Fanny Brightwell stared out of the window at the fast falling snow. “I don’t think our grand gathering is going to consist of more than Mr Morley and Colonel Shankshaft,” she said gloomily. “I knew that snow was in the air but I really didn’t think we’d have so much overnight. No carriage will venture into this.”
“You sound as if Mr Morley and Colonel Shankshaft, on their own, will fail to bring life to the party?” her husband remarked, smiling up from reading his newspaper in a wingback leather chair in the green drawing room.
“Yes, but the colonel’s dubious wit will dominate if it’s a party of only six sitting down to dinner. You and me, Antoinette and Quamby. And our two guests. No other ladies.” Fanny hesitated before putting her greatest worry into words. “And you know that neither the Colonel nor Mr Morley are the type to get Antoinette excited about being a good hostess…if you know what I mean.”
Fenton put down his news sheet to consider the matter. He was a very considerate husband in this regard. He always considered Fanny’s feelings and could be quite the master at raising spirits. If Antoinette was having a fit of the dismals Fenton could be relied upon to bolster her—mostly. Though sometimes it was likely to send her into the boughs. Antoinette’s rather flighty nature—and her reliance on male attention which was going to be sparse for this weekend house party if her latest paramour did not make it through the snow drifts that had doubled in size since last night—made for a rather perilous few days ahead.
“But Mr Morley is a very handsome, unshackled gentleman. Your sister can flirt with him.”
“No, no, much too serious,” said Fanny with another sigh. “He won’t say the things to flatter her that will put her in a good mood. And Quamby’s praises won’t be enough if her Antonio isn’t here.”
“Antonio? That’s the name of her latest, is it?” Fenton raised his brows. “From the theatre? They usually are.”
Fanny’s sister, Antoinette, was only happy when she was being feted by one of what had turned out to be a string lovers over the years. She’d produced the Quamby heir, much to her husband, the earl’s satisfaction. And with the young earl in waiting, George, in good health, both parents felt that their affection for one another was best displayed by allowing the other the latitude to indulge in whatever amours they chose.
“Oh Fanny! Fenton! You’ll never believe what’s happened! Truly, I can’t believe it! Quite miraculous, in fact.” In a cloud of pale pink chiffon, Antoinette burst into the room, blonde curls flying behind her. For the first time in two days, she didn’t look like she was in the deepest mourning.
“Your Antonio has dug himself through the snow and is happily ensconced in Quamby House?” Fanny surmised. “I can’t see you being so joyful over anything less.”
“Oh, but I am, and it is not that!” Antoinette clapped her hands together before running to the window and pointing. “See! There! A carriage at the end of the drive on its way to somewhere that wasn’t here. And see, it can’t get through the snow. It is quite, quite stuck.”
“So, we have a captive to add to our little weekend party,” said Fenton. “He must be very handsome,” he surmised, smiling at Antoinette’s girlish excitement.
“You’re quite wrong, Fenton. It’s a female! A female who is nearly as lovely as I am, as the gossip sheets once described her. But you’ll never guess who?”
“Then why don’t put us out of our misery and tell us, Antoinette,” said Fanny, tiring of her sister’s never-ending love of keeping everyone in suspense.
“It’s Lady Lushington!” Antoinette was clearly delighted by the dawning realisation on each of their faces, as she added, “Yes, the former Miss Beecham who was to have married our houseguest, Mr. Morley, five years ago except that she married Lord Lushington instead and now she’s a widow and… oh, don’t you see, Fanny! This is going to be the most marvellous opportunity to do what we do best.”
“And what might that be?” Fanny asked dubiously though she knew the answer which Antoinette was quick to supply. “Matchmaking, of course! Why, I am sure that Mr. Morley’s serious manner stems from a broken heart and that when Lady Lushington walks through that door, he is going to be in transports to find that his one true love has finally returned. And no longer encumbered by a husband.” She smiled between Fanny and Fenton—whom Fanny could see did not share Antoinette’s easy confidence that such a scenario was sure to come to pass.
“If the former Miss Beecham and Mr Morley parted ways five years ago then it was for a reason,” said Fanny firmly. “I don’t think it’s either wise or fair to try and push them together again.”
“Oh, but I’m sure you’re wrong!” cried Antoinette. “Misunderstandings happen all the time and clearly Mr. Morley and Lady Lushington didn’t resolve their difference with the right kind of … mediator.”
Fanny returned her gaze to the snow where she could now see a young woman in a blue, fur-lined cloak, trudging through the white drifts, her bonneted head cast down. In her wake was another young lady of smaller stature and shabbier by contrast. Either a maid or companion, Fanny supposed.
She cast her mind back to try and remember the scandal all those years ago but could not. One minute Mr Morley and Miss Lexington were the toast of the season, making not only a love match but bringing two great fortunes together… and the next, the engagement was broken.
“Poor Mr. Morley! You remember how heartbroken he was? Surely, you do, Fanny? At Lady Brinkworth’s ball we both remarked on how handsome he was when he smiled, which he did not stop doing as he squired his lady love about the ballroom.” Antoinette frowned as if she couldn’t believe Fanny had forgotten. “And then at Lady Wroxton’s soiree, he was grim faced and barely exchanged a civil word with anyone and we all thought it was because his betrothed must be ill and he was worried.”
Fanny shook her head. “If you recall, my own Katherine was very ill and I could barely think of anything else but my child,” said Fanny. “Well, I hope—”
But her hopes were truncated by the parlourmaid opening the drawing room door to announce, “Lady Lushington, ma’am.”
Fanny raised an eyebrow, saying quickly under her breath to her sister, “And, pray tell, where is Mr Morley at this moment? I do think he might want a little advance warning.”
“Oh, it’ll be the most marvellous surprise to him! For he must surely know she’s a widow and therefore can be his again,” Antoinette whispered back before the door was opened fully and a very pretty young woman whom Fanny knew to be about five and twenty, was shown in.
Although she’d been divested of her outerwear, the hem of her skirts, and her footwear, bore indications of her journey through the icy drifts, while her light brown hair had lost its curl and been tucked behind her ears making her look much younger than her age.
“Ladies Fenton. Quamby. I do apologize for arriving unannounced but—”
“No apology is necessary for we saw you from the window and were about to send assistance,” said Antoinette, which Fanny knew to be a lie. She suspected that Antoinette had hoped to witness Mr Morley himself come to her assistance so she could watch the heart-rending reunion from the window.
“Then you know that my carriage has broken an axle and it appears we cannot go further before dark due to the snow?” the young lady asked. She twisted her hands together. “I did try to push John Coachman to do what was in his power for me to continue the journey but he says it’s not possible.”
“Of course it’s not possible with those dark clouds threatening even worse,” said Antoinette comfortably. “Don’t you concern yourself for you will help enliven our little party this evening which is four short due to the weather. Why, we are very happy to have you here.”
“That is very kind of you,” said their visitor, looking slightly less anxious. “And if there is somewhere warm and cosy for my maid, Sarah, to be accommodated, I’d be very grateful. She does suffer dreadfully from the cold.”
“Of course. Mary will show her to the servants’ quarters where she’ll be well looked after. And I see that your trunk is being conveyed to the house as we speak. When Mary comes back, she’ll show you to one of the guest bedrooms. You are very welcome to stay as long as the snow prevents you from continuing your journey.”
Lady Lushington’s lower lip trembled. In fact, Fanny thought in this moment that she looked like a young girl about to cry.
“I did hope to make it to my destination by tomorrow evening,” she said, her hands twisting with obvious agitation.
“Come now, Lady Lushington, no one will be making much mileage in this weather. I’m sure whatever business you are on can wait,” Fanny said gently. “Where are you travelling?”
Lady Lushington hesitated, then said, “To Southamtpon,” and Fanny was about to suggest that if she’d intended boarding a vessel, the weather would preclude that, also. But of course, Southampton was a large town, and travelling by sea was not a given. However, before she’d begun speaking, the door was opened again and without warning, their youngest, single visitor, Mr Morley—together with Fanny’s husband, Fenton—strode into the room. Mr. Morley, the younger man, was raking his hands through his dark hair and chatting with the easy familiarity that came from having spent the last five days as their guest, remarking, “Fenton has just shown me the new ha-ha, and by gad, I’m impressed. I think I’ll—”
But neither Fanny nor Antoinette got the benefit of his impressions because as he turned with a smile, still addressing his hostess, his whole demeanour seemed to suffer a cataclysmic set-back and for a moment Fanny truly thought he might turn to stone.
“Mr. Morley, I do not know if you have had made the acquaintance of Lady Lushington,” said Antoinette with commendable ingenuousness. Of course, that was Antoinette’s specialty. “Lady Lushington. Mr Morley.”
Fanny could scarcely believe her sister could make the introductions as if she truly were oblivious to that which was obvious given the stricken expressions of their two guests.
Oh, yes! Lady Lushington and Mr Morley most certainly had been acquainted.
