Page 36 of A Lady's Wager
“But you have many ties here,” Etta reminded her, not wanting her to empathize too much with Lydia. “And you have visited many times, so you were much better prepared.”
“Exactly,” Rachel said. “It is far easier for me to find my comfort here than it is for Lydia, to be sure. Would it be alright if, perhaps, I invited Lydia to attend with us from time to time? It is always so much easier to feel comfortable when you have a particular friend beside you.”
“I suppose,” Etta said, not liking this suggestion at all. “Though at some point, each debutante must find their own way.”
“Of course,” Rachel said, nodding. “I am certainly not in any position to manage her experience; I would just like to help her find her feet.”
Etta rolled that idea around and then decided to be direct in her concern. “Would having additional time with Lydia be at all connected to the desire to have additional time with Mr. Firth?”
Rachel looked to the side and did not answer as quickly as Etta would have liked. “I know he is too young, Auntie Etta, and a bad match.”
Etta felt a weight lift off her shoulders at Rachel’s admission.
“But they are my friends,” Rachel said before Etta could speak. She looked at Etta again. “I have so many opportunities that they do not, and their mother’s death was particularly hard on Lydia. I only want to help her have as good an experience as possible—nothing more.” She smiled a bit shyly. “That sounds terribly pretentious, doesn’t it?”
“Not at all,” Etta said, moved by this girl’s compassion and yet uncomfortable with the possibility of how that compassion could play out. “Of course you should help Lydia feel more comfortable, it is only…I only want to ensure that it does not detract from your own experience too much. The Firth family is not, what one would say, quite the thing, if you get my meaning, and there may be a fine line between how much benefit your association can offer without them interfering with your own objectives.”
Trappings, fripperies, humanity.
“You think time with them could hurt my own prospects?”
Etta considered what to say, but now was not the time to resolve the ethics of what life was. It was not as if she had set the rules. “Too much time, yes, especially with Mr. Reed Firth,” Etta said. “If other men feel that you have interest in Mr. Firth, they may keep more distance. It has been at great expense and attention that you are here, Rachel, and those of us who have facilitated this opportunity are counting on you using it to your highest advantage, not sacrificing your potential on behalf ofthose who have not put the time and attention into preparing for their experience.”
Rachel pulled her eyebrows together in a thoughtful expression. Etta let her process for several seconds before extending an olive branch.
“Why don’t you invite Lydia and a few of your other friends to tea tomorrow? Something small and intimate. That would strengthen her association with other girls as well as show your interest in those connections.”
Rachel brightened. “That is an excellent idea,” she said. “I can think of a few girls who would be inviting to her, especially in a setting like that. Thank you, Auntie.”
“Of course,” Etta said, waving away the thanks. “A young ladies’ tea is just the thing.” The best part was that young Mr. Firth did not fit the party regime at all.
THE TEA WAS A SUCCESS,and three nights later, Rachel invited Lydia as her particular friend to a dinner party at the Whitcombs’—an event that the Firths had not been invited to. The association between the girls naturally created increased connection to both Mr. Firths as the first week stretched to two and then three. Etta watched carefully and felt secure enough in the public distance that young Mr. Firth kept that she did not feel the risk was too great. Mr. Wynn Firth seemed to always be on hand at these events, but she was careful to keep him at a distance emotionally, if not physically, because she could not risk losing her vigilance regarding his son or allowing his censorious thoughts to impede her work.
To her surprise, however, the rest of London warmed up to all three of the Firths far quicker than she would have expected. Wynn Firth had better social graces than Etta would have guessed and conversed easily with both men and women. The older women were particularly attentive to him, and he was never without female company at the events they attended. An odd jealousy began to attach itself to the annoyance Etta felt toward him. She had lived in London most of her life and worked hard to build up the friendships and connections necessary tobe successful here. That Wynn Firth could do the same in mere weeks made her question the value of those relationships as a whole. These were uncomfortable thoughts that took a great deal of effort to keep at bay, and too often Etta found herself watching him from across a room as she tried to make sense of it all. Make sense of him.
“Miss Firth has certainly blossomed beneath the London skies,” Elizabeth Pettengill remarked one day as she and Etta sat in the shade of a tree at a garden party on an excruciatingly hot day. They both waved their fans and dabbed at their sweaty foreheads and necks as decorously as possible. Women of a Certain Age really should avoid such undignified situations. If not for Rachel, Etta would have left an hour ago.
She looked to where Rachel and Lydia played lawn games with a dozen or so other young people, Mr. Rigby among them and Mr. Reed Firth blessedly absent. Etta was still hopeful that Mr. Rigby’s attentions would lead to a match, though he was certainly taking his time about it. There were only a few more weeks of concentrated social events left before Parliament would end and the majority of nobles would return to their country estates. “Yes,” Etta confirmed, returning to Elizabeth’s comment about Lydia Firth. “Lydia has done quite well. I would be hard-pressed to recognize her as the girl I first met.”
“And Rachel has quite taken to her role as mentor,” Elizabeth remarked.
“Indeed, she has,” Etta said, focusing her attention on Rachel as she laughed at something Lydia had said. Etta smiled, proud of Rachel’s compassion toward Lydia but… “Not all the changes in Rachel have been good ones,” she confided to her friend. “Though I am gratified by Rachel’s confidence, it has brought with it some concerning…arrogance. She refused Lady Medford’s Sunday tea last week. She called it pretentious.”
“Well, that tea is rather pretentious,” Elizabeth said, still fanning herself. “Making everyone wear pink and then having to wear one of her gaudy hats.”
“Be that as it may, it was an honor to be invited—even Beatrice did not merit an invitation while she was here in London. It concerns me that Rachel is not appreciating the opportunities, and it was terribly embarrassing to send regrets. I am dreading my next encounter with Lady Medford, as I’m sure she will mention it.”
“Oh, she most certainly will,” Elizabeth said, pausing her fan to take a sip of her warm lemonade. She scowled and put the cup as far away from herself as possible. “I’m surprised you let Rachel bow out; in the past you were the one who decided which events you attended and which you did not.”
Etta considered that and felt her shoulders slump with the realization that Elizabeth was exactly right. “I suppose I am getting soft, aren’t I? She’s become rather distracted with her friends, and I do not feel that we are as…close as we were in the beginning. Twice last week she agreed to invitations without discussing it with me and then she refused Lady Medford’s tea.”
“Then you must rein in that independence,” Elizabeth said, looking at Etta over her fluttering fan. “Remember Sarah Lynn when she became determined to only interact with titled gentlemen? You cut off all events until she promised to behave with grace at any event, and it reminded her who was truly in charge.”
“I had forgotten that,” Etta said. Goodness, Sarah Lynn had only been her third charge. Had Etta truly had that much fortitude? Of course, that was six years ago. Etta straightened a bit in her chair. “You are right, Elizabeth. I need to remember who is in charge. Rachel came to me because I could help her navigate those things she cannot navigate on her own.” She felt the infusion of credibility. “I must not be so flexible with her thatshe chooses her uneducated and immature judgement over my own.”
“Precisely,” Elizabeth said.
Etta sat back in her chair, revived and freshly committed to her course. She was the sponsor; Rachel was a child. Etta would not forget again.
