Page 20

THE LADIES SPECULATE

T he ladies returned to their seats and, Elizabeth reflected, settled in like a flock of birds coming to roost in a tree: Georgiana, a goldfinch perched eagerly on the edge of her chair; Anne, shawl pulled up under her chin and eyes closed, a magpie in her nest full of shiny things; and Lady Matlock, an upright and good-natured owl surveying them all.

Elizabeth cried, “Aha, here is something from Lady Anne!”

I know Catherine does not dare ask you herself, so I must ask on her behalf: Will your dear friend ‘Cad’ be returning to London with you when you come up from Cambridge at Christmas? I believe she will expire if she does not see him soon .

Anne snorted at that as Elizabeth determined there was no further information about Lady Catherine and moved on to the next letter. After a moment, she said, “Here we are, November the fifteenth. That same autumn.”

My dear brother,

Have I told you that Mother became reacquainted with her school friend Lady Oglethorpe and her daughter when they encountered one another whilst shopping on Bond Street Wednesday last?

They had not seen each other for well on two decades, but it was as if it were yesterday that they last spoke.

Since then, the pair of them have been thick as thieves, and Mother is quite taken with her friend’s daughter.

I think perhaps you may expect an introduction with the intent of making a match when next you are in town.

Lady Matlock, who had idly pulled a stuffed rabbit from a trunk of toys and begun petting it, tossed the toy to the floor, her eyes burning with curiosity and pique. “What is it she writes, now? My mother wished to introduce us before Christmas? Why did I not make his acquaintance until summer?”

“Shall I go on?” asked Elizabeth.

“You must be tired from so much reading aloud,” replied the countess. “Suppose I have a turn so you can rest.”

Lady Matlock, apparently attempting to disguise her eagerness, appeared indifferent as she took the proffered letters but began perusing them with great haste, muttering, “Horses, ball, ball, horses, rosemary and onion poultice, horses… Ah! Here we are.”

My dear brother,

I wish you could have stayed longer in town, but I do understand why you had to leave immediately after Christmas. Cadwallander is a fortunate man to have a friend such as you to accompany him in a time of crisis.

What a shame you did not have a chance to meet the beautiful and brilliant Lady Sophie Oglethorpe before you departed. Mother was so disappointed. Perhaps there will be another opportunity after you come home for the summer.

Elizabeth smiled and then caught Lady Matlock dabbing at the corner of her eye with her handkerchief. “Are you well, Aunt?”

“Oh yes. I am merely moved to learn that my late sister was such a great defender of mine. We were always good friends, but I had no notion of it.” She read on.

Why did you not tell me before that Cadwallander’s father nearly gambled away his estate? Is this the reason you have given up horses, cards, and all your entertainments? You will have to cultivate some new pursuits, as apparently all your existing interests are now out of bounds.

Lady Matlock gasped, “Oh! I had it all wrong. I had nearly convinced myself that Cad was the irresponsible one, but it was his father all along!”

After you left, whilst searching for some missing gowns and ribbons, I discovered a great stash of neckcloths in Catherine’s dressing room. Are they yours? I cannot imagine how she intends to use them. Our sister is, as always, a mystery.

“My husband often recalls your mother’s gentleness, and now I come to learn of her wit, as well. How lovely,” Elizabeth said, placing her hand comfortingly on Georgiana’s arm.

Lady Matlock continued.

It was very kind of Cadwallander to dance with Catherine at the party on the eve of your departure. Please thank him on my behalf. But pray do not tell him how long Catherine gazed after him once he had gone nor how many times she sniffed at her glove where their hands had met.

She spends so many hours gazing off into the distance longingly that she has quite stopped practising the pianoforte, painting, and learning the other womanly arts.

It is quite a shame, since she has sufficient natural talent that if only she would continue to study the pianoforte, she should become a great proficient.

Elizabeth gasped, wondering whether any other of Lady Catherine’s pretensions to proficiency were not fantasy either.

Lady Matlock began to shake her head slowly. “Oh dear. I see we are perhaps getting to the heart of the matter in this next one, from the following August.”

My dear brother,

I am terribly sorry to learn that Cadwallander’s father has taken so ill.

Will you stay with him long? I imagine he has much to learn and to do as he takes on Lord Cadbury’s responsibilities and would benefit both from your counsel and your companionship.

As you say, it is only natural that he begin to look for a wife now that he is to become the master of the estate.

I suppose the hunt will commence in earnest during the Season?

He is both handsome and kind, to say nothing of being the heir to an earldom, and will surely find a lovely bride, although it is such a shame that he must seek an heiress.

And as we are speaking of lovely brides, may I say again how delighted I am that dear Sophie will be yours?

The ladies exclaimed at this last bit, charmed, but Elizabeth’s high spirits were dampened by what she feared was to come. Lady Matlock shuffled through a few more sheets before reading aloud from a letter dated eight months later.

My dear brother,

Catherine has been despondent since learning of Lord Cadbury’s engagement.

Fortunately, she has found a new friend at school, and perhaps she will help Catherine through her melancholy.

I shall do what I can to encourage their friendship.

Perhaps Mother will be amenable to inviting this Miss Araminta Bellamy to stay with us during the school holidays.

Lady Matlock nodded with increasing vigour.

“Hmm, yes, I have a vague recollection of this matter. I was very much swept up in our courtship and wedding plans—your uncle was so very attentive and dashing, you know, my head and heart were full to the brim with him—but I remember Catherine, poor dear, drifting about the house like a woeful ghost. Anne was quite occupied with her come-out, of course. It was difficult for Catherine when the earl and I wed and set up our own household. She missed him greatly, I think.”

Elizabeth noticed Georgiana’s attention was focused on her toes peeping out from under her skirt. “It can be difficult when one’s elder brothers and sisters move on, yes.”

She took her hand in sympathy. “Dear Georgiana. You must know that?—”

Georgiana smiled at her, though her eyes remained downcast, and squeezed her hand. “Yes, I do. Thank you.”

“And not so many years later, your mother married your father. She writes here, ‘Catherine is, I think, perhaps angry with me for preparing to leave her. But it is the way of things, is it not?’ It is, to be sure, but the departure of a beloved elder sister could not have been easy for her. Dionysius over there”—she pointed with her chin towards the statue thankfully hidden under its fabric drape—“perhaps provides some insight into the spirit of the house in which she remained. Although, to be fair, she was still at school for much of the time.”

Elizabeth noticed that only one letter remained on Lady Matlock’s lap. “Lady Anne and your husband’s correspondence came to a sudden stop, I see.”

“Yes, as Lady Anne wrote, it is the way of things. For a time, during courtships and wedding preparations, we were all so often together that we had no need to write. And then we were all so often apart and busy with our new lives that we had less time for letters.” She smiled wanly.

“We were blessed with a son within two years of marriage. Lady Anne did not like to share her own struggles.”

Elizabeth, still in possession of Georgiana’s hand, gave it a gentle squeeze as she searched for something to say. There was no need, however, for Anne suddenly opened her eyes and said, “Shall we see what is in this last letter, then?”

Lady Matlock nodded and began to read.

Dear Peter,

I apologise for the delay in my response. I have been unwell, and I am afraid that my correspondence has fallen victim to my health.

Something has come over Catherine since summer, but she will not explain herself to me.

I hardly recognise her any longer. I have never seen her so sour, nor so angry.

No—bitter is a better word for it. I know I have not been much of a sister to her since my marriage and removal to Pemberley last year, and Mother has ceased her efforts to guide her.

Perhaps you might have more success in ascertaining what has brought these changes about.

She has in the past written of her friend Miss Araminta Bellamy, whose family home is in Wiltshire.

Would you be so kind as to make enquiries as to Miss Bellamy’s direction?

Your loving sister,

Anne

“Is that all? Is that the end of it? There is no reply from my uncle?” Anne cried. Elizabeth was sure she had never seen Anne so energetic.

“Nothing!” Lady Matlock clapped her hands with glee.

“That settles it. We must find this Miss Araminta Bellamy and pay her a visit. I shall write to my friend Lady Greene immediately. She is the most incorrigible gossip and will undoubtedly know not only the name of Miss Bellamy’s husband but also the names of her children, dogs, and favourite milliner. ”

“Might she be acquainted with Lord Cadbury as well?” Elizabeth mused.

Lady Matlock eyed her shrewdly. “Hmm, yes. She would know, for instance, whether he is still prone to wagering on fleas. I shall make a discreet enquiry.”