Page 102 of Sensibly Wed
“Good heavens.” Lady Edith’s hand fluttered to her heart. “Have you hurt yourself?”
“I’ve had headaches on occasion.” A defensiveness rose within my breast from the appalled look on her face. I could see that she was likely wondering why my mother allowed me to dance knowing what came of it. “My mama does love me. She just does not . . . understand. She believes I could control my nerves, should I wish to.”
Lady Edith’s gaze flicked to the floor, then back to me. “You cannot master it any better than I can control becoming ill in a carriage.” She spoke softly, reiterating what I once told her. She cleared her throat, and her cheeks were red, her neck mottling with a blush. She learned she was wrong about her initial assumptions regarding me, and it likely embarrassed her. “I owe you an apology, Felicity. I did not believe you, and I”—her gaze darted to James and back to me—“should not have assumed that you coerced my son into a wedding. I hope you can forgive me.”
“I do,” I said immediately. “If you’ll forgive that I removed half of the roses from my gown. It was too much for me.”
She gave me a strained smile. “I do forgive you.”
* * *
When we entered the ballroom some time later, I crossed the floor immediately toward Jane and Ewan. “Forgive me. I am a terrible hostess.”
“I was only just thinking quite the opposite,” Jane said. “Your letter implied that you were under a great deal of stress, and I have to admit that I expected to find you in an awful situation here at Chelton, but the opposite is true. You are glowing, Lissy. You look to be thriving in your new role.”
I smiled, aware that the glow was a result of acceptance. My own acceptance that I did not need to change who I was in order to be a good mistress of Chelton or a good wife to James, and acceptance from James and—somewhat tenuously—Lady Edith into their family.
“Your bearing has altered slightly, and the way you command your servants is kind but firm. It is plain that you are finding your place here.” Jane’s mouth bent into a slight frown. “Though I suppose it would be much better if your mother-in-law treated you differently.”
“I believe that is about to change,” I confided. I had explained the situation last night to Jane’s sympathetic ears. “Lady Edith and I shared a brief moment of understanding, and she is not too angry that I altered her design for my gown a little.”
“That sounds like good progress.”
“It is.”
The waltz was announced, and Jane raised her eyebrows at me in interest. “Your local country folk are this accepting?”
“I am not sure,” I said honestly. “But I hope so.”
James appeared at my elbow, proffering his arm. “I believe this dance is mine.”
Jane grinned widely, and I knew she was happy that I had found joy. Everyone deserved to have someone like Jane in their life, an uplifting friend, glad purely for the sake of my success.
James and I moved to the center of the ballroom and took our positions, waiting for the other couples before we began the promenade.
Miss Whitstone joined the circle of couples waiting for the dance to begin on the arm of a gentleman I did not know, and I tensed.
“What is it?” James asked.
“It is only the Whitstones. It appears that they’ve decided to attend anyway.”
“They no doubt intend to pretend as though nothing happened.”
“Your mother will accept that?”
“She and Mrs. Whitstone have been friends for a long time. They’ll manage, somehow,” he grumbled. “Though I would prefer to cut the acquaintance, I can see why Mother prefers to keep the peace. There is no hostess in the greater area of Bakewell that will not invite both of the women to any event they hold. It is easier this way, I imagine.”
I nodded, understanding the need to keep peace with one’s neighbors. The violin began in earnest, and the rest of the musicians joined in. James pressed his hand against mine softly and we began the promenade. “When I showed Miss Whitstone the garden, Henry met us outside, and she immediately blushed scarlet. Do you think she has a tendre for him?”
James laughed. Heads turned our way, and my stomach flipped from the attention. I focused on the man holding my hand and leading me about the circle.
“Perhaps, but I doubt it,” he said. “That is merely her way. She cannot speak to a man without being red in the cheeks for the entirety of the conversation.”
My heart went out to her. “We have much in common.”
“You think that, but you could not be more different.”
“I am inordinately shy as well, James. You cannot deny that.”