Page 66 of A Night of Secret Surrender
‘It was safer for me to play a lad for a while.’
‘On the stage?’ Vivienne Shayborne’s eyes widened.
‘In a war. In Paris. After my father died I became a sort of courier. I imagine that here such things are unheard of, but there...well...I had to live.’ She found it hard to finish.
Vivi nodded. ‘Sickness has restrictions, too, and my husband and I were not lucky enough to be blessed with children. Your grandmother described your small son in detail to me and I should love to meet him.’ Her green gaze rested on Celeste’s ringless hands, yet the woman before her did not seem to be here to criticise or to judge. She was lonely perhaps, left in the country as a young widow and trying to cope with her grief. There was melancholy there, too. Celeste recognised such an emotion because she’d often felt the same.
Did Summer Shayborne come to Sussex much? Was he expected home across the coming weeks? So many things she could not ask, dared not ask because she had given up every right to.
‘Perhaps you would come to Luxford for tea tomorrow afternoon. I like to sit out in the greenhouse with my dogs when it is fine.’
‘I would enjoy that.’
‘It’s a very quiet house with everyone gone, but the trees are beautiful in the autumn. If you feel up to it, we could have a short walk. I think your grandmother is worried about you. She hoped I could be a friend.’
‘She said that to you?’
‘Not in so many words, but...’
‘Could she come to Luxford tomorrow as well? She may not want to, of course, for she seldom goes anywhere, but I think she might enjoy the invitation.’
Vivi Shayborne clapped her hands. ‘Then it will be a proper afternoon tea with the table set elegantly, for it has been so very long since I had real visitors.’
After she had gone, Celeste went to find her grandmother. In the days since she had arrived she had only seen her three times and each time had been different. Yet she had not been asked to leave and treasures had turned up unannounced to her room: the cot and baby clothes, warm winter blankets, a new desk with paper and pens and a fine shawl.
The two gowns she had come to England with had been washed and pressed and mended, and if they were not the pink of fashion, they were nevertheless serviceable and presentable. Perhaps it was time to try to work out the future. For her and for her grandmother.
Lady Faulkner was writing in the downstairs salon when Celeste found her, though she hastily pushed the journal under a pile of other papers.
‘I am in effect the chatelaine of Langley. Your uncle’s condition has worsened and I need now to put into place other safeguards to protect the estate.’
‘Then I hope I am not disturbing you?’
A quick shake of the head was her only reply.
‘Vivienne Shayborne has asked us to Luxford for afternoon tea tomorrow. She was most hopeful we could both be there.’
A heavy frown crossed the wrinkled brow.
‘I saw her yesterday in the village. She said nothing of it then.’
‘She has just now called in and she seemed very nice.’
‘She is a young woman who needs to marry again. Her husband, the Viscount, died a year ago and she has...atrophied here.’
The word made Celeste smile. ‘Perhaps she is only now up to welcoming visitors again. She mentioned her dogs.’
‘Large Scotch collies. Frightening things. No doubt they will be at her feet where they usually are, drooling and misbehaving. She walks a lot with them through the woods and I have the feeling they need it.’
‘Then perhaps I might join her one day for the exercise.’
‘You are a nursing mother and I am not sure that would be wise. In my day we simply went to bed and rested and yet still Mary Elizabeth was born a month early.’
That was the second time Celeste had heard her speak of her mother since she had been back. She tried to encourage more.
‘That must have been difficult for you to have such a small baby?’
‘I had two most competent governesses, so I seldom saw her for the first few years.’
