“We have been mostly well. Chrissy had a few sniffles the other day, but they passed. She seems to have inherited her father’s constitution rather than mine—thank God.”
They went inside the tidy cottage.
“Kettle on?” Lucy asked.
“On the low boil, just waiting for you.” She headed toward the kitchen, holding Chrissy in the crook of her arm. “Now tell me about this ball. Carter says everyone in town is talking about it. Seems there has been a run on fabric, ribbons, buttons, and shoes at Strickland’s, as everyone prepares new gowns.”
Lucy laughed. “Do not tell a soul, but the ball is like a fire sale. It is a big final push to find husbands for the two oldest daughters. Neither has been proposed to, and the Duchess is panicking.”
“Poor dears. I can understand Ann not finding a husband as she is such a sour apple, but Charlotte seems sweet enough and is very attractive,” Isabell said, pouring hot water into the teapot.
“Attractive yes, but the Duchess has a habit of badgering the suitors—standing over them like an executioner. She is so desperate she tends to drive any potential suitors away. And, unfortunately, there seems to be a surfeit of eligible young ladies and a scarcity of young gentlemen these days countywide.”
“Why were the daughters never taken to London and presented to her Highness in a proper coming out?” Isabell asked.
“The Duchess has an abhorrence of London and could never bring herself to take the girls, even though they pleaded.”
Isabell put the teapot on the prepared tea tray, and they went outside to sit in the sun, partially shaded by a lovely old pear tree, just coming ripe. The two friends chatted a bit more as Chrissy played with a shovel, sitting on a heap of dirt on the ground. Lucy looked over at the child and was surprised to see the girl with handfuls of dirt in her hands lifting them to her mouth.
“Oh, Isabell, Chrissy is eating earth,” she exclaimed.
Isabell turned to look. “Oh, yes.Iteats earth all the time. Never seems to harm her. Carter says she will grow out of it.”
“Well, I never…” Lucy said laughing.
“Carter says one of his brothers used to do it all the time and grew up to be a worker in a brewery, lifting two kegs of ale in one go.”
“Isabell, I need to tell you something,” Lucy said rather quietly.
“Oh, is it serious?”
“Rather. George’s Aunt Hester—you know the one we stayed with in London—sent me a letter. One of her friends is looking for a female companion, and Hester thought of me.”
“You would move to London?”
“I would if I took the job. Two hundred a year—a tidy sum.”
“It certainly is. Are you going to take it?”
“Oh, heavens, I do not know. It is a great deal of money for someone without any references. And I cannot go on as I am at Grayson Manor with no real job and no income.”
“Oh, Lucy, I should miss you so.”
Lucy began to tear up. “And me you.”
Isabell thought for a moment. “But you are such a lovely young lass. What about a husband? With all these gentlemen coming to see the sisters, might there be an extra stray one hanging about who would be suitable for you?”
Lucy laughed. “Isabell, they are all gentlemen. I am the daughter of tenant farmers. I have no living to offer, and they would not be interested in me. They are all looking to marry well.”
“I expect you are right.” She thought for a moment or two longer as she poured them each another cup of tea. “And Mr. George? You mean to tell me there is nothing of interest going on between the two of you?”
“Oh, Isabell, that you would even ask! We are great friends, and nothing more. And him to be the Duke one day. It would never be allowed, and we both know it.”
“It never crosses your mind?”
Lucy was silent. “I cannot say it hasn’t.”
“And does he have feelings for you?”
