Page 8 of Pursued Beyond Treachery
Lady Stanford confirmed they could and went on to explain in great detail her last visit to the menagerie, but Susannah paid little attention to her description. She was not usually so inattentive. On any other day she would relish the details, asking enough questions to keep them talking until supper.
Today, however, her grief had collided with reality and ricocheted off every corner of her heart. It had been Mama’s greatest wish for Susannah to have a London season, and now she would have one—but her mama would not be there.
She’d taken solace in knowing that John would be, but he seemed fairly put out with her good fortune. He’d not even congratulated her, only stared at her like she’d lost her senses. Then again, he’d never liked Town all that much, but that did not mean she could not enjoy it.
There were so many places she wished to see, like Vauxhall Gardens, Hyde Park, the opera, even the Royal Academy’s Art exhibits. Mostly, she looked forward to finally being acknowledged as a grown woman. She’d been out in Society for nearly two years, although most of that time had been spent at home caring for her mother, but the way John behaved onewould think she still scampered about in short dresses, picking flowers and climbing trees.
The steady soft rhythm of the music began to grow in both speed and volume, drowning out Lady Stanford’s words.
Her Ladyship’s dark eyebrows pinched together as she glanced down at Susannah’s hands, then back at her face. “Miss Wayland, is something upsetting you?”
Susannah slowly stopped, curling her fingers and shutting her eyes. Why could she not rein in her emotions? She’d done so well these last few months, limiting her tears and making certain she did not burden those around her.
She let out a slow breath. “I am perhaps a bit fatigued.”
It was the excuse she often used. In reality she was sinking into a dark abyss of loneliness that threatened to swallow her whole. But sharing her feelings only brought others down with her, and she could not bear to be the rain in their day.
She’d seen the way her father and siblings had floundered after her mother’s passing. It was especially apparent when she did not work to keep up a brave front. They needed her to be the positivity in their lives and she’d much rather be their sunshine, even if it meant a gale of unearthly proportions brewed inside her tired mind.
“You have been playing for quite some time today.” Lady Stanford glanced down at the piano. “Let me call for some tea and we can discuss the dresses we need to have fitted for you.”
“Dresses?”
“Well, of course. You do not believe I’d take you to London without a town-worthy wardrobe, do you?”
“But I—”
Lady Stanford held up her hand. “Not one more word. I will have my way on this, Miss Wayland, so you best not argue.” The right corner of her lips tipped up and she shook a playful finger at her. “And you know how often I get my way.”
Susannah chuckled. The beautiful woman did get her way quite often, but only because her way was generous. Who could refuse such kindness?
“Thank you, Lady Stanford,” she said as they exited the music room. “I do not know how I can ever repay your generosity.”
“You do not. If you repaid me, it would not be generosity. It would be a loan, and I am not the Bank of England.”
The moment Susannah entered Wayland Lodge, her siblings inundated her with questions and requests. Such was the case every time she took an afternoon to make use of the Stanfords’ music room. If a few hours away could create such chaos, what would happen when she left for several months?
The question followed her all the way to her room that night. They needed her. As much as she loved her father, he did not fill the hole their mother had left. She’d done her best to pick up the pieces, but she feared she was failing them. If she left, it would be a confirmation of her inadequacy. Perhaps she should remain home.
A quiet knock sounded on her door and she fully expected Amanda to come in for her nightly reassurances that all would be well—something Susannah did not think she could give tonight—but Terrance stepped through the door at her bidding.
She sighed. “Is Andrew having another one of his nightmares?”
“No, I came to talk with you.”
Susannah tipped her head to the side. “Me?” Of all her siblings Terrance had needed the least amount of comforting, choosing to grieve on his own—if he did at all. He had become the rock of the family as their father floated between good days and bad. But perhaps now that Papa was again taking on the majority of the responsibilities around the estate, Terrance felt at liberty to face the situation.
“Yes, you. You have not been well all day, Nan. What is the matter?”
She tried to protest but he stopped her.
“I am not blind. You interrupted Amanda at breakfast when she was telling you about her latest book. You did not try to interact at all with Andrew even when he patiently waited for Michael to finish his monologue about the injustices of taking tea in the nursery. And you even snipped at Michael a few times.It’s not like you. Something is on your mind and I aim to put things to rights.”
She leaned back in her chair by the fire. Terrance always had been a fixer. No wonder he’d gone to all the trouble of searching her out.
“Will they hate me?”
Terrance’s brow furrowed and his nose scrunched. “Michael, Andrew, and Amanda? I doubt it. A little distractedness and scolding are no cause for hate.”
