Mary Balogh - A Summer to Remember

There was a lull in the arrivals before Lauren had to memorize more names and faces and relationships. Mr. Humphrey Pierce-James arrived next with his wife, Edith, their daughter Catherine and her husband, Mr. Lawrence Vreemont. The latter couple also had two infant children. Mr. Pierce-James, Lauren understood, was the dowager’s nephew by a deceased sister. Last to arrive were Mr. Clarence Butler, the earl’s younger brother, with his wife, Honoria, their daughter Beatrice and her husband, Baron Born, and their brood of unwed offspring, varying in age from Frederick, who must be Kit’s age, to Benjamin, who was eight. Doris, one of the daughters, had her fiancй, Sir Jeremy Brightman, with her.

Lauren did not promise herself that she would remember every name and face and relationship immediately—there were so many of them—but she thought she would within a day or so. She smiled with some relief when it seemed the last guest had arrived and disappeared upstairs to freshen up before tea. Everyone had been amiable. If any of them knew about the projected engagement to Lady Freyja Bedwyn, none of them looked as if they held a grudge.

She had not had a chance to ask Kit about his morning. But he had spent the whole of it with his father about estate business—a promising sign indeed. Neither of them had been at home to receive Lady Freyja Bedwyn and her two brothers, but they had indeed called and spent fifteen minutes with Kit’s mother and grandmother and with Aunt Clara. They had expressed their intention of riding over again before the day of the birthday celebrations. A permanent rift had been avoided, it seemed.

It must be time to go back upstairs to the drawing room, Lauren thought. But the butler, peering discreetly through a window, announced that yet another carriage was approaching across the bridge.

“Perhaps this time,” the countess said, speaking to the earl but smiling at Lauren. “Do have a seat, Mother. You will be exhausted from having been on your feet all afternoon.”

“I will not . . . sit,” the old lady said. “Miss . . . Edgeworth, let me . . . take your . . . arm again.”

But Sydnam Butler stepped forward and offered his instead. The newly arrived carriage was drawing up before the steps, and the butler himself had gone down with a large black umbrella to escort the gentleman who was alighting from it indoors. Two footmen held the doors wide open. Lauren shivered from the chill of the wet, windy outdoors. But she donned her sociable smile again and prepared to be presented to yet another member of Kit’s family.

And then the butler removed the sheltering umbrella and stood to one side while the visitor stepped over the threshold into the hall and looked about expectantly.

Lauren forgot her famous dignity in the surprise of recognition and the welling of joy. She hurried forward, both arms outstretched.

“Grandpapa!” she exclaimed.

“Lauren. There you are, my dear!”

She was enfolded in his embrace then and inhaling the snuffy, leathery scent she always associated with him. And swallowing and blinking her eyes and trying—in vain—to hold her tears in check.

He had come.

He had come!

“I did not know,” she said, drawing back from him and gazing into his lined, dearly familiar face. “I did not expect . . .” She turned to look with tear-bright eyes at the earl and at Kit. “Who did this? Whose idea was it?”

“Mine,” Kit said. He was grinning. “As soon as Mother and Father asked me which of your relatives should be invited.”

“Thank you,” she said, smiling at each of them in turn. “Oh, thank you.”

“Present me, please, Lauren.” Kit stepped forward and brought her back to a sense of duty.

She proceeded to present them all, her arm linked through Baron Galton’s—her very own relative—her heart brimming with happiness. They had invited him for her betrothal celebrations, and he had come all the way from Yorkshire. Just for her! Surely because he loved her. And it had been Kit’s idea to invite him and surprise her in this way. What a delightful surprise it was.

It was only as she led him up the grand staircase a short while later to the room that had been prepared for him, Kit on his other side, that she remembered something. Amazingly, alarmingly, it had totally fled her mind for all of ten minutes.

It was not a real betrothal.

For the rest of that day and all of the next Lauren felt that she would have been entirely happy if she had not kept remembering that she was living a lie. She pushed the thought aside as much as she could. She had committed herself to doing just what she was doing, and it was too late now to withdraw. There would be time enough to deal with her guilt over the deception when she had put an end to it.

She set herself the task of acquainting herself with Kit’s relatives. It was not difficult to do. They were a close and basically cheerful family and were quite prepared to take Kit’s betrothed into the fold and to be kind to her family too. Aunt Clara was appropriated by Lady Clifford and Mrs. Butler, Kit’s aunts, and by Mrs. Vreemont. Viscount Hampton, who had a previous acquaintance with Baron Galton, was pleased to renew it. Gwen became an instant favorite with Baron Born’s numerous offspring, especially with Frederick and Roger, who were soon vying with each other over her smiles and attention.

Lauren was everyone’s favorite, simply because, she thought, Kit was everyone’s favorite too. The quarrel with his family three years ago had certainly not tainted his relationship with his numerous aunts, uncles, and cousins. It felt seductively pleasant to be the focus of attention much of the time. Lady Irene Butler liked to pat her hand and tell her what a pretty child she was. The aunts and older cousins liked to talk to her about London and the latest fashions. The uncles liked to tease her about anything they thought might draw her blushes. The younger female cousins wanted to know who her modiste was, who chose the lovely fabrics and the elegant designs and the perfectly coordinated colors of her clothes. And how her maid styled her hair so perfectly just so. They wanted to know what she was planning for her bride clothes. The younger male cousins paid her compliments, some of them very extravagant and foolish indeed. They called Kit a lucky dog and he agreed with them wholeheartedly, his eyes twinkling at her. The young mothers took her to the nursery to meet their children, assuming that she liked infants. She was rather afraid of them, in fact, having had little to do with children during her adult life. But she learned all their names and was touched when they wanted to ask questions and show her their treasures and be picked up and played with.

She was careful to give much of her attention to Kit’s immediate family since it was his full reconciliation with them to which she had pledged herself. The Earl of Redfield was inclined to look favorably upon her, she believed. And he and Kit were no longer avoiding each other even if they were still treating each other with a somewhat stiff cordiality. The countess was pleased to accept the help she offered. Apart from all the plans for the birthday itself, there were meals and activities and floral arrangements to think of each day with such a large number of guests. Although she was perfectly capable of handling everything alone, she seemed grateful to listen to a second opinion on some details and even a few new suggestions. The countess seemed well inclined to treat her elder son with affection.

Lauren had grown truly fond of the dowager countess. It was never any trouble to walk with her or to sit and listen to her. The old lady’s left hand was stiff and curled inward as a result of the apoplexy she had suffered. But it was not quite paralyzed. Lauren took it in both of hers the evening after everyone’s arrival and massaged it gently, opening the fingers back with her own. It felt good, Kit’s grandmother said, and they smiled at each other. It was for her sake that Lauren felt most guilty, for she believed that her affection was fully returned.

It was only with Sydnam Butler that she had so far failed to set up any rapport—or any communication with his brother.

She did not see a great deal of Kit. Or rather, she did since it rained for the rest of that first day and most of the second and everyone was forced to remain indoors, but she did not spend much time in his company and none at all alone with him. Her swimming lesson had to be canceled on account of the weather, though why it should be when they were going to get wet anyway he did not know, he had added over her protests. She missed the morning outing, though, the sheer fun of floating and splashing in the water. She wondered how she was going to do without such activities when the time came, but she determinedly pushed such thoughts aside.

They played charades in the drawing room during the second evening, a game in which most of them participated and which gave rise to a great deal of noisy animation and laughter. The younger people were not willing to see the game end, with the result that they were all rather late going to bed. Lauren sat with Gwen for an hour after that, as she did most nights, talking. It was after midnight when she returned to her own room, and even after that she did not go immediately to bed, but blew out the candles and stood at the window, brushing her hair, enjoying the sight of the moon and stars again. The rain had stopped late in the afternoon and the clouds had finally moved off.

Was he sleeping? She knew that, like her, he suffered at least sometimes from insomnia. She had seen him more than once outside the house after everyone was in bed. On that one occasion he had walked off down the driveway until he had been lost to sight. He did not seem like the sort of man who would have trouble sleeping. He seemed always to be cheerful and laughing. But she knew too that the outer appearance was in some ways not the real Kit. There were depths to his character that he hid carefully from the view of most of his acquaintances.