Page 120 of The Scoundrel's Daughter
Lucy swallowed her misgivings and fetched her shawl.
They set out in a smart little tilbury. Lady Stornaway drove.There was no groom. It was clear the old lady wanted a private conversation with Lucy. Despite breakfast, Lucy’s stomach felt hollow. Lady Stornaway was, after all, Almeria’s mother.
For the first twenty minutes, the old lady simply pointed out local sights. Lucy’s tension mounted. What was the purpose of this drive?
Finally, they drew up outside an old cottage with a thatched roof and a crooked chimney. It was small and neat but not particularly prepossessing. They contemplated it for a few minutes. Were they going to visit someone? Children and hens ran about in the yard, and when the children saw Lady Stornaway, they ran eagerly toward the carriage, calling out greetings.
Lady Stornaway smiled and produced a bag of sweets, but apart from exhorting the recipient to share them out fairly, she made no move to get down. And no adult came out to greet her.
“I expect you’re wondering what we’re doing here?” Lady Stornaway said after a while. Lucy couldn’t deny it.
“I was born in that cottage.”
Lucy turned to her, shocked. “You were?”
The old lady nodded. “I have no connection with the tenants now, except as lady of the manor, but when I was a gel, Papa was a tenant farmer. Not a particularly good one.”
“But...”
“How did I end up a lady?”
Lucy nodded.
“I married Gerald’s grandfather.” She smiled. “There was a terrible fuss at the time, but we didn’t care—we were in love. Albert got a special license, and we went off and got married without anyone being the wiser. Then he took me to London, to a top modiste, and had me dressed from the skin out. That’s your first lesson, my gel, and I can see you’ve already learned it. It’s hard for people to put you down when you’re better dressed than they are. And with the right clothes, you feel up to anything.”
Lucy agreed. Wearing Miss Chance’s dresses, she felt quite different from the girl who’d arrived in London in that horrid frilly pink dress.
“So now you know where I came from.” She glanced at Lucy and chuckled. “That’s why my daughter Almeria is so frightfully toplofty—living me down, you see. Or imagining she is. Really, nobody worth anything gives tuppence about my background. Oh, some might whisper about it behind my back, but how does that hurt me? It’s who you are and what you do and say that’s important, not where you come from. Are you listening to me, gel?”
“Of course I am.” Lucy’s brain was whirling.
“So you need not have any qualms about marrying my grandson.” Lady Stornaway snapped the reins and the tilbury moved on. “If you’re young and in love, you should marry.”
“But Gerald and I are not in love.”
The old lady gave her a sardonic glance. “Pish-tush! You told me you weren’t going to lie to me.”
Lucy blushed.
“You care for my grandson, don’t you?”
Lucy hesitated, then nodded. “Yes, but—”
“But nothing. Now, you listen to me, my gel—you don’t get many chances for happiness in this life, and when you get one, you need to seize it and hang on to it.”
“But what about—”
“Seize it and make it work. Be the woman you want to be and take no nonsense from anyone.” She eyed Lucy shrewdly. “You don’t want people to look down on you, and I appreciate that, but you’re also thinking of Gerald, aren’t you?”
Lucy nodded. “I wouldn’t want to embarrass him.”
“Then don’t. He’s chosen you out of all the silly high-born widgeons who’ve been setting their caps at him for the last couple of years. Gerald takes after his grandfather, my Albert—he knows what he wants.”
Conversation paused as they negotiated a shallow ford, then she continued, “If Gerald is the man you want, then take him andmakeit work. But be the woman you are, not the woman you imagine he ought to want. That’s the quickest way to drive a wedge between you. Be honest with each other, and for God’s sake, talk things over.”
A flock of sheep surged down the road toward them, and the carriage stopped as the sheep flowed around it. The shepherd tugged his forelock to Lady Stornaway and nodded at Lucy.
“And forget about separate bedrooms,” the old lady said when the baaing of the sheep had become sufficiently distant. “Bed is where you and your husband will do the best talking, before or after you make love.” She darted a glance at Lucy. “Shocked you, have I?”
