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As no one had made plans for a picnic that Mr. Melbourne had made mention of on our drive, I took it upon myself to suggest such a scheme to my mother. To my surprise, she was delighted with the idea. Immediately, she began planning. She spent several days organizing details such as where the picnic could be held and what guests might enjoy such an outing.
The Forresters, of course, were first on the list. Mr. Bywood and Mr. Ward were added soon after. Mother was of a mind to invite her close friends, the Marchs. All of these, I agreed to without hesitation, biding my time to inform her that Mr. Melbourne would also attend.
“We’ll invite Mr. Melbourne too, of course,” my father said the evening after invitations had been delivered.
“Oh, yes,” I said immediately. “After all, he is the one who first thought it an excellent idea.”
“Did he?” Mother asked, her tone losing much of its previous enthusiasm. She shook her head and sat back. “Well, you never mentioned that. I suppose since I’ve already invited everyone else, there is no way out of it now.”
“Is there some reason, beyond a mischievous youth, that you disapprove of about Mr. Melbourne?” I asked, growing impatient with her.
“What a question,” Mother said with a huff. She bent over her list with determined focus.
“A reasonable one, I might say,” Papa said, turning the page of his newspaper. “Since that boy first spoke to Grace, you’ve done nothing but glare and mutter about him. After how much you have pushed our daughter at every bachelor for twenty miles, I would think you would be delighted she has finally allowed one to come calling.”
Mother tossed down her quill, ignoring the ink splatters that resulted from such action. “But why Melbourne, of all men? He is young! He was a rapscallion the last time he came into company. What distinction does he have?”
“He makes me laugh,” I said the first thing that came to mind. Mr. Melbourne’s smile rose up in my memory and I could almost hear his teasing laugh.
“And that makes him worthy?” Mother asked with a scoff. “If you had put your mind to it, any of the other gentlemen could have done the same. Shall I invite them all back now that you’ve decided to live life?”
My father let out a laugh. “Sir Anthony has married, dearest. To invite him might be a bit awkward.”
“So you have no real objection to Mr. Melbourne?” I asked, determined to have an answer.
“I have seen men like him,” Mother snapped. “All he does is smile and laugh! That kind of man is unreliable, and any woman who marries such a man will only have her life ruined. Is that what you want for your future? Ruin and heartache?”
“Mr. Melbourne has not given me any reason to think he might be trifling with my affections, nor any indication that marriage to him would result in the dire future you describe,” I said honestly. “He has been courteous and I have enjoyed myself immensely every time he has been in my company.”
“Well, I have found him to be trivial and shameless.”
And she still hadn’t given me a valid reason for her dislike. Papa lowered his newspaper. “Mary,” he said, his tone less amused than before. “Are you displeased because this courtship came about without your instigation?”
Mother’s cheeks flushed bright red. “John! Do you believe I would be so petty?”
“Yes,” Papa and I said at the same time. My father raised an eyebrow at me.
“Grace, the question was not directed at you,” Mother said with dignity. “And I resent that answer. I have always wished for our daughter’s future to be secure, John. If I was certain Mr. Melbourne’s intentions were serious, I would be delighted. However, I do not believe that to be the case.”
“Because his disposition is jovial?” I asked sceptically. “That is all you have against him?”
“And I have not forgotten his ill behaviour from five years ago.”
Of course, she hadn’t. Still, it sounded like she was desperate for any reason to give. “Well, I like Mr. Melbourne,” I said, picking up the pen. I dipped the tip into ink and then wrote the man’s name on the list. “I will personally invite him when I see him tomorrow.”
“What is the point of me offering my opinion if you are only going to ignore it?” Mother asked sharply.
“With all due respect, Mother, you haven’t given me a good reason to give Mr. Melbourne the cut direct,” I said with a sigh. “You do not like his disposition. Other than that, have you any reason to think him unworthy of me?”
Mother pursed her lips and refused to say anything. “I didn’t think so,” I said, holding back a sigh. “Mr. Melbourne is heir to an estate and has a comfortable income. I see no reason to send him on his way.”
“And what made Sir Anthony unworthy of this effort last year?” Mother demanded. “Or any of the gentlemen who have called on you? They were all well off and had excellent reputations. But you couldn’t make any effort to know or charm them then. You couldn’t be bothered!”
Her accusation felt like a physical blow. Couldn’t be bothered? No effort? “There’s no need to stare at me like that, Grace,” she said. “I’ve said nothing so awful. It’s the truth, is it not?”
“Mary, that is outside of enough,” Papa said, his eyes flashing with anger. “Grace, why don’t you go to bed now? Your mother and I need to have a conversation.”
Crossing her arms, Mother gave a huff. I swallowed hard and stood up. “I never realized how little you understood me, Mother,” I managed to say, “and that my grief was such an inconvenience to you. Good night.”
“Grace Elizabeth Anderson, you do not get to twist this as if I were the one in the wrong!”
“Good night, Grace,” Papa said, his tone kind. “Mary, enough is enough.”
“Am I not to be able to respond to that impertinent misinterpretation of my words?” Mother demanded.
My hands were shaking as I left the sitting room. I didn’t cry, despite the pain in my heart. I never would have expected Mother to lash out at me in such a way. Was there no hope of her reconciling herself to Mr. Melbourne? Or would I have a husband my mother disapproved of?
The thought made me stop in front of my bedroom door. Husband. I wanted Mr. Adam Melbourne as my husband as much as I had ever wanted Jonathan Sinclair. How...when had that happened? I couldn’t pick out a single moment or word that had made it so.
And there was no one I could tell or confide in. Mother would be furious in her current state of mind. Although Papa approved of Mr. Melbourne, this wasn’t the kind of thing I could tell him. I had no friends close to whom I would feel comfortable admitting my feelings.
Until Mr. Melbourne asked me or made his own feelings known, my own would have to remain my secret.
****
MR. MELBOURNE WAS DELIGHTED when he learned of the planned picnic the next day. We were walking to the Pump Room with my parents not far behind. “There is nothing I like better than a picnic,” he declared.
“Is that so? It is a common enough pastime,” I replied. To my ears, my attempt at teasing fell flat. Perhaps my desire to keep my feelings to myself was to blame? In any event, Mr. Melbourne didn’t seem to notice my distraction.
“But of course! A day spent out of doors, with the sun shining down and a refreshing breeze to cool the face. Not to mention a charming lady by my side to make everything that much better,” he gushed. He grinned at me and had the audacity to wink. “I dare you to mention anything less than extraordinary with such a situation.”
“Ants crawling on the food,” I said promptly. “And what if there is no wind and the sun beats down on us all?”
He scowled and shook his head. “I refuse to concede defeat. Such things as you mention will not happen.”
“I will have you know that my idea of a perfect afternoon involves a well-tended garden and a book of poetry.”
“And why can we not have poetry on our picnic?”
“We can. I just wanted to show that there are other occasions which can be as enjoyable as a picnic,” I responded. Why was I being contrary? I was looking forward to the picnic, more than I had looked forward to anything this year
“I refuse to have you so pessimistic, my dear Miss Anderson! It will be a lovely day, and I have determined you will enjoy every minute. It will be my mission in life.”
I raised an eyebrow. “And how will you manage that?”
My question made him fall silent. “I don’t know,” he finally admitted. His shoulders sagged for a moment. “But I assure you, I will find a way! If I have to act the clown, I will do so.”
“Well, I suppose we should be glad I intend to enjoy the picnic then so that you will not have to resort to that,” I said with a laugh. “Who knows what such behaviour would do to your reputation. How the matrons would react, I have no idea.”
“My reputation could take the abuse,”
Behind us, Mother cleared her throat loudly. Mr. Melbourne and I both glanced back. It wasn’t as though we had done anything untoward. We hadn’t even shifted closer or anything as simple as that.
“Well, perhaps, I should say, my reputation with everyone would survive such censure save for where your mother is concerned,” Mr. Melbourne said in a low voice. “Take pity on me, Miss Anderson. What have I done to offend her?”
“I have tried to discover that for myself,” I said honestly. I kept my voice low. “She disapproves of how you spent your youth and she dislikes your cheerfulness. That is all she will say...”
“What did I do that was so terrible?” he asked in true confusion.
“Please pay her no attention,” I said, regretful I could not explain my mother’s actions. “Likely, it may simply be that she is annoyed I did not accept any of the gentlemen she has introduced me to in the past.”
“How many gentlemen?”
I heaved a sigh. “More than I care to count.”
“Then, it is not truly me she is annoyed with but you for not accepting her advice?”
For someone who was determined to be amused all the time, he was astonishingly perceptive. “I’m afraid so. I’m sorry.”
He let out a laugh. “Then, there is still hope for me. I shall think of some way to charm your mother. Give me some time to think of how I can best do that.”
Sneaking another glance over my shoulder, I wasn’t sure whether to be happy he hoped to charm my mother or be very afraid he might fail.