That seemed to mollify the sisters, and they agreed.
Ann clapped her hands and said, “Oh, yes—another picnic. I should love that would not you, Mr. Goodwin?”
Charlotte leaned in toward Beaumont and said, “Yes, please, you must let us show you the delights of Cranborne Chase. I just know you and your sister will adore its many charms.”
“Very well, why not? Eh?”
Priscilla had come back to the group by now but did not pay any attention to George, apparently feeling slighted.
“Then shall we go?” George asked, anxious to return to Grayson Manor.
“But I say,” Beaumont said, standing up, “Where is the charming Miss Lucy? Are we not to say good-bye to her?”
Her Grace became flustered at the mention of Lucy, as she was still smarting from George’s rebuke. And she could see that both of her daughters were distraught at Beaumont’s mention of Lucy. She stood, and indicated she wanted Ann to help her out.
“Come, my darling beauties. The picnic basket has already been loaded onto the carriage. I think we must depart before it decides to start raining again. I should hate to become mired in the mud on one of our nasty roads.”
Chapter 19
Lucy was now so often in attendance on her Grace that she barely had time to visit with Betsy anymore. They had been so close once, when they were younger, and had more leisure time to visit. But one afternoon Lucy ran into Betsy in the hallway and Betsy took hold of Lucy’s arm.
“Oh, my dear friend, it has been so long since we have visited together. Might you be free to come to my room for a visit? I should so love to spend some time with you.”
Lucy was for the moment free. Her Grace was napping, and it was too early to be expected in the kitchen to start the work on supper.
“I should love to. You catch me at a moment when I shall be able to accompany you.”
“Then come, dear Lucy.” And Betsy and Lucy ran to Betsy’s chambers.
They went to the window seat and sat opposite each other, leaning back against pillows along the alcove walls.
Betsy took hold of Lucy’s hands as they did in the old days when they would sit here for hours on end and dream about the future.
“What is this I hear? Are you planning to leave us for London?” Betsy asked apprehensively.
“It is possible,” Lucy said. “I must move on with my life.”
“But what about your writing? I thought you had sold some of your stories to that London publisher.”
“I did, but that was years ago. They were published in several periodicals, and I was paid, but then I started my novel, and I barely find time to work on it. And there is to be no money from it until it is finished—if even then. There is no guarantee it will be published.”
“But you are family. How can you leave us?” Betsy lamented.
“But dear Betsy… I am not of your family, as your mother so kindly reminds me all the time.”
“Oh, you must pay no attention to her—I know I never do. She has no idea what she is saying most of the time.”
“That is all very well for you to say, but remember I was taken into this family as an orphan and was lucky to remain, as your mother wanted to send me away to an orphanage.”
“And there is no young man waiting to snap you up?”
Lucy did not know how to answer that, because her heart, while not promised, was taken by the one person with whom she could never unite. So, she answered by just shaking her head.
“And you, Miss Betsy? Your mother despairs for you. She thinks you will never find a suitor with your attitude.”
Betsy sat back against the wall and laughed. “Oh, Lucy, I swear, Dorset must be the end of the earth when it comes to suitable gentlemen. The ones that come traipsing through our Sunday At Homes, are either ancient, boys still wet behind the ears, or young men so full of themselves as to be as empty as a bucket in a drought.”
Lucy laughed. It was good, she thought, to be with her dear friend again. Betsy was no longer the little girl she had shared her reading with. She had turned into a handsome young woman. While she was not a great beauty, she did have a solid handsomeness and could make someone a wonderful wife.
