“Matters have grown complicated,” Susannah said, feeling elderly, but also glad to be beyond the ordeal Della was enduring. “You’ve allowed Effington to develop expectations, and that will have consequences.”
Della switched feet. “My feet hurt, that’s a consequence. I’m an object of gossip, which we knew might happen. You’ve met Willow Dorning, and taken to spending time with him and his dogs. I think that’s more a blessing than a consequence.”
That dog, as Willow might say, would not hunt. “You are not enduring this Season for me, Della. I’ve known Will Dorning for years, and been through this exercise a half-dozen times. Nobody remarks my presence in Town at all.”
Della wiggled her feet back into her slippers, her demeanor young and bored. “I needed to come to Town, you’re right. To see what a Season was, to meet the eligibles and dance. I will be glad to get back to Kent, though. I’m told Kirsten managed to turn her ankle one year and develop a cough another. I understand why.”
Such self-absorbed drama missed the point. “Della, if you have no intention of entertaining Effington’s suit, then make your feelings known as gently and as soon as you can. Toying with his affections—or his expectations—is not simply a matter of having somebody to stand up with.”
Della finished tying the bows on her slippers. “We walk in the park, he’s tried to kiss me a few times. What of it?”
A great weight fell from Susannah’s shoulders as Della sniffed at her wrist corsage and tugged at a sleeve. All those years ago, when Lady March’s tea dances had turned into a miserable gauntlet of ridicule and heartache, Susannah had felt stupid.
As if she lacked some fundamental instinct every other girl had been born with. As if what others grasped intuitively, Susannah could only comprehend by ponderous logic and lumbering explanations.
And that was wrong, for Della, a canny, intelligent young woman with more than a normal sense of self-preservation, was apparently just as ignorant of Society’s labyrinths, just as lost in a jungle of innuendo and influence.
I was simply young. The realization came on a flood of compassion for that younger woman, for her bewilderment, and for how hard she’d tried to decipher codes written before Shakespeare had set pen to paper.
I was young, and I did the best I could. No absolution was required for being young and bewildered, and yet Susannah felt an easing in her heart. She had needed time and guidance to find her balance, the same as Della did now, the same as any young lady did. Willow had tried to assure her this was so, though the truth of his perspective was only now sinking in.
Della was doing her best too, yet a warning was in order. “That you don’t let Effington kiss you ought to tell him a lot,” Susannah said, “but, Della, you’ve created a problem nonetheless.”
“Because you’ve had to spend time with Willow Dorning? I know you’re not fond of dogs, Susannah, but I thought you enjoyed those outings nonetheless.” Della stood, her smile smug.
“I have enjoyed those outings, for the most part, but your situation is precarious. If you don’t want to marry Effington, then you’re about to make an enemy of him. His lordship will look a fool when you refuse his suit, and he doesn’t strike me as a man to endure humiliation stoically. He’ll retaliate against you, or against those you care about.”
Della’s smile faded, like the moonlight when clouds crossed the night sky. She quit brushing at her skirts, and her shoulders slumped.
Susannah had stood in Della’s slippers, when a Season was a great trial, not a privilege.
“I want you to be happy,” Susannah went on, meaning it from the bottom of her heart. “We’ll get you through this Season, Della, but please be careful. You might be able to endure Effington’s version of revenge, but I don’t trust him to limit his wounded pride to nasty talk and vile rumor. He can be cruel, and he has the ear of the gossips. Watch your every step.”
Susannah hugged Della and accompanied her back to the lit walk, then surrendered her into the company of the Duke of Quimbey, who came striding up a side path.
“Will you come back to the ballroom with us, Susannah?” Della asked.
“No, thank you,” Susannah said. “I’ll enjoy a little more fresh air. The violinist has mistaken the ballroom for a concert hall, and I’m in need of quiet.”
Susannah needed Willow Dorning, in fact, and he was somewhere down the path Quimbey had just traversed.
*
“I am turning into my brother Sycamore,” Willow announced as he slipped into her ladyship’s bedroom.
Susannah had kept her word and left her balcony door unlocked, and as she’d promised, a sturdy maple had made climbing to that balcony a moment’s work. Thank heavens for a Dorset boyhood that had included climbing many a tree.