and unexpected.’ She shook her head in sorrow. ‘After Mr Rathbone’s parents passed away, he’d come to Henry for advice. There was one particular occasion when a silversmith he’d loaned quite a sum defaulted. It nearly ruined his entire business.’
‘Philip almost lost his business?’ It didn’t seem possible.
‘Oh, yes. It was such a hard time for him after his father died, you understand. And then to lose his mother so soon after. I tried to help where I could with Jane, but I was newly delivered of my twins and could do so much less than I wanted to. Then, after so many years, when all was well, to have another tragedy befall him. The poor soul.’ She touched her hand to her chest and threw a motherly look at Philip. ‘But to see him tonight, looking so much happier and more like the old Mr Rathbone, it warms the heart.’
‘You think him happier?’
‘Oh, most definitely and I must say there’s no doubt you’re the cause. Isn’t she, Mrs Gammon?’
The widow leaned forward to peer past Mr Connor. ‘Isn’t who?’
‘Isn’t Miss Townsend to thank for the change in Mr Rathbone?’
Mrs Gammon looked from Laura to Philip, then nodded, her pearl earrings brushing her smooth cheeks. ‘Oh, yes, I noticed it at once, the moment they entered. I’m so happy for you both.’
She offered a bright smile before returning to Mr Connor.
Laura threw a glance at Philip, struggling to see what the other ladies did. She only noticed how the light from the wide chandelier hanging over the long table softened the set of his nose but deepened the shadow along the edge of his jaw. ‘No, I don’t think it’s me.’
‘Oh, indeed it is.’ She laid her hand on Laura’s, giving it a small, reassuring squeeze.
‘What is?’ Mrs Moseley called from across the table.
‘Almond blancmange,’ Mrs Charton answered without hesitation. ‘It is one of the best dishes to serve at a wedding breakfast.’
‘Oh, yes, you must have almond blancmange.’ Mrs Moseley slipped a forkful of fish into her mouth, filling out her already round cheeks. ‘It’s heavenly.’
Mrs Charton winked at Laura as the conversation turned to the wedding breakfast, leaving Laura to wonder at the woman’s comments about Philip. With Mrs Templeton practically pushing her breasts in Philip’s face as he passed her the salt, Laura was hesitant to place much hope in Mrs Charton’s observation. Maybe seeing his paramour again tonight was the reason for the change in his behaviour. If there was anything between him and Mrs Templeton, perhaps he felt it a welcome relief to be in her presence, rather than facing Laura’s doubts about his character.
* * *
Throughout the rest of dinner, Laura did her best to enjoy herself despite Mrs Templeton’s shameless flirtation across the table. Mrs Charton was the centre of attention at dessert, with a large cake placed in front of her as everyone offered their congratulations. Then Mr Charton presented her with a stunning gold necklace, sweetly fastening it around her neck before leaning in to brush her lips with a kiss. Laura clapped with the others at the presentation, smiling despite the twinge of jealousy at witnessing such love between a man and wife. Before this morning, she thought she and Philip might obtain such happiness. She was no longer so sure.
At last, with the cake eaten and the present given, Mrs Charton rose and led the ladies back to the drawing room. If Laura expected the women to talk of domestic affairs once alone, she was surprised. They settled on the suite of furniture near the fireplace and set to discussing their husbands’ business. Laura listened, learning as much about moneylending and dealing with clients as she had from her time with Philip. The conversation only turned to more feminine matters when Mrs Moseley complained to Mrs Charton of trying to manage small children when her husband required so much of her help. Their hostess and Mrs Gammon offered encouraging advice which Laura raptly took in. It was a comfort to know she would be able to draw on these women’s experiences to help her manage her and Philip’s affairs when the time came. Assuming it came.
Too agitated to sit still, Laura excused herself and made for the refreshment table near the window. If Philip decided not to go through with the wedding, it would only take a few words in private to the Chartons to undo everything done tonight. Then Laura would vanish from all of these people’s lives as quickly as she’d come into them. The bitter taste of fear and regret filled her mouth. She wanted to know these people and enjoy the friendship they offered as much as she wanted Philip.
She poured herself a glass of punch, but the tart drink didn’t ease the worries determined to needle her. Neither did the subtle rustle of cheap silk joined by a purring voice behind her.
‘Tell me, Miss Townsend, when is the happy day?’ Mrs Templeton asked, coming around to face Laura.
Laura set down her unfinished punch, viewing the woman with the same detached interest she’d directed at so many of Philip’s clients over the past few days. ‘The date has not been set yet.’
Mrs Templeton laid her talons over her large chest, her mouth forming a wide O in surprise. ‘A sudden engagement, but not sudden enough to secure a date?’
‘A date cannot be set until we have the common licence.’
Assuming an air of carefree indifference, Laura shrugged, not about to let this woman cow her. If she did, it would give Mrs Templeton permission to treat her shabbily every time they found themselves together at such gatherings. ‘I’m not concerned. If he had doubts, he would hurry the matter.’
Behind her, Laura heard the deep rumbling of the men’s voices as they entered the room to join the ladies.
Mrs Templeton ran her finger over the rim of Laura’s half-filled glass sitting on the table, eliciting a low sound from the crystal. ‘Nothing is settled until the ring is upon your finger, Miss Townsend, and even then a man may find more tempting entertainment elsewhere.’
She fixed her gaze over Laura’s shoulder and the sheer heat in it seemed enough to evaporate the punch from the bowl. No doubt she was eyeing Philip, making her disgusting invitation clear.
Laura didn’t turn to see if the invitation was acknowledged. It didn’t matter. Whatever happened, Laura wasn’t going to allow this woman in the poorly cut silk to knock her down.
‘You mustn’t know Philip very well if you believe he’ll dishonour a vow once it’s given, or renege on a contract once it’s been made. He has too much integrity to act in the way you’ve implied, or for me to doubt for even a moment that he will not honour his word. So suggest what you like about the two of you, I refuse to believe it for a moment.’
Mrs Townsend’s painted lips twisted together in irritation. Laura had fought her with the truth and she had no answer for it. It was the truth. Laura felt it deep in her heart and not even all the fears swirling there since this morning could chase that away. Philip was a man of great integrity, as he’d proven to her time and again. He’d made Laura a promise and he would keep it. Whatever happened between them from this evening on, she would never doubt the man again.