Bridgerton Collection, Volume 2 - Julia Quinn Page 0,224

than when she arrived.” The corners of her mouth turned down. “Probably not, I’m afraid.”

“She seems to have adapted to married life quite well,” Eloise murmured.

“Yes, she has. Hasn’t she?” Violet said brightly. “Four little children and a husband who dotes upon her. One certainly can’t hope for more.”

“What did you say to Francesca?” Eloise asked.

“I beg your pardon?”

“Francesca,” Eloise repeated, referring to her younger sister who had married six years earlier—and was tragically widowed two years after that. “What did you say to her when she married? You mentioned Daphne, but not Francesca.”

Violet’s blue eyes clouded, as they always did when she thought of her third daughter, widowed so young. “You know Francesca. I expect she could have told me a thing or two.”

Eloise gasped.

“I don’t mean it that way, of course,” Violet hastened to add. “Francesca was as innocent as . . . well, as innocent as you are, I imagine.”

Eloise felt her cheeks grow hot and thanked her maker for the cloudy day, which left the room somewhat darkened. That and the fact that her mother was busy inspecting a torn hem on her dress. She was technically untouched, of course, and she’d certainly pass inspection if examined by a physician, but she didn’t feel quite so innocent any longer.

“But you know Francesca,” Violet continued, shrugging and looking back up when she realized that there was nothing she could do about the hem. “She’s so sly and knowing. I expect she bribed some poor housemaid into explaining it all to her years earlier.”

Eloise nodded. She didn’t want to tell her mother that she and Francesca had in fact pooled their pin money to bribe the housemaid. It had been worth every penny, however. Annie Mavel’s explanation had been detailed and, Francesca had later informed her, absolutely correct.

Violet smiled wistfully, then reached up and touched her daughter’s cheekbone, right near the corner of her eye. The skin was still slightly discolored, but the purple had faded through blue and green to a rather sickly (but certainly less unsightly) shade of yellow. “Are you certain you’ll be happy?” she asked.

Eloise smiled ruefully. “It’s a little late to wonder, don’t you think?”

“It might be too late to do anything about it, but it’s never too late to wonder.”

“I think I’ll be happy,” Eloise said. I hope so, she added, but just in her mind.

“He seems a nice man.”

“He’s a very nice man.”

“Honorable.”

“He is that.”

Violet nodded. “I think you’ll be happy. It might take time until you realize it, and you might doubt yourself at first, but you’ll be happy. Just remember—” She stopped, chewing on her lip.

“What, Mother?”

“Just remember,” she said slowly, as if she were choosing each word with great care, “that it takes time. That’s all.”

What takes time? Eloise wanted to scream.

But her mother had already stood up and was briskly smoothing her skirts. “I expect I shall have to usher the family out, or they will never leave.” She fiddled with a bow on her dress as she turned slightly away. One of her hands reached up to her face, and Eloise tried not to notice that she was brushing aside a tear.

“You’re very impatient,” Violet said, facing the door. “You always have been.”

“I know,” Eloise said, wondering if this was a scolding, and if so, why was her mother choosing to do it now?

“I always loved that about you,” Violet said. “I always loved everything about you, of course, but for some reason I always found your impatience especially charming. It was never because you wanted more, it was because you wanted everything.”

Eloise wasn’t so sure that sounded like such a good trait.

“You wanted everything for everyone, and you wanted to know it all and learn it all, and . . .”

For a moment Eloise thought her mother might be done, but then Violet turned around and added, “You’ve never been satisfied with second-best, and that’s good, Eloise. I’m glad you never married any of those men who proposed in London. None of them would have made you happy. Content, maybe, but not happy.”

Eloise felt her eyes widen with surprise.

“But don’t let your impatience become all that you are,” Violet said softly. “Because it isn’t, you know. There’s a great deal more to you, but I think sometimes you forget that.” She smiled, the gentle, wise smile of a mother saying goodbye to her daughter. “Give it time, Eloise. Be gentle. Don’t push too hard.”

Eloise opened her mouth but found herself entirely incapable of speech.

“Be patient,”