“Unless you intend on engaging in the type of free-spirited life you had before your husband’s death, it might well be time to find new friends.”
“Probably. As for my previous manner of living...” Willie shook her head. “Losing a husband, being forced to make decisions about matters you scarcely paid any heed to, indeed matters that were taken care of for you, as well as far more reflection than I have ever engaged in, well, I think it does make you accept that not all your decisions were wise. I will never be stern and eminently proper—I don’t wish to be—but I have certainly changed, for the better I hope. I have no desire to go backward in my life.”
“As long as you don’t lose that spirit of adventure you seem to have.” Rosalind smiled. “I think that would be a great shame. We could all use more of that in our lives. I know Dante could.”
“Could he?”
“Oh my, yes. Dante has always believed in, oh, following the rules if you will. He never does anything that could truly be considered wrong in a moral or legal sense, although he is certainly not perfect. Unfortunately, between Grandfather’s museum and his business concerns, he has become entirely too proper and stuffy in recent years.”
“He’s seems neither overly proper nor stuffy to me.”
“Well, he is on holiday. And he is making a concerted effort to be amenable and charming.” Rosalind’s brow furrowed. “Still, he does seem different. I believe my brother might be enjoying himself, far more than he has in a very long time.”
“Perhaps travel agrees with him.”
“Oh, he travels frequently. I doubt...” She considered Willie thoughtfully. “Perhaps you’re right.”
“I believe your brother and I have become, well, friends.” Although it did seem they were somewhat more than friends. How much more remained to be seen.
“Good. While he has a fair number of acquaintances, I’m not sure how many true friends he has.” Her gaze met Willie’s directly. “And I too would very much like to be your friend.”
“Out of pity? Even to my own ears I sounded rather pathetic.”
Rosalind scoffed. “Of course not. I would never offer friendship simply because I felt sorry for someone.”
“Are you sure about being friends?” Willie adopted a lighthearted tone. “Why, what will people say?”
“While I have nearly always acted within the confines of proper behavior, I have never let what people might say decide what I do. I would be honored to be your friend.”
“As would I,” Jane said, sitting down beside her. Willie hadn’t noticed when the other women had joined them. “I am sorry, I didn’t mean to overhear. It just seems to me that true friends are those you can count on through thick and thin.”
Rosalind nodded. “Exactly.”
“I don’t really have many friends either, at least not current friends,” Jane continued. “My husband has worked very hard for his success—we were not born to wealth. It’s only been in the last ten years or so that we’ve benefited from the fruits of his labor. We now live in a neighborhood we never aspired to among people who have never wanted for anything.” She lowered her voice in a confidential manner. “They are not overly friendly. They see us as interlopers.”
“Women can be beastly creatures,” Marian said firmly and settled in a nearby chair. “Believe me, I know. I’ve never wanted for money and yet friends, true friends, have always been difficult to come by.”
“All this—” Jane waved at the opulent surroundings “—is fairly new to me. And a bit overwhelming.”
“I never would have suspected.” Marian cast the other woman an encouraging smile then turned to Willie. “And didn’t we say at the very beginning that we would all be good friends?”
Willie nodded. “We did.”
“I know I can be a bit forward and I do talk entirely too much, which I would try to do something about but it seems there is always something interesting to say. And I’m afraid if I don’t say it when it comes to mind, I will probably explode or something equally unpleasant—”
Rosalind choked.
“—but I was most sincere. About being friends, that is.” Marian pinned her with a firm look. “I meant it. Did you?”
Did she? “Yes,” Willie said slowly, although admittedly at the time she hadn’t given it a second thought. Now, however... “Yes, Marian, I believe I did.”
“Good.” Marian beamed with satisfaction. “Then we will all be good friends. Jane, Willie and—” she turned to Rosalind “—Lady Richfield?”
“You’re not going to make us cross swords and vow one for all and all for one, are you?” Suspicion edged Rosalind’s voice.
Jane laughed.
Marian’s eyes widened. “What a wonderful idea. A true vow of friendship. Sisters across the ocean bound together forever by an oath of companionship and camaraderie. Tied to each other until we breathe our last.”
“Dear Lord, Marian. We’re promising friendship not marriage. Still, it does have a nice ring to it.” She grinned. “And my friends call me Rosalind.”
It struck Willie that friendship wasn’t simply something one declared out of the blue but rather something that grew. And indeed hadn’t they all started becoming friends on the first day of their travels? Willie considered the other women thoughtfully. So this was to be her new circle of friends. She suspected she couldn’t have done better.
“As we are now all officially friends,” Willie began and glanced at Rosalind, “I think Rosalind has something she could use the help of her friends with.”
Rosalind hesitated.
“Five pairs of eyes are better than three,” Willie said to her.
“You’re right, of course.” Rosalind straightened her shoulders. “I have something of a dilemma regarding Harriet.”
Willie noted Geneva leaving her dressing room and settling in a nearby chair, the ever-present book already in her hands.
“While you explain, I believe I will have a quick chat with Geneva.” Willie stood.
Marian frowned. “Is something wrong?”
“Not at all, I simply thought she might be of help with a question I have.”
“And perhaps you could take the opportunity to point out to her there is nothing wrong with new clothes and trying to look your very best.” Marian heaved a long-suffering sigh. “And please try to get her nose out of that book. Dear Lord, I don’t know where she gets it from. Her father is not especially intellectual. All he ever talks about is business.”
“I’ll do my best.” Willie nodded and crossed the room. She adopted a friendly smile and sat down beside the girl. “What are you reading?”
“A Thousand Miles up the Nile,” Geneva said without looking up.
“Is it good?”
“Very.” Geneva turned a page.
“What’s it about?”
“It’s about a trip up the Nile.”
“I suspected as much,” Willie murmured. She wasn’t sure what to say next. Moving from “a trip up the Nile” to “Do you know what Harriet is up to?” was not easy. “You’re enjoying it, then?”
“I am,” Geneva said absently. “It was written by a woman—Amelia Edwards—and it’s fascinating. She’s an Egyptologist.”
“That does sound fascinating.”
“It is.” Geneva heaved a long-suffering sigh and closed the book. “Did my mother send you to talk to me? Perhaps about what a wonderful opportunity it is to be able to order new clothes in Paris and how I should be enjoying the experience rather than reading?”
Willie laughed. “No, she didn’t.”
“Then what do you want?”
“Nothing in particular,” Willie said lightly. “I simply wanted to chat.”
Geneva considered her coolly. “My mother is more than willing to chat with you. In fac
t, there is nothing she enjoys more than chatting. It’s rare when anyone else can get a word in. Perhaps you’ve noticed?”
Willie nodded.
“I imagine the other ladies are willing to chat, as well.”
“Yes, I suppose they are.” Willie paused. “I did have a question for you.”
“What is it?”
“May I be perfectly honest?” Willie wasn’t sure perfect honesty was the best course but she had no other idea.
Geneva studied her as if she weren’t certain anyone over the age of twenty or so could be trusted. “I would prefer honest, so yes.”
“You are the oldest of the girls here and as such, I would like to be able to count on you to, oh, keep an eye on the others.”
“You want me to spy on them?” Geneva’s eyes narrowed.
“No.” Willie scoffed. “Nothing of the sort.” Although really, when it came down to it, that’s exactly what she was asking. Willie drew a deep breath. “In the spirit of honesty, yes, I suppose I do.”
“Thank you for being honest.” She considered Willie for a moment. “My father says one should never agree to a bargain until one knows exactly what one will get out of it. What will I get out of helping you?”
“You would derive the satisfaction of knowing you helped prevent someone from doing something dreadfully stupid and ruining her life.” Willie cringed to herself at the pompous note in her voice. She sounded so dreadfully adult.
“So out of the goodness of my heart, then?”
Willie arched a brow. “Do you need another reason?”
“Probably not but it does seem to me that I am in an excellent negotiating position and it would be stupid to pass it up.”
“Your father must be proud.”
“He probably would be if I wasn’t female.”
“That, my dear girl, is an eternal problem.” Willie shook her head. “My own father has never forgiven me for not being born male. And I have never forgiven him for that.”
“Mine is not that bad,” Geneva said quickly. “He simply doesn’t expect me to be any more than my mother is.” She heaved a deep sigh. “But I want to be...more.”
Willie wasn’t sure this was a wise idea. Still, that had never stopped her before. “What do you want me to do?”
“I want you to try to convince my mother of the benefits of having a daughter who does something with her life other than trying to catch a man.”
“What exactly do you want to do?” Willie said cautiously. She wasn’t entirely sure she wanted to know.
“I want to follow in the footsteps of Amelia Edwards. I want to travel Egypt. I want to find and study ancient artifacts.” The girl’s eyes fairly glowed with excitement. “I want to be an Egyptologist.”
“I see.” It would do no good to point out Geneva’s mother was just the first of many people she would need to convince in order to follow her dream. “Why would your mother listen to me?”
Geneva stared in obvious disbelief. “Because you’re Lady Bascombe. She thinks there is nothing more wonderful in life than to have a title in front of your name. It bestows you with special abilities—at least socially. And there is nothing more important to my mother than society. Mother thinks it’s a terrible shame that we don’t have titles in America. She would like nothing better than to be Lady Henderson. Believe me, she will listen to you.”
“I doubt that she will listen to me about this, about your future.”
Geneva started to say something but Willie held up her hand to stop her.
“Regardless, I will take every opportunity that presents itself to point out what a shame it would be not to take advantage of a fine mind like yours. But I can make no promises beyond that.” She paused. “Personally, I find it most admirable that you have a hope for your life that is not within the bounds of what is expected of a woman, even I suspect in America.”
Geneva stared. “Do you really?”
“I do.” She nodded. “I wish I had been as determined at your age as you are. Even now I have no idea what I am going to do with the rest of my life. I’ve never had a passion I wished to pursue.” She leaned closer in a confidential manner. “I fear I’ve always been somewhat shallow and extremely shortsighted.”
“Well.” Geneva considered her curiously. “It’s probably not too late. You’re not terribly old.”
“Thank you.” Willie laughed then sobered. “I wish I had the kind of courage you have, to want to be something more than anyone thinks you can or should be.”
“Thank you but if I were truly courageous, I would pursue my passion regardless of my parents’ objections. I’m afraid I will never see the pyramids of Egypt. I am destined to be married off to an appropriate, ambitious young man. A man who is more enamored of my father’s position than he is of me.”
“I find that hard to believe,” Willie said staunchly. Geneva was lovely in an understated sort of way. She was a bit taller than Willie, and the girl’s light brown hair suited her delicate features and quiet manner. But the spark of intelligence in her brown eyes when she spoke of exploring the ancient wonders of Egypt lit her face and transformed her into something quite remarkable. “You’re not interested in marriage, then?”
“I am not interested in marrying the type of man my parents think is suitable. And believe me, my mother parades those through my life with an unrelenting determination.”
“I can imagine,” Willie murmured.
“While I may never see the sights of Egypt for myself—” the girl’s jaw tightened “—I refuse to marry simply to satisfy my parents and certainly never someone my mother chooses. Although I haven’t managed to meet anyone I find appealing. Or even tolerable.” She heaved a heartfelt sigh.
“One never knows what the future holds, Geneva. When you least expect it, you might cross paths with a man who is exactly the kind of man you want. A man whose interests and passions match your own. A man who might well be perfect for you. Why, you could be attending the same lecture or be at the same ball or walking down the same street.” Or boarding the same train car. Where on earth had that come from? Willie ignored it.
“I will remember that.” Geneva stared. “I had no idea you were so romantic.”
“I blame it on Paris.” Willie smiled. And perhaps Dante? “My godmother and her friends are all widows of men who were well-known explorers in their day. I believe that included expeditions to Egypt. The ladies still have some influence at the Explorers Club and at the British Museum, as well, I suspect. When we return to London, if you’d like, I could ask for them to arrange an introduction to an Egyptologist.”
Geneva’s eyes widened. “Would you?”
Willie nodded. “I would.”
“I would be eternally grateful but...” She grimaced. “As much as I would like to help you, I can’t. The other girls and I have become friends and I’m afraid I cannot tattle on my friends.”
“You’re right, of course.” Willie shook her head. “I should have known better than to ask. I simply thought, as it is in the best interest—”
“I’m not sure I would go to the opera tonight if I were you,” Geneva said abruptly.
“We are all supposed to attend the opera tonight,” Willie said slowly. What was the girl trying to say? “It is on the schedule.”
“Just a suggestion.” Geneva shrugged and opened her book, her attention returning to the page. Willie wasn’t sure she’d ever been dismissed quite as efficiently.
So much for enlisting the aid of—not the enemy exactly—more like the opposition. Willie had never given much thought to the relationship between mothers and daughters—at least not at this age. Observing the tug-of-war between her newfound friends and their offspring was nothing short of fascinating. While there was obvious affection on both sides, neither side thought the other was particularly
intelligent. And both mothers and daughters believed they knew what was best. Willie barely remembered her own mother but had often wondered what her life would have been like if her mother hadn’t died. Seeing the bond between these mothers and daughters, in spite of their differences, twisted Willie’s heart with the strangest wave of regret for what she had never known.
Still, there was nothing more foolish, and more pointless, than regrets about things that couldn’t be changed. In this, as in so many other things in life, there was no going back.
* * *
WHO WOULD HAVE imagined a day devoted to shopping would be quite so exhausting? By the time they returned to their hotel, there wasn’t one of their group—regardless of age—who wasn’t a bit bedraggled, at least in spirit. Everyone agreed a few hours of rest in their respective rooms would serve them well. After all, they were to attend the opera tonight.
Willie wasn’t sure exactly what opera they were to see. The title wasn’t listed on the schedule—an obvious failure on Miss Granville’s part—although the tickets had already been arranged for. She did hope it wasn’t one of those dreadfully dreary ones with heroines dying of horrendous, incurable diseases after being abandoned by the man they loved. Opera wasn’t Willie’s favorite form of entertainment. She preferred shorter, lighter operettas especially those written by Gilbert and Sullivan. Although her true penchant was for comedic plays. She’d much rather laugh at a play than weep at an opera. Still, the opera was on the schedule so the opera it would be.
The younger members of their party begged off, claiming they hated opera and would much prefer to stay in their rooms with a good book. Which made perfect sense for Geneva but Willie had yet to see Tillie, Emma or Harriet—now called Harry apparently—so much as glance at a book. Still, if their mothers weren’t concerned, Willie saw no reason she should be. And yet she was.
She couldn’t ignore Geneva’s suggestion about not going to the opera. The girl was trying to tell her something without coming right out and betraying her friends. The more Willie thought about it, the more convinced she was that the girls were up to something. Something Dante and their mothers would never approve of. Something that was probably a great deal of fun if you were young and adventurous and had no sense of your own vulnerability. Willie remembered those days as if they were yesterday. This was precisely the sort of thing she would have done. Now, however, she was older and hopefully wiser. And onto them. She didn’t believe that nonsense about reading for one moment. Willie had absolutely no intention of leaving the younger members of their party to do as they wished, regardless of what that might be.
The Lady Travelers Guide to Larceny With a Dashing Stranger Page 13