Page 43 of Lady Dramatic

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Serenity was ratherdistressed that Lady Marchfield had arrived right when the drawing room was overflowing with weeping sisters. The look on her aunt’s face indicated she was rather distressed too.

“What on earth is going on in here?” she asked, throwing her cloak to Thomas.

“I couldn’t help it!” Valor cried. “I sent another letter.”

“To Lord Thorpe,” Verity said, wiping her eyes. “As is becoming a usual thing.”

“She listed her demands,” Winsome said, wiping her nose on her sleeve, “mostly about Serenity sleeping here and him sleeping…somewhere else.”

Lady Marchfield sat down on the settee. “Am I to understand that Lord Thorpe has asked?”

Serenity went to sobbing again, as that was the real crux of it. He had not asked and Valor had written him a letter presuming he would.

“He hasn’t,” Winsome said.

“He will, though,” Valor said. “They always do, no matter what I write.”

“Let me understand this,” Lady Marchfield said gravely. “Lord Thorpe, a marquess who will someday inherit a dukedom, has paid some attention to Serenity. And you, Valor, saw fit to write him about who knows what, though it is the height of effrontery to write him at all?”

Valor shrugged. “That’s the size of it.”

“May I ask how you ever thought that was appropriate?”

Valor, looking very cornered, glanced down at Mrs. Wendover, the stuffed rabbit hanging limp in her arms. Seeming to see that blaming Mrs. Wendover for her misdeeds was an idea that had run its course, she said, “Lady Margaret told me to do it.”

“Then Lady Margaret is an idiot. I really do not understand you girls at all. Whenever anything promising seems to be developing you go out of your way to ruin it.”

“Ruin it?” Serenity asked softly. “Do you say that Lord Thorpe will be so offended that he will lose interest on account of it?”

“I would presume so. What is a highly placed gentleman to think of such a thing? He will be looking for a bride who will dohim credit and a family connection he can be proud of and all I see here is eccentricity and uncultured boldness run amok.”

Serenity’s heart sank even lower than it had sunk. She’d been afraid the letter would put Lord Thorpe off, but to hear it spoken so decidedly by her aunt made it seem more certain.

“I have tried and tried to help you girls, but you will have none of it. I suppose the piper will finally have his due. It seems you will only learn through experience, as painful as that is bound to be. I wash my hands of it. Now, where is Cremble?” Lady Marchfield turned to the rather stunned footmen standing at the doors. “You. Thomas, is it? Retrieve Mr. Cremble for me this instant.”

Serenity sat on the sofa feeling as if she had almost left her body. Her aunt could not be right. Just because Lord Thorpe would one day be His Grace, that did not mean he would not be stalwart in the face of a younger sister’s ridiculous letter. Mrs. Right had all but said so.

But then, Mrs. Right was always attempting to make them feel better. On the other hand, Lady Marchfield just stated things she thought were a fact. She could not be right. Perhaps her family did not do every single thing just as thetonwould have it done. It did not make them bad people. She did not think.

What if her aunt was right, though? What if Valor’s letter had been a step too far? If Serenity were to take out Nelson on the morrow at eleven, would she be humiliated to find herself abandoned? If that happened, how could she bear to go to his house to dine, knowing she was not wanted?

How could she bear it, when they’d brushed hands last night?

Thomas had set off to locate Mr. Cremble and came back with him after not too long a time. As Serenity brooded and swiped at her tears, Mr. Cremble said, “Lady Marchfield, thank heavens you have arrived.”

The lady nodded. “I heard all about what’s gone on from the curate. I assured him that I would not be at all surprised to discover that Mrs. Rightwasin league with the devil as it would explain quite a lot.”

Mr. Cremble nodded sadly.

“Furthermore, I told him there is not the least chance you are losing your faculties. I can assure you he intends to investigate this matter. I suggested he bring the bishop into it.”

“Thank you, Lady Marchfield,” Mr. Cremble said with relief in his voice.

Serenity, of course, knew of Mrs. Right’s gambit to frighten Mr. Cremble with ideas about the devil. She’d not imagined the bishop might be lured into it, though.

“Once I was alerted to what has gone on in this house, I gave it some deep thought and consulted with Lord Marchfield. As it happens, our vicar is intending to retire in two years’ time. If you are agreeable to be a curate for Mr. Hartshorn for that amount of time, Marchfield will give you the living.”