the watch hanging around her neck. "Half-past three," she said, snapping the cover shut.
"Half-past? I'm afraid I must go. Aunt Mary expects me home for tea." She stood up, hastily arranging her shawl around her shoulders. "Will you come?" she asked Jane, feeling guilty because she was not really expected home for another hour.
"Thank you, no," Jane said. "Mother and I will finish here."
When Elizabeth arrived at Tavistock Square she had the house to herself. Havoc was gone for the day, and Amelia and Mrs. Willard would not be home for nearly an hour. She went upstairs to change into an old blue dress before going outside to work in the garden.
Mrs. Willard smiled broadly when Nicholas came into the sitting room after Mr. Poyne. "Mr. Villines!" she cried when the butler was gone. "What a pleasure to see you here."
"Good afternoon, Mrs. Willard." He bowed and then greeted Amelia warmly. She was wearing a dress of pink satin, a color he found to be particularly flattering on her. "Where's Elizabeth?" he asked when he saw she was not in the room.
"We are waiting for her to come home," said Mrs. Willard. "She's been helping Miss Jane Smithwayne, though she ought to have been home long ago. I can't imagine where she's got to. She's usually unfailingly punctual."
Amelia dimpled and laughed at her mother. "I should suppose, Mother," she said, "that Mr. Villines knows my cousin is apt to lose track of the time. She's quite…" She paused as she searched for a word to describe her. "Intense," she finally provided. It was clear from her tone she did not think it a good thing for Elizabeth to be. "More than once she's been late for tea because she was reading a book so interesting she quite forgot to look at the time and did not even hear the bell. Can you imagine that!"
Nicholas could but said nothing. Amelia's self-assured ignorance was, in an odd way, fascinating. She almost made him think a beautiful woman ought to be ignorant, a blank slate for her husband to write on as he wished—so long as he did not also want a wife he would be able to talk to.
"Beth is quite fond of reading," Mrs. Willard broke in. "It is a worrisome habit in a girl, and indeed Amelia is forbidden too much reading." Being a product of her times, Mrs. Willard thought cleverness a particular drawback in a woman, and she had taken great care to see her own daughter did not cultivate such a handicap. As for Elizabeth, well, she might have to support herself one day, and cleverness might come in handy in such an eventuality. Elizabeth was, as she often said, a poor relation, and poor relations, everyone knew, did not make good marriages—if they managed to get themselves married at all.
"I enjoy novel reading myself, Mr. Villines," said Amelia, "so I hope my mother does not think it too horrible a habit."
"Surely you do not, Mrs. Willard?"
"Not entirely." Mrs. Willard was unable to completely disapprove of the habit, though she might have if Nicholas had seemed to. Still, she felt it best to add, "A young lady would better spend her time improving her soul than her mind."
"Surely book reading cannot imperil the soul, Mrs. Willard."
"The right kind of books do not. You may rest assured I permit Amelia to read only the right kind of books." Evidently she considered the topic closed, for with hardly a pause to draw breath, she went on, "Amelia, it is such a lovely afternoon, perhaps Mr. Villines would enjoy a walk in the garden while we wait for Elizabeth?"
"That would be most agreeable, Mrs. Willard." Nicholas stood and extended a hand to her.
"I believe I shall stay inside to wait for Beth, Mr. Villines. But I'm certain Amelia would be glad to give you a tour." Mrs. Willard beamed at him from her chair.
"I should be simply too happy to show you the garden, Mr. Villines."
The garden at the back of the house was good-sized, with a recently trimmed lawn curving around both sides of the house and stretching out some fifty or sixty yards to the rear.
"Half-past? I'm afraid I must go. Aunt Mary expects me home for tea." She stood up, hastily arranging her shawl around her shoulders. "Will you come?" she asked Jane, feeling guilty because she was not really expected home for another hour.
"Thank you, no," Jane said. "Mother and I will finish here."
When Elizabeth arrived at Tavistock Square she had the house to herself. Havoc was gone for the day, and Amelia and Mrs. Willard would not be home for nearly an hour. She went upstairs to change into an old blue dress before going outside to work in the garden.
Mrs. Willard smiled broadly when Nicholas came into the sitting room after Mr. Poyne. "Mr. Villines!" she cried when the butler was gone. "What a pleasure to see you here."
"Good afternoon, Mrs. Willard." He bowed and then greeted Amelia warmly. She was wearing a dress of pink satin, a color he found to be particularly flattering on her. "Where's Elizabeth?" he asked when he saw she was not in the room.
"We are waiting for her to come home," said Mrs. Willard. "She's been helping Miss Jane Smithwayne, though she ought to have been home long ago. I can't imagine where she's got to. She's usually unfailingly punctual."
Amelia dimpled and laughed at her mother. "I should suppose, Mother," she said, "that Mr. Villines knows my cousin is apt to lose track of the time. She's quite…" She paused as she searched for a word to describe her. "Intense," she finally provided. It was clear from her tone she did not think it a good thing for Elizabeth to be. "More than once she's been late for tea because she was reading a book so interesting she quite forgot to look at the time and did not even hear the bell. Can you imagine that!"
Nicholas could but said nothing. Amelia's self-assured ignorance was, in an odd way, fascinating. She almost made him think a beautiful woman ought to be ignorant, a blank slate for her husband to write on as he wished—so long as he did not also want a wife he would be able to talk to.
"Beth is quite fond of reading," Mrs. Willard broke in. "It is a worrisome habit in a girl, and indeed Amelia is forbidden too much reading." Being a product of her times, Mrs. Willard thought cleverness a particular drawback in a woman, and she had taken great care to see her own daughter did not cultivate such a handicap. As for Elizabeth, well, she might have to support herself one day, and cleverness might come in handy in such an eventuality. Elizabeth was, as she often said, a poor relation, and poor relations, everyone knew, did not make good marriages—if they managed to get themselves married at all.
"I enjoy novel reading myself, Mr. Villines," said Amelia, "so I hope my mother does not think it too horrible a habit."
"Surely you do not, Mrs. Willard?"
"Not entirely." Mrs. Willard was unable to completely disapprove of the habit, though she might have if Nicholas had seemed to. Still, she felt it best to add, "A young lady would better spend her time improving her soul than her mind."
"Surely book reading cannot imperil the soul, Mrs. Willard."
"The right kind of books do not. You may rest assured I permit Amelia to read only the right kind of books." Evidently she considered the topic closed, for with hardly a pause to draw breath, she went on, "Amelia, it is such a lovely afternoon, perhaps Mr. Villines would enjoy a walk in the garden while we wait for Elizabeth?"
"That would be most agreeable, Mrs. Willard." Nicholas stood and extended a hand to her.
"I believe I shall stay inside to wait for Beth, Mr. Villines. But I'm certain Amelia would be glad to give you a tour." Mrs. Willard beamed at him from her chair.
"I should be simply too happy to show you the garden, Mr. Villines."
The garden at the back of the house was good-sized, with a recently trimmed lawn curving around both sides of the house and stretching out some fifty or sixty yards to the rear.
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