Before I could get in another word, Tuffins gently knocked and opened the drawing room door. “Miss Kent and Miss Wyndham,” he announced as Laura pulled me inside to see two unwelcoming faces.
“How unexpected,” an acerbic voice spoke first. It belonged to Lady Kent, the grave, small woman sitting on a Chesterfield by the fire. Though she could not have been more than five and forty, her bad back and knees gave her the weary look of a woman thirty years older, and she spoke with the same uncaring bluntness of one. “I did not know you were in town, Miss Wyndham.”
“Mama, I meant to surprise you,” Laura said, her pert nose scrunching up.
“You know I find surprises vulgar,” Lady Kent said, waving her hand dismissively and shifting her gaze to me. “You are acquainted with Miss Madeline Verinder, I presume?”
“Good evening, Miss Verinder,” I said, exchanging curtsies with the sweetest, gentlest, most accomplished, and most amiable girl in all of London. At least that is what I had continually repeated to myself the past season, so I wouldn’t slap her by sheer reflex whenever she entered my conversations with Mr. Kent and turned them into competitions for his attention.
“A pleasure to see you, Miss Wyndham,” Miss Verinder said, with the slightest dip in her sugary twitter of a voice. She must have been eagerly anticipating Mr. Kent’s arrival, only to get me instead. “What brings you back to London?”
Fortunately, the train ride had given me ample time to create a sound story. I settled into the chair beside her. “My sister came to visit our dear aunt and uncle, so I thought it a fine opportunity to visit Laura as I had promised her.”
“You’re staying here, then?” Lady Kent snapped out.
“I—I had hoped to,” I replied as humbly as I could, nervous that our flimsy plan would fall through before it was even implemented.
Lady Kent let out a strange, gruff harrumph, which, judging by Laura’s giddiness, somehow translated into acquiescence.
But Miss Verinder’s rosebud lips curved into a perfect smile and let the thorns loose. “Why, I thought you were in town to nurse one of your patients.”
What a lovely and thoughtful girl.
My hands balled up into fists, and I stuffed them into my lap. Refusing to meet Lady Kent’s disapproving eyes, I peered at Miss Verinder’s and searched for signs of malice. “No, that is only for close acquaintances in Bramhurst,” I insisted.
“Lady Wyndham still permits this?” Lady Kent sneered.
“Only as a charitable hobby of ours,” I said.
Lady Kent rubbed her aching knees and shook her head. “A hobby is an activity done at one’s leisure—an occupation is done at another’s. Since nurses are called upon at all times of day, it is by nature an occupation, and a highly inappropriate one at that for two respectable girls.”
I bit my tongue, resisting the thousand retorts in my head. I needed to stay in Lady Kent’s good graces. With a herculean effort, I managed to even (Rose forgive me) agree with her. “That is true. We’ve tried to keep it a hobby, but it’s rather difficult.”
“Impossible, I’d say,” she concluded.
An awkward silence settled over the room until Laura attempted to rescue me. “Oh, Mama, can we get Evelyn an invitation to tomorrow’s dinner? Don’t they need another for the table? It will be such fun! And there’s the Lyceum Theatre on Thursday and our dinner party on Friday! She can meet Mr. Edwards. Evelyn, you will absolutely die when you meet him. But remember, please, that I saw him first and you have other—”
“Laura, enough,” Lady Kent interrupted, pinching the bridge of her nose, pained by her daughter’s enthusiasm.
Miss Verinder tucked a blond curl behind her ear. “Yes, my parents have a box for Much Ado About Nothing. Will you join us?”
I wished Laura had let me explain matters before rushing me in here. There was no time to be wasted on dinner parties and plays. “I don’t wish to intrude on any plans,” I said. “I don’t mind missing the play.”
“Why, you must come at least this time,” Miss Verinder insisted. “I did not see you at the theater much during the season.”
Lady Kent scoffed, and the fire seemed to snap in agreement. “In my experience, those who avoid the theater suffer from an excess of drama and scandal in their own lives.”
Heavens, was Miss Verinder doing this on purpose? Or was there just no pleasing Lady Kent? I had not been here five minutes, and she was already trying to glare me out of the city.
“We’re often most selective when it comes to our favorite things,” I returned. “I would so love to come. Much Ado is a favorite of mine.”
Lady Kent pursed her lips and assessed me as if she were searching a dress for imperfections in the stitching, while Miss Verinder’s eyes lit up with delight or deviousness or both. I was bracing myself for the next potential disaster when a miraculous knock on the door interrupted, and in walked my rescuer.