determinedly light-hearted and
whimsical manner. It had been most unexpected. Perhaps it was meant to distract one from his
injuries and from questions about his career on the Peninsula?
"I remember now. Quainton passed to his reward five years since. This Alexander
inherited the barony."
"But went to the war?"
"Career soldier; his mama did not demand that he sell out."
"Perhaps she wishes she had. 'Tis a miracle he returned alive," murmured Carolina, half
to herself.
Her grandmother smiled a small tight smile.
Carolina could read the old lady's thoughts very well. Lady Chersham was delighted that
her granddaughter had displayed an interest in a gentleman.
She was well aware that her grandmother found her difficult, although she was not
flirtatious or contentious or scandalous or avaricious. She was simply ordinary...astonishingly so,
she thought. Her face, her person, her talents, and her achievements were none of them more
than commonplace.
Carolina had had three Seasons in London, and had been presented during the second.
She was accepted at Almack's without question, but only danced reluctantly. A few pleasant and
undistinguished gentlemen had taken note of her. She had wanted no part of them. She had
refused a fourth Season and had requested that she be allowed to visit her grandmother in Bath.
Her parents had permitted it, as they were busy with the debut of her younger sister.
"I have welcomed your company these past weeks, my dear, you know that," Lady
Chersham said now, as they departed the Pump Room.
Carolina unfurled the umbrella she carried; it was raining again though the trees were
now in full leaf, and myriad flowers brightened the late spring gardens.
"But I sympathize with your mother, I really do. I'm losing patience with you."
Carolina only sighed as she gave her grandmother her arm to the crested carriage that
would see them home to Queen Square.
"You see? You will not defend yourself, will not bother even to argue with me. You
make nothing of yourself, have nothing to say for yourself. You are pale in person and character.
You need not be! You have as many good features as bad, and a more than common intellect. I
am relieved, indeed I am, to see you express an interest in Quainton. It shows you have blood in
your veins, at least." Lady Chersham settled into her carriage's maroon plush seat with something
perilously near a flounce.
Carolina struggled to lower her umbrella. She smiled her thanks when the groom took it
and handed her within. She said nothing, for how could she respond when her grandmother
spoke only the truth. They sat in uneasy silence for the short journey.
Carolina's reflections were grave. If she could not even be a comfort to the
dowager--and all she seemed to do was irritate her grandmother--what could she do with her future?
Be a prop to her aging parents? The Viscount and Viscountess Chersham were
disappointingly hale and vigorous.
Be a useful maiden aunt? Her elder brother had already produced two precocious
infants, and her two married sisters looked set to be as fecund.
Yes, she could be indispensable to the nieces and nephews who would populate the
family nurseries. She would be an antidote, more plain and awkward every year, shunted from
household to household within the family. "Aunt Caro will help. What else has she to do?" She
shivered as the imaginary words echoed in her head.
"Never say you have caught a chill?" her grandmother snapped. "Even your constitution
is lacklustre!"
* * * *
Carolina walked out every day, though she never ventured very far. Some days she
executed errands for the dowager, other days she went no further than the circulating library. On
many occasions, she merely trod the streets around Queen Square, thinking, planning her future,
and revising plans.
She walked to the great Abbey occasionally and knelt in a corner behind the splendid
tomb of Lady Jane Waller, praying for guidance. The still sanctity of the nave always brought
her
whimsical manner. It had been most unexpected. Perhaps it was meant to distract one from his
injuries and from questions about his career on the Peninsula?
"I remember now. Quainton passed to his reward five years since. This Alexander
inherited the barony."
"But went to the war?"
"Career soldier; his mama did not demand that he sell out."
"Perhaps she wishes she had. 'Tis a miracle he returned alive," murmured Carolina, half
to herself.
Her grandmother smiled a small tight smile.
Carolina could read the old lady's thoughts very well. Lady Chersham was delighted that
her granddaughter had displayed an interest in a gentleman.
She was well aware that her grandmother found her difficult, although she was not
flirtatious or contentious or scandalous or avaricious. She was simply ordinary...astonishingly so,
she thought. Her face, her person, her talents, and her achievements were none of them more
than commonplace.
Carolina had had three Seasons in London, and had been presented during the second.
She was accepted at Almack's without question, but only danced reluctantly. A few pleasant and
undistinguished gentlemen had taken note of her. She had wanted no part of them. She had
refused a fourth Season and had requested that she be allowed to visit her grandmother in Bath.
Her parents had permitted it, as they were busy with the debut of her younger sister.
"I have welcomed your company these past weeks, my dear, you know that," Lady
Chersham said now, as they departed the Pump Room.
Carolina unfurled the umbrella she carried; it was raining again though the trees were
now in full leaf, and myriad flowers brightened the late spring gardens.
"But I sympathize with your mother, I really do. I'm losing patience with you."
Carolina only sighed as she gave her grandmother her arm to the crested carriage that
would see them home to Queen Square.
"You see? You will not defend yourself, will not bother even to argue with me. You
make nothing of yourself, have nothing to say for yourself. You are pale in person and character.
You need not be! You have as many good features as bad, and a more than common intellect. I
am relieved, indeed I am, to see you express an interest in Quainton. It shows you have blood in
your veins, at least." Lady Chersham settled into her carriage's maroon plush seat with something
perilously near a flounce.
Carolina struggled to lower her umbrella. She smiled her thanks when the groom took it
and handed her within. She said nothing, for how could she respond when her grandmother
spoke only the truth. They sat in uneasy silence for the short journey.
Carolina's reflections were grave. If she could not even be a comfort to the
dowager--and all she seemed to do was irritate her grandmother--what could she do with her future?
Be a prop to her aging parents? The Viscount and Viscountess Chersham were
disappointingly hale and vigorous.
Be a useful maiden aunt? Her elder brother had already produced two precocious
infants, and her two married sisters looked set to be as fecund.
Yes, she could be indispensable to the nieces and nephews who would populate the
family nurseries. She would be an antidote, more plain and awkward every year, shunted from
household to household within the family. "Aunt Caro will help. What else has she to do?" She
shivered as the imaginary words echoed in her head.
"Never say you have caught a chill?" her grandmother snapped. "Even your constitution
is lacklustre!"
* * * *
Carolina walked out every day, though she never ventured very far. Some days she
executed errands for the dowager, other days she went no further than the circulating library. On
many occasions, she merely trod the streets around Queen Square, thinking, planning her future,
and revising plans.
She walked to the great Abbey occasionally and knelt in a corner behind the splendid
tomb of Lady Jane Waller, praying for guidance. The still sanctity of the nave always brought
her
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