Page 47 of The Undaunted
Bemmy was exceedingly clever, but just now Caroline wished her maid had not been quite so ingenious. Somehow, she was being hailed as having done something fine. She’d not done anything fine at all. She’d escaped her escort, leaving the poor lady to fret and wander round the town looking for her, she’d gone to a boxing match she ought not have gone to, she’d made Lord Bertridge get hit in the eye, and she’d lied to Lady Easton about all of it. She had not said the words, but she had not contradicted them either. Further, it would all come to light. Lord Bertridge would say that he saw her there, and it would be obvious to anybody that she’d not been searching for Lady Redfield in the attics of The Ship Inn.
What was happening to her? She was turning into an awful person!
As the door shut behind her, Caroline said, “What are we to do, Bemmy? It will all come out when Lord Bertridge announces that he saw me there. Perhaps I ought to go down and tell Lady Easton the truth.”
Bemmy looked surprised by the suggestion. She said, “Wait a minute before you do, so as we have a moment to think this through. It was only a bit of a lark after all and nobody told Lady Redfield to make like Captain Cook and circumnavigate the globe in search of you.”
“But she would do, she is a kind lady.”
“I reckon Lord Bertridge won’t say nothing about it. From that distance he could never be sure it was you and you was dressed as a servant. He’ll be too taken up with the matches at any rate. Though, my heart goes to Lady Redfield, as I ponder the matter. She was touched, you see, and I wouldn’t like her to think youweren’tsearchin’ for her.”
“Nor I,” Caroline said. “Oh dear, I really do not know what is the right course.”
“I’m thinkin’ it’s always right to protect a person’s feelings. If Lord Bertridge was to say anything about it, we could say that somebody told us they’d seen Lady Redfield going toward the exhibition and we thought that a lady of that standing would probably have a private room at the Ship. We searched all the way to the top but didn’t find her there. That would account for us being there, and Lady Redfield still gets to be touched.”
“But it’s just another lie on top of all the others,” Caroline said fretfully.
“Aye,” Bemmy said, nodding, “sometimes they do pile up.”
*
Lady Easton insistedthat Lady Redfield restore herself with tea, biscuits, and feet up on an ottoman, just as Bemmy had so wisely advised. She did not think Bramley had ever witnessed a person’s feet up in her drawing room before, but an exception must be made on account of how valiantly Cecilia had searched the town for Caroline.
Lady Redfield reclined on the sofa as if she posed for an old master painter. Though, the biscuit in her hand somewhat took away from the effect. “Now I suppose,” she said, “that this is one of the differences between sons and daughters. I cannot imagine any of my boys exhausting themselves in search of me. Really, were I to go missing, I suppose they’d say, Silly mama, she’ll find her way home eventually.”
Lady Easton nodded her agreement of the assessment. Cecilia’s boys likely would say that. She could only hope it was not an attitude herownsons would adopt. Though, she could not be sure.
“Well,” she said, “Caroline is a goodhearted girl, after all. Rather two handfuls, but she always means well, I think.”
“And now, with this dinner you host this evening, Miss Upton will be exposed to the right people who do and say the right things.”
“Just so,” Lady Easton said.
Bramley came in with the post on a silver tray, doing his best not to look askance at Lady Redfield’s shoes on the ottoman.
Lady Easton took the pile of letters and sorted through them. As she did, the smallest flutter flapped its wings inside her. She recognized one hand—Lady Fanny. Then she recognized another—Sir Matthew. It was a hostess’s nightmare to receive notes from guests who were set to arrive that same day.
“Oh bother,” she said, ripping open the first. “There had better not be an illness I am to hear of. It will quite upset my seating plan.”
My dear Lady Easton,
It pains me to write you this note, but my lord insists. We had thought, considering the recent talk, that the dinner would be called off. You know, let things settle down and all that. I am very sorry to say that we cannot attend. I would be prepared to face it all down, but my lord says our dowager will hear of it somehow and never speak to me again. (She is a terrible dragon so I dare say he’s right.) So sorry to have put you out. All the best,
Fanny Brightsmith
“I can hardly believe it,” Lady Easton said. “Lady Fanny declines to come to dine. On account of the false gossip spread about Caroline.”
“Oh dear,” Lady Redfield said, reading the note. “Well, she does say she’d be willing to come. And then, the dowagerisrather frightening, I believe even her son is terrified of her.”
“No need to attempt to soften the blow, Cecilia,” Lady Easton said. She tore open Sir Matthew’s letter.
He also would not come. Of course he was sorry, but his wife’s nerves were delicate and could not hold up against any kind of talk.
Delicate indeed. Lady Hogsworth was the daughter of a naval captain who’d married up in the world to a baronet. There was nothing delicate about her.
Lady Easton ripped through the rest of the letters. All were declines. It seemed the only people who would come to dine were Lord and Lady Maldock, Sir Benjamin and Lady Smithson, and Lord and Lady Reston. They were all older and only ventured out for the occasional dinner or card party.
They had not heard.
