His mother turned toward him and said, “We are preparing your clothes for Oxford.”
“Mother, that is months away, and besides, I have told you repeatedly that I do not want to study law. Papa wants me on the estate and I want to paint. When will you get that into your thick head?”
His mother looked at him with astonishment. “You will not speak to your mother in that insolent manner, young man. You are still under my roof and you will treat me with respect.”
George threw his hands up into the air and began pacing.
“I am sorry, Mother, but you exasperate me no end. How am I to make you understand that I do not want to attend university? I want to paint, and I have already found a London gallery that wishes to show my work.”
Mother made her pinched face and shifted in her chair, causing Isabell to grumble and reposition herself in her Grace’s lap.
“George, I absolutely forbid such a scandalous idea. A Grayson selling paintings in a commercial establishment is unheard of,” she said in her most haughty voice.”
“Mother, we sell wool and sheep, how is that any more noble than selling paintings?”
“It is the idea. Sheep are humble, practical commodities. But painting—it reeks of anarchy and unseemliness.”
George and Lucy could not help themselves and began to laugh.
The Duchess became indignant and protested. “Enough. You will not mock me.”
“Mother, how are we mocking you? I can name any number of well-established painters with knighthoods, honors, and access to the queen. It is my understanding that she is, even now, in the process of having the royal portrait painted.”
“You have made me upset, and I need some reinforcement.” Judith turned to Lucy and pointed to the bottle on the table beside her.
Lucy went over and added some drops of the laudanum to the glass of water next to the bottle and handed it to her Grace. She drank and exclaimed, “Much better.” She waved her hand at George, dismissing him. But he was not to be dismissed.
Instead, he instructed Flossy, “Please put my clothing back in the armoire. I am not ready to be packed away at the beginning of the summer. And, please, ask for my permission before entering my rooms again.”
Judith looked at her son in astonishment but did not protest. Instead, she gathered Isabell in her arms, stood, and swept out of the room after pointing to Lucy to follow with the precious little bottle.
Chapter 6
It had become the custom at Grayson Manor to have a regularly scheduled Sunday afternoon “at home” when gentlemen callers were invited to stop by to meet or court the three most eligible daughters. Ann was an uncomfortable five and twenty years old. She was on the verge of not being seriously considered any longer, and the poor Duchess was becoming desperate. She began sending invitations further afield than she initially thought would be necessary. Young gentlemen from as far away as Bournemouth were being summoned, and were being put up to stay the night, as it was nearly a day’s journey from Grayson back to the coast.
Charlotte, at three and twenty, had outgrown her spots and poor posture and was still considered the handsomest of the three daughters. Anticipating the imminent arrival of the gentlemen, Charlotte had stationed herself at the spinet, prepared to show off her musical skills. And it did not hurt that the light from the window fell on her face in such a way as to show off her best facial qualities and highlighting the various hues of her auburn hair.
Betsy, however, found this mating ritual to be a monumental bore and spent the afternoon with her face in a book, even though often scolded by her mother. But, after all, she was only one and twenty, and there was still plenty of time for her to find a husband.
Betsy might be considered by some to be even more attractive than her sister, Charlotte. Many of the young visitors would gather to converse with the lovely youngest daughter—much to her dismay, as it distracted from her reading.
The Duchess always placed herself in her comfortable chair, with Isabell in her lap, in a location where she could survey all the guests and make mental notes as to their behavior and attractiveness. In her little notebook, which she always carried with her, she would jot down the name of each gentleman, his family’s social position, his order of birth, and the family’s estimated worth. Many of the names had been crossed out after further examination and research—unless they showed any preference for Ann. At this point, almost anyone would do.
But the Duchess, although she would not admit it publically, knew—without a doubt—that the most exceptional beauty of all was Lucy. She made every effort to exclude Miss Lucy from the Sunday afternoon get-togethers—often sending her on long errands or urging her to visit her friend, Isabell. She could not risk the bright sun of Lucy eclipsing the pale moons of her daughters. However, that did leave her without Lucy’s assistance, and she had to make do with Flossy who was fidgety, impatient, and surly at these afternoons—which were supposed to be her afternoons off.
The first to arrive this afternoon were the Hanson twins—two rather plain farmer’s sons. However, their father was an extensive land owner, and although untitled, was well respected as an upstanding family in the eastern part of the county.
Judith noted in her notebook that Tom attached himself to Ann. That earned him a star. And Richard headed to sit with Charlotte at the spinet and turned the pages for her as she played a Chopin waltz.
Next to arrive was Sir Benjamin Hasting-Fitzwallace. Titled yes, but with a seedy house in Shaftsbury—shopping for a wife who might come with a substantial living. Add to that, the fact that he was long in the tooth, was on the far side of forty with thinning hair, a considerable paunch, and such small eyes one was never certain where he was looking.
He headed directly to the tea table. Accepted a cup of tea and loaded his plate with finger food. He then stood by the window and surveyed the room deciding what to do next.
Betsy, in the meantime, stood up and headed for the door before being stopped by her mother.
“Where are you going?” Judith hissed.
“I am bored. No one very interesting ever comes, and it is a complete waste of my time.”
