Caught in a Cornish Scandal Eleanor Webster (new books to read .TXT) 📖

Sam and Frances’s great-aunt gave one the feeling of belonging and as though one’s elbows, knees and feet were, in fact, the correct number.

Lil and Lady Wyburn had kept themselves happily occupied shopping during the first week while Millie diligently did everything she could to avoid shopping. Fortunately, Frances helped with this as they often had tea in the nursery or went for walks with Noah in the park nearby.

Physically, Frances was improving. She did not look so pale and her face had lost that pinched look. She still did not speak much and sometimes had a faraway look, worry and fear visible in her expression. Millie did not pry at these moments, when Frances seemed absorbed and distanced from the world. Sometimes she would distract with an amusing anecdote, but often she remained silent, allowing Frances the time and space for contemplation.

Towards the end of the second week, Sam wrote, announcing that he had finished in Cornwall and would soon be returning to London.

Millie had found that Sam’s absence had filled her both with relief and irrational disappointment. This mix of sentiments had irritated her. As well, she noted she had an unfortunate, and equally irritating, habit of dropping things whenever his name was mentioned.

Sam’s arrival in London was announced when Merryweather came in with a note laid on a silver platter.

Lady Wyburn took it, scanning the words quickly and smiling in great delight. ‘He will see us tomorrow.’

‘Who will see us tomorrow?’ Lil questioned.

‘Dear Sam.’

Millie promptly dropped her butter knife.

‘I’ll get it,’ she hastily said, as Merryweather shuffled in her direction. She was uncertain if, having bent to the floor, he would ever straighten.

‘He has to spend the entire day with solicitors, which I’m sure he finds dreadfully dull. Really, solicitors and magistrates should come with some sort of a warning.’

‘A warning?’ Millie asked.

‘Indeed, that prolonged contact is likely to make one dyspeptic. Or perhaps it is the occupation. I have always noted that my solicitor looks decidedly dyspeptic whenever I am talking to him.’

‘But Sam is going to visit us?’ Frances prompted.

‘Indeed, although I personally prefer entertainment with less caterwauling,’ Lady Wyburn continued.

‘Pardon?’

‘Sorry, I forgot to mention, the dear boy has invited us to the opera. He loves it, you know, but I find there is too much singing.’

‘Singing is rather an integral part of opera,’ Millie said.

‘Indeed, and I will go, of course, because caterwauling is more entertaining than staying at home. I will invite the dear boy to dine here and then we will proceed to the opera. That way we can have a decent conversation before the caterwauling starts.’

‘It will be lovely for us all to spend some more time with him in a less crowded and more intimate environment,’ Lil said and Millie promptly dropped her butter knife again.

The following day seemed to involve nothing but preparations for the dinner and the opera. Lil was quite beside herself with enthusiasm because she had never attended any theatrical production in London and Lady Wyburn was also in a high statement of excitement because it was her nature. Meanwhile, Millie’s emotions had all the stability of an ill-made weather vane and Frances determined that while she would enjoy the dinner, she did not wish to attend the opera.

‘I still do not like leaving Noah during the evening which is foolish, I know. And I also worry that there may be gossip.’

‘Lady Wyburn is quite certain that someone will have done something more scandalous and no one will have any interest in us,’ Millie said. ‘Although a restful evening at home would be pleasant.’

‘Stay home? Good gracious, you sound like an antiquity. Do you think the Prince Regent will be there?’ Lil asked.

The three women were sitting in Noah’s spacious nursery. It was a bright room with a huge, cheerful fire, high ceilings and soft, comfortable chairs. Indeed, Millie felt it was quite the best room the house.

‘Antiquity or not, I am quite certain I would also prefer to stay home,’ Millie said, leaning back and putting her feet up on a footstool.

‘You should go to the opera,’ Frances urged. ‘Please do not stay home on my account.’

Millie pulled a face. ‘It sounds a bit too much like a soirée.’

‘Sam has a box, so you won’t have to talk to anyone but him, if you do not want.’

Millie felt a sudden flush in her cheeks. The thought of only talking to Sam was not quite the balm on her nerves that Frances intended.

‘Well, I’ll...um...think about it.’

‘But at least let me dress you for dinner?’ Frances said, leaning forward with sudden eagerness and enthusiasm which was lovely to see, but also somewhat disconcerting.

‘I have been managing fine for the last week. I have not been running around in a state of dishabille,’ Millie said.

‘But we have a surprise.’ Frances looked at Lil. ‘Should we tell her?’

‘Yes.’

Millie removed her feet from the footstool. ‘Now I am truly suspicious. What have you done?’

‘Come up to Lil’s bedchamber. We have been conspiring,’ Frances said.

Lil’s bedchamber appeared to have been struck by an explosion of boxes. They were strewn across every flat surface: floor, bed, chair and night table. Each one appeared open, their contents overflowing in a mess of lace, ribbons and silk.

Millie stepped carefully over the debris, sitting gingerly on the corner of Lil’s bed while Frances went to a box. Picking it up, she placed it on the bed beside Millie, carefully removing the lid. With equal care, she lifted up a dress and draped it over her arm in a spill of soft lavender silk.

‘It’s beautiful,’ Millie said.

‘It’s for you.’

‘But—’

‘We took one of your gowns and asked the seamstress to make it up. I also got a dress for Lil.’

‘You shouldn’t. We do not have the money,’ Millie said.

Frances laid down the dress, reaching for Millie’s hand and holding it tightly in her own. ‘Please—it gave me such joy to pick it out and you have helped me so much. I am so