Chapter 15
Hester drank her tea slowly, making a valiant attempt to keep something in her stomach. Though she was ravenous in the evenings, the afternoons found her still suffering from nausea. “I suggest swapping the ribbons, Your Grace,” she said to the Countess of Pennington. “Try the brown with the blue, and the green with the peach.”
Elspeth looked over her shoulder to where Hester sat on a settee in the countess’s boudoir. “Truly?”
The countess returned her attention to the material and ribbons laid out across her bed. She gestured for the modiste to do as advised, then nodded. “You’re right.”
Hester smiled. While she’d been slightly confused when Elspeth first began making persistent, yet friendly, overtures, she’d come to realize that the countess looked upon her in the capacity of a daughter. It was a role Jessica had filled, and Hester found herself enjoying the maternal companionship. She understood that Elspeth’s need was temporary, part of her re-acclimation to Society after years spent in the country. Hester envied her that idyllic life on the stunning Pennington estate.
“You should try the lemon scones,” Elspeth urged. “I vow you’ve never tasted the like. They melt in your mouth.”
“Thank you. I should like to. Another time, perhaps.”
The countess shook her head and came to her, settling on the settee opposite the one Hester occupied. “Have you tried ginger tea or broth, or both? Either will help to settle your stomach. And be moderate with greasy foods in the evening. Salted water crackers also help.”
There was a pause, and then Hester said softly, “Is it so obvious?”
“Only to an observant woman who has spent nearly every day of this last week with you.”
“Please, I must beg for your discretion.”
Elspeth’s dark eyes brightened at the hint of a secret. “You and Regmont are keeping the news to yourselves? Delightful.”
Hester hesitated, reluctant to share a confidence she’d held so close to her breast. “Regmont doesn’t yet know.”
“Oh … ? Whyever not?”
“I feel very unwell. I cannot help fearing that something is wrong. Regmont wouldn’t—He isn’t—” Hester set her cup and saucer down on the low table between them. “It would be better to wait and be certain that all is progressing as it should be.”
“My dear.” The countess reached for the tongs and moved a scone from the serving tray to a small plate. “You are squandering one of the few opportunities in a woman’s life when she can ask anything of her husband and receive it.”
“Regmont gives me too much as it is.” But not the one thing she most wished for—his peace of mind. “I also wanted to spare Jessica for a while longer.”
“She would be overjoyed on your behalf.”
“Yes.” Hester smoothed her skirts. “But she might grieve for herself, and she has enough to feel sorrowful about at the moment.”
“She will hurt more if you don’t tell her.”
“I wrote her shortly after she left. I think this is best. She won’t feel the need to put a brave face on if I’m not there when she learns the news. She can react in whatever manner is most comfortable for her, and when we see each other again, it will be with pure joy in her heart.”
Elspeth washed down a bite with a sip of tea. “You two are very close.”
Hester rubbed at the ache in her breast. “Yes. She is a sister and mother to me, as well as my dearest friend.”
“Jessica said your mother passed away when you were young.”
“I was ten, but in many ways my mother was lost to me before then. Her melancholia was debilitating. I most often saw her only in passing. She was a ghost to me—frail and wan and lacking any vibrancy whatsoever.”
“I’m sorry.” Elspeth offered a gentle, commiserating smile. “Motherhood is a gift. It is truly a shame Lady Hadley was unable to see it that way.”
“Jess would have made a wonderful mother. And Tarley, a wonderful father.”
“The same can be said about you and Regmont, I’m sure.”
Hester looked away from the countess, managing a shaky smile at the modiste’s assistants as they exited to the gallery with Elspeth’s selections.
“My dear,” Elspeth said, quietly commanding Hester’s attention. “Is it possible that you might be suffering from melancholia as well?”
“Oh, no. Truly, it’s just that I feel so wretched most of the day. And I confess, I worry about the match between Regmont and Michael tomorrow. I wish there was some way to dissuade them. Regmont takes such things so seriously.”
“You care about Michael.”
Hester felt a blush sweep over her cheeks. Over the past week, she’d found herself paying undue attention to Michael. She’d looked for him at events and around the city, hoping for a mere glimpse. The sharp prick of excitement she felt when she found him both exhilarated and saddened her. It was undeniable proof that her love for her husband had lost its ability to consume her. “He’s a good man.”
“Yes.” Elspeth set her cup down with a sigh. “I must be honest with you. I have more than one reason for cultivating our friendship. Though I’m deeply grateful for assistance with my attire, I have a need for another of your skills more.”
“If I can help in any way, I would be honored to.”
“I should like your expert opinion on the debutantes who might best suit Michael. Since you care for him as I do, I know you want to see him content in his marriage.”
“Of course.” Hester met the countess’s examining gaze directly, drawing upon years of Jessica’s coaching to hide her dismay. It was unreasonable for her to wish for him to remain as he’d always been.
Elspeth smiled beautifully. “Thank you. I hope to see him settled before the year is out.”
“That would be wonderful,” Hester agreed softly. “If we cannot manage sooner.”