Page 35 of Mistress of Sins

“I can hear them knocking together.” She guided her downstairs, where she had hoped to steer her into the sitting room so she could persuade her to instead sit by the fire. When Margaret stopped in the front hall and called for their housekeeper, she knew she would have to try something else. “Please, Mama, you are not well enough to go out. The sickness might return, or even worsen. Surely you do not wish to stay in bed until summer.”

“Do not fuss, Jennet.” Margaret smiled as their housekeeper appeared. “Ah, Mrs. Holloway. Has Barton brought up the carriage as I instructed?”

The housekeeper’s gaze went from Margaret to Jennet and back again. “Yes, madam.”

She smiled her approval. “Then all I need is my wrap and Miss Jennet’s jacket, and you have them both. You are a treasure indeed.” She turned so the other woman could drape her with the heavy silk and velvet shawl. “Come, now, my darling girl.”

Jennet and the housekeeper watched Margaret walk through the front door, her stride as eager as if she meant to go on foot to the Hardiwick’s estate.

“She has not been at the wine, I hope,” Jennet murmured.

Mrs. Holloway shook her head as she helped her into her jacket. “Nor the laudanum, Miss. I checked the pantry and the medicine cabinet.”

Once Barton delivered them to the Hardiwicks’ enormous country house, Jennet noticed her mother’s step grew slightly less purposeful. By the time they made their way inside and through the receiving line and into the ballroom, Margaret took a turn away from the dance floor. She headed directly for the row of chairs and settees placed against the side wall for the older attendees.

“No one will wish to partner an old lady like me.” Her mother craned her neck as if looking for someone, and then grimaced and pressed a hand to the small of her back. “Goodness, I can feel my bones creaking from all those weeks in bed. I must speak to Dr. Mallory about that.”

“Really, Mama, we should go home,” Jennet said as she guided her over to the most comfortable-looking settee. “You are not up to this yet.”

“Nonsense. I am feeling most invigorated.” Trembling now, Margaret lowered herself onto the cushions and sighed. “There, that is very good. I am quite cozy now. Is your friend Catherine here?”

Jennet sank down beside her. “She is back in London, I believe.” She removed her jacket and draped it over the top of her mother’s shawl. “What is this about, Mama, really? I cannot remember the last time you wished to attend a ball. If ever you have.”

Margaret absently patted her hand. “I wish to be here with you, and show our dear neighbor how much I appreciate her kind invitation.”

“You do not care for Lady Hardiwick,” she reminded her. “You think she is a terrible gossip, and an unrepentant snob.”

“Just so, my dear,” her mother said absently. She seemed fascinated with the lines of dancers weaving in and out of the quadrille, and began tapping the toes of her slippers to the lively Scottish medley being played by the musicians. “They will be playing a reel next. Go and find yourself a partner, my dear, that I may see you dance.”

“Every gentleman of my acquaintance is presently engaged, Mama.” Jennet made a show of looking around the ballroom. “I cannot present myself to a stranger, nor dance a reel by myself. Besides, I do not wish to leave you alone when you are like this.”

“You are becoming a wall flower,” her mother scolded, and then her expression softened. “Or I have made you one with all my ailments and sickness. How you must resent the burden I have become of late, and yet you never complain.”

“Mama.” Jennet took hold of her hand. “Is that your reason for insisting we attend? For I would much rather stay at home with you.”

“That is because you are the very best of daughters, and I the worst of mothers.” Margaret touched her handkerchief to her lower eyelids before she shifted to peer through the dancers. “Well, I am old, and very prone to illness, it seems. I should die soon.”

“Mama.”

“There.” Sitting up, her mother pointed her fan at the doorway. “The Gerards have arrived. They have been in the city all of the winter, I should think.” She glanced at her for a long moment before she fluttered her fingers beside her temple. “Oh, what is their son’s name? I cannot remember.”

Jennet glanced at the stern face of Baron Greystone, and the softer, kinder features of his wife. As the Gerards lived most of the year in London they but rarely attended social gatherings in Renwick, so their arrival drew notice from every corner of the room. She did not see their son, but he had probably gone to the card room.

“William,” she murmured. “His name is William.”

“Yes, of course.” Margaret waved to the baroness to catch her attention. “A very kind young gentleman, I am sure. Mrs. Holloway told me that he called five times during my illness, and brought the most beautiful berries from the baroness, do you remember? Oh, do help me up, dear, she is coming.”

Jennet braced her mother as she rose, and kept one arm under hers as they both curtseyed to Baroness Greystone, who did the same.

“Margaret, I am so glad to see you recovered.” The regal lady smiled at Jennet before she said, “I hope the basket of fruit I sent from the lodge helped in some small way to cheer you.”

“Thank you, yes, Amelia.” Margaret beamed. “You do grow the sweetest berries in all of the shire, and your note was so welcome.”

Jennet felt suspicious now, for she could not recall either woman ever addressing each other with such affectionate informality. “What note was that, Mama?”

Her mother ignored her. “Have you time to sit with me, dear lady? I would love to hear the latest news from London.”

“Of course, for I have much to tell you.” The baroness immediately sat down in Jennet’s spot. “Do go and dance, Miss Reed. I will keep your dear mother company.”