Page 15 of The Earl's Disguised Governess
“He will be good, I think,” another lord was saying, but Ernest could not recall all their faces. Did I treat you six months ago in the field hospital? was all he could think when he saw faces of the Ton around him. What injuries did you sustain in the war? And he wished he could turn that part of his thinking off. “He apprenticed under Jefferson in law. Surely, a man with such leadership should do good for his country.”
Ernest switched off. While he was a man interested in politics, he cared little for apprentices and presidents. The conversation turned to statistics, and who else could be considered for the election, and what campaigns the men over there were doing. But Ernest was more concerned about the politics in that very drawing room.
As hard as he tried, he could not tune out his mother’s shrill voice talking with everyone. He heard her say his nameseveral times in conversation, and he promptly ignored any stares or calls that followed. No doubt she was loudly exclaiming how he was a war hero as well, while behind closed doors, she told him to leave the career that had got him that status.
“It is simply terrible what happened to my brother,” Lady Katherine bemoaned at one group of women.
“I grieve and wail for the late earl every day,” she cried to another.
“I do not know how we shall live in his footsteps,” she complained to another, utterly modest and looking for assurances that, of course, they would live in the former Bannerdown’s footsteps. And throughout it all, Katherine solidified the image of a grieving sister who worried about living up to a title that she oh-so-humbly thought herself undeserving of.
If I could, I would march right up to her and order her to cease this foolish game, he thought angrily. But as he turned away from both the lords and his mother’s flouncing, he noticed two other women enter the room.
The first was his cousin, with her hair curled into ringlets that hung down her back. Her hands were clasped in front of her, her straight dress a blushing shade of pink with a delicate neckline. Her eyes darted around the room. No doubt she had seen her parents’ own events, but Lady Katherine’s was clearly something else entirely.
Still, despite her fear, Florence had an easy smile as she looked around the room, but it faltered when it landed on Ernest. He felt a pang of guilt for not trying to speak with his young ward more.
Next to her was Miss Claire Gundry, her dress a plain but deep green, with a white frill along both sides of her neckline that clasped in a V-shape that framed her shoulders. Her skirt fanned out around her, and her wheat-coloured hair was pulled back into a beautiful but wide bun, pinned carefully to allow the usual whisps around her face.
Ever since the day they had ridden together in the carriage, he had noticed her a lot more, trying to find ways to converse, but he still had not broken his fast with her and Florence.
This is my chance, he thought. For I do not have to speak with Florence alone, and Claire can help me.
He excused himself from the group of lords and approached Claire and Florence, adopting a friendly smile.
“Good evening,” he said. “Welcome to one of my mother’s lavish dinner parties that I highly suspect she has been missing throwing.”
“It is very grand,” Claire commented. “I hope you do not mind my presence here, Lord Bannerdown. I am here only to chaperone Lady Florence.”
“I do not understand why I must have a chaperone in my own home,” Florence complained quietly. “But I enjoy your company, Miss Gundry, so I shall not complain too much.” The two shared an easy smile before Claire turned to Ernest, giving him a look that said Go on, talk to her!
He cleared his throat, and Florence looked at him in hope, but as soon as she did, he blanked on what to say. What condolences could he offer a grieving young girl when he had suddenly brought his mother into her home and all but taken over?
“I was telling Lord Bannerdown about how you had the first edition of Romeo and Juliet brought into the Haberdash Bookshop,” Claire told Florence, and Ernest saw it for what it was: a way for him to enter the conversation. A mutual interest that he could pick up on.
“Ah, yes,” he said, smiling awkwardly. “It is a good play.”
Florence gave him a meek smile, and he realized he had not given her a good line from which to continue. An older woman might ask him his favourite part of the book or if he had another favourite, but Florence was clearly out of her depth.
I might have to mention to Claire that Florence seems to be as bad as I am at holding conversation, he thought.
“Weren’t you just saying, Lady Florence, how the part where the two families fight is your favourite?” Claire said.
“Oh, yes,” Florence answered. “I like the scene where Tybalt is slain.”
“An admirable moment,” Ernest said. “I rather appreciate the scene where Romeo learns of Juliet’s death—although we, of course, know it is not a true death at that moment. The start of tragedy, do you agree, Lady Florence?”
“Not quite the start,” she murmured quietly. “But certainly, a tragic moment. For they were doomed from the beginning, were they not?”
“I agree,” Ernest told her. “A lot like Lord Macbeth, yes?”
Her eyes lit up. “Oh, I do like Macbeth! I think Lady Macbeth is a very complex woman. How a book can be so shrouded in death, heartache, and insanity, yet it is still a form of enjoyment and loved by many … It gives some hope that despite darkness, one can still be … loved.”
There was such sadness in her voice that, for a moment, Ernest regretted mentioning the blasted play. But no, this was the very thing he had waited weeks to do.
So, he lifted his chin and played the part of the family that she needed, for he still remembered Graham’s words from the time they had visited Archibald’s monument, and he had coveted Claire’s advice, too.
“Lady Florence,” he said, and his cousin’s watery gaze lifted to him. “Darkness is indeed a shroud, it seems. But you are right. Dark things can still be loved. And while Macbeth and Romeo and Juliet do not have happy endings, your darkness cannot prevent you from having yours. I understand you shall be a debutante soon, and there shall be a man who will understand the grief in your heart. You shall not have to hide it, nor do you have to with me, either. I am ever so impressed by what I have heard of your progress so far.” He smiled at her. “And it would do me a great honour to watch one of your musical performances with Miss Gundry. You have a fine governess, and I am looking forward to learning the young woman you shall become.”
