Page 37 of A Lady's Wager
Just then, the older Mr. Firth, who had not been in attendance at the party so far—it was primarily for women and a few of the bucks closely connected to the hosts—appeared on the lawn near a group of women. Etta’s awareness, always too easily tuned in to Mr. Firth, was heightened, and she began fanning a bit faster. He laughed at something with Mrs. Gordon—a widow of means with wide hips and a pug nose.
“And then there is Mr. Firth,” Elizabeth said as if she were a narrative voice in Etta’s head.
“What about him?” Etta said with conscious coolness.
“He is country and lacks the polish of Society, but there is something rather…intriguing about him.”
“I’m sure I don’t know what you mean,” Etta said amid the flutters of her fan. “I find him very much as I did when he arrived.”
“If that is true, you are the only one. The matrons and widows of London are all quite taken with him.”
“He is handsome,” Etta said dismissively. “It would not be the first time a handsome man distracted the ladies of this town.”
“He took Mrs. Winters to the opera last week.”
“I know,” Etta said, even though she hadn’t known.
“And Lady Carmichael invited him to her box at the opera.”
“That is excellent,” Etta said, realizing she’d been tapping her foot. She forced herself to stop. “Perhaps if he makes connections of his own, Rachel shall not feel so responsible to make them for Lydia.”
“He seems to pay you a great deal of attention.”
Etta stopped her fan and looked sharply at her friend. “He does not.”
“Yes, he does,” Elizabeth countered. “At any event you both attend, he always seeks you out.”
Did he? Etta wondered. She shook her head. “Because of Rachel and Lydia’s friendship, that is all. He confirms which events they are attending together, arranges who shall provide transport, that sort of thing.”
“The sort of things the girls could easily manage without him.”
“He is an over-involved parent,” Etta said with a shrug, going back to her fan and stopping her tapping foot again.
“Or he is looking for excuses to interact with you.”
“Stop it, Elizabeth,” Etta said, looking away from Mr. Firth to watch the young people’s game. Not looking at Elizabeth.
“Stop what?”
“Teasing me.”
“I am not teasing you,” Elizabeth said in a non-teasing voice. “Only pointing out that his attention to you is curious. I think he has some intentions.”
“His intentions are surely no interest of mine,” Etta said, and she meant it, except that the heat she felt in her chest was not consistent to her position. Was there more in his attention than she had seen? And if there were, did she truly have no interest? “Any number of men have had intentions toward me, as well you know.”
“Yes,” Elizabeth agreed. Etta could see her head nod from the corner of her eye. “But none that you watch quite so closely as you watch Mr. Firth.”
Etta clenched her teeth together, a quick shot of defensiveness testifying that Elizabeth spoke the truth. She took a breath and forced the defensiveness down with a reminder thatElizabeth was her closest friend—one of very few people Etta could truly trust. “I do not understand it,” she said so soft, she thought—partly hoped—that Elizabeth would not hear it.
But Elizabeth did hear it. Etta could feel the softening of her friend beside her. “I have no want of such notice, Elizabeth. None at all.”
“Which is understandable, Etta, and beyond any right anyone has to judge and determine. However, that you do pay such particular notice might mean something.”
“What?” Etta said, turning to look at her friend directly. “What might it mean?”
Elizabeth smiled kindly, cocking her head to the side and slowing her fan a bit. “Sometimes an uncomfortable feeling can be easier to tolerate if we give it a different meaning. For example, we might be afraid of something, but it feels like anger. Or anxious about something else and it feels like excitement. Or, perhaps, what feels like irritation is actually…attraction, curiosity, interest.”
“Interest,” Etta repeated. Was she interested in Mr. Firth? Surely not, she was not interested in any man. She was interested in an independent life where she did what she wanted, when she wanted, without anyone’s disapproval or prevention. That was what she was interested in.
