Page 47 of The Spinster's Stolen Hear
“It is abreathtakinglygood novel,” she insisted. “Everybody says so. I enjoyed it very much.”
Bridget snorted. “Well, I disagree.”
Pippa’s face was now beet red. She glanced furtively about, praying that nobody had overheard. Timothy and Katherine were theirhosts, and their family. They had both been remarkably kind to both Pippa and her mother, and Bridget’s ingratitude was becoming more and more obvious.
The closer we get to what she considers our rightful place in Society, the more unpleasant she becomes.
Pippa wondered uneasily what things would be like if she reallydidbecome betrothed to Lord Barwick. How would Bridget behave then?
No sense in worrying about that. One can only hope that Lord Barwick loses interest in me. Heaven only knows I’m not a very interesting woman.
No, I’m not being fair to myself. I ammoderatelyinteresting, I suppose, but I am not rich and I am not titled.
Whatdoeshe want from me?
Pippa thought uneasily of what Katherine had said. Since the incident in the gazebo, Bridget had not allowed Pippa to be alone with her cousin. It took quite some doing, and often Pippa was entirely mortified at her mother’s impolite inserting of herself in every situation, as if she were afraid that Katherine would poison her daughter if they were alone even for an instant.
Katherinemusthave noticed but had the grace not to remark upon it. Frankly, Pippa thought that her cousin was too tired to fight, the baby draining her energy.
Besides, Katherine told me to stand up for myself, and I haven’t yet. Perhaps she’s disappointed in me.
This was an unsettling thought. Pippa found that she didn’twantto disappoint her cousin, who’d been so kind and so very welcoming. Katherine’s house felt more homely thanhomehad in the last few years.
The sound of a woman beginning to recite a poetry verse jerked Pippa out of her reverie. She glanced up at the platform, and found that Timothy had finished his part, and others were taking their turn. Already Pippa was beginning to feel fidgety. She was tired, bored, itchy, all at the same time, hungry forsomething,although she wasn’t entirely sure what.
The recital part of the evening ended with applause and excited chatter, and Pippa stood up with something like relief. At once, before she could move away, Bridget linked her arm through her daughter’s.
“Not so fast, my girl,” Bridget muttered. “I know you. If I look away for a moment, you’ll be off consorting with unsuitable bachelors or whispering with your cousin in the corner. We are here for a reason, Pippa, and don’t forget it.”
Anger swept through her. Pippa longed to yank her arm free, but it would make too much of a scene.
“Yes, Mama, we are here for a reason,” she shot back. “And that reason is to support Timothy and his new novel. You were ever so horrid about it, you know. It’s anexcellentnovel.”
“I think your time would be better served concentrating on more serious matters, instead of wafting around and reading novels,” Bridget responded, without missing a beat. “Now, unfortunately, Lord Barwick and his mother aren’t here tonight. It seems that your cousin and her foolish husband did not have the wit to invite them.”
It was too much. Pippa drew back her arm, turning to face her mother.
“Didn’t have thewit? Mama, Katherine is the cleverest person I know! She didn’t invite Lord Barwick and his mother because they are not literary-minded, and they do not approve of novels or of Timothy’s writing. Whywouldshe invite them? She also does not approve of Lord Barwick’s attachment to me, such as it is, and she makes no secret of the fact.”
Bridget eyed her daughter stonily. “Mind your manners, Pippa. I am doing all of this for you, remember.”
For me?Pippa wanted to shout.No, you are not. You are doing this for yourself, and nobody else, regardless of what you have convinced yourself.
Before their sharp-tongued debate could turn into something less suited for a genteel event, the Dowager Duchess appeared.
“There you are, Bridget,” the Dowager said, smiling faintly. “And good evening to you, Pippa.”
Pippa made a neat curtsey. “Good evening, Aunt Mary.”
“I came to fetch you, Bridget. The O’Hares are here tonight, and Mrs. O’Hare – Clara Clarke as was – is keen to reacquaint herself. Do come along.”
Pippa held her breath. A muscle twitched in Bridget’s jaw. She shot a quick look at her daughter.
“Of course. I shall bring Pippa along.”
Aunt Mary tutted, linking her arm through Bridget’s. “No need. Let the young people entertain themselves, Bridget.”
And that was that. The Dowager drew Bridget away with an air of unassailable authority and Bridget could do nothing but oblige her.
