Finding the Bluestocking’s Heart: The Colchester Sisters Page 5

  “I have seen before how you struggle with them, my dear,” Verity said in a quietly teasing tone.

  “Really, I think it would be better if the cook mashed them. That way I would be safe.”

  “I do not think that the cook would mash tomatoes, Amos, even if you insisted. She has certain standards beneath which she would not dip, and I do believe that mashing tomatoes just because there is one man in the house who cannot quite manage them with grace would certainly qualify.”

  “I suppose that is a fair comment,” he said and treated her to his customary boyish grin. “But we are getting off the subject. You intend to write to Irving and let him know that there is a lecture to be held in the town hall?”

  “Yes, that is exactly what I intend to do. Although, I was going to suggest meeting him in the foyer so that we might sit together,” Verity said simply.

  “Without a chaperone of any kind?” Amos said cautiously.

  “Why on earth would I need a chaperone to go to a lecture in the town hall? I know you have come with me in the past, but you do not enjoy it at all and if I am to have company there, I would not need you to concern yourself.”

  “No, that is not quite what I mean.”

  “Then would you explain yourself, brother, and I beg you to be plain,” Verity said, wondering what his objections could possibly be.

  “Well, I think it is customary for a young woman, when out with a man, to have some intermediary there.” He shook his head in disbelief. “Really, so much of what is normal simply passes you by, does it not?”

  “No, it does not. I fully understand the entire business of chaperones and young ladies not being trusted. Or perhaps it is men who are not trusted, I cannot say. My point is that it does not fit the circumstances.”

  “Are you quite sure it does not fit the circumstances?”

  “I am certainly sure, but you do not seem to be. Perhaps, if you have some objections, you would be better to tell me about them.”

  “I do not object at all. Irving is a very fine man and I would trust him to look after you very well. And so, these are not objections, my dear, I suppose it is an observation.”

  “I really do not understand.”

  “Well, it rather strikes me that you and Irving are not simple acquaintances. You are not friends in the common way.”

  “Why not?” Verity said, a little defensively. “I like Irving and I am certain that he likes me. Why can we not be friends?”

  “Verity, Verity, Verity,” Amos laughed and shook his head, putting his knife and fork down on his plate. “I am trying to suggest that you might consider yourself and Irving to be a little more than friends. A little better than friends. Oh goodness, I shudder to use this word in your presence, but it is the only one which springs to mind.”

  “What word?”

  “Romance,” he said and winced so thoroughly that his eyes closed completely.

  His wince continued, his mouth seemingly pulled up in a garish sort of grin as if bracing himself against some physical assault he soon expected.

  “Nothing romantic has passed between us at all, Amos. He is simply a very pleasant man who has the same interests that I enjoy. And I liked his conversation very well at afternoon tea. But that is not romance, brother.”

  “Very well, I will give you his address,” Amos said, giving in and laughing for reasons she did not understand. “I do wish you would read between the lines sometimes though, Verity. Must you always stick absolutely to everything that is in black and white?”

  “Everything that is in black-and-white is assured, Amos. Anything that is in between the lines, as you put it, is generally conjecture at best and fantasy at worst. I would much rather deal with what exists than what does not.”

  “I absolutely give in,” Amos said. “I will write down Irving’s address as soon as I am finished with breakfast and simply let you get on with it.”

  “Thank you,” Verity said simply and reached for her tea.

  “Except I would ask you to do one thing for me.” Amos set off again, this time in a wheedling tone.

  “And that is?”

  “When you are sitting in this lecture at Irving’s side, would you give some consideration to the exact nature of your acquaintanceship? I mean really consider it.”

  “Yes, of course,” Verity said and was careful not to shrug.

  In her heart, she knew what Amos was getting at for she was no fool. But she was not entirely sure about the whole business of romance, not even enough to say that she had any romantic feelings about Irving whatsoever.

  “My dear Verity. You do exasperate me. But you amuse me in equal measure, so I could forgive you anything,” Amos said and set about his breakfast once more.

  “If that is supposed to be a compliment, brother, I daresay I have no choice but to accept it,” Verity said and smiled at him, already looking forward to the prospect of seeing Irving again.

  Chapter Ten

  “I have never heard of this Irving of yours, Verity,” Jane said in a breathless and excited whisper the moment her maid had left the sisters alone.

  Within just five minutes, Verity was already regretting her decision to come to her sister for assistance in clarifying the whole business of romance. She had needed to find some answers and had thought Jane, newly married and still romantic despite her new status, would be the most sensible choice of confidante.

  “Firstly, Jane, he is not my Irving,” Verity said for the purpose of clarification. “And secondly, he was a friend of Amos at Eton. I gather he was not close enough a friend to join the hordes of fellows who used to descend upon our house in the summers,” Verity laughed.

  “Goodness, yes! Dear Amos, he was such a popular boy. I was always so excited when he brought a new friend home. They were invariably as silly as Amos and such wonderful fun.”

  “Well, Irving is not at all silly. I suppose that was why Amos never invited him to our home when he was younger. Although, he must be growing up a little, for he seems to like Irving very well now. Perhaps he has a better understanding of him now he has matured. Or at least matured as much as Amos is ever going to.” Verity shrugged. “I daresay we never heard of Irving because he was not a particular school friend of Amos’.”

  “And he lives in the county?”

  “Yes, he is much further west. We have very few acquaintances in common; there is just Mrs. Barton as far as I am aware. And he is not entirely a stranger to the assembly rooms, although I understand he has not attended much in the last two years since his father passed away. His mother is still growing used to a life without him.”

  “Oh, that is sad. They must have been very much in love.” Jane was instantly glassy-eyed.

  “From what Amos tells me, I should say not. The late Mr. Ayres was a controlling man who allowed his wife none of her own spirit for their entire marriage.”

  “Oh, I see.” Jane’s romantic notion was thwarted, and Verity felt sorry for it. “Then she must be relieved he is gone.”

  “I think it takes a prisoner some little while to get used to the idea of their freedom. Rather like Aunt Mary.”

  “But just think, when Aunt Mary finally realized her freedom, there was nothing to hold her back. Goodness, whoever would have known she was a woman of such a sharp tongue and sturdy opinions!” Jane winced.

  “I like Aunt Mary,” Verity said in simple defense of the woman. “I am glad I came here. To say it all out loud reminds me well why I have chosen a solitary path.” She changed the subject abruptly.

  “Oh, Verity, no!” Jane complained. “Just when I thought you were getting somewhere.”

  “Why must success for a woman be linked to marriage?” Verity said, realizing once again how very different they were as sisters.

  “I am not thinking about success, Verity, I am thinking about happiness.”

  “I daresay I am too. I mean, Mrs. Ayres must have been unhappy. A clever woman so ignored and denied. She gave up her chance of happiness when
she married.”

  “But it does not go without saying that marriage leads to unhappiness. What if that is where your happiness is, Verity? What if this Mr. Irving Ayres is the man you were meant to be with?”

  “And what if his mother thought the same about his father?”

  “Verity, you do not account for the fact that people often know exactly what it is they are getting into,” Jane said in a surprisingly level and sensible tone. “We both know well that people marry for all sorts of reasons and love is only one of them. For most people, they marry for something that they need, do they not? A home, status, security. And I believe it is likely very true that people have a good idea of their marriage partner before they ever take their vows. It strikes me that you are afraid that you might not know a man’s true character until you are married to him.”

  “I think it an eminently sensible fear,” Verity said.

  “Yes, because you think sensibly?”

  “Yes.”

  “Rationally?”

  “Yes.”

  “Because you are a very intelligent woman.”

  “Thank you,” Verity said, unsure what was coming next.

  “Then I am certain that you would know. You would easily work out a man’s character before you agreed to the marriage. And it is yours to agree or deny, given the fortunate position you enjoy. The same position Esme and I enjoyed; that our family has no motives for us. We are already free, Verity.”

  “Oh,” Verity said and sat up straighter on her chair in surprise.

  “What is it?”

  “That is the most sensible thing I have ever heard you say, Jane. And you reached the conclusion long before me. In fact, I did not reach it at all, not until you said it.” Verity was wide-eyed.

  “Well, you need not look so surprised!” Jane said and feigned offense. “I am sensible enough when I have a mind to be.”

  “Yes, you are!”

  “I suppose it is a lifetime spent with you and your plain way of looking at things. I daresay some of it has rubbed off on me. One can only hope some of my tendency towards love and romance has rubbed off on you.” Jane studied Verity doubtfully.

  “You do not think so?” Verity said and wondered if there could be romance in her life; romance with Irving Ayres.

  “Perhaps.” Jane continued to study her. “Really, it is hard to tell with you; you so rarely show your feelings.”

  “Then I am no closer to understanding it all. I had hoped you would help me see it a little more clearly.”

  “Ah! I have it,” Jane said and was excited once more. “A little test!”

  “What test?”

  “Think about your Irving. Really think about him. Look, close your eyes, Verity. You must enter into the spirit of it.”

  “Very well.” Verity screwed her eyes up tight and Jane stifled a laugh.

  “Good,” she said and cleared her throat. “Now, imagine Irving. Picture him.”

  “Yes.” Verity pictured him easily.

  “Is he a handsome man?” Jane whispered.

  “Yes, he is a very handsome man.”

  “Then imagine your favorite moment with him. A time when you felt yourself to be enjoying his company so well that nothing else mattered.”

  “I’ll try,” Verity said and was silent for some time.

  “Do you have anything?” Jane whispered finally.

  “Yes. We were at the assembly rooms watching a young man make such a ham-fisted performance of working his way across the room to speak to the young woman he liked. Irving was so amusing, and we talked all evening so comfortably.”

  “So, he was handsome and amusing? Fine company?”

  “Yes,” Verity said and felt her heart beginning to open.

  “Now, imagine another scene altogether,” Jane said, still speaking softly and making Verity feel as if she were in a relaxing, wonderful trance. “Irving is climbing up into a carriage. He lowers the window and looks out at you, his face so handsome. And then, as the carriage slowly draws away, he waves at you. He is going to live far, far away. And you wave back, knowing that you will never, ever see him again,” Jane finished, and Verity’s eyes flew open.

  Her hand went instinctively to her chest, as if to soothe her heart. She glared at Jane, so aggrieved that she had turned a wonderful mental image into something so distressing.

  “Jane! What did you do that for? That was unkind of you!” Verity accused.

  “Then you are upset?”

  “Yes, of course I am upset.”

  “Because you imagined how you would feel if you lost Irving for good?”

  “Well….. yes.”

  “Then I do believe you are well on your way to falling in love, Verity,” Jane said triumphantly. “You have passed the test. There is room in your heart for someone after all.”

  “Oh! Jane!” Verity said, feeling a little overwhelmed.

  “Perhaps some more tea to settle you?” Jane smiled warmly as Verity scowled at her.

  “Yes, I think so.”

  And, as they sat in silence for a while, Verity wondered if she really was falling in love after all.

  Chapter Eleven

  “I was very glad you wrote to me, Verity,” Irving said the moment he arrived outside the town hall.

  She saw him from the carriage and called out to him. Irving immediately helped her down, calling up to the driver that he need not worry to climb down.

  “I am glad you could come. I should have mentioned the lecture when you came to us for afternoon tea, for I knew of it then,” she laughed. “That was why I was reading about Inigo Jones in the first place. I was looking forward to the lecture and wanted to immerse myself in it all. When I saw your interest, I realized you would like such an evening. But it did not occur to me at the time to mention it. It is often the way, I am afraid.”

  “Because you were so caught up in your interest. There is nothing wrong with being passionate about such things. I am just glad it came to you in time for you to invite me,” he smiled at her and Verity had a sense of ease; a sudden realization that he somehow understood how things were in Verity’s day to day thinking.

  “My family despairs of me at times. My lack of attention to certain details and my preoccupation with things they are not sure really matter,” Verity admitted and was treated to a wonderful smile.

  He really was handsome; even Jane would think so.

  He was wearing black again, with a cream waistcoat and a necktie which reached high under his chin. Irving was indeed a well-dressed man.

  “I think interests do matter; learning matters. We do not know all there is to know by the end of our tutoring, after all.”

  “No, Irving, I agree. I believe that the end of our tutoring is just the beginning. The only thing we have finished is learning what others would have us know. But they give us the tools to keep searching and learning.”

  “And it is lifelong,” he smiled and held out his arm for her to take.

  As they walked into the town hall arm in arm, Verity realized just why Amos had thought a chaperone might be in order. Irving did not feel like a simple friend, not now that she was actually touching him, albeit an innocent touch.

  But he felt so fine, so tall and strong, and Verity found herself becoming nervous suddenly. There was a strange sensation in her stomach that was not unpleasant but was unsettling all the same.

  They took their seats at the back of the already full ante-room where the lecture was being held.

  “It is better attended than I had imagined,” he said to her over the hub-bub of voices. “But it is a small enough room that we have a good view even from the back.”

  “Yes,” she said simply, feeling a little overwhelmed.

  Why did it have to change? She had felt at ease as they talked outside and now, she wondered what she would say next. Holding his arm so lightly could surely not have affected such a change.

  “I am looking forward to the lecture.” She finally found something to say.r />
  “Indeed. Although, it is not due to start for some ten minutes, I believe.” He turned in his seat, looking at her expectantly.

  Verity knew that he was keen to continue in conversation and she was dismayed to discover that he did not seem to be suffering from the same blight of romance which she suffered from. Oh, if only she had not spoken to Jane!

  “Have you been well since last we spoke?” he asked, embarking on a very ordinary conversation.

  “I have… well, yes. Yes, I have been well, thank you,” she mumbled and could see him eying her curiously.

  “And your brother… is well? Your parents?”

  “Yes, they are all well, I thank you,” she said and felt her cheeks reddening inexplicably. “And I went to see my sister, Jane.”

  “And your sister… is well?” he asked slowly and cautiously, studying her in a way that she wished he would not.

  “I… well… yes, she is,” Verity said and then remembered her manners. “Thank you, Irving.”

  “Verity, forgive me, but are you suddenly unwell?” He whispered into her ear, not wanting to ask his question aloud in so crowded a room.

  But his warm breath on the side of her face just served to make matters worse. She felt ridiculous, so young and unexperienced, and wondered where the dreadful feeling had come from.

  “No, I am perfectly well, thank you,” she said, realizing that she was not going to enjoy the evening at all.

  “Is something else troubling you?” It was clear that he was not going to let it go.

  “No,” she said and shook her head vehemently. “Well, yes, actually, there is,” she said and felt a calmness descend.

  Verity realized that her only explanation for her behavior would be the truth. She could not come up with a plausible tale to explain her sudden change in demeanor, for she did not have an ounce of guile anywhere.

  “Do tell me, what is it?”

  “I feel rather differently towards you than I thought I did. And I am afraid that it has come upon me rather suddenly,” she said and took a deep breath. “You see, when I had first suggested to Amos that I write to you and have you accompany me here tonight, he was surprised that I would come without a chaperone of any kind.”