Page 69 of Heartbreaker of the Ton
“I’ll do no such thing,” Etty said. “If Lady Fulford wishes to impose herself on me, then she must take us as she finds us.”
Frannie’s eyes widened, then, as the knocking came again, this time more insistent, she fled from the parlor.
As soon as Etty heard the front door open, Lady Fulford’s sharp tones cut through the air.
“Do you know how long you’ve kept me waiting, girl?”
“B-beg pardon, ma’am,” Frances said. “W-would you like to come through to the parlor?”
“What a ridiculous question—of course I would!”
Moments later, Frances appeared at the door, her shoulders tensed as if she anticipated a blow.
Lady Fulford appeared beside Frances and looked about the parlor, taking in the pile of mending in the corner and the books on the floor. Her gaze lingered on Gabriel, who grew still, as if he recognized the danger, before settling on Etty.
For a moment, the two women stared at each other. Then Lady Fulford arched an eyebrow and dipped her head—the haughty expression of one who considered herself the principal inhabitant of the village, demanding deference from a subordinate.
With a slow, deliberate motion, Etty rose to her feet.
“Lady Fulford. To what do I owe the pleasure of a visitation?”
Her guest frowned, then wrinkled her nose. Etty gestured toward a chair at the opposite end of the room.
“Please, take a seat.”
Lady Fulford approached the chair. She stood beside it for a moment before bending forward to brush the seat. Then she inspected her glove, making a show of flicking dust from her fingers, before, at length, she sat.
“Some tea, Frances, I think?” Etty said.
“I’m not here fortea,” Lady Fulford said.
“ButIwould like tea,” Etty replied.
Lady Fulford let out a sharp sigh. “Oh, very well, if you insist,” she said. Then she gestured toward Gabriel. “What’sthatdoing here?”
“Heis my son,” Etty said. “And he’s playing.”
“In my opinion, children have their place, and they should be in it at all times.” Lady Fulford fixed her cold blue stare on Etty. “Particularly when their parents have guests.”
“Even uninvited guests?”
Frances drew in a sharp breath, but Lady Fulford merely raised her eyebrows a little further. Then she cast her gaze on Gabriel once more. The boy continued to stare at her, then he let out a wail.
“Frances, would you take Gabriel to his chamber?” Etty asked. “I think he’d be happier there.”
“We’dallbe a great deal happier,” Lady Fulford said. “The parlor is no place for a child.”
“Particularly where the child does not feel safe,” Etty replied.
“Are you being deliberately uncivil, Mrs. Ward?”
“I’m merely stating a fact, Lady Fulford,” Etty said. “My son cries when he does not feel safe.”
“In my experience, children that age cry when they seek attention for their own ends. Any competent parent would not yield to their wiles.”
Etty let out a snort. Most likely, Lady Fulford had spent as little time as possible with her children as soon as she’d birthed them, foisting them onto nannies as soon as they drew their first breath, and onto governesses before they uttered their first words.
“Such cunning little creatures children are, Lady Fulford,” Etty said. “But I thank you for your counsel, and will ensure I have my wits about me in future.”
