“With the paintings of the moon and stars?” she wailed.
“Yes.”
“That belonged to my mother,” his wife’s eyes filled with tears.
“It was either the clock or us out on the street, my dear.”
Tina held her breath as her mother struggled between her emotional attachment to the clock and her common sense. The latter won. She gave a brisk nod, before climbing the stairs again to her room, slowly, like an old woman.
Preparations for the weekend were now well under way. Charles was taking a valet, which was a tremendous expense but one Lady Carol felt could not be forgone. Often gentlemen visiting away used each others’ valets or any available servants in the house they were staying in, but to do that seemed too penny-pinching and Lady Carol could not bear it.
“I don’t know how we are going to afford this,” she confided to Tina, as they sat in the parlor one morning, sipping tea from leaves which had been reused several times. It was barely tea now, more like hot water and milk.
The parlor looked quite bare. Most of the “good stuff,” as Sir Thomas called it, had gone. Lady Carol still preferred to sit in here however and take her morning tea, with the view through the sash windows of the kitchen garden, now sadly neglected.
“Who will care for everything when we’re gone?” she worried.
Charles blundering into the room was almost a relief. “Morning Mama, Tina.” He blinked and looked about, as if suddenly realizing how many things were missing. “Had a clean out, Mama?”
“Yes, Charles.” Lady Carol rallied at the sight of her son. She still persisted on keeping their true situation a secret from him, which Tina found ludicrous, but if it made her mother a little happier then it was best to go along with it. Although what Charles would think when he came home and home was no longer here, Tina couldn’t imagine.
“Just popped in to say that Horace has offered me the use of his valet, so I won’t need to worry on that front. And he’s offered to take us in his coach, Tina. Nicely sprung, very comfortable, and his horse flesh are top notch.” He beamed at them both, then closed the door behind him.
Lady Carol clapped her hands together. “That’s marvelous!” she gasped. “You will be traveling with Horace and Charles. How many days’ journey is that, Tina?”
“Three, Mama. So three days in the coach and then the weekend—although it is actually three or four days at the estate—and then three days back.”
Lady Carol looked ecstatic. “Marvelous,” she said again. Then her face fell. “Oh dear, we’d decided on the dark blue traveling dress, hadn’t we? Because we thought no one would see you. I think we must find something a bit more flattering, Tina. Ring for Maria. We need to send for the seamstress.”
Wearily Tina got to her feet. By the time Lady Carol was done she’d have more dresses than the queen, and certainly as many slippers and gloves and shawls. Not that she was ungrateful, she reminded herself. In fact she was very grateful, it was just that the reason for all this splendor was so daunting—the prospect of persuading Horace to marry her.
And as far as she could tell Horace seemed as little interested in her as he’d always been.
Horace’s coach crept through the busy streets out of London. With Charles and Horace sprawled on the seat on one side, and Tina and Maria seated primly on the other, there was no room for Horace’s valet, and he rode outside, with the coachman and the luggage. And Tina was self-consciously aware that most of the luggage belonged to her.
Horace was in a jolly mood, telling stories and making Charles laugh uproariously. Tina’s head was aching already, and they’d hardly begun.
“I do hope there’ll be people we know there,” Charles said. “And at least someone under sixty!”
“Lady Isabelle is under sixty,” was Horace’s prompt reply.
“The delectable Lady Isabelle.”
“Charles!” Tina reprimanded him.
He laughed a little wildly. “It’s all right, Tina, I’m not about to seduce our hostess. I can’t answer for Horace, though,” he added with a sly sideways glance to their companion.
“Horace is a gentleman,” Tina retorted, also looking to Horace, expecting him to say that seducing Lady Isabelle was a ridiculous idea.
Horace merely smiled benevolently upon them both. “Now, now, children, let’s not argue. Tell me, Charles, did you stop by at our club the other night? I was otherwise engaged. Tell me, was—”
Tina was no longer listening. In truth she was disappointed. She didn’t expect any better from her brother, but she’d hoped Horace might behave like a gentleman. Or perhaps she just wanted reassurance that even if she didn’t love Horace, she wasn’t making a terrible mistake about his character.
Instead she was, well, disappointed.
So she sat in silence, pretending to look out of the window as the countryside began to change. The narrow streets and buildings turned to single houses and then a house or two among the fields, until the world became green and leafy. She knew she should laugh and make conversation, show Horace what a perfect companion she was, but her heart wasn’t in it.
She felt as if she were trapped in his coach, just as she was trapped into seeking their marriage. Her skin prickled, and her headache grew worse, until she began to find it hard to bear.