Carrie Bebris - The Deception At Lyme

“How many godparents have you, Sir Laurence?” Miss Elliot asked.

“Only three,” he replied. “The Duke of Manchester, and the Earl and Countess of Sommerfeld.”

“The godson of a duke!” Though the exclamation was Miss Elliot’s, both she and her father were euphoric at the news. Oblivious to the fact that their lofty connexions had been utterly trumped, they exalted in Sir Laurence’s as if they were their own. “Are you on intimate terms with His Grace?”

“Not particularly, since he lives so far away.”

“My brother did, however, visit him several years ago,” Miss Ashford added.

“He is a valuable connexion,” Sir Walter said reverently. “You should strive to maintain it.”

Sir Laurence accepted Sir Walter’s social advice with great civility, though it was neither needed nor wanted.

“And you enjoy the patronage of Lord Sommerfeld, as well.” Miss Elliot regarded Sir Laurence as if he were the heir to the throne.

“My godfather was an earl,” Georgiana ventured.

Considering the interest Sir Walter and Miss Elliot took in anybody’s connexions, Georgiana’s announcement ought to have generated the same excitement as Sir Laurence’s had. Miss Elliot, however, looked at Georgiana as if she very much wished Miss Darcy would find some other christening to attend, preferably in Derbyshire, and returned her attention to Sir Laurence. “Have you met our future baronet?”

“I have not yet had the pleasure. He was rather beside himself when we arrived.”

“Oh, do not let his earlier behavior color your impression of him. He is calm now.” She smiled. “Come, I shall introduce you and Miss Ashford.”

“That is not necessary. We can wait for another occasion—”

“Why wait? He is such a sweet child—I simply adore him. You must allow me to present my new brother to you—a future baronet to a current one.” She turned to her father. “Sir, you should come, too—three baronets.”

“An excellent idea,” said Sir Walter.

Without waiting for a reply from Sir Laurence, Miss Elliot and her father began walking. After a few steps, she turned to see whether Sir Laurence and his sister followed.

Sir Laurence had no choice. To refuse would embarrass both his hosts and himself. He looked at Georgiana apologetically. “Will you come with us, Miss Darcy?”

Though stunned by Miss Elliot’s maneuver, Georgiana had enough presence of mind to decline Sir Laurence’s attempt to include her. She harbored no desire to provoke a rival that she had not, until this hour, realized she had. “Thank you, but I think I will get more lemonade instead.”

“I will look for you later, then.”

She nodded. Sir Laurence took his sister’s arm, and Georgiana watched them walk off. Miss Elliot smiled victoriously as they joined her.

“It is not worth your trouble,” said a male voice behind Georgiana.

She turned round to discover Lieutenant St. Clair. He was in civilian clothes today, as he had been when she had first seen him. He stood near a wooden column, one of six that dotted the room at regular intervals to uphold the ceiling.

“I beg your pardon?”

“The lemonade.” He had a glass in his hand, but stepped forward to set it on a nearby table. “It is too warm to provide refreshment.”

“I know.” Despite having no interest in her own half-empty glass, Georgiana sipped from it and glanced back at Sir Laurence. Miss Elliot had not gone directly to Mrs. Wentworth, who held Alfred; she had instead paused halfway across the room, and the party was now in conversation again. Georgiana watched them, her expression apprehensive.

“For the record,” St. Clair said, “I do not have a single titled godparent.”

His statement drew her attention back to him. “It is a wonder, then, that you were admitted to this grandiose affair.”

“I keep the fact a closely guarded secret.” His mouth quirked, and his eyes held irreverent liveliness. “Pray, do not expose me to Miss Elliot, or I might be shown the door.”

His entreaty elicited the beginning of a smile. “I assure you, Lieutenant, your confidence is safely entrusted.”

He offered to fetch her more lemonade if she truly wanted it. She declined, setting her unwanted glass beside his. “I would much rather hear how you managed to survive all these years with such shockingly ordinary connexions.”

“I am terribly ill equipped, am I not? But my godparents are a most beloved aunt and uncle—two of many. In assorted relations, I am plentifully endowed.”

“Have you numerous siblings, as well?” she asked.

“What would you consider ‘numerous’?”

“Having grown up with only a single brother, I would deem three abundant.”

“I have seven.”

Her eyes widened. “Seven! All brothers?”

“Three sisters. The eldest is married and lives in London; the other two are still at home.”

“I have often wished I had more siblings. But seven! Have you also a generous number of nieces and nephews?”

“Not quite a full dozen—at least, at last count,” he said with a fond look in his eyes. “Incidentally, I am godfather to two of them. We shall have to hope they grow up none the worse for the connexion.”

As they spoke, the sun’s angle shifted just enough that now its rays lanced the window and raised the temperature in the room still more. Georgiana withdrew a fan from her reticule and waved it slowly. “Whatever is it like, being part of such a large family?”

“When we are all together, rather noisy.” He paused, his expression becoming wistful. “But in the best of ways.”

“You missed them, while you were so long overseas.” It was not a question; she could read the truth in his countenance.

“Very much. I have missed my parents, as well. They all write often, as do I, but it is not the same as being in their houses, enjoying spontaneous conversation and mirth and even the occasional disagreement.”

“Have you visited any of your family since returning to England?”

“No, I—there are other matters to which I must attend first.”

“You are fortunate to have your parents still alive. You should visit them while you are able.”

“Yours, I take it, are not?”

“My father died eight years ago, and my mother…” The fan stopped, and her voice grew softer. “Giving birth to me.”

“Oh, Miss Darcy!” His expression was one of genuine sympathy. “Forgive me. Had I known the circumstances of your mother’s death, I never would have brought up so painful a subject.”

“You could not have realized. And I have had nineteen years to make my peace with it. Still, I often wonder how it would have been to grow up under her influence, to have her with me even now.”

“Have you spoken with your brother of these feelings?”

“We speak of our mother, but I do not speak of her loss. As much as I regret that I never knew her, he did, and I feel responsible for having taken her from him.”

His brows drew together. “Surely he does not blame you?”

“Oh, heavens no. I keep silent because he is such a conscientious brother that it would grieve him to know I have such thoughts.”

“It grieves me to know them, and I have only just met you.”

A flush crept into her cheeks as self-consciousness overtook her. “Forgive me for having burdened you with such a confidence. I—I do not know what possessed me to reveal it to so new an acquaintance.”

“I am not burdened,” he said in all sincerity. “And I assure you, Miss Darcy, it is safely entrusted.”

“Nevertheless—”

Lieutenant St. Clair’s gaze suddenly shifted to a spot behind her shoulder. Georgiana turned to see her brother approaching. He reached them in a few strides and looked from one to the other.