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JANE ENTERED THE BREAKFAST room and saw Margaret at the table, spearing her bacon with some ferocity.
“My dear Meg, whatever are you doing to your bacon?” Jane smiled as Meg looked up and grinned back.
“Mother says the women are gathering this morning, and we’re to bring something ‘ladylike’ to do.” She scowled at her toast.
“That is nothing too unusual. But is that why you’re glaring at your breakfast?” Jane poured herself some chocolate and took a bite of toast.
“Well, I should like very much to not spend the day having Our Dear Mother laud these potential suitors. I feel like these poor strips of bacon sitting on the sideboard awaiting someone to come scoop them up and consume them.” She laid down her fork and leaned back against her chair. The footman was smiling, but quickly stopped when he observed her notice. “I don’t care how well turned out Mr. Pratt is, I assure you I would never marry such a bore.”
Jane held back a smile. “I am sure your mother is only scooping up, as you put it, the young ladies that are out. In fact, I would assume you are quite safe.”
“Oh Jane, I know, but I assure you that does not stop her planning.” She stabbed her bacon once more, this time with the intention of eating it.
“Well, perhaps for now you can use it for practice.” Jane cut into a plump sausage with a smile of anticipation.
“Practice? For what?” Meg’s fork stilled as she looked up at Jane
“Well, when you do have your season, there will be roomfuls of people that are planning your future for you.
“That is...” Meg twirled her fork; her bacon surrendered.
“Meg, you must remember as the sister of an earl with a sizeable dowry to recommend you, you are considered an excellent catch.” And with that, Jane took a bite, determined to eat her sausage hot.
Meg sat back, her breakfast forgotten. “You make it sound very different than Annabelle does.”
“I assure you it is every bit as enjoyable as she has told you. I merely believe if you can handle your mother with grace, you should have no problem handling the rest of the ton.”
Meg looked at her thoughtfully. “I think it is very good we’ve become friends, for you do not gild the truth, do you?”
Jane set down her cup of chocolate. “I do not gild it for you, because you seem the type of young lady who would appreciate the truth.”
“That is true. But oh Jane, I very much wish I didn’t enjoy embroidery, because then I believe it would be easier to find excuses more often as you do.” She pouted, her arms folded in front of her.
“Meg, I will not desert you. And in fact, I have a plan.” Jane smiled at Meg, then took another sip of the warm chocolate.
“Do you? I should have guessed, for you’re very clever and you already seem to know just what to say to the old bats.” Meg leaned forward eagerly and the footman smiled again.
“Well perhaps a start would be not to call them names?” Jane grinned at Meg, who looked down.
“Oh, I know, I know. But you are forever leaving me for rambles in the woods, and really it is most provoking to watch you walk off when I am stuck inside.”
“Perhaps you may show me your talents with embroidery for an hour or so, for I have not your skill. And then...” Jane took another sip, looking at Meg as she did so, whose eyes were wide in anticipation.
“And then?”
“Well, you must promise to be patient. I will ascertain the right time and then relieve us of our duty.” Jane set down her cup. “Will that do?”
“Oh Jane, how very glad I am that you came. I will be as patient as you say, I promise!” Meg grinned as Miss Pratt entered the room, her sister a step behind her.
“Why Lady Margaret, whatever are you going to be patient for?” Miss Pratt smiled at her as she filled her own plate with nothing.
Jane and Meg exchanged a smile. “I was merely promising to be patient during our embroidery as mama has promised to let me enjoy the festivities if I do so.” Meg glanced at Jane for approval, and Jane nodded, amused at the Meg’s deference to her judgment.
***
A LOVELY ARRAY OF WOMEN gathered in the rose papered morning room as they set to with their embroidery, knitting and variety of sewing as an excuse to gossip. The mothers gathered toward the fireplace out of habit and discussed their growing wisdom and how it should be applied to everyone’s fate. Meanwhile the daughters gathered closer to the windows in the dual purpose of their discussion not being easily overheard while keeping a lookout for any of the men.
As the clock struck the hour, Jane put her knitting back into her basket and caught the eye of Meg, who nodded and set her embroidery on her lap as she waited, her eyes wide. Miss Pratt stopped talking as she observed the change in Meg, and as a result, both Miss Annabelle and Miss Stanley stopped as well. With this awkward audience, Jane stood and approached Lady Harrington.
“Lady Harrington.” Jane began.
“Mmm, yes?” Lady Harrington glanced at her.
“It looks as though it will rain later, doesn’t it?” Jane creased her brow looking out the window.
Lady Harrington followed her gaze. “Well, it does look as though something may come along this afternoon.”
“In that case, my lady, could I beg you for a chance to slip outside for a moment of fresh air before the weather hits us? I should so like to see your field of bluebells, for your gardener assures me there is nothing lovelier this time of year.”
Lady Harrington looked at her a moment, unswayed by the flattery. “Very well.”
“Thank you, my lady. And would you consent to allowing Lady Margaret to showing me the area?”
At that, Lady Harrington looked over at Meg who was trying so hard to keep from showing her emotions, that they were all over her face. “I think a walk amongst the gardens could be beneficial for all the young ladies.”
“You are perfectly right, madam.”
“Oh! What a very pleasant idea!” Miss Stanley had set aside her embroidery as well.
“We should all love to see the bluebells, if you feel it is appropriate, Lady Harrington.” Miss Pratt smiled, Lady Margaret rolled her eyes, and Jane held her breath.
Lady Harrington allowed a smile. “Of course. All of you together, it will be perfectly respectable. Do return within the hour, for the excursion to the ruins is meant to start at two o’clock. If it doesn’t rain, of course.” And turning back to her own stitches, they were dismissed.
Each of the young ladies went to retrieve their bonnets, and at the top of the stairs, Miss Pratt spoke. “I have to see to something, but do hurry on without me. I am sure to catch up with you momentarily.”
Miss Annabelle and Miss Stanley quickly assured her, and they all hurried to meet down in the gardens. Lady Margaret, finding herself in charge, was delighted.
“This is excellent, for now we can enjoy the outdoors for some time. And of course, I will show you the bluebells, for they really are lovely, although they take about a minute to enjoy, so of course I will walk you over to the, oh hello Mr. Lawrence.”
Jane turned to see Mr. Lawrence, who at Meg’s welcome had stepped forward.
“Good day, Lady Margaret, Miss Shaw, Miss Annabelle, Miss Stanley.” He nodded at them each in turn. “Are you returning from or going for a walk?”
His phrasing made Jane smile as Meg answered.
“Going. I am to show the young ladies the field of bluebells, which make my mother’s eyes roll when she doesn’t think I’m looking but I assure you never fail to disappoint for they are truly lovely when they are all in bloom. Should you care to join us?”
“I should be glad of the opportunity to escort you all to this field. I am afraid I have only two arms, though.”
Miss Annabelle bit her lip, and in absence of her sister took command. “Miss Stanley and I should like to stay back for a little private conversation if you don’t mind.”
“Not at all, Miss Annabelle.” And with good humor, he offered his arms to Lady Margaret and Jane respectively. They moved forward, with Miss Annabelle the predicted distance behind them for their private conversation that Jane was sure had something to do with Mr. Lawrence’s lack of standing.
This arrangement came upon the field not 10 minutes later, and Jane expressed a desire to sketch it. Sitting on a conveniently situated grouping of boulders, she opened her sketch book and set to. Meg went further in the field gathering a few stems and enjoying the freedom of moving about, but Mr. Lawrence stayed by her side providing conversation.
“Miss Shaw, you seem an excellent pairing with Lady Margaret, for she will bring you out and you will rein her in.” His observation made her smile.
“I confess you have the right of it.” She looked at the field, noting the placement of trees. “And whom do you claim a close friendship with here, Mr. Lawrence?” She looked at him, her pencil quiet.
“You do not suppose me to be a wealthy neighbor?” His smile belied his question, and she turned back to her drawing.
“Forgive my question. I had not heard anything of you beyond your previous acquaintance with one of Lady Harrington’s sons. I could not guess which.”
“I was at school with Charles – Lord Harrington I should say, although I have met Lord Petersham once or twice and that seems to have been enough for him to call me friend.”
She laughed. “Yes, he is rather the immediate friend.”
There was a pause as he complimented her accuracy of the bluebells in front of her, his foot propped on a boulder.
“And what do you do with all of your schooling, Mr. Lawrence?”
“I do what any man does that has no estate to run. I work for a living.” His voice made her pause and once more she turned to see him watching her, waiting for her reaction.
“And what sort of work do you do?”
“I teach science at Oxford.”
“That is very admirable, I think.”
“Do you?” He relaxed.
“Yes. You are passing on knowledge, which can only be of benefit.”
“That is a kind opinion, Miss Shaw, and I thank you for it. But it begs the question as to whether you are a philosopher or merely disposed to think well of others.”
She paused as she considered her answer. “I hope both, Mr. Lawrence. However, any philosophy on the subject is simple; occupation seems to me to be a necessity for the human mind. Men are allowed it, where women usually can only crave it.”
“I entirely agree and in fact more than once have pitied the wealthy gentlemen who rely heavily on their steward and have nothing to put their mind to.”
“You do not resent Lord Harrington or Lord Petersham, I think?”
He gave a short laugh and leaned forward on his leg. “Resent? No, no, they are good men who perhaps could do more, but were raised to be honorable in their leisure. I cannot fault them their upbringing.”
“What do you feel they could do more, Mr. Lawrence?”
“I believe there are many improvements to the estates that could be made. My opinion is based on my own common upbringing, of course. Lord Harrington had me in his study for two hours yesterday reviewing my ideas. Perhaps my stubbornness has convinced him.”
She outlined a cloud. “Or perhaps the good man you know has merely decided it is time to do more.”
“As I said, you seem inclined to think well of others, although in this case you may be right.” There was a pause as she tried to decide if he had complimented her. “And do you desire occupation, Miss Shaw?”
“I grew up a daughter of a baron, so had little required of me. But, I have found I am happiest when occupied with a task.”
“I think I understand.”
“Do you?”
“Yes. The usual accomplishments of embroidery and running a household are not enough, at least, not for you.”
“Yes. I have instead taught myself knitting, for example, so I may use my time better when required to be a lady.” Meg had come forward to hear her comment.
“A lady? Poo, that is a contradiction, Miss Shaw. For being a lady must come naturally, or at least that is what Miss Pratt says, although I’m sure I’ve never met anyone as practiced as her at being a lady. Oh I say, Jane, your sketch is lovely. Much better than anything I’ve drawn. You must paint it, for it would look very well with some water colors, I think.” Having entirely assumed command of the conversation, Meg proceeded to steer them toward lighter topics.
It was a happy trio that made its way back to the manor. They met Miss Annabelle and Miss Stanley giggling in the shade under a grouping of trees where Miss Pratt was smacking Sir Reginald with her fan as he pulled on her golden locks so prettily arranged.
Meg and Jane exchanged looks as they passed, then parted with Mr. Lawrence to prepare for the outing to the ruins.
Jane had just moved towards the stairs when a servant found her. “I beg your pardon, Miss, but Lady Harrington says she needs to see you right away once you’ve returned.”
“Thank you. Is she still in the morning room?”
“Yes, miss.” The maid curtsied, leaving Jane to be obedient.`
Jane stood there for a moment – a summons to Lady Harrington was not an anticipated event. However, she began to put one foot before the other and soon found herself at the open door of said morning room. There she entered, then softly closed the door behind her.
“Ah, Miss Shaw, do come in and take a seat.”
Jane came and sat in a small chair next to Lady Harrington’s place at her desk, her hands folded properly in her lap and her back straight. Lady Harrington continued her correspondence for some time before finally laying down her quill.
She turned to face Jane. “You have not written your aunt as of yet, is that correct?”
Jane’s forehead began to crease. “I wrote her on my arrival, of course.”
The slightest hitch to her mouth was the only clue that Lady Harrington felt triumph. “That is unfortunate, Miss Shaw. I’m afraid I need to insist you stay behind this afternoon and write her immediately.”
“I....beg your pardon?” Startled at this odd request, Jane sat straighter to compensate for her drop in confidence.
“Your aunt has arranged for you to be here to benefit from...” Here she waved her hand. “...the opportunities my house party has created. But of course, I cannot allow you to neglect her and am sure you would rather write her than go see the ruins at any rate.” And with that rather rude pronouncement, she turned back to her letter.
Shocked at this blatant arrangement of her absence, Jane could only stare for a moment. Finally, she rose, gave a curtsy and said, “Of course, my lady, if that is your wish.” She left without a backward glance as she tried to calm the monster scrambling in her stomach.