Marjorie Farrell (11 page)

Nora watched them smiling at one another and glanced over to where Miranda stood next to Jeremy. He was making sure her first foray into society was successful, and had stayed by her side more than was usually done, in order to protect her from those who might make her feel ill-at-ease. Nora could not help but appreciate his thoughtfulness. As a conspirator, however, she could see her daughter was more relaxed than Nora would have thought she could be. And she was ashamed to admit to herself that she was feeling envious of her own daughter. There she stood with an attentive and protective young man by her side. She was moving out of her old life and into a new one, and Nora would be left behind, never having been able to relax against the knowledge of being loved as Miranda could, did she marry Jeremy. For a moment, all around her fell away and Nora felt herself overcome by a sensation of emptiness, and immediately afterward, as dancers, orchestra, and bystanders fell kaleidoscopically into place, a vulnerability which she thought had gone years ago.

Out of nowhere, it seemed, the viscount was in front of her, asking for the next dance, a waltz, and the moment of openness and receptivity lasted long enough for her to say yes. She looked up at him with a face from which the years had been swept away, the face of a girl, trusting and hopeful. Almost immediately her expression changed, but he thought he had caught a glimpse of someone infinitely vulnerable. He felt a wave of protectiveness sweep over him, which seemed immediately inappropriate as Nora began to speak to him as the competent Mrs. Dillon.

“I am worried Jeremy is going to be successful in thwarting our plans,” she began. Sam was, at that moment, far more interested in eliciting that fleeting look than discussing their schemes.

“You and your daughter are looking lovely tonight. In fact, did I not know that Miranda was your daughter, I would have a hard time believing it.”

“Thank you, Lord Acland
,
” replied Nora, absentmindedly accepting the compliment, “but I really am worried Miranda looks too much at ease.”

Sam glanced down, amused at his failure to entice Mrs. Dillon into a flirtation. The woman in his arms even felt different from the one he had begun the dance with. It was not that she was resistant so much as inaccessible. It seemed as if a part of herself she kept hidden away, but she was so straightforward that Sam would never have guessed at this other self had he not come upon her in that moment of vulnerability.

“Surely Lady Lavinia and I have greater cause for concern, Mrs. Dillon. And I do not think the evening has been as easy as it looks. I know some of the young women and I am sure they have managed to ask an embarrassing question or two and make Miranda feel like an outsider. I must confess, however, that while our objections are quite clear, I still don’t understand yours.”

“I told you before, Lord Acland, Mirada is too young to make any sort of commitment, however advantageous.”

“And that is your only objection?”

“It is enough,” replied Nora, quietly closing the subject.

“Well, I would guess neither the picnic nor this dance has been easy for either of them.”

“Yet neither a complete fiasco,” Nora said.

“Are you reconsidering and thinking we ought to just forbid their betrothal, Mrs. Dillon? For, I must confess, I am now as convinced as you that such resistance would only strengthen their feelings for one another.” Sam did not add that he was beginning to wonder if Miranda might not suit Jeremy after all. Of the three of them, he had less reason to object. He cared for Jeremy, of course, but not with the intensity of a mother, and after meeting the Dillons, he felt open to at least considering the betrothal. He believed what was needed was more time: for both families to get to know one another at leisure, and for Miranda and Jeremy to see one another less as secret lovers and more as everyday companions.

“In fact,” the viscount continued, “I have decided the next move is mine. I am leaving the city next week to return to Sussex, and I intend to invite you and Miss Dillon and Lady Whitford to join me there for a small house party.”

Nora almost lost the rhythm of the waltz, she was so surprised. “Oh, we could never do that, my lord.”

The music ended at that moment and Nora was grateful. Although she enjoyed the rare opportunity to dance, she had found it hard to keep time and continue that particular conversation. The viscount led her off the floor and into the refreshment room.

“Come, let us sit down over here. Now, why couldn’t you come?”

“My work, for one.”

“I promise you, Mrs. Dillon, you could have a study to yourself and all the uninterrupted time you need. I am only talking about an informal visit.”

“It just feels too awkward. Lady Lavinia could not want to be with us for that long, and in such intimacy.”

“Lady Lavinia and Jeremy will be going to the country soon enough themselves. Since I can’t imagine what Jeremy would do without Miranda for those two months, I imagine he would be traveling back and forth, which his mother would like even less. If he chose to remain in town, he would not be happy, for he needs and wants to involve himself in the running of the estates. I have been responsible while he was at school, but now it is time for him to assume control. I suggest that a two-week visit might bring about some sort of resolution.”

“I will consider it. But I must be sure that Lady Lavinia does not feel too imposed upon.”

“Well, it will be my hospitality you will be abusing, after all, Mrs. Dillon,” the viscount replied, smiling down at her quizzically.

“I am sorry. You are right. And since it is your own idea, I suppose I must not be too concerned.”

“That is what I like about you, Mrs. Dillon.” Sam smiled. “You do not waste time agonizing politely. You apologize as straightforwardly as you do everything.”

“I did not know you liked anything about me, my lord,” replied Nora, not knowing what to do with such a mixed compliment. Sam was about to reply when Lady Maria and her last partner, the Earl of Hardwich, arrived. Having seen the viscount in the company of an attractive unknown quantity, she decided it would be wise not to leave them alone. The earl sat down next to Nora and Sam and Lady Maria moved off together. Now that their “business” was finished, Nora was left with the most disconcerting memories of their waltz, memories of details she had not been at all conscious of while dancing, like the clean smell of the viscount’s cravat, and the feeling of his arm around her waist. The earl had to repeat his request for the next dance twice before she apologized for her distraction.

* * * *

Miranda was not having as easy a time of it as her mother supposed. Jeremy’s presence did make her feel protected, but also, in some ways, more uncomfortable, for not only did she feel out-of-place occasionally, but also had the added burden of knowing he was there to observe how little she and the young ladies had in common. Oddly enough, it was not the shallow little gossips who asked politely phrased but malice-driven questions about the “quaintness” of Hampstead, or who left her out of a conversation only to interrupt their gossip with profuse but insincere apologies, who bothered her. She knew these young ladies would have acted so with any newcomer. She responded with chilly dignity to their attempts to discomfit her, although she was left with a bad taste in her mouth after the encounters. No, she felt most out-of-place with Jeremy’s close friends, who went out of their way to make her feel at ease. It was not that she didn’t like them. In fact, she was quite drawn to the Honorable Anne Hume, whose plain face was lit by a sense of humor which matched Miranda’s own. Miranda would be glad of the opportunity to know her better, for she believed they could become fast friends despite the differences in background. Of the gentlemen, she most enjoyed the young Marquess of Stoughton, a tall, thin, languid young man who looked every inch the bored and boring aristocrat until he opened his mouth. He was a great mimic, and kept the group laughing with his imitations of several guests. Even Miranda’s sides were aching, so caught up was she in the general hilarity, although she could not appreciate his witticisms fully. After one dance together, when he queried her with quite genuine interest about her childhood in Hampstead, they continued in animated conversation, for he was a great lover of the theater and was thrilled to learn that Miranda knew Miss Baillie and had even been a guest at several opening nights. They went from discussing tragedy to politics quite easily, and a small excited group gathered about them. At first, Miranda was enjoying herself so much that she did not notice that the group, which was initially ladies and gentlemen, grew smaller as the ladies fell away, and by the end, only she and Anne were left. Jeremy seemed to be watching her with approval, but she became dreadfully tongue-tied as it dawned on her that other young ladies did not seem to be interested, or knowledgeable for that matter, in political questions, and perhaps she was making herself conspicuous. She had become so used to speaking her own mind at home that she had quite forgotten herself. She rejoined the ladies and quietly listened as they traded stories of brothers sent down for pranks at school, or the young women who had been successful this Season in making a match. They did speak quite seriously about music, but here Miranda felt even more left out, for her mother had never had enough money for a pianoforte or for music lessons.

She liked these young ladies and she thought they might come to like her too, but she was beginning to see that life with Jeremy would mean many evenings like this, gossiping, dancing till all hours, and starting all over again the next afternoon. For the first time she began to have doubts about her own ability or wish to fit in. It was not that she felt inferior, but she had had such a different life than all these pampered young people that she felt quite set apart. And she was not sure she wanted to be a part of society if it meant leaving behind the freedom she enjoyed as her mother’s daughter.

The only concern Jeremy had that evening, had she but known it, was for her. He was not so naively in love as all supposed, and knew their first attempts to enter each other’s lives more fully would be difficult. He loved Miranda precisely because she was not like the other young ladies of his set. No one would ever have guessed how often he had been bored at a rout or dinner party, for he was nothing if not thoughtful and polite with everyone. He had a few close friends, like the marquess and Anne, and he socialized to please his mother more than to please himself. Like his father, he was much fonder of the country than the city, and he knew from early on he would not be happy with a woman like his mother as a wife. His parents had truly loved one another, but he had seen the price Charles had paid every time he was wrenched away from his home and dragged to London. Miranda was used to a simpler country life and Jeremy knew they would both happily settle in at Alverstone when they were married.

He was pleased rather than horrified at Miranda’s obvious enjoyment of intellectual conversation. Knowing her as well as he did, however, he was sure she was worried about his reactions. He would, no doubt, need to reassure her that she was all he wanted in a wife. As his countess, she would have certain expectations placed upon her and certain duties to fulfill that would curtail her freedom, but she would be able to assume these new responsibilities without too great a loss of her earlier freedom.

Lady Whitford had also watched Miranda closely all evening and was satisfied that she had felt enough discomfort and awareness of her inappropriateness. Things, as far as she could see, were proceeding according to plan. Jeremy, however, looked not at all disturbed, and she worried about that. All in all, however, she considered the evening a success. As did Nora. And also the viscount, but for quite different reasons.

The week after the dinner was uneventful for both families. Lavinia was occupied with her packing and sorting for the visit to Sam’s and then their return home. Jeremy continued his old pattern of visiting Hampstead at least every other day, and Sam was busy tying up all the loose ends in town before returning home.

On his first visit to the Dillons after the dinner dance, Jeremy and Miranda went off for a walk through the village, leaving Nora behind to work on her latest heroine’s dilemmas. As they made their way down Well Walk, Jeremy noticed that Miranda was quieter than usual.

“Is something wrong, Miranda? You seem not your usual self.”

“To tell the truth, Jeremy, although I enjoyed myself the other night, I came home worried about us…about you.”

Jeremy waited, for he wanted Miranda to speak her worries first. Although he thought he knew what was bothering her, he did not want to anticipate.

“Jeremy…” Miranda stopped, and letting go of his hand, stood and faced him. “Are you quite sure after the other night that you wish to marry me? I had never realized how many lovely girls you have to choose from, girls who share the same background and who come from better families. They all seem to know just how to go about in society. I realized too late, I’m afraid, that young ladies do not discuss politics or art, but fashion and music or the latest gossip. Why, Jeremy, it would take me years just to learn who is who in the
ton
,
in order to appreciate the
on-dits!
” Miranda was smiling as she said this, but her eyes were shining with tears.

Jeremy grasped her shoulders and shook her gently before he pulled her head down on his shoulder. “Listen, peagoose,” he whispered lovingly as she let herself cry a little of her anxiety out, “I don’t want to hear nothing but gossip from my wife. I love you because you don’t resemble any of those young ladies, not in spite of it. I only worry that you will change your mind because you don’t want to be bored by the duties imposed on you as my countess. For we will have to socialize, you know.”

“Oh, Jeremy, I was not so much bored as worried that I would disappoint you.”

Jeremy lifted his eyebrows.