“I have no such ambition,” Claudia said. “I just want to be a wife and have a family. That is quite enough for me.”
“What does Jeremiah want to do with his life?” Jenny asked.
Claudia turned to her and smiled. “He is to go to university. He wants to be a cleric like his father. Then we should be able to have our own parish and have a nice living.”
“And he has discussed this possibility with you already?”
“It has come up… more or less.”
“Then you are really serious about each other?”
Claudia nodded. “I best talk to Mama about inviting him to supper, then. Think you not?”
“Most certainly. But we should miss you if you left us.”
“But it will not happen soon. He still has his studies, and I would hate to leave until the other children are grown and take over more of the responsibility in the shop.”
Jenny patted her sister’s arm. “You might be the first of us to marry, dearest.”
Claudia blushed. “It seems rude of me to get married before you do. I shall pray that you find the perfect gentleman to marry you before me.”
* * *
Helena had not yet informed her father of her interest in George Edgerton. In fact, they had not told anyone—except for Helena confiding in Jenny. But Jenny was closer to her than any other person except for dear George, and Helena knew her confidence was safe with Jenny.
Helena lived with her father and mother at Springford Manor—not more than a ten-minute carriage ride from Chatsworth, but a good thirty minutes’ walk—which Helena often took when she had errands in the village. Certainly, they had staff for such errands, but Helena was an independent spirit, and she liked the walk and the activity—not to mention she enjoyed chatting with the shopkeepers and the villagers. And she always had an excuse to stop in and visit with Jenny, even if but briefly.
Helena was quite accomplished at the pianoforte and took it upon herself to find time to practice almost every day. Today she was hunched over, studying the sheet music and trying to master a particularly difficult passage, when Benton, their butler, came into the music room.
“Miss Helena, Mr. George Edgerton has called for you. Will you see him?”
Helena was at first a little annoyed at having her practice interrupted, but the thought of seeing George cheered her up and she said, “Yes, please show him to the map room and tell Bridget to order tea and join us.”
Bridget was Helena’s older married sister who was visiting from Bristol with her husband and three children. Helena’s mother never liked being disturbed in the afternoon when she was accustomed to her nap, so it was necessary for Helena to call upon her sister to chaperone.
Helena threw her summer shawl over her shoulders, left the music room and headed to where George would be waiting for her.
“Dearest George,” she greeted, “were you driving by?”
“No, dearest, I came specifically to see you. I have not been able to take my mind off you these past few days since we missed seeing each other at your Aunt Rosemary’s.”
“How sweet you are.” She went over and allowed George to kiss her on the cheek.
At that moment Bridget came into the map room with her basket of toys, accompanied by two of her children—a young girl and slightly older boy.
“I have ordered the tea,” Bridget said, finding a comfortable chair and doling out the toys to her progeny. “Good afternoon, George,” she said, taking up a novel she had in her housecoat pocket.
Bridget looked older than her three-and-thirty years. But that was partially because she dressed so severely. She wore a dark brown, rather shapeless dress and a matron’s cap that covered her dark hair. She turned to her children and said, “Now, play quietly. We must not disturb your Aunt Helena and her friend.” She looked up at her sister. “Carry on,” she said and turned to her reading.
No one in the family thought of George as anything other than a family friend and had no idea they were secretly courting.
George and Helena drifted to the far end of the room where they could speak more privately. They sat in a window seat and stared out at the parkland surrounding the estate with its wide sweeping vistas of open fields and woodland.
George seemed suddenly morose and silent, so Helena spoke up. “Dearest, I have been working on a piece of music I think you will particularly like. It is a piece by Handel, but it has the most difficult trills and, I have to say, I have been struggling with them.”
“I am sorry to hear that. But I look forward to when you can play it for me, for I do love Handel’s music in particular.” But having responded, he hung his head again.
“Is something bothering you?” she asked placing her hand briefly on his.
