The Bridal Quest. Candace Camp

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СКАЧАТЬ an impossible goal, but still, for her mother’s sake, Irene knew that she had to try. It galled her to think of catering to Maura’s whims, of biting back her own opinions whenever they disagreed with her sister-in-law’s, of putting on a pleasant smile whenever Maura chose to criticize her. However, if she did not do those things, she would, she knew, subject her mother to endless worry. Claire would take it upon herself to apologize and excuse and try to please Maura if Irene crossed the woman, and Irene could not bear to think of her mother debasing herself in that way to a woman who should be thanking her stars that she had Lady Claire for a mother-in-law.

      More than ever, Irene wished that she could take her mother away from this house. But she was well aware that the few options for earning money that were open to a gentlewoman, such as hiring out as a governess or a companion, would not provide enough income even for them to let rooms. Part of the compensation in such jobs was the provision of a genteel place in which to live, but one could not bring along a dependent to live there, as well. And even if she could provide enough money by doing one of those things, or by taking in sewing or working in a shop somewhere, her mother would be aghast at the idea of leaving her son’s house to move into some small place on their own. It would reflect badly on Humphrey for them to do so, Claire would explain, and she would never do that to her son.

      Irene’s thoughts were bleak as she contemplated how their lives would change with the coming of a new baby. Maura would be even more puffed up with her own importance at producing a child for Lord Wyngate, especially if it turned out to be a boy and heir. Irene could well imagine the sort of sweetly pitying remarks she would make to Irene regarding the fact that she would never know the satisfaction and joy of motherhood, the needling about Irene’s wasted opportunities and lack of effort to acquire that most basic of necessities for a woman: a husband.

      She was relieved that Maura stayed in her room all morning, not emerging until after luncheon. But the pleasant interlude could not last, and early in the afternoon Maura rejoined Irene and Lady Claire in the sitting room, where Claire had already begun work on knitting a blanket.

      Maura was a trifle paler than usual, and she played the role of invalid to the hilt, sending servants to fetch her shawl, then her fan, then a stool upon which to set her feet, and letting Lady Claire tend to her, tucking the shawl in around her and jumping up to reposition the stool when it did not exactly suit Maura. However, Irene kept her tongue still, maintaining a pleasant smile on her face as she listened to Maura prattle on about the upcoming blessed event, interspersing her remarks with frequent sighs and complaints.

      When one of the maids came into the room to announce a visitor, Irene was grateful for the diversion. It was with some amazement, however, that she heard the maid announce that Lady Haughston had come to call. She glanced toward her mother and saw an equally puzzled look on her face. Francesca Haughston had never been a frequent caller to their home, and since Maura had arrived, her calls had stopped entirely. Irene could scarcely blame her; she would have avoided Lady Maura’s conversation herself, if only she could.

      But it seemed strange that Francesca should suddenly have reappeared, especially after she had sought Irene out last night at the party. However, Maura clearly saw nothing strange about the other woman’s arrival. She beamed at Lady Haughston and greeted her effusively, then proceeded to chatter away for the next few minutes without giving Francesca a chance to interject anything more than an occasional “Indeed?” or “Oh, really?”

      It did not surprise Irene that Francesca soon began to stir a little restlessly in her seat, and she suspected that their visitor would cut the call short at the first chance she had. Sure enough, when Maura at last paused for a moment, Francesca quickly jumped into the brief silence to tell them that she was sorry she could not stay any longer.

      “I was about to take a ride through the park,” she explained. “And I just thought I would drop by to ask Lady Irene if she would care to join me.”

      Maura’s face fell almost comically, and Irene hastened to speak before Maura could come up with some reason why she could not spare Irene’s company this afternoon.

      “Why, yes, Lady Haughston, that sounds most pleasant.”

      Irene rang for a servant to fetch her a bonnet and pelisse, and whisked Francesca out of the room, warding off Maura’s broad hints about a ride doubtless being just the thing she needed to cure her feeling out of sorts.

      “Oh, no, dear sister,” Irene told her with syrupy smile to match Maura’s own. “I am not at all sure that that would be the best thing for you. You must be very careful now, mustn’t you? You know how your back was aching just a few minutes ago. I fear a carriage ride would not be at all the thing for you.” She gave her a significant look and appealed to Lady Claire. “Don’t you agree, Mother?”

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