The room was dressed prettily in primrose yellow and, Cornelia understood, was used mostly when the duchess wished to embroider, since the south-facing windows allowed plenty of light.
She’d spent the first hour merely surveying the walls, which bore portraits of centuries of female Studbornes, each taking the role of a character from classical mythology. There was the usual smattering of Aphrodites and more than one Athena but it seemed the tradition had inspired past duchesses to engage their imagination, for there was a rendering of Cassandra, Danaë and Arachne. One matron wielded a savage looking blade, portraying Clytemnestra, while another—blessed with a particularly fearsome expression—gave a convincing rendition of Medea.
The current Lady Studborne hung in state above the fireplace as Pandora, though her box sat thankfully closed, and her expression remained serene. Presumably, the evils of the world had fled elsewhere, leaving this Pandora with the comfort of hope, held secure within the casket.
Cornelia wished she could say the same for herself. Whilst it was a relief of sorts to excuse herself from the various organized festivities, she could not escape the worrisome feeling that she was missing out. Not that she gave two hoots about Blindman’s Buff or Pass the Slipper, but her confinement allowed Burnell to roam loose among the wolves.
Cornelia reached over Minnie, who lay recumbent in her usual position, and raised the lid on the chocolates Mrs. Nossle had generously donated from her private supply.
She sucked dejectedly on a violet creme.
Of course, it was no business of hers if Burnell suddenly took a liking to playing the unprotected sheep. When the predatory antics of Lady Pippsbury and Mrs. Bongorge became too much, he knew where to find her.
As it was, he popped in every morning at eleven, and every afternoon at four. However, to Cornelia’s grudging disappointment, he sat very properly on the sofa opposite, without even so much as kissing her hand.
Clearly, as an ‘invalid’ she no longer exerted the same allure.
With that dismal thought, she sampled the orange fondant and a nut crackle and was contemplating the Turkish Delight when the door opened and her aunts bustled in—looking mightily pleased with themselves.
"Oh, Fry’s Selection; my favourite.” Occupying the other end of the chaise, Blanche helped herself to a caramel centre.
“Have you been keeping amused, darling?” Eustacia dropped a kiss on her forehead before taking a seat.
“I see she has.” Blanche tapped the cover of the book sitting uppermost on the pile next to Cornelia. “—thanks to Desert Adventures. Do tell me when you reach the part where the sheik rescues her from the sandstorm and they take refuge in the caves. I’m longing to hear your thoughts on that delightful thing he does with his—”
“Aunt Blanche!” Blushing, Cornelia snatched up the book and buried it under her skirts. “I’ve only read two chapters and I’m not at all sure—”
“Quite right.” Eustacia interrupted. “Don’t hound her, Blanche. I told you it mightn’t be to Cornelia’s taste.”
“Twaddle! Of course she’ll like it.” Blanche’s eyes lit mischievously. “Besides which, it’s extremely educational. One can hardly embark on a fling without a little extra knowledge stored up.”
“A fling?” Cornelia’s voice emerged as a squeak. “Is that what people are saying?” A flush of heat rose from her chest, flaring through to the tips of her ears.
“Now, dear, there’s no need to be anxious.” Blanche patted her knee. “No one is speculating that you’ve been having an affair, although such things may be overlooked in the circumstances. You’re a widow after all, dear; not a debutante, and Mr. Burnell is clearly head-over-heels. Besides which, one might as well be hung for a sheep as a lamb, and I’d vouch Mr. Burnell is hung far better than a—”
“Stop!” Cornelia covered her ears. “I can assure you that I’ve no intention to… I really don’t wish to…” She swallowed hard. The baron had arrived on the scene mere moments after Burnell had stepped down from the sleigh. Had he seen something? They’d both been so diverted they hadn’t heard the other sleigh’s approach until the last moment.
“I just wouldn’t! And I can assure you there’s no formal arrangement between us.”
“Do you want one?” Eustacia looked at her beadily.
“Don’t be ridiculous. We’ve only just met. He knows nothing about me, and I only know what he’s willing to let me see. That’s no basis for wedlock.”
“There are plenty who’d disagree.” Her aunt looked thoughtful. “Knowing too much about the other person isn’t always for the best.”
“Well, it’s not my idea of marriage!” Cornelia closed her eyes, making herself count to ten. “And I won’t be having a fling, or an affair, or any sort of furtive liaison.”
Aunt Blanche looked crestfallen. “Really, Cornelia, you’ll be much more content when you care less about what other people think. As for the rest, why not throw caution to the wind and do what makes you happy?”
“Like my mother, you mean?” Cornelia couldn’t help her irritation. “She didn’t care, and look what happened to her.”
“That’s not at all the same thing, dearest, as I’m sure you know. Your mother was already married, and had a duty to you and your late father. Perhaps she was in love with that artist fellow, but I’m inclined to think she acted rashly and would have come to regret it, once the money from her jewels had been spent.”
“Blanche is right,” added Eustacia. “You mustn’t compare yourself in that way. Naturally, you needn’t marry again if you don’t wish to. Look at how contented we are darling, and with all the freedom in the world—but there are other sorts of happiness. That’s your decision to make, Cornelia dear, but please think carefully about what you want, or you may waste an awful lot of time chasing the wrong things.”
What did she want? Children to love and marriage to a dependable husband? A man who treated her as his equal, who respected her, and whose heart was kind? Someone who would encourage her to pursue her own interests, and whom she could support in return. A union of mutual affection and regard, forged for a life-time.
When had her list gotten so long?
Or, could she say goodbye to all that and throw herself into a passionate dalliance which couldn’t possibly come to anything, with a man who’d made it clear he never intended to commit his heart?
“You look tired dear.” Eustacia placed her hand to Cornelia’s cheek. “We’ll leave you be and send Nancy with a pot of tea.”
Cornelia managed a smile. “There’s really no need. I’m well, truly. It’s just that there’s so much to think about and I’m not at all sure…”
As her aunts were departing, however, Burnell appeared.
Cornelia’s heart gave a small flip.
“Marvellous!” declared Blanche.
“Perfect!” beamed Eustacia.
There were other words Cornelia wished to apply as Mrs. Bongorge and Lord Fairlea made themselves known, two steps behind.
“My dear!” Mrs. Bongorge wafted into the room, trailing a heavily musky scent. “You must be half-dead with boredom.” Her eyes alighted on the chocolates. “I see we are here just in time; so easy to fall into the trap of comforting eating, but a thousand chocolates will never lighten the soul as the companionship of valued friends.”