But they would not have become engaged. Lady Audley had made that perfectly clear. To be sure, she did not despise her, but every time she looked at her, she saw Mary.
Frustration twisted in her stomach. Perhaps Lady Audley’s objections could have been overridden.
“Well, most of our parents or grandparents probably had arranged marriages,” Miss Lymington was saying stiffly. “Or at the very least, a pairing suggested to them with encouragement from their own parents. They managed to be happy.”
Miss Darby laughed bitterly, and all three turned.
She blushed but said darkly, “If you can think that, then you have never met my parents.”
There was a stilted laugh from Miss Worsley, who seemed unsure whether this was a jest or not, and the conversation started up again.
Priscilla did not bother to attempt to follow. She had her own chance of happiness, far greater than any arranged marriage, but then…
But she had not gained her chance of happiness in the correct way. She had rivaled Miss Lloyd the only way she knew how: by doing wild things to get Charles’s attention, allowing herself to succumb to his advances, right to the bedchamber – and further…
Well, it was not what young ladies were supposed to do. And concocting her plan with Miss Lloyd, that was not well done.
There was something strange moving before her eyes. Priscilla blinked, and Miss Worsley’s hand came into focus.
“Can you hear me?” Miss Worsley moved her hand again. “Miss Seton, are you in there?”
There was a giggle from Miss Darby as Priscilla roused herself. She needed to pay attention. The whole purpose of coming here and taking tea with her friends was to stop thinking about Charles!
“I do apologize,” she said with a wan smile. “I was a little lost in my thoughts.”
“I know what you were thinking, and it does you credit,” teased Miss Lymington. “You were thinking of hiring Miss Ashbrooke for yourself, weren’t you?”
Miss Darby laughed, and even Miss Worsley smiled.
“What a strange thing to say! Miss Seton will never have to worry about finding a husband – and besides,” Miss Darby said, “’tis only Mamas and Papas who acquire Miss Ashbrooke’s services when they are concerned the next generation will not make the right match.”
Miss Worsley looked shrewdly at Priscilla. “But your mother is not concerned about that, is she? Mrs. Seton has always appeared to me to be a very genteel lady, with no thought as to who you could marry. She doesn’t mind, does she, Miss Seton?”
Priscilla shook her head with a wry smile. “My mother is far more likely to be getting married next than I am!”
She laughed along with her friends, but the bitterness in her stomach twisted. The jest had too much truth.
“If I was any judge, I would say that is not a concern,” said Miss Lymington with rather more perception than Priscilla liked. “If I was any judge, I would say you have already met a gentleman that you have your eye on.”
Priscilla knew the blush was coming but could do nothing to stop it. She did, however, protest, “Now, what a foolish thing to say!”
Her words were almost completely drowned out by their laughter.
“No, really!” She attempted to speak again. “I have not met anyone – there is no one.”
Miss Darby said soothingly, “Of course.”
Miss Lymington did not look so sure. “Who was it in Shakespeare that said the lady doth protest too much? Hamlet?”
“Queen Gertrude,” Miss Darby supplied quickly. “Did you ever see Hamlet on the stage? Oh, my favorite play.”
“Hamlet? Goodness, could you not think of a less cheerful play?” Miss Worsley rolled her eyes. “Why not try Romeo and Juliet?”
The conversation moved on, and Priscilla breathed a sigh of relief. She was not ready to be quizzed on her supposed secret gentleman.
Miss Lymington, however, had not joined in the critique of Shakespeare. Leaning closer to Priscilla, she said in a low voice. “No matter whether you think it is possible to win him, whoever he is, you should try for him. You never know.”
Priscilla smiled bitterly. “Thank you for your encouragement, but…I know.”
How well she knew.
“Have you noticed that every time we meet now, you storm off?”
A leaden weight had settled onto her heart the moment he had thrown those words at her, and nothing could take it away. She had lost the one person she could consider as her partner for life, and now…
Now she would be alone for the rest of her life.
Chapter Seventeen
That he had never noticed before, there was a dent in the plasterwork.
Charles shook his head slowly. Shoddy craftsmanship. How had he never noticed it before?
He shifted, trying to get more comfortable, and smiled wryly. Well, he had probably never noticed the dent because he had not lain on the billiard table in years.
Charles twisted his head around to look at the dent more closely, and then a wry smile crept over his face. It looked almost as though someone had thrown a billiard ball up at the ceiling.
He had not resorted to that. Not yet.
Stretching out his legs, he sighed heavily.
Here he could just be alone.
He had to forget Priscilla and think instead of Miss Lloyd. Seeing Priscilla would have to stop, naturally. She occupied his every waking thought, and that could not continue.
He must be loyal to Miss Lloyd – Frances, he should probably call her now. He had not been loyal to her in any description over the last few weeks. That would have to change. He was marrying Frances. He would learn to love Frances.
“Charles?”
The voice was just behind him, and Charles sat up hastily, whacking his head on the billiard table lights.
Stars appeared before his eyes as pain seared through his forehead. Even so, he could just about make out the figure standing in the doorway.
“F-Frances?”
It was Miss Lloyd. As though his mere thoughts had conjured her up, she was
