Where there is Love: The Colchester Sisters Page 4

  “Oh no, you must not send your calling card,” Verity said, surprising him.

  “But why not?”

  “You cannot do things exactly as they are in The Romancing of Beatrice. And in any case, the way you and Jane tease one another, she would just laugh it off and think that you are doing no more than having some fun with her. She would think that you are mocking the book and she would never realize that it is a romantic gesture.”

  “But if I send them without a card, might she not think that they have come from either Bryce or that other fellow, Charles… Charles…?”

  “Charles Woolford.” Verity nodded. “At first, she might, but she is a clever woman and she will very quickly work it out. She will know soon enough that neither one of them have sent the buns. And in any case, she has not yet met Charles.”

  “No, but Jane knows that he already likes her very much. She might think that Amos has told him about the book that everybody’s reading. She would find that more romantic still, the idea that they had not been introduced and yet he had sent her such a lovely treat.”

  “My dear Richard, you are defeating yourself, are you not? Look, you are quite right that Jane would find such an act romantic. So, what do you imagine that she would find more romantic?” Verity tipped her head to one side and raised her eyebrows in a way which reminded him greatly of her mother, Mrs. Colchester. “Even more exciting?” she went on.

  “What?” Richard said, dumbfounded.

  “The idea that it was entirely anonymous. That there is a man out there in the world who is silently, secretly admiring her and she has no idea who.” Verity gave a very wicked little smile. “Trust me, I know my sister.”

  “Oh, Verity, you are a genius,” Richard said, knowing that Verity’s idea was far more brilliant than he had first thought it. “You are right, Jane is not only romantic, but she has that wonderful wild imagination, the idea that anything is possible in the world of love. Perfect, Verity. Perfect!”

  “Yes, I thought so.”

  “I must say, Verity, that I had no idea that you were such a romantic at heart,” Richard said, knowing that his intent was to tease and already beginning to enjoy it.

  “I am not really romantic at all, Richard,” Verity said, as if she were admitting to him something that the world did not already know. “It is simply that I am applying a scientific approach to this dreadful confection,” she said and snapped the book shut. “If science really can be applied to such a thing.”

  “Well, if anybody could apply science to it, it is you,” Richard said and made a good effort of bowing in his seat.

  “Thank you,” Verity said as she pretended to curtsy while she too remained seated.

  “So, the thing is done. I do not need to read any more tales of Beatrice and the ridiculously monikered Lord Pemberchook,” Richard said and sounded as triumphant as he felt.

  “Oh dear, I think you must. In fact, I fear we both must. I do not think that you can imagine yourself to achieve your aims with one attempt.”

  “Yes, but the whole business of the mystery man and the extraordinary romanticism of such a thing. You have led me to believe that it will work,” Richard said and scowled at her playfully.

  “It will work, but it will take a little time to set in. Truly, I do not think that we can rest on our laurels and believe that all will be well and settled with this one little act. No, we must keep reading, Richard. We must keep finding inspiration and acting upon it. One box of cakes does not a mystery man make, my friend.”

  “I suppose that makes sense,” he said and peered doubtfully at the little book he thought himself to be finished with. “Well, it is all in a good cause,” he said and lifted it from the table.

  “And it will give us something to do now that tea is here,” Verity said as the door opened and Maisie returned to them with a tray.

  Chapter Seven

  “I am so excited about the sugar banquet this evening, Verity, are you not?”

  “I cannot say I am excited about it, exactly,” Verity said truthfully. “But why are you so excited? You are not fond of sugar banquets as I recall.”

  “Goodness no, pure sugar all by itself is appallingly sweet.” Jane shuddered. “No, I shall eat before I go and have nothing but weak wine when I get there.”

  “Then why are you so excited?” Verity said cleverly.

  “Have you not worked it out, my dear?” Amos said as he reached across the breakfast table to help himself to more bacon. “Have you already forgotten Lady Miller’s handsome and fair young nephew? Surely, if Lady Miller is holding a sugar banquet then her dear nephew will be there.” Amos was chuckling.

  “Amos, do leave her alone,” Mrs. Colchester said, giving her only son a withering look. “And you are only confusing her by adding this Charles of yours into things.”

  “But Jane does not mind at all, do you, Jane?” Amos looked at his sister beseechingly. “This is how Beatrice worked it all out, you see.”

  “Beatrice?” Mrs. Colchester shook her head. “For goodness sake, not that silly book again.”

  “Mama, it is not silly,” Jane said defensively. “It is very sweet, and I like it.”

  “Forgive me, my dear girl.” Mrs. Colchester looked warmly at Jane. “Just do not listen to your brother’s teasing.”

  “But I really do not mind, Mama. I think it is a good thing to take a little time to work out who is the very best suitor possible.”

  “Quite so, my dear,” Mrs. Colchester said encouragingly. “I know I did.”

  “What are you admitting to, my dear wife?” Edward, who had been engrossed with the morning newspaper despite his wife’s protestations, looked up suddenly. “I was absolutely certain that I was the only man for you.”

  “And you were, my dear.” Mrs. Colchester looked at her daughters and rolled her eyes in a way that made them both stifle laughter. “In the end.” She added cryptically.

  “I know you are only trying to upend me, my love,” Edward smiled at his wife and turned his attention back to his newspaper.

  At that moment, the door to the dining room opened slowly and the butler appeared with the first post of the day on a silver salver. Jane, hardly paying it any heed at all, poured herself some more tea and stared wistfully into space. She wondered what gown she ought to wear for the evening and wondered further still if Bryce really would be at his aunt’s sugar banquet.

  He really was a pleasant young man and he had been bright and attentive on that one and only meeting. He had not, however, particularly given away any romantic nature, but they were still very early on in their acquaintance and she would no more rule him out at this stage than Beatrice would.

  “Oh, there is something for you, my dear,” her father said and Jane, assuming he meant her mother, continued to drink tea and stare. “Jane, my dear,” he said, drawing her attention sharply. “This is addressed to you,” he said and handed a small box to her mother who then handed it down the table to Jane.

  “Oh, I wonder what it is,” Jane said as she looked at the elaborate handwriting she did not recognize on the front of the box. “It is not very heavy.”

  “Perhaps the best way to discover what is inside, sister, is simply to open it.” Verity said, seeming a little impatient.

  “There is no mystery in your life, is there?” Jane bit back humorously.

  “Mercifully, none,” Verity said, and the table erupted into laughter. “Just open it.”

  “I believe that you are as excited as I to see what is in the box,” Jane said, enjoying the opportunity to tease her little sister.

  “Just curious,” Verity said in a somewhat cautious manner.

  “Then I shall leave you in suspense no longer.” Jane untied the string around the box and removed the lid.

  She peered inside and was taken aback to see four beautifully glazed Chelsea buns. They smelled wonderful and it was almost an instinct for her to reach in and take one out.

  “It is Chelsea buns!” she
said, and continued to peer into the box. “Goodness me, and a rose!” She lifted a small winter rose from the box and raised it to her nose. “It must be the very last of the winter roses,” she said, her heart beating fast and her entire body feeling warm all of a sudden.

  “Buns and a rose?” Amos said a little incredulously. “But who are they from? Who has sent them?”

  “It does not say,” Jane said, peering into the box again and lifting each of the buns individually so that she might look underneath.

  No, there was no card at all inside. Gently, she replaced the lid and held the box up to look underneath. Again, there was nothing to suggest who had sent the lovely treat. And whoever had sent it had sent her something that she liked very much indeed. It was then that she drew in her breath and held it, realizing just what she had. These were not simply Chelsea buns and a rose, but rather it was, in its entirety, a wonderfully romantic scene from The Romancing of Beatrice. Had she not been sent a beautifully carved sugar rose?

  “Oh, Beatrice!” Jane said loudly and without explanation.

  “Oh, not this Beatrice again. What is this to do with Beatrice?” her father said with humorous exasperation.

  “Beatrice received a box containing a heart carved out of sugar from one of her admirers, Mr. Dalrymple.”

  “But how did she know it was from Mr. Dalrymple if he did not leave his card?” Edward said, seeming already to regret his foray into the world of Beatrice Lovelorn.

  “But he did leave his card,” Jane said.

  “Oh, so the man who has sent you these, my dear Jane, is a mystery man.” Verity said, her eyes wide in her pretty face, a face that was curiously full of excitement for once.

  “Oh, a mystery man!” Jane stared at the box, hardly able to believe that her little dreams were coming true.

  She thought about it all for a moment. Had she not discussed a little of The Romancing of Beatrice with Bryce when his aunt had asked her what she was currently reading? And had he not told her that young men were reading it to find ideas of how to woo the objects of their desire?

  “Oh, my goodness, it must have been Bryce,” Jane said and smiled brightly at everybody. “So, he is a romantic man after all.”

  “If it is him, Jane,” Verity said dryly. “After all, with no card there is no way of knowing, is there?”

  “Perhaps he will make some mention of it tonight at the sugar banquet.”

  “If he is to be at the sugar banquet,” Verity went on.

  “Verity, you are being more like yourself than you ordinarily are,” Jane said, and Verity smiled at her.

  “I know, forgive me. It is an overload of sweetness, I think. It is all this romance and Chelsea buns, it is affecting my mood.”

  “Now I am more excited than ever to go to the sugar banquet tonight. Mr. Normanton will be there, I know he will. Oh, what a wonderful thing. Now I will have to decide again what I am to wear.” Jane was so excited that she could have floated up to the ceiling, clean through, and gone out through the roof.

  “You have already decided what to wear. I know, I was there. I can bear witness,” Verity said humorously.

  “But this changes everything,” Jane said and tapped the lid of the box of Chelsea buns. “I must put in the extra effort if dear Mr. Normanton has done something so romantic. He has read the book, I can hardly believe it.”

  “If he has, that would seem to be very thoughtful of him,” Jane’s mother said warmly. “I will come up with you in a little while and help you pick something out.”

  “Oh, thank you, Mama.”

  “And I will come and help you too,” Verity added.

  “Goodness, you have been quite helpful enough already,” Jane said with gentle sarcasm. “I can hardly begin to imagine what you would put me in for the evening.”

  “Have a little faith,” Verity said. “Although I am bound to say, I think I prefer the idea of it being a mystery man. Someone you have not thought of, someone who is truly anonymous.”

  “Perhaps it is,” Jane said, although she was as certain as she could be that it was Bryce Normanton.

  Chapter Eight

  The sugar banquet at the home of Lady Miller was so well attended that it was being held in the larger of her two ballrooms.

  Jane was still excited about it all, despite not liking sugar treats; not pure sugar at any rate. She had not yet seen any sign of Bryce, but he did not live with his aunt and so would have to travel to the event the same as everybody else in attendance.

  Still, it was nice to hear from Lady Miller herself that Mr. Normanton would be coming, it made Jane all the surer that it was he who had sent the Chelsea buns and the winter rose.

  “He is bringing his younger sister this evening.” Lady Miller had told her. “Dear little Bella. She is such a fine girl. My sister’s children are very dear to me.”

  “Lady Miller is truly blessed to have such fine relatives,” Richard whispered humorously into her ear the moment Lady Miller left them. “I wonder if Bella is as pretty as her brother is handsome.”

  “Indeed,” Jane said, but felt a little flash of disquiet.

  The truth was, she was not at all sure she liked the idea of Richard finding Bella pleasing. She was sure it was nothing more than not wanting to share her childhood friend with anybody, but still the feeling was rather strong.

  Jane turned to smile at Richard as he continued to engage Verity in conversation. He was their chaperone for the night, since both her parents had actively found other engagements which did not involve such extraordinary sugar consumption.

  He looked very well in black breeches with a black tailcoat and cream waistcoat. He looked so smart with his dark hair and neatly trimmed beard. His hazel eyes had flecks of gold in them which always looked more pronounced by candlelight. All in all, Richard Wade was a handsome man. But, for the most part, Jane still thought of him as a boy and she wondered if he still thought of her as a child.

  “My dear Jane, my nephew has arrived.” Lady Miller, more a bluebottle than a bird that evening, seemed to hum with nervous excitement. “I am sure he would be pleased to see you. May I bring him and his sister over?”

  “Of course, Lady Miller,” Jane said, remembering the Chelsea buns and growing excited again.

  Lady Miller disappeared, quickly returning with Bryce and Bella. Bella really was a dear, a sweet-natured young woman who was very pretty indeed. And she noted not only how quickly Richard engaged her in conversation, but how pleased Miss Normanton seemed with Richard also.

  But she had to find out about the Chelsea buns, she must not lose sight of what she was trying to achieve.

  “Do you enjoy the sugary treats, Mr. Normanton?” Jane said as she began to cast about for a way to open her little investigation.

  “No, I do not enjoy such sweetness. It sticks so to one’s teeth,” he smiled, but not as broadly as he had done the last time they had met.

  “Do you not like sweet things at all?” Jane plowed on.

  “Not really. Perhaps strawberries on occasion.” He was peering over her shoulder and across the room and she wondered if he was eyeing the banquet tables. “I prefer savory. Meat, cheese, bread. The simple things.”

  “My own favorite sweet things are Chelsea buns,” Jane said and raised her eyebrows.

  However, Bryce seemed hardly to notice, and he certainly gave no hint in his countenance of recognition. He continued to appear distracted as he peered over her shoulder.

  “Chelsea buns?” he said and finally looked at her. “No, I do not like them at all. I do not like raisins, you see.” He appeared entirely bored with the conversation.

  At that moment, Jane realized that it most certainly was not Bryce who had sent her the buns and the rose. As much as he had enjoyed their conversation about The Romancing of Beatrice and had offered his own opinions on the matter, it had not captured his imagination as she had first thought.

  No, somebody else altogether had sent the surprising little box of treats
.

  Jane felt a little flat now, her hopes of being wooed by Bryce seemingly dashed. Perhaps he had not been as pleased with her as she had thought in their first meeting and she was certain that he was nowhere near as happy to be in her company now as he had been then.

  Finally, growing a little tired of his continued distraction, Jane turned herself slowly and by degrees until she was able to look out across the ballroom to discover the source of his interest.

  And there, standing by the banquet tables and nibbling prettily at a small sugared flower was a rather beautiful young woman with thick flaxen hair wound up onto the back of her head as heavy ringlets trailed away over her shoulders.

  Jane caught Richard’s attention when she looked back from the young woman and almost laughed when he rolled his eyes secretly. In a moment when she could have felt entirely flattened not only by Bryce’s lack of attention, but by his determined attention elsewhere, Richard had amused her. But that had always been the way, that was what Richard did.

  As the evening went on, Jane continued to move away from Bryce to let him know that he was absolutely free to excuse himself and try to secure an audience with the flaxen-haired beauty. And she even did what she could to soothe the awkward embarrassment of Lady Miller who seemed to feel some sort of obligation towards Jane that she would really rather the lady did not bother with.

  “So, did you manage to learn anything? Was it Mr. Normanton who sent you the Chelsea buns?” Verity asked when the three of them were finally alone again.

  Bryce, having secured an introduction, was now in deep conversation with the lady of his choice and his sister, casting occasional glances towards Richard, standing faithfully at her brother’s side. And as for Lady Miller, she was already fluttering birdlike about her nephew’s new quarry. Jane could not help but feel sorry for her, the poor lady was only trying to settle down a young man with a wandering eye, no doubt for the sanity of her dear sister.

  “It was definitely not Mr. Normanton,” Jane said in a resigned tone.