Page 71 of The Earl and His Lady

“Rebecca, mind your tongue and your stitch. Your embroidery is atrocious.”

Sighing, Rebecca murmured her “Yes, Aunt” very dutifully.

“And I do not mind if Lord Calvert is reminded of his late wife,” Virginia continued, signing her name with a flourish. “I would not want him to attempt to erase all evidence of Charles.”

“It is surprising he has not. Really, most peculiar of him.” Virginia’s mother crossed the room to the window. “Perhaps the earl is soft-headed. I have heard he is an eccentric sort. Or maybe he truly means to give you the year before he expects you to forget the baron.”

Virginia glanced at Rebecca, wondering what the young woman thought of the decidedly intimate topics under discussion. Her young cousin met her eye and offered a commiserating smile.

“I cannot imagine that to be so, Mother. Lord Calvert is an exceedingly thoughtful man, and his business dealings ought to show his intelligence.” Virginia folded her letter and rang the bell at her desk.

Gresham appeared, instead of the footman she’d expected. The butler was a wonder. He always did his work excessively well, especially given his advanced age.

“Gresham, see to it this message is carried to the Gilberts. Thank you.”

“Yes, my lady.” He took the missive and bowed.

“You ought to change the staff, too,” her mother said before the butler had even left the room. Gresham, bless him, didn’t even react to her words.

“Mother, your suggestions have been noted, thank you.” Virginia came to her feet. “I have invited the Gilberts to dine with us this evening. Since Cousin Christine and I spoke of the possibility yesterday, I am certain they will come. If you will excuse me, I intend to rest.”

Her mother flicked her wrist in dismissal, as though it were her morning room they sat inside and not Virginia’s. Virginia gritted her teeth, curtsied and shared one last look with Rebecca, then hurried out.

Visits from her mother were never easy. Lady Vinespar knew exactly how to deliver barbed compliments, when she was in a good mood. But she was especially adept at offering advice with a tongue sharp enough to clip a hedge.

Virginia determined to search out the boys. Had it not been raining outside, she would’ve started her search at their completed castle in the trees.

The carpenter Lucas hired had done a masterful work with nothing but boards and a few small embellishments. Using two of the large chestnut trees down by the lake, the carpenter and his young apprentice had created two towers joined together by a small, but sturdy, bridge. Each boy had his own parapet to sit inside and watch the world around them. Their favorite thing to do was run from one side to the other, which would’ve been frightening had not the rails installed by the carpenter been very secure.

Several tenant children had watched the work progress for days, and it had pleased Virginia when her sons invited anyone who wished to “visit the castle.”

Her mother, upon seeing the structure shortly after her arrival, declared it a waste of resources, funds, and time. She also disapproved of the boys mixing with children beneath their station. Of course, Virginia shouldn’t have expected any other reaction.

She walked along the gallery hall, pausing before Lucas and Abigail’s wedding portrait.

Her mother’s words regarding that had been less acidic. “And when will you replace it with a wedding portrait of your own, Virginia?” she’d asked. Virginia had changed the subject.

Standing before it, regarding the woman’s laughing eyes and a younger Lucas’s hopeful smile, Virginia took in a deep breath. “I’m sorry she’s so insulting,” she said, her voice too soft to be overheard. “She has always been thus. Please don’t take it personally.”

Did Abigail know, from where her soul had gone, what went on in Lucas’s life?

“Your things aren’t going anywhere and your portrait will always be right here where it belongs,” Virginia said firmly.

In truth, she’d come to regard the woman in that portrait as a friend. Though they had never met, they shared a very common interest. Lucas. Though she had never spoken to the portrait before, Virginia had often stopped to examine it and wonder about the bride. What would Abigail have thought about Lucas’s marriage? Would she have been disappointed in how Virginia drove him away from his own house with her cool treatment?

Virginia sighed and lowered her eyes. “I didn’t want him to leave. Though it did seem best when he mentioned it.”

Yet it hadn’t been for the best. Virginia had found herself constantly thinking of Lucas. Each time a letter arrived from him, she’d started one in reply. But every time she sat down before the blank sheet of paper, her heart had stilled her hand. No words seemed right. Anything she would say would look trite on paper. Why couldn’t he return, so they might speak face to face as they’d done every day since their wedding?

She hadn’t been so lonely since Charles’s death.

The words she’d heard in the churchyard haunted her. And you need to love again. What did it mean? Had it been her heart or her head speaking to her? She longed to believe it was Charles. But how could that be? She didn’t believe in the supernatural, beyond what she found in scripture.

Charles would not want her to be lonely, to seal herself off from love and happiness. She knew that. He had loved her with his whole heart and soul. He’d not liked the idea of her mourning for him. Would she have expected him to never love again? Would it wound her to think of Charles remarrying had she been the one to die?

It didn’t. In fact, in the private thoughts of her heart, when she’d carried both boys, she’d wondered what would become of him if she died giving birth. It was a natural fear any number of women had. Death in childbirth was too commonly experienced for a woman to dismiss the idea entirely.

Virginia took a step closer to Abigail’s portrait. Tipping her head to one side, she regarded the woman’s likeness with curiosity. “Would you be hurt to know he loved again?” Virginia asked quietly.