Page 40 of Lady Dramatic
“If I have to read, then I will choose what it is,” Winsome said.
“Of course, you should choose,” Verity said, “but I hope you choose something that is educational, as I do like to know facts. Something about the Greeks would be efficacious.”
“Perhaps efficacious, but not as interesting as something gothic,” Winsome said, setting off for the library. “With any luck, I’ll find some poor maiden trapped in a lonely and damp castle with no hope of escape.”
Mrs. Right nodded, as she highly approved of the idea. There was nothing she liked better than tragic maidens in damp castles worrying over who kept murdering people. In any case, she could not fathom what Verity did with all the facts she gathered.She seemed to put them in her mind and mix them up like a cake.
As Winsome went out the doors, Charlie came through them holding a silver salver with a letter on it. “Addressed to Lady Serenity,” he said. “Just delivered by one of Lord Thorpe’s footmen.”
Serenity sat up straight, as she had been rather slumped on the sofa in what looked like a state of ennui. She tore open the letter. She smiled and said, “He writes that he is shocked that nature has thought to punish them with heavy rain and made an urgent request to provide sunshine on the morrow. Or if not sunshine, then nothing more than a misting.”
“Now that’s a very cheering idea,” Mrs. Right said.
“It is, rather,” Serenity said.
“He’s not read my letter yet then, or he would not be so cheerful,” Valor muttered.
Mrs. Right took in a breath. Verity dropped her sewing. Serenity stared at Valor.
Winsome came back into the room and looked about. “What? Why do you all stare at Valor like that?”
“She’s written another letter,” Verity said in a dark tone.
“Valor!” Serenity cried. “You were told you must not send any more letters.”
“I wasn’t going to,” Valor said, burying her face into Mrs. Wendover’s miniature India shawl.
“Then why did you do it?” Winsome asked.
“It got away from me, and also, Lady Margaret gave me some very good advice.”
Mrs. Right sighed. Valor’s letter writing was meant to come to an end last season after the rather unfortunate missive sent to Lord Stanford mentioning that Valor hoped he would die and the devil would burn him up. Now she’d gone to Lady Margaret for advice. That lady was very old and exceedingly eccentric andthought everything Valor did was very clever. Heaven knew what she’d told her young friend in their ongoing and very eccentric correspondence.
“What did that letter say, Valor?” Serenity said, her hands shaking as she laid down Lord Thorpe’s letter.
Valor looked up at the ceiling as if the answer were to be found there. “Only that I had certain demands about him taking you away.”
Good Lord.
“Tell me you did not sign it,” Serenity said, brushing tears from her cheeks.
“I had to,” Valor whispered. “Or else he wouldn’t know who was making the demands.”
“What demands?” Verity asked.
“Well, mostly just that you would sleep at our house and he could sleep wherever he wanted…somewhere else.”
“He has not even asked for my hand, Valor,” Serenity cried, sobbing. “You have humiliated me! He will never ask now.”
This, not very surprisingly, caused Valor to sob. Then, once two sisters were sobbing, the last two must follow suit. Mrs. Right was not sure how it could have happened so quickly, but she was now in receipt of four sobbing girls.
“There now, Serenity,” she said soothingly, “nobody who has ever been the target of one of Valor’s outrageous letters has ever been much affected by it.”
“They haven’t?” Valor asked through her sobs.
“Of course they haven’t, Poppet, and a very good thing too. You are sticking your nose in where it does not belong, whatever good intentions you had doing it.”
“My nose knows it!” Valor cried.
