'I am sure it will.'
'But we will not stay long, will we?'
'Not long.'
But once they had arrived, Diana worried that they would be lucky to manage even a short trip. The trouble began from the moment they entered the house. Lady Narborough greeted both girls warmly, commenting on their looks and demanding to know in detail about each dance at each party and every sign of interest from a gentleman of the Ton. But where Verity was congratulated on her good sense for her refusal to make a decision, Honoria was gently upbraided for being a flirt. Verity's dress was most flattering today. But Honoria's was a trifle too loose, was it not? And horror of horrors, her slippers were scuffed.
Diana felt a bit guilty for recommending the ensemble. For she had informed both girls that a trip to family hardly required their finest. And since Honoria exhibited a perfectly normal tendency to be active when in the country, it was better to add fresh scuffs to an old shoe than to ruin a new one. But Diana had long ago learned to hold her tongue in these situations. Lady Narborough meant nothing by her comments, and it was not Diana's place to explain to her how they hurt her eldest daughter.
After the grilling delivered by their mother, it was time to visit Lord Narborough. He was no longer confined to a sickbed, but according to the letters they had received in London, he rarely left his rooms. Diana had to admit that his colour was poor, and it appeared his appetite was as well. The contents of his lunch tray were nearly untouched.
Guilt, she wondered? And then checked herself. For the thought had never entered her mind that his failing health might be more than a normal weakening with age, until Nathan had placed it there.
'And how are my fine girls, Miss Price?' Narborough's eyes sparkled at the sight of them, and for a moment, he seemed more his old self. But she could see by the way Lady Narborough hovered at his side that she feared any shock might finish him.
'Well, sir.' She gestured the girls forward and they greeted their father warmly, assuring him that the time in London was happy, and regaling him with stories of the balls and dinners they had attended and the people they had met.
And Honoria's behaviour was exemplary, just as Diana knew it would be. The girl made her time in London sound innocuous and glossed over the more rambunctious adventures with such good humour that her father laughed out loud. Even her mother could not have complained for the positive change her visit wrought in the earl.
When she was sure that she was not needed, and that the family was as happy in their time together as they were ever likely to be, she excused herself. She walked quietly into the little room where the journals were kept. They were just as she remembered them, lined up neatly behind the glass doors of the bookcase, bound in leather with the dates stamped in gold upon the spines. They were the work of a man with pretensions of grandeur. Lord Narborough must think that his every thought was worthy of study by someone. Although who would wish to read them, she was not sure. She had never seen the books removed from the shelves in all the years that she had been in the household. Not even in reference by the man who had done the writing. His children, when faced with the things, silently rolled their eyes at the folly of an old man.
When she reached to open the cabinet, it became clear to her why the things never moved. The glass door was locked against casual reading. How strange. Did he fear discovery of something or merely wish to keep the things clean and organized?
She shook her head to clear it of suspicions. After her talk with Nathan, even the most common actions seemed fraught with guilt. Whatever the reason for locking the things up, she had no real wish to ask for the key and call attention to her interest, for she could think of no way to explain herself.
Fortunately, or unfortunately, such intervention would not be necessary. She carefully removed a pin from her hair, rearranging the curls to disguise its absence. Then she went to work on the lock with the bent bit of wire and a letter opener from the nearby desk. Now she would see if ten years of excessive virtue had dulled her skills as a lock pick. She had not had to behave thus since she was a girl and tried to get around her father and his gambling, searching for hidden money in locked desk drawers.