“That won’t be necessary,” Ashington interrupted as he stood up. “I must be on my way. Radcliff may take my place,” he added then turned to Miriam. “Another time when you aren’t so… overwhelmed with visitors perhaps.”
Most ladies would do all they could to get Ashington to stay, but Miss Bathurst did not disappoint me. She simply nodded her head and smiled at him. “Of course,” she said simply. Then turned her attention to Radcliff and walked over to meet him halfway to accept the flowers and invite him to join us. My attention was on my brother, however, as he dealt with the gushing American aunt who didn’t seem sure if she should be concerned he was leaving or not.
Ashington could not get out of the drawing room fast enough and I leaned back in my chair feeling rather pleased with the whole situation. He wouldn’t be returning here. Although Miss Bathurst’s beauty was indeed something to admire, I knew my brother would not be able to accept her less than expected attentiveness to his presence. She had seemed almost relieved he was taking his leave. I took the cup of tea placed before me and hid my satisfied grin as I took a sip of the hot liquid.
My job here was done, with very little effort on my part. Miriam Bathurst and her aunt had handled it all too well. I might find reason to visit again just to enjoy their company. It was the most entertainment I’d had in London, and dare I admit, I didn’t find the need to escape clawing at me as I had in the past. Paris no longer seemed that intriguing.
Chapter Eight
Miss Miriam Bathurst
A stroll in the park with Mr. Compton was most likely a waste of an otherwise pleasant afternoon, but when he had inquired, Aunt Harriet had been so giddy with excitement, I feared she would cry in front of our guests if I made an excuse. Whereas Lord Ashington had not been able to escape my company fast enough, Mr. Compton had stayed while three other gentlemen had arrived with more flowers. It was only fair I accepted his offer for an afternoon stroll. Besides, being seen with him could only help my chances at finding a husband. He may not be an earl, but he was the second son of an earl.
I stood watching Aunt Harriet worry and fuss over my afternoon attire. I was positive this was not the beginning of a successful match. Although to convince Aunt Harriet of that would be rather difficult.
Mr. Compton had appeared too amused and relaxed during his visit to be considering a true courtship. At the moment, my aunt had three walking gowns spread across my bed as she bit her bottom lip worrisomely. They were all lovely gowns and I did not see why she must make such an event out of this.
“The green,” she said spinning around to look at me. “You will appear as a precious gem!” She clapped her hands together at the thought.
The green gown was indeed very fine, but my opinion was that I would match the grass and trees. Not that it mattered. This stroll was not as important as my aunt believed. I nodded in agreement, ready to get this over with. Fussing over a walking dress seemed silly but then it did give me more to write about in my next letter to Whitney. This morning had proven to fill at least two pages. Aunt Harriet had gone on and on about the fact both Lord Ashington and Mr. Compton had called upon me this morning. She thought it was a grand statement and that I was fortunate. Luck must have shined upon me, she had gushed.
I wasn’t one to live in a world of fancy and fairy tales like she so often did. I found it very odd and a perhaps even orchestrated. It was obvious that Lord Ashington had not been pleased to see his brother, so the entire fiasco might have fallen on Mr. Compton’s rather broad shoulders. His sly grins and the cut of his eyes as he had studied his brother hadn’t gone without my notice.
If I were to give up an afternoon with the pleasure of my books for a stroll in the park, then I intended to make it worth my while and ask him myself what mischief he was up to and request he leave me out of it in the future. Poor Aunt Harriet wouldn’t fair well under much more excitement. Hopefully she walked at enough of a distance, she wouldn’t be able to hear our conversation.
“You agree the green is the one?” she asked, reminding me that we had been in a conversation, even if it had been a touch one-sided.
“Yes, I believe you are right. As always,” I told her, trying to smile but failing to do so successfully.
She didn’t miss my struggle to appear pleased. Closing the space between us, she grabbed my shoulders and squeezed gently. “Oh, do be happy about this, dear. You find very little joy in life and I wish I could help you with that. I dreamed of beauty like yours when I was younger. You have it all yet it doesn’t make you smile.”
Whereas she found it sad that I wasn’t happy with my outward appearance, I found it tragic that ladies put so much importance on beauty. Was that truly what should make me happy? Something that is rather fleeting, is it not? One will not stay beautiful forever. Looks fade and life continues on without a care. Shouldn’t I seek happiness in something more substantial? These were thoughts that had plagued me for years and I knew voicing them to my aunt would be as pointless as sharing them with my mother. They wouldn’t understand. Perhaps it was the way I was raised in a home where my father openly showed displeasure in me no matter how beautiful my mother believed me to be.
“You don’t have to marry a man you do not care for. You know that, right?” My aunt touched my cheek with the palm of her hand. “You get to choose, honey. We are in no hurry to be rid of you,” she added with a teasing smile. “I’ve always wanted children, but I’ve never been blessed with one. You are the daughter I didn’t get to have. I so enjoy you being here. Don’t feel as if you must hurry on our account. Your mother and sister are taken care of for now and Alfred will make sure they continue to live comfortably. Take your time, honey. Enjoy the moment.”
As comforting as her words were, it did not change the fact I would eventually have to choose a husband. Uncle Alfred was indeed providing for my mother and sister, but he wouldn’t be expected to do so forever. It was up to me to make a match. A suitable one that would provide for not only my family, but one that would give Whitney the surgery she required.
I managed a nod and touched my aunt’s hand gently with mine. “Thank you. I will be forever grateful for all you and Uncle Alfred have done for us.”
My aunt smiled and tilted her head to the side, causing her dark curls to fall over her shoulder. “You have brought us joy. I just wish we could do the same for you.”
Guilt that I couldn’t feel joy at the prospect of marriage stung my chest. I wish I could find happiness in all they were providing for me. I would try harder to appear more thankful. Smiling more wouldn’t harm me. It was the least I could do for my aunt.
“You have,” I assured her. “Now, stop fretting over me. I am perfectly happy.” It was a lie and we both knew it.
With a sigh, my aunt smiled at me sadly then nodded. “I’ll send for Betsey.”
Once my aunt was gone from the room, I let out my own heavy, sorrowful sigh and sank down onto the settee. Today had been a success in the eyes of London society. I had had several excellent prospects for a husband call upon me this morning. Aunt Harriet was right, I should be experiencing joy or at the very least, relief. Glancing out the window, I watched other ladies of the ton walking along the street below. If I would simply accept my future it would make this easier.