Page 19 of A Murder, a Marquess, and Miss Mifford
As Eudora was bearing the brunt of Mrs Mifford's company and fussing, Mary decided that it was only fair that Emily take her place on a jaunt along the Row, while Mary brought their youngest sister for a spot of shopping on Bond Street.
Emily was not entirely certain how it was fair that she make the sacrifice to take Eudora's place, rather than Mary, but she did not argue, for one had to choose one's battles when dealing with an eldest sister who always thought herself in the right.
While the jaunt would force her into the extended company of her mother, it would also afford her the opportunity to spend some time with Jane, who was--it was universally agreed--the sanest member of the clan.
As the barouche drove towards Hyde Park--hood down, so that they might be better admired--Jane kept up a steady stream of conversation which, in turn, kept Mrs Mifford occupied and out of mischief. Alas, when the vehicle reached the gate to the park at Hyde Park Corner, Jane's plan came to a sudden halt as the matriarch of the family began to firmly ignore her and focus her attention on the other riders and vehicles making their way toward the Row.
"Oh, look," Mrs Mifford called loudly, elbowing Lord Crabb so forcefully that he winced, "There's Lady Jacobs and her daughter.A-hoy, a-hoy!"
To Emily's horror, her mother leaned over the side of the carriage and waved frantically in Lady Jacob's direction.
"Mother, sit down," Jane hissed, pulling her mother back into her seat, "We are not on a boat."
"No," Mrs Mifford agreed, as she straightened her bonnet petulantly, "We are in a gleaming new barouche, and I should like for her to see it and compare it to her own vehicle--which is rather shoddy, I think you'll agree."
Beside Mrs Mifford, Lord Crabb stifled a smile--for, mercifully, he found her antics amusing--while Jane and Emily breathed sighs of annoyance.
"Mama," Jane adopted a stern tone, "You must be on your best behaviour, for Emily's sake. We cannot have people saying that she is both a murderessandfrom an uncouth family."
"Don't be ridiculous," Mrs Mifford sniffed, "No one would ever think me uncouth."
"But theydothink me a murderess," Emily interrupted, "Look at how people are staring."
She waved her gloved hand--kid skin, to match her ankle boots--outside the carriage, where several people were gawping at her from their vehicles. Onegrande-damewas so intrigued, that she actually lifted a pair of quizzing glasses to her eyes so that she could get a better look.
"Don't be ridiculous," Mrs Mifford sniffed again, "People are looking because they think you the next Marchioness of Highfield. I don't know how I raised such thin-skinned daughters."
It was a mystery, Emily agreed to herself, how she and her sisters had managed to avoid inheriting their mother's misplaced--but rather admirable--sense of self-assurance. Mrs Mifford's skin was as thick as a rhinoceros' hide, and she never once doubted that anyone might not be as charmed by her presence, as she herself was.
"I amnotgoing to be the next Marchioness of Highfield," Emily cautioned carefully, "I pray that you won't say that to anyone, or people will believe I have ill-advisably set my cap at Lord Chambers--and I will be left humiliated when he runs off and marries some moneyed-chit with a mute mother."
"You have not set your cap at him," Mrs Mifford replied, affronted, "Rather the other way around. He was most dogged in his determination to dance with you at Lady Stanton's ball--he had eyes for no one else."
"Don't be absurd," Emily rolled her eyes, before glancing to Jane for support. But her elder sister did not join her in mocking her mother's fantasy, instead, she nodded in agreement. Confused, Emily glanced to Ivo, who wore a rather knowing smirk on his handsome face.
Fit for Bedlam, Emily thought nervously, they were all fit for Bedlam. Obviously, extended time alone with Mrs Mifford had addled Jane's usually sensible brain. Lord Chambers had no interest in Emily, apart from their joint involvement in investigating Lady Hardthistle's murder. And, even that interest was miraculous, considering that Lord Chambers likely took little notice of anything bar his reflection in the mirror.
Yes, Emily assured herself, as she settled back into her seat, everyone was completely mad. There was as much a chance of Lord Chambers being romantically interested in Emily, as there was of she having an interest in he...
Emily forced her attention outside of the carriage, where the great and good of thetonwere parading, all kitted out in their best wears. The young ladies all wore extravagantly decorated bonnets, whilst the gentlemen wore tightly-cut riding coats in various bright colours. A few of Ivo's acquaintances hailed him as they passed, and several other ladies waved to Jane, for she was--as Emily kept forgetting--a viscountess, and much in demand socially.
Mrs Mifford, her bonnet festooned with half the contents of theplumassier's, waved a regal hand at nearly everyone who passed--as though she were Queen Charlotte herself. For a moment, Emily felt embarrassment down to the tips of her toes, but as a carriage approached, bearing the familiar face of Lady Francesca, Emily found herself drawing courage from her mother's unshakable confidence.
Lady Francesca sat beside her friend, Miss Amelia Gardner, the young lady who had joined in the insulting of the Mifford clan at Lady Collins' musicale all those nights ago. While Miss Gardner looked radiant, clad in the finest of clothes--as one would expect from the daughter of a wealthy industrialist--Lady Francesca appeared so wan, that Emily almost felt a stab of pity for her.
Then, she recalled that it was Lady Francesca who had loudly and publicly accused her of murder, and Emily felt her pity melt away.
Lady Francesca had not yet spotted their carriage, and Emily steeled herself for some sort of outburst when she did, but, mercifully, two white knights rode to the rescue.
"Mr Bunting and Mr Fitzgibbons," Mrs Mifford whispered, as she spotted whom Emily was observing, "Mr Fitzgibbons has designs on Miss Gardner, but by all accounts she is leading him on something of a merry dance. As for his companion, Lady Francesca has her beady eye onhim, but her family's fortune is not sufficient enough for him to offer for her. I do wish someone would tell her, for it's painful to watch her so obviously mooning over the lad."
Usually, Emily ignored malicious gossip, but the news that Lady Francesca's affections were not returned by Mr Bunting gave her a momentary sense of satisfaction.
It is not kind to derive pleasure from the misfortune of other's, Emily reminded herself sternly, in an attempt to quash the feeling--though it still persisted.
Mercifully, Jane was on hand to distract, and she tut-tutted loudly.
"Honestly, mama," she said, rolling her eyes, "You are an incorrigible gossip. You state all that as though it is fact, when it is likely merely drawing room whispers."
