“I could have been a better neighbor,” she argued softly. “Dear me. I wonder if this is why poor Julia never married? I have never been one for gossip, but no one really talked of why she had the one season and did not marry. She entered into society and society pushed her out again.”
Thomas shifted in his seat, his mind going down that path as well. “That is not our concern or business, Mother. I have been asked to help a young woman who is the daughter of your friend. Let us leave it at that and know I will do my best to prepare her for London.”
She shook her head slightly, her eyes still distanced in thought. “I should invite them to supper. All three of the girls. It would be a kindness.” Her gaze came back to him. “And I could evaluate whether you know what you are doing. How could a man ever truly understand what a lady must inherently know?”
He snorted, but smiled. “Very well. You can assure yourself that there is nothing terribly scandalous in our behavior and enjoy an evening with lovely young ladies at the same time.”
“Indeed. Or I may find everything is as I fear and I will have your father take a strap to you,” she threatened, though her fond smile took all the sting from her words. Thomas could not help but chuckle as he agreed to see his mother’s invitation delivered to the Devon household as soon as possible.
∞∞∞
With Father away on business, this time to Bedfordshire, Christine felt more at ease in her comings and goings. Apparently, the others did as well, as both her sisters were more talkative and willing to forget their disastrous conversation on the subject of romance.
They were sitting in the music room when the invitation to supper from Mrs. Gilbert arrived. Julia was surprised and delighted. “We have not been to the Gilbert home in an age. Not since their son left for Italy. I used to love visiting there.”
“Wasn’t she a friend of Mother’s?” Rebecca asked, turning over a piece of new music and examining the notes with a studious frown.
“Yes, though Mrs. Gilbert is considerably older,” Julia said, looking the invitation over again. “Dear me. Christine, do you think this a matchmaking scheme? It occurs to me that we may be invited because her son is in residence once more.”
Christine, having remained quiet as she contemplated the invitation, shook her head quickly. “No, likely not. Father has made certain the whole county knows his daughters are too fine to marry anyone from here. It is likely she thought of us because of her son. She may wish to entertain him with the company of other young people.”
That line of thought was reasonable, but Christine knew Thomas had something to do with the invitation being extended. Maybe he was giving her a chance to show all that she had learned in a private setting, where he could observe her without anyone making suppositions as to why. Or he wanted her to have the opportunity to view his mares.
“They have asked us for this evening,” Julia said, “or the next evening we are available, yet I sense no urgency in the note. Friendliness, a touch of informality.”
Christine was itching to read the note for herself but did not wish to appear too eager, lest she draw attention to her thoughts on the matter. “That would suggest it is a friendly, neighborly meal. Nothing more.”
Rebecca rose and went to stand behind Julia’s seat on the piano bench, reading the note over her eldest sister’s shoulder. “I am glad she specifically asked for me. I do not like it when the two of you go off and I am left here alone, like a little girl fit for nothing except the nursery.”
“You are sixteen,” Julia reminded her, tilting her head back to smile at the younger girl. “And not out yet.”
“I know.” Rebecca sighed, much put upon, and went back to her chair and her music sheets. “It’s nice to be treated like a person who enjoys supper invitations.”
Christine bit back a laugh. “And how does one treat such a person?”
“By issuing supper invitations with great frequency,” Rebecca quipped saucily. “We are going tonight, yes?”
“Yes, I think we shall.” Julia stood and went to the door. “I will let Cook know not to worry about us this evening.”
“Should we send a note around to the stables?” Christine ventured to ask, coming to her feet as well. “To prepare a carriage?”
“Mrs. Gilbert is sending hers for us, complete with a footman for our perilous journey, three miles to her estate,” Julia answered, eyes alight. “She thought of everything. Rebecca. Transportation. Supper.”
“I have always liked Mrs. Gilbert.” Christine sat back, smile in place, trying not to feel nervous. This felt like a test of some sort. But she knew she could hold her own in such a small, private setting as a family supper.
∞∞∞
Christine alighted from the carriage after her sisters, with the aid of a young footman. The butler held open the door at the top of the steps to admit them to the house. All three of the sisters were dressed with care for an evening away from home, but wore nothing too daring. Julia’s hair was pulled up and back with a thin pink ribbon twined through it to lend her blonde ringlets elegance. Christine wore her darker hair up with a handful of pearl-tipped pins as decoration. Rebecca’s hair was half down, as was becoming for one her age, and all three wore coats and gloves against the chilly night air.
They were led into a small room with mirrors to adjust their clothing and pull on evening gloves, a maid waiting upon them patiently, before they were taken in to greet the family.
Mr. Gilbert, Mrs. Gilbert, Thomas, and Mrs. Brody with her husband, all stood upon the entrance of the Devon sisters. Christine held her breath and kept her place behind Julia, who was acting as the leader of their party. She did, however, allow her eyes to wander as Julia thanked their hostess for the invitation.
The room in which they stood was a parlor, well-appointed with westward-facing windows to give the room warmth in the evening hours. A large hearth crackled with a toasty and welcoming fire. The decor was tasteful, yet simple, with a few pieces of art that were likely done by members of the family. The comfortable room did not in any way appear to boast of its owners’ wealth or position in the world.
Mrs. Gilbert came forward to take Julia’s hands and offer words of welcome and kindness, then she acknowledged Rebecca, similarly, before coming to take Christine’s hands as well.
“Miss Christine,” she said kindly, her eyes as green as Thomas’s. “It is wonderful to have you here. I am delighted you accepted my invitation with your sisters. I understand you are to go to London for the season?”
“Yes, Ma’am,” Christine answered in what she hoped was a demure tone of voice. “I am excited by the adventure.”
“Aren’t we all, in those first years?” Mrs. Gilbert said with a little sigh. “It is an adventure, to be certain. I enjoyed taking my own daughters to London immensely, but I must confess,” she said, lowering her voice in a conspiratorial manner, “I am quite relieved I have no need to go through that experience again.”
“Oh, Mama,” her daughter protested, “it was not a terrible thing.”
“I quite agree with your mother,” Mr. Gilbert announced from his place near the fire. “It was a relief I had only two girls go through the perils of the social jungle. There was forever some new drama being enacted in the drawing room of our townhouse, or upon a ballroom floor, or at teas.”
Julia actually smiled and surprised her sisters by adding her own thoughts on the subject. “The London atmosphere certainly calls for many a tantrum, handkerchief, smelling salts, and the odd headache to appear. And people were forever complaining of the crowds and crushes, yet continued to seek them out night after night.”
“Seeking after torture,” Mr. Brody said blithely.
His wife shot daggers at him with her eyes. “I seem to recall you came to your fair share of torturous events.”
“Had to,” he answered evenly, reaching to take her hand where they sat on the couch. “It was the only way I could ever hope to catch your eye, braving the untold hor
rors of a ballroom.”
Several of them laughed, but Christine’s eyes sought out Thomas’s with a mixture of amusement and confusion. She could not tell how much of their words were said in jest and how much were truthful. She had forever imagined her season as one of endless pleasures, but that did not seem to be the general consensus in this household. It also quite amazed her that Julia would offer a single word about London seasons.
“Come now,” Thomas said, catching her look before turning to give his brother-in-law a smile. “You are frightening Miss Christine. She has nothing to base her expectations on except the conversations of others. We must not make her dread her first season.”
“Indeed,” Mrs. Gilbert added with a nod. “You will be fine, dear girl.” She gave Christine’s arm a pat and glanced about the room, as if in search of another topic for conversation.
“Where might your father be this evening? I heard he was not at home,” Mr. Gilbert noted with a differential nod. “We certainly would have included him if he were.”
“He is away on business,” Julia answered softly.
“As is nearly always the case,” Christine added lightly, half-smiling. “So we are especially glad to have an invitation to join such pleasant company.” She glanced at Thomas from the corner of her eye to ascertain whether or not the comment was appropriate. He gave the barest of nods.
“Sweet girl.” Mrs. Gilbert looked as though she would say more, then the butler appeared to inform them that supper was ready to be served. Mr. Gilbert took his wife’s arm, Mr. Brody his wife’s, and Thomas offered his arm to Julia, the eldest of the sisters.
Rebecca and Christine made up the rear of the party, walking alongside each other. Rebecca looked about her with barely concealed curiosity and Christine could not help but do the same. For all that the family was known to be in a difficult financial state, their home was neat and clean, and very comfortable. It was not as old as the Devon estate, which neared eighty years, but that meant that the layout was much more the thing. Christine liked it a great deal, from the polished wooden floors to the sweeping staircase. The house was slightly smaller than the Devon home, but that made it more comfortable, more inviting.
She found herself seated next to Thomas at the table, much to her surprise.
“Please excuse the informality of the table arrangements,” Mrs. Gilbert said as they took their places. “I was not so much concerned with numbers and balancing the table as I was that we all be comfortable and enjoy our evening.”
Mr. Gilbert sat at one end of the table, Mrs. Gilbert at the other, with Mr. Brody, his wife, and Julia on one side and Thomas, Christine, and Rebecca on the other.
“I believe the arrangements are perfect, Mrs. Gilbert,” Julia commented with a warm smile.
As the first course was served, Christine did her best to be nothing but civil and so spoke very little. Yet every time she glanced up at Mrs. Gilbert’s end of the table, the matron was watching her, lips pursed and eyebrows raised.
Could she be conducting herself in a manner that displeased her hostess? She sincerely hoped not. Occasionally she would look to Thomas and he offered her a reassuring smile.
They spoke casually of the weather, the book Mr. Gilbert was reading at present, and whether or not they could expect snow in the near future. Each topic was safe and Christine did her part in asking thoughtful questions and agreeing with what the gentlemen had to say. Nevertheless, the conversation did not fulfill Christine’s ideals.
Julia and Thomas exchanged several comments about the changes in the neighborhood since his absence, and Christine wondered, for the barest instant, if Julia and Thomas would make a good match.
Immediately she banished that idea. Julia, the spinster who cared so little for outdoor pursuits, and Thomas, the sportsman who wished to start a horse farm? No, they were far too dissimilar. Besides that, Julia had never expressed any wish to marry, not after her season. She never spoke of gentlemen that way.
Christine set aside the absurd and irritating notion, trying to bring her attention back to bear on the conversation taking place on her side of the table, but caught Mrs. Gilbert looking at her again, her eyebrows drawn together and her lips pursed, as though studying her.
Christine would have to ask Thomas about it later. For the time being, she did her best to enjoy the meal and practice all the tricks he taught her by the brook. She knew she would yet have to wait to see his mares, which also disappointed her. But one did not leave a pleasant table to walk through the stables on a cold night.
∞∞∞
The door closed on their guests, including his sister and her husband, and Thomas let out a relieved moan, but swiftly disguised it as a yawn when his mother turned to him, eyebrows arched and expression thoughtful.
“Thomas,” she said, “would you have the time to speak with me?”
“Is this a conversation I should be part of?” his father asked, sounding amused. “It sounds serious.”
“Not at all, Harold,” she answered, leaning in to kiss his cheek. “I will meet you in the library after I speak with our boy.”
Father chuckled and gave his son a little shrug. “I have my marching orders. I suspect you are about to receive yours. Good night, Tom.”
“Good night, Father.” Thomas offered his arm to his mother and led her back into the parlor, where the fire was still lit and giving off a comfortable heat. He guided her to her favorite chair. Once she was seated, he took his position up, leaning against the mantel.
“Very well, Mother. You have seen Miss Christine for yourself and spent most of the evening unnerving her with your stare.”
“Oh, do you think she noticed my study of her?” Mrs. Gilbert asked, tilting her head to one side. “I thought she caught me at it once or twice, but I did not think it too pointed.”
“Perhaps not. I certainly noticed, because I was looking for it.” Thomas sighed and put his elbow on the mantel, pushing his hand through his hair. “What did you think of her overall? Are you still concerned that she is after my entirely ineligible hand?”
She waved that comment aside impatiently. “You are highly eligible for the right woman, Tom. A woman who will love you and help you face whatever the future brings. To answer your question, no. I do not believe she has designs on you, though her trust in you is quite obvious. As often as I was watching her, she was looking to you.”
“To ascertain if I approved of her speech and conduct. Not surprising, given my odd position as tutor.”
“Indeed.” Yet still his mother appeared troubled. “She trusts you too much.”
“What do you mean?” he asked, narrowing his eyes. “I thought you wanted me to be a trustworthy sort of person.”
“It is not that, Tom. It is more to do with the other things I observed this evening. Miss Christine is not at all a flighty young woman. She seems quite genuine in her words and personality. However, she is also incredibly trusting, naive, and without guile. Even while smiling and agreeing with every word dear George said, you could tell by her expression she wished to say more or felt differently. She took everything we said to her at face value, including our teasing about the social season. I am terribly concerned for her.” The verdict, stated openly and honestly with a quiet fervor, alarmed Thomas.
“Why?”
“While we both know that you are completely trustworthy, and behaving honorably, I worry at how quick she was to enlist your help in her endeavor and how much she has come to rely upon you. You cannot help her in London, Thomas, but there may be many eager gentlemen ready to assume the role of mentor, to take advantage of her inexperience.”
Thomas considered her words, his heart dropping as he realized the truth of them. “You are concerned that men will be able to take advantage of her.”
“Yes. And not only men. You know as well as I do that there are plenty of women in London who will delight in eating her alive,” his mother said slowly. “Saying one thing to her face and another when her back i
s turned, seemingly paying a compliment that is really an insult, drawing her out to later use her own words against her in gossip. There are many who will see her innocence as weakness and prey upon it.”
The dire predictions of his mother sent a chill through Thomas, leaving him ill. “What can be done to avert such disasters?” he asked at last, voice soft. “Surely her aunt will chaperone her well, averting such problems?”
“Perhaps, but perhaps not. Think on Julia. We know she returned from her season as something of a disappointment to her family, yet no one has ever said why. Can the aunt truly care any more about Christine’s success than Julia’s? We do not know what happened, but if Julia was as naive as Christine, we can guess. And we can also suppose that Christine’s season will end in much the same way.” She gestured helplessly with her hands. “Yet what can we do? Christine will have to learn the hard way, for I can think of no way for you to impart to her good judgement in character, not at this late stage.”
“Yet that is precisely what I must try to do,” he murmured softly, looking down into the fire. “Thank you, Mother. You have given me a great deal to think upon.”
She stood and came to his side, offering a kiss on the cheek. “My dear boy, be careful. I still believe this is an ill-advised scheme to spend so much time in private with a young lady. It endangers the both of you.”
“It will be all right, Mother. Christmas is not long in coming now.” He heaved a sigh. “And I am behaving as a perfect gentleman. Our reputations are safe.”
Her expression remained concerned, though she attempted a smile. “I was not speaking entirely of reputations. But…well. Never mind. Good night, Tom.” She patted his arm and left him to his worrisome thoughts.
Chapter Thirteen
Thomas waited beneath a tree, going over his mother’s words to him, recounting all he knew of Christine: her trusting nature, her lack of experience with men, her innocence and naivete to the ways of the world.
The Social Tutor_A Regency Romance Page 11