As the company filed into the dining room, Sharon turned back to fetch the little French soldier James had brought back from Paris for a fussy Randy. She hurried back to the parlor, but stopped short at the door. She heard angry voices within.
“How do you ever expect to marry a girl you don’t even talk to?”
“I could hardly join a group of women…”
“There was plenty of time earlier in the evening, not to mention the fact you could have escorted her to dinner. You know what this means for us. If we have to have this conversation again, you’ll regret it.”
Sharon heard heavy footsteps approaching the door, and she rushed into Peter’s study across the foyer, not wanting to be found eavesdropping. After she heard a second set of footsteps, she eased back across the foyer into the parlor and quickly grabbed the small toy.
As Mr. Standford and Edward took their seats in the dining room, William noticed an empty chair. “And where has your lovely wife got to, Randal?”
“She went to fetch Randy’s toy in the parlor. Didn’t you pass her on your way in?”
William Standford smiled his most charming smile. “No. She must have made a detour.”
Just then, Sharon returned to the dining room and quickly took her seat. William’s eyes followed her in and stayed on her while she sat. She was determined not to meet his gaze that she felt burning on her. Both knew the exchange between father and son had not been private.
Looking around the dinner table, Lady Sweet surmised that the only person about whom the Standfords could have been talking was Dahlia. Matilda was included in these neighborly get-togethers, but she knew that William would not be pushing his son to marry a servant. What Sharon could not work out was why William would contrive a marriage between his son and Dahlia. They had never been close; Edward was barely hospitable to anyone of their acquaintance. She intended to tell Dahlia of the overheard conversation. If nothing else, surely it would amuse her.
Dinner was a congenial affair, given the familiarity of the participants which lent itself to a broader range of discussion topics and even the occasional debate on one subject on another that one would not find at such a gathering of people of lesser acquaintance. News from family and friends afar was shared.
“So Miss McElroy is travelling again?” Sharon asked when Dahlia told her the singer was in Brighton. “What a shame I won’t get to see her. My aunt is ill and I am going to visit her. I had hoped to see Miss McElroy when I stopped over in London.”
“I’m sorry to hear about your aunt, Lady Sweet. Nothing serious I hope?”
“Everything can be considered serious at her age,” Sharon replied.
“And where does your aunt live, Lady Sweet?” William interjected from the opposite end of the table.
“In Kent,” she replied, noncommittally. Dahlia looked up at the name, then blushed, hoping nobody noticed.
“An easy trip by train then,” William stated.
Randal snorted disdainfully. “By train, yes! It’s the two-hour coach ride between the station and Bethany’s that makes it a very long trip indeed. The estate is very remote and the terrain so bad that even the Romans didn’t deign to survey it for roads. Why Lord Shrever – may he rest in peace – decided to build there is still a mystery!”
“If the Lady Shrever is ailing and all alone in such a remote corner of the country, have you not thought of selling the estate and bringing her to live with you here?” William addressed the question to Randal, but Sharon answered him.
“Aunt Bethany has lived there for nearly 50 years, ever since she married. She wouldn’t think of leaving her home now.”
“Her body’s failing, but not her mind,” added her husband. “Her Ladyship will not leave Biddenden, so we must go to Biddenden.”
“Are all of you travelling there, then?”
“No, my business keeps me here and Randy, poor little sod,” he said, inclining his head towards the boy who had fallen asleep next to his mother. “He needn’t be put through such a journey.”
“The trip will be a short one, then?
Dahlia was curious as to Mr. Standford’s interest in the specifics of her friend’s visit south, but he had asked the very question that was on her mind – how long this unexpected trip would keep her dear friend from her company.
“I’ll be back within a fortnight,” Sharon replied demurely to Mr. Standford, but then she glanced at Dahlia and smiled, knowing the answer was of interest to her, too.
“Ah, good. And when are you leaving?”
“Day after tomorrow.”
As Dahlia was the primary participant in the after-dinner entertainment, and the library seating didn’t facilitate private conversations with so many people in it, Sharon had little chance to take Dahlia aside. Mr. Standford also seemed very vigilant of both women and, to Lady Sweet, it appeared that he was making a considerable effort to ensure they did not have a chance to talk to one another confidentially. She even tried to stay to the last to have a word with her young friend, but they needed to get little Randy home and the Standfords didn’t appear to be in their usual haste to leave first. So it was that Lady Sweet never had the chance to convey the strange dialogue between William and Edward.
As the company bid the Sweets good-bye, William elbowed his son. Edward, looking up quickly, knew he was required to do or say something. “Have a nice trip,” he called feebly after the departing Lady Sweet. William turned and glared at him. Alyce, who was standing behind her nephew, saw the look and cringed. He would pay for the inappropriateness of the comment, given all that was said regarding the reason for the trip and its difficulties. It was a night to lock her bedroom door so she did not share in her brother’s ire.
Edward, too, recognized his error. His thoughts had been miles away when the elbow met his ribs. With sudden inspiration, he turned to Dahlia and said, “Miss Talbot, as Lady Sweet will be unable to entertain you in the coming week, perhaps you would like to accompany my aunt and I into town one day as a diversion.”
Mr. Standford’s face lit up, and as Dahlia stared disbelievingly at Edward and tried to think of an excuse to decline, said, “What a wonderful idea! Good to let the young people have their amusements. Eh, Peter?” He turned to the Squire for support.
Peter seemed as unprepared to answer as Dahlia. “Yes. Yes, of course,” he stammered.
“Excellent.”
It therefore seemed very decided on the part of Mr. Standford. Dahlia was glad they had not set a date. Perhaps it would be one of those invitations that all parties would let go without carrying it to fruition.
The Standfords finally made to leave. All three of them were just outside the door when another jab made Edward look up at his father. It took him a great deal of composure not to roll his eyes at what his father growled at him.
As Peter was just about to close the front door, Edward called to Dahlia. “Would the day after tomorrow be convenient for you Miss Talbot?”
Flustered, and without an escape, Dahlia replied in the affirmative. Edward nodded, looked at his father as if to say, ‘Happy?’ and the three continued down to their carriage.
Peter Talbot closed the door and looked at his daughter, a crooked smile on his face. “It is one of the most unfortunate bits of life, my dear, that we can never choose our family and seldom our neighbors.”
Dahlia laughed, trying to put the excursion two days hence out of her mind.
Chapter 50
Dahlia sat in the carriage thinking that Alyce Standford could make a mint as a chaperone. She was quite capable of making herself all but invisible. Dahlia felt very alone with Edward in the coach despite the company of a third. From everything she heard from the Gaggle, the games that young couples played to avert the prying eyes of chaperones were worthy of a master of chess. Yet timid as she was, and so wholly reluctant to put herself in evidence to anybody, Dahlia was quite sure that, if so inclined, she and Edward could have made love on the carriage floor without any notice or
interference by her. She almost giggled at the thought and resolved to write and tell Miss McElroy about the outing and the chaperone’s conduct as a mild suggestion that her friend stop reading her letters to and from Mr. Kent. Surely if Miss McElroy turned a blind eye as Alyce Standford did, her correspondence with James would get very interesting indeed.
Being Edward, however, the conversation on the way to town was stilted at best. It was a series of questions lobbed back and forth like a ball in a game of lawn tennis between two very lazy players. The monotony of the question and answer exchange formed a tune in Dahlia’s mind that reminded her of Vicar Jacobs.
The arrival in town was little better as Dahlia could not imagine that any shop of interest to her would be of any interest to Edward or his aunt. They strolled along High Street, window shopping, and Dahlia did her best to engage Alyce in conversation regarding the fashions and household goods displayed to entice them into the establishments. The trio crossed paths with a number of girls from the Gaggle. They engaged Dahlia at once, asking about her brothers and when the dashing Mr. Kent would be visiting again. Although the girls clearly saw her with the Standfords, they ignored them completely as if Dahlia had been walking unescorted. Dahlia did her duty in acknowledging them, but it was to no avail. The Standfords had never been a social family and although everyone knew who they were, they were of little interest to local society.
After an hour, they finally agreed to stop for tea. Sitting there with her silent companions, Dahlia began to wonder at her yearning to leave the Standfords and join one of the groups of girls. As tedious as the Gaggle could be, at least they talked and laughed and gossiped, which – at present – would have been preferable to the hard work of trying to engage the Standfords in any conversation at all. Alyce seemed as nervous as ever, and Edward appeared to be as bored as Dahlia. She could only surmise that this outing was indeed the brainchild of Edward’s father, though why he seemed to feel engaged to throw them together was beyond her comprehension. She supposed that it was because he wanted Edward to become part of society now that he, like her brothers, was of an age to start forming attachments and seek out some sort of productive activities away from the farm. Edward was no more interested in forming an attachment to her than she was to him – that was obvious. As Dahlia sipped the last of her tea and Edward paid the waiter, she remembered the rumors of Edward and the milliner’s daughter. So as not to have the day be a complete waste of time, she decided to test her theory of his interest in Gwendolyn Hamel.
As they left the café, Dahlia turned south in the direction of the hat shop. As they passed the window, she made an exclamation at one of the displays.
“Oh, isn’t that adorable? You don’t mind if we just pop in here for a moment, do you?”
She didn’t wait for a reply. A little bell on the door sounded as she opened it and went in. A buxom girl with rosy cheeks and a big smile looked at Dahlia and bobbed a quick curtsy.
“Good afternoon, Miss. Anything I can help you with?”
“I’d love to see the bonnet in the window display,” Dahlia said, and turned towards the street. As she did so, the girl saw the Standfords.
Gwendolyn Hamel started, then asked, “Are you all together?”
“Oh, yes,” said Dahlia cheerfully. Alyce wandered further into the store, and Edward posted himself by the door. Gwendolyn quickly went to get the bonnet from the case, but as she handed it to Dahlia, she looked past her to Edward. Dahlia went to one of the numerous mirrors in the store, removed her own hat, and put the new bonnet on – all the while observing the reflections of Gwen and Edward. There was obviously a tension between them. Glancing at Alyce, who was poking about the hats, Dahlia guessed that Edward’s aunt had no notion of anything between her nephew and the storekeeper’s daughter.
“Will it do for you, Miss?” Gwen said, coming to Dahlia’s side.
In a fit of mischievousness, Dahlia turned towards Edward. “Mr. Standford, come help me decide.”
Embarrassed, Edward walked into the store and stood before the two girls. “It’s very becoming,” he said politely.
“Do you like it better than my yellow one?” Dahlia said, knowing he would not know to which hat she was referring, but trying to imply that he would. The color rose in Gwen’s face as she waited for Edward’s answer. Dahlia saw him glance at Gwen before stammering a noncommittal answer about any hat looking good on her. Dahlia turned back to the mirror, but kept watching the couple behind her. “Hmmm, I can’t decide,” she said, trying to imitate the Gaggle’s simpers. She could see Gwen glaring at Edward, who looked helpless. Dahlia turned and handed the hat back to Gwen. “I think not, the color is a bit off from the dress I had hoped to wear it with.”
“Perhaps your beau would like to pick one out for you, Miss,” Gwen said pointedly.
Dahlia laughed at the thought of Edward being her beau, especially after the strained day they were forced to pass in each other’s company. Quite convinced from the looks they were giving one another that Edward was truly the beau of Miss Hamel – or at least the object of her affection – she clarified their relationship quickly. In direct contrast to the mean charade Victoria or Adelaide would have prolonged in this situation, Dahlia said, “Mr. Stanford and his aunt,” she waved a hand at Alyce somewhere in the shop. “Are my neighbors. There is no understanding between us.” That, she thought, was certainly the truth.
Gwendolyn’s posture relaxed markedly. “Of course.”
Dahlia had the distinct impression that this was said more as an apology to Edward than to herself. She leaned to whisper in the shopkeeper’s ear. “My beau is in London.”
She was rewarded with a beaming smile from Gwen, who seemed thoroughly relieved. Dahlia strode off pretending to look at other hats, leaving Gwen and Edward alone. Using the mirrors placed around the shop, Dahlia saw Gwen and Edward glancing furtively at one another. Having ascertained that which she had hoped by coming into the shop, and being uninterested in buying a new hat to begin with, Dahlia circled the shop and came to a stop by the door. Edward and Alyce followed her, trailed by Gwen. Edward held the door for Dahlia and his aunt as they stepped out into the street. Dahlia turned to see Edward give a nod to Gwendolyn before closing the door behind him. To her surprise, the reflection of Edward’s face in the glass of the door showed he was smiling at Gwen, who smiled back at him. It was the first time she could remember seeing Edward smile without it coming across as a sneer. It made his countenance almost handsome.
On the ride home, Dahlia considered Edward in a new light. He did have nice features, but they had always been overshadowed by his bad humor and behavior that made him unseemly in her mind’s eye. She felt happy for Edward that he had found someone to bring out the best in him. She also felt sorry that it was a milliner’s daughter that had done it. Theirs was not a match to be condoned by his father, and it appeared that his aunt knew nothing of the attachment, so he had not felt comfortable confiding in her for support either. She remembered the stories of mismatched love from Miss McElroy and Matty. Love between people of different social standings never had happy endings.
Edward seemed to be caught up in his own thoughts on the ride back. Perhaps he was thinking the same thing as Dahlia. Whatever the thoughts, the handsomeness of his face when he had smiled a special smile for Gwen had vanished, replaced by the aspect of distain his features habitually bore.
The carriage passed the road which lead to the Sweet’s estate, and Dahlia longed to sit with her friend and tell her of the day’s events and revelations. She remembered that Lady Sweet had left today for her sick aunt’s in Kent, and wouldn’t be back for at least a week. The lane seemed to have an empty hole at the end of it, representing her friend’s physical absence there. Dahlia sighed. At least she would be home soon and this tedious day would finally end.
The next morning, Dahlia went down to breakfast, but the dining room was empty. She found Matty and Glenda in the kitchen.
“Will you not wan
t your breakfast in the dining room?” the housekeeper asked.
Dahlia laughed. “Alone? Nonsense.” Glenda brought her a steaming mug of tea.
She was amused by the question since she often had her breakfast in the kitchen over the years. Only in the past year did it occur to Glenda to ask her such things. Dahlia could only attribute this to the fact that she was considered a young woman now, and young woman were not supposed to share mugs of tea in the kitchen with the help.
She recounted the previous day’s events, although she did not mention the incident in the hat shop. Matty would understand, she was sure. She didn’t know if she could trust Glenda not to tell someone of Edward’s unfavored romance, however. The housekeeper would not mention anything to do harm, but when she got talking, she could let things slip. That account would have to wait for Lady Sweet’s return.
As Dahlia finished a light breakfast in the warm comfort of the kitchen, they heard a rider galloping up the drive. Glenda went to the window and peered out.
“Messenger,” she said, craning her neck. “Must be something important,” she continued, returning to the table. “Horse had quite a foam worked up.”
Glenda cocked her head, listening. “Your father took his tea in the study – he must have answered the door.” She turned back to the kettle and refreshed the three mugs at the table.
“So after your day yesterday, what are your plans today? You’re dressed for riding I see,” said Matty.
“Yes. I’m going to take out my frustrations in hard work.”
A quarter hour later, she was just about to get up and head for the barn when her father came in. His face was ashen and the laughter in the kitchen subsided quickly.
“Father?” Dahlia said, getting up to walk around the table towards him. “What’s wrong?” She thought of the messenger, and then of Steven and Maripaz.
“Yes,” he started gravely. “I’ve received some very, very unwelcome news.” He would not look at her, and Dahlia’s stomach filled with dread.
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