Into the Wilderness
Page 269
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"Will."
"It's good to see you, Lizzie," he said. "I've been very worried about you."
Aunt Merriweather put down her teacup. "So were we all. But look at the color in her cheeks. The wilderness agrees with her, after all. Is that not so, Mr. Bonner?"
Elizabeth was startled to find that Nathaniel had come in. His face was set in an expression she could not quite interpret.
"I'm called Nathaniel. And yes, it's true enough."
Growing up under her aunt's tutelage, Elizabeth had often seen the calculating look she was giving Nathaniel now: she had not yet determined his worthiness, and she would not be rushed in her appraisal or less than frank about the results of her examination. What Elizabeth had not often experienced was the kind of measured calm with which Nathaniel met this scrutiny. The truth was, Elizabeth realized, that Nathaniel would not be devastated or even especially put out if her aunt should take a dislike to him. It was this potential indifference which was so unusual. Augusta Merriweather had enough money and influence to gain the attention of almost anyone who crossed her path. Thus Nathaniel was a new experience for her and, Elizabeth saw with some relief, not a displeasing one.
"Well, then, Nathaniel. Come here and be introduced to Sir William Spencer, Viscount Durbeyfield. He is also my son—in—law, and your wife's first love."
Elizabeth's spoon went clattering to the floor.
"Mother!" Amanda's tone was all gentle sorrow and dismay.
"Now, Mother Merriweather," said William with a great frown.
"Do stop "Mothering' me," the old lady said irritably, peering at her son—in—law down the elegant arch of her long nose. "Do you think you could hide anything from this man? Look at him." She pursed her mouth. "You might as well come out and tell him all of it."
Elizabeth met her husband's cool and somewhat amused gaze.
"I'm listening, Boots."
"We were together quite a lot as children," Elizabeth said, struggling very hard to keep her composure and her temper both. "It was very long ago."
"How long?" asked Hannah, who had surfaced from her corner and her book with an unerring affinity for high adventure.
"A million years," Elizabeth said firmly.
William held out a hand toward Nathaniel. "You'll permit me to present myself to you, in spite of this rather peculiar start we've made. Will Spencer, at your service. Mother does like to stir things up"—Aunt Merriweather's cluck of the tongue drew a smile from him—"so you mustn't be alarmed at her stories.
"I ain't so easily vexed," Nathaniel said, taking the hand that was offered to him. "Elizabeth can tell you that much about me."
Aunt Merriweather rose with a sudden flurry of skirts and lace. "I do hope that she will have a great deal more to tell than that. Elizabeth, love, come with me to my room. We have much to discuss, and we can leave the men to their own devices. They will sort things out as they see fit. Hannah can amuse herself? I see she has much in common with you at her age, Elizabeth—if you were not up a tree, you were lost in a book."
When the door had been firmly closed behind them, the old woman settled herself in the chair by the window. Ever vigilant, Augusta Merriweather did not like surprises or unexpected visitors, no matter how far she might be from home.
"Well, Lizzie," the older woman said, when Elizabeth had taken a seat at her knee. It was her other voice, the kinder one she reserved for moments of solitude. All the lines in her face seemed to soften at once. "This is a sad business, is it not?"
Elizabeth nodded, because she was not sure of her ability to keep her composure. She watched her aunt's profile for a moment, remembering small things which had been lost to her in the time they had been apart: the strong lines of her face, stronger now it seemed. She had grown older.
"Sometime I would like to hear the whole story of what went amiss with Julian, for your father is not capable of telling it. But I think not now. I find I am not in the right frame of mind for tears."
"You never are, Aunt."
"Have you never seen me thus?" She looked a bit surprised. "Well, I shall not start this evening, then. There are other matters more urgent, at the moment. Your new sister—in—law, first and foremost. Tell me, do you think there's any chance of our taking her and the child back to England with us? Or just the child—Amanda and Will would provide an excellent home. You know this to be true."
Elizabeth realized that her mouth had fallen open, and she closed it with a snap. But before she could gather her thoughts, her aunt was off again.
"It is very awkward, indeed. I have no sense of the girl—she seems as fragile as blown glass on the surface, but I suspect there is a strong will in there, somewhere. I certainly hope there is, at least, or Richard Todd may well find a way into your father's pockets in the end." Her blue eyes flashed as she said this.
"Aunt, I have no idea what you are talking about."
"Do you not? I think you must. Don't pretend with me, Lizzie, not with me. I know your father too well; I knew your poor brother, too, and having met Dr. Todd—in quite remarkable circumstances I'm sure you'll agree—I see how you were caught up here in men's games. You have managed to extricate yourself—and well done, too, I will admit."
"Thank you," Elizabeth said, suppressing a smile.
"It's good to see you, Lizzie," he said. "I've been very worried about you."
Aunt Merriweather put down her teacup. "So were we all. But look at the color in her cheeks. The wilderness agrees with her, after all. Is that not so, Mr. Bonner?"
Elizabeth was startled to find that Nathaniel had come in. His face was set in an expression she could not quite interpret.
"I'm called Nathaniel. And yes, it's true enough."
Growing up under her aunt's tutelage, Elizabeth had often seen the calculating look she was giving Nathaniel now: she had not yet determined his worthiness, and she would not be rushed in her appraisal or less than frank about the results of her examination. What Elizabeth had not often experienced was the kind of measured calm with which Nathaniel met this scrutiny. The truth was, Elizabeth realized, that Nathaniel would not be devastated or even especially put out if her aunt should take a dislike to him. It was this potential indifference which was so unusual. Augusta Merriweather had enough money and influence to gain the attention of almost anyone who crossed her path. Thus Nathaniel was a new experience for her and, Elizabeth saw with some relief, not a displeasing one.
"Well, then, Nathaniel. Come here and be introduced to Sir William Spencer, Viscount Durbeyfield. He is also my son—in—law, and your wife's first love."
Elizabeth's spoon went clattering to the floor.
"Mother!" Amanda's tone was all gentle sorrow and dismay.
"Now, Mother Merriweather," said William with a great frown.
"Do stop "Mothering' me," the old lady said irritably, peering at her son—in—law down the elegant arch of her long nose. "Do you think you could hide anything from this man? Look at him." She pursed her mouth. "You might as well come out and tell him all of it."
Elizabeth met her husband's cool and somewhat amused gaze.
"I'm listening, Boots."
"We were together quite a lot as children," Elizabeth said, struggling very hard to keep her composure and her temper both. "It was very long ago."
"How long?" asked Hannah, who had surfaced from her corner and her book with an unerring affinity for high adventure.
"A million years," Elizabeth said firmly.
William held out a hand toward Nathaniel. "You'll permit me to present myself to you, in spite of this rather peculiar start we've made. Will Spencer, at your service. Mother does like to stir things up"—Aunt Merriweather's cluck of the tongue drew a smile from him—"so you mustn't be alarmed at her stories.
"I ain't so easily vexed," Nathaniel said, taking the hand that was offered to him. "Elizabeth can tell you that much about me."
Aunt Merriweather rose with a sudden flurry of skirts and lace. "I do hope that she will have a great deal more to tell than that. Elizabeth, love, come with me to my room. We have much to discuss, and we can leave the men to their own devices. They will sort things out as they see fit. Hannah can amuse herself? I see she has much in common with you at her age, Elizabeth—if you were not up a tree, you were lost in a book."
When the door had been firmly closed behind them, the old woman settled herself in the chair by the window. Ever vigilant, Augusta Merriweather did not like surprises or unexpected visitors, no matter how far she might be from home.
"Well, Lizzie," the older woman said, when Elizabeth had taken a seat at her knee. It was her other voice, the kinder one she reserved for moments of solitude. All the lines in her face seemed to soften at once. "This is a sad business, is it not?"
Elizabeth nodded, because she was not sure of her ability to keep her composure. She watched her aunt's profile for a moment, remembering small things which had been lost to her in the time they had been apart: the strong lines of her face, stronger now it seemed. She had grown older.
"Sometime I would like to hear the whole story of what went amiss with Julian, for your father is not capable of telling it. But I think not now. I find I am not in the right frame of mind for tears."
"You never are, Aunt."
"Have you never seen me thus?" She looked a bit surprised. "Well, I shall not start this evening, then. There are other matters more urgent, at the moment. Your new sister—in—law, first and foremost. Tell me, do you think there's any chance of our taking her and the child back to England with us? Or just the child—Amanda and Will would provide an excellent home. You know this to be true."
Elizabeth realized that her mouth had fallen open, and she closed it with a snap. But before she could gather her thoughts, her aunt was off again.
"It is very awkward, indeed. I have no sense of the girl—she seems as fragile as blown glass on the surface, but I suspect there is a strong will in there, somewhere. I certainly hope there is, at least, or Richard Todd may well find a way into your father's pockets in the end." Her blue eyes flashed as she said this.
"Aunt, I have no idea what you are talking about."
"Do you not? I think you must. Don't pretend with me, Lizzie, not with me. I know your father too well; I knew your poor brother, too, and having met Dr. Todd—in quite remarkable circumstances I'm sure you'll agree—I see how you were caught up here in men's games. You have managed to extricate yourself—and well done, too, I will admit."
"Thank you," Elizabeth said, suppressing a smile.
