Mariah felt her cheeks flame with heat.
I’m for sale to the highest bidder.
Thankfully, they didn’t stay much longer. Mariah accompanied her aunt on two more visits, both equally awkward. Mr. Herring lived with his widowed mother and looked to be close to fifty years of age. Mr. Westerham was by far the youngest, perhaps in his early thirties. His face was heavily pocked, and he blew his nose at such frequent intervals as to stop all conversation.
Mariah could hardly muster the strength to get out of the carriage for the last visit. It was a great white house with commanding Roman pillars and was by far the largest residence they had visited so far.
“The others were expecting our visit,” Aunt Bentley explained, “but not Mrs. Miller. She is Charles’s aunt and therefore no relation of ours. Still, I don’t wish to slight her. Mr. Eustace Miller—Charles’s maternal grandfather—is very much alive and in possession of most of his fortune; I wouldn’t risk Charles’s chance to inherit it for the world.”
Mariah nodded and followed her aunt into the house. The interior furnishings were as opulent as the exterior suggested. The rooms were as large as the assembly hall in Lyme Regis, and there was enough furniture to comfortably seat at least thirty people. Her aunt chose to sit on a crimson horsehair sofa by the window, and they waited several minutes before a woman entered the room. She had an abundance of blond hair, streaked with white, and wore a deceptively simple blue dress that set off her eyes to perfection.
“Thomasina, allow me to introduce to you my niece, Miss Carter,” Aunt Bentley said.
“Miss Sophie Carter?” Mrs. Miller inquired.
Mariah almost said no but caught herself. “Yes, ma’am.”
“How very knowing you are,” Aunt Bentley said.
“Named after you, Sophronia, I believe?” Mrs. Miller said.
“You are positively prescient today.”
“I have heard tell of your niece,” Mrs. Miller said with a warm smile. “Come to London to seek her fortune.”
Mariah could not help but return her kind smile.
“More like to seek a husband,” Aunt Bentley said crisply. “I have already introduced her to several eligible gentlemen of easy means. Let us hope that one may find her suitable.”
Mariah’s smile faded at this.
“If only my son were here,” Mrs. Miller said cheerfully. “He is both eligible and of easy means.”
Aunt Bentley colored slightly. “I am sure you have other plans for your son, as I do for Charles; a lady from a noble family, with a dowry, and excellent business connections. I only wished to make my niece known to you.”
Mariah could only be thankful that she was sitting through this ordeal and not her sister. What would Sophie have said or done? Mariah almost laughed as she pictured Sophie barking at Aunt Bentley like a fishwife. Sophie had learned several choice words, as she called them, living in the poorest part of a fishing town and was unafraid to use them when vexed.
“That is thoughtful of you, Sophronia,” Mrs. Miller said, “but I believe Ethan is very interested in meeting your niece. I shall be inviting you all to dinner soon. It has been an age since I have seen Charles. Ethan said he has been much affected by his illness.”
Aunt Bentley spoke in detail of Charles’s sickness, the doctors they had consulted, and how long he ought to convalesce before returning to social and work duties. When they later departed, Mrs. Miller surprised Mariah by shaking her hand.
It was nearly dinnertime before they arrived back on Hyde Street. Mariah went to her room to trade places with Sophie, but she was nowhere to be found. She felt guilty that Sophie would miss both lunch and dinner, but someone had to be “Sophie.”
Adell helped Mariah into her dark blue evening gown, cut low across her shoulders and trimmed with black ribbons. Mariah waited as long as she could before she walked downstairs to dinner.
Aunt Bentley sat at the end of the table and Mariah was placed on her left. This table is enormous for only the two of us. Just then, Charles entered the room in the same crimson silk robe from the morning.
“Mr. Taylor, please add another cover,” Charles said. “I shall join the ladies for dinner.”
“Charles, I’m delighted that you feel strong enough to join us,” Aunt Bentley said. “But really, you shouldn’t wear a house robe to the table.”
“I must,” Charles said solemnly. “I’ve been informed that I’m much nicer when I wear it.”
Mariah choked on her white soup and coughed. Charles raised his eyebrows, giving her a quizzical look.
“I can see you are in a teasing mood,” Aunt Bentley said. “It is your house, after all, and I suppose you can wear whatever you wish in it.”
“I was thinking of wearing it to my club,” Charles said. “I thought I might start a new fashion.”
“Insouciant dress is never in fashion,” Aunt Bentley said in mock severity. “But I won’t try to dissuade you further. It will only add to your determination to do it. I remember when you were thirteen years old, I told you that you couldn’t ride Lord Bentley’s horse because it was too strong for you. You waited until the groom was busy and rode out of the stables on it. Do you remember?”
Charles sipped his wine. “How could I forget? The horse was too strong for me. It threw me and I broke my arm.”
“Lesson learned,” Mariah said, dabbing her mouth delicately with a napkin.
“Not at all,” Charles said. “My arm healed, and I got back on that stallion.”
“More successfully the second time?” Mariah asked.
“Much,” Charles said, with one of his sudden, transformative smiles.
“Yes,” Aunt Bentley said, raising her wineglass. “And my late husband was so proud, too. It seems that obstinacy in boys is something to be praised.”
“It’s always noble to finish what you start,” Mariah said. “If it’s a good thing.”
“Wise words indeed,” Charles said. “That is why I mean to return to New York as soon as I’m recovered.”
“I was afraid of that,” Aunt Bentley said, taking a sip of her wine. “But I won’t throw a rub in the way of your American trip or your silk robe.”
“Even if I wear my sartorial splendor to Aunt Miller’s dinner party next week?” Charles asked.
“I daresay Miss Penderton-Simpson will find you quite handsome in it.”
Mariah raised an eyebrow and Charles shifted in his seat uncomfortably. Aunt Bentley had scored a point in their exchange.
“Who is Miss Penderton-Simpson?” Mariah asked nonchalantly.
Aunt Bentley smiled, showing all her teeth. “A most accomplished and well-connected young lady with a dowry few could boast. She quite fancied Charles before he left for New York.”
“Is she beautiful?”
“Very,” Charles said, standing. “I believe I’m a little done in for the day. I shall excuse myself.” He gave the ladies a small bow and then left the room.
“I don’t think Miss Penderton-Simpson will allow him to escape a second time,” Aunt Bentley said, and took a large bite of duck. She chewed it slowly with a satisfied look on her face.
Mariah swallowed her own mouthful too soon and began coughing again.