A Duke by Any Other Name by Grace Burrowes Page 0,109
love.…Holy Scripture offered such comforting words.
“Their Graces of Walden have left London,” Phoebe said, “and the talk is, they are journeying north, not that our decision should rest on whether your daughters or my niece have an opportunity to stand up with a duke. We must be guided by conscience. Not so much lavender, Elspeth. We have eight baskets to fill.”
And any left over would go home with Phoebe for use in her linen closets.
“Conscience says we decline the invitation of a woman with loose morals,” Elspeth replied. “My girls will be disappointed if we don’t go, but they understand the need to safeguard their reputations. Is this too much lavender?”
“A bit less.” Phoebe stashed the tract into the nearest basket. “I believe duty compels us to attend Lady Althea’s ball, much as the prospect troubles me. These are rather large jars of marmalade.”
Pandora Biddle was as generous with her marmalade as she was sparing with the sugar her recipe called for. The stuff was downright bitter, which might be why nearly every manor in the shire had donated a jar, minus Pandora’s Christmas label.
“The poor have too many children,” Elspeth said. “They need large jars or there won’t be enough marmalade to go around. I would like to see the ballroom at Lynley Vale, and that nice Lord Stephen was ever so gracious to my girls in the churchyard. He barely limps at all, though I doubt he dances. It’s not his fault his sister is a strumpet.”
Seeing Althea Wentworth labeled a strumpet by the neighborhood gossips had required all of Phoebe’s patience, endless cups of tea, and much genteel fretting over the morals of today’s young women. Phoebe had been determined, and knew how well rural neighbors valued propriety—and good gossip.
“You raise a very significant consideration, Elspeth.” Phoebe arranged a cast-off tea canister beside the pamphlet in her basket. The canister was empty, but pretty in a cheap, slightly dented way. “The Wentworth family as a whole cannot be criticized for the actions of one wayward sister, but that is not why I suggest we make the sacrifice of attending her ladyship’s ball.”
“You are thinking of Sybil,” Elspeth said, tucking her few sprigs of lavender into the side of a basket. “Ought we to put some food in these baskets? The poor are legendarily hungry. A potato or two?”
“Food attracts mice, and the poor have enough problems without battling rodents. I am thinking of Sybil and of the fine impression she seems to be making on Lord Ellenbrook, but I am also thinking of our neighbors. They will take their direction from our example. If we attend but make our censure of Lady Althea known, we can appease the dictates of good manners toward a family of significant standing while holding Lady Althea to account.”
Elspeth removed a worn little one-eyed cloth bear from Phoebe’s basket. “Some child loved this once.”
“A different child can love it now.”
“We could sew another button on it.”
“And then the eyes wouldn’t match, Elspeth. Children like things to match.”
Elspeth replaced the bear among the other gifts in the basket. “How do we make our censure of Lady Althea apparent while dancing under her very roof?”
“That part is simple, and only requires that we share the truth of her behavior with any neighbors on her guest list. When they learn how she has comported herself, they will understand why duty compels us to emphatically express our disappointment in her.”
Elspeth regarded the baskets, which held the generous goodwill of the parish’s better families. “Have you discussed this with Vicar?”
“Indeed I have, and he too regarded Lady Althea’s behavior as most unwise. He cautioned me to be accurate about my recollections of that dreadful scene and commended me for the concern I feel regarding Lady Althea’s immortal soul. She cannot continue on the path of sin without incurring higher costs than she already has, Elspeth. We have a duty to speak the truth before she errs even further.”
Vicar’s counsel had weighed very heavily on the side of accuracy and discretion, but even he had been subtly dismayed at the notion of a couple passionately embracing on the very roadside.
“So we accept Lady Althea’s invitation?” Elspeth said, sitting back.
“We do, as much as it pains us to give her the satisfaction of a full ballroom.”
“Have you told Ellenbrook what you saw?”
A delicate question. “Not as of yet. He might decline his invitation if he knew, and then who would Sybil stand up with for the supper waltz?”