Mrs Ancrum had no answer to that and for a while silence reigned, broken only by the ticking of the clock.
At last, Natalya sighed. ‘It grows late. I should get back.’
‘What will you do?’
‘I need to talk to the Pridhams. Until today they were my legal guardians and they have looked after me for four years. I owe them something for that, I think.’ She rose and went over to kiss the old lady’s cheek. ‘Thank you for being honest with me, ma’am.’
Mrs Ancrum gripped her arm. ‘I shall always be your friend, my love. Come to me, if you are in need.’
In need! Destitute, perhaps, if she quit the Pridhams’ house. She pushed aside the thought and summoned up a smile.
‘Thank you, I will remember that. And you will come to my party this evening?’
Mrs Ancrum patted her cheek. ‘Nothing would prevent me, my dear!’
Natalya walked slowly back to Sydney Place, trying to decide what she should do. If Mrs Ancrum was correct, she was the natural daughter of a gentlewoman, but as such, why spend so much upon her education and on teaching her the accomplishments society required of a lady? It would have cost less to provide her with a dowry sufficient to tempt an impoverished gentleman.
Or they might have placed her with some acquaintance who required a governess. Why were the Pridhams so anxious to keep her single? Was she destined to become the plaything of some rich man? Her extensive reading had taught her such things happened. Perhaps she was intended for some fate so dark, so unthinkable she dare not imagine it?
Oh, fiddlesticks, be sensible, Natalya! You are not the heroine of some Gothic novel! This is Bath, for heaven’s sake. You would do well to stop allowing your imagination to run riot and demand your uncle tell you the truth!
Fortified by this self-administered homily, Natalya quickened her step and she entered the house, determined to seek answers immediately. However, she was thwarted when she learned that Mrs Pridham was lying down in her room and Mr Pridham had gone out and would not be returning until dinnertime. Natalya could do nothing but curb her impatience and wait.
Aggie nestled the final white rosebud into her mistress’s black curls.
‘There, miss. As pretty as a picture!’ She met Natalya’s eyes in the mirror and beamed in delight.
Natalya wished she could share the maid’s unalloyed pleasure. No fault could be found with her hair, swept up to accentuate the graceful line of her neck and arranged in artfully loose curls about her head. The white roses looked like stars against her raven locks and had been chosen to complement her white-satin gown with its overdress of white muslin, embroidered with silver.
Natalya sat very still while Aggie clasped the single string of pearls around her bare neck, then she slipped the matching ear-drops into place. The faint iridescence from the pearls provided the only hint of colour and Natalya thought she looked like a statue, pale and bloodless. She had had no opportunity to speak privately with her aunt or her uncle and the speculation still whirled about in her head, despite her attempts to convince herself there was a reasonable explanation for everything.
Behind her, she heard Aggie give a loud, ecstatic sigh. ‘You look like a princess!’
The idea made Natalya laugh. That was one solution that had not occurred to her, although it was probably no more unlikely than her lurid imaginings. Heartened, she bit her lips and pinched her cheeks to put some colour in them before she made her way downstairs.
A few guests had been invited to join them for dinner. Mrs Ancrum and the Grishams were there, as well as Lord Fossbridge and Colonel Yatton, and Mrs Pridham had made a point of inviting Laura Spinhurst and Verena Summerton, along with their parents, to ensure Natalya had young friends of her own at the table.
My aunt and uncle have gone to a great deal of trouble for my birthday, thought Natalya, as she walked into the crowded drawing room. Your suspicions are not only nonsensical, they are ungrateful, too.
Smiling, she took a glass of wine. It was her birthday. Tomorrow she would ask her aunt to tell her about her parents, but this evening she would try to forget all about that and enjoy herself.
Candles were already burning in the windows of the Pridhams’ house when Tristan arrived. He supposed he was what would be called fashionably late, but he had debated whether to come at all. Finally he had decided he should attend, if only to take his leave of Natalya. After all, with Freddie no longer in Bath there was little reason for him to stay. Nor was there any reason to come to the party, for that matter. In truth, he had been surprised to receive the formal note from Mrs Pridham, following Natalya’s invitation for him to attend, but when he walked into the crowded drawing room he realised that everyone of standing in Bath had been invited to celebrate Miss Fairchild’s coming of age.
He soon noticed, however, that apart from young Grisham he was the only bachelor present under sixty. A wry smile twisted inside him. The Pridhams saw him only as Freddie’s uncle, not a suitor for their niece’s hand. What the devil did they mean by keeping her so hedged and protected? Was there some secret about her birth that they dare not tell a prospective husband? Perhaps they were merely eccentric. Well, if that was the case, Natalya was one-and-twenty now and she could choose to do whatever she wished.
The double doors between the two reception rooms on the first floor had been thrown open, but even so the room was crowded and, since everyone was trying to make themselves heard against the chatter, it was noisy, too. He saw Natalya standing beside Mrs Ancrum’s chair
