The Dashing Miss Fairchild by Emily Hendrickson

Author:Emily Hendrickson
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Tags: Romance/Historical Fiction
Publisher: Belgrave House

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Chapter Nine

“It never rains in Miss Austen's novels. Did you know that, dear Clare?'’ Venetia offered while warily watching her hostess, who stood by a south window of the drawing room. Clare had stared out at the fitful showers for some time without any comment whatsoever. It made Venetia nervous.

“How interesting. At least it is quiet and utterly peaceful, today. I doubt if any shall hazard the wet to pay a social call in this inclement weather. After the past few days, I welcome the inactivity.” Clare released her hold on the corded tassel, allowing it to swing gracefully down before she turned to face her guest.

“I thought you wanted to shop for a new bonnet?"

“Yes, well, so I did. I have depleted my bonnet supply to a shocking degree. My most favorite ones, too,” Clare said with a sigh. “It is a good thing I can manage the price of new ones, for they are horridly dear, are they not?” she said lightly, wondering what was going on in Venetia's mind to bring such a guilty expression to her face.

There was a noise belowstairs, and both women turned toward the door to see what was amiss. Clare walked to the top of the stairs to discover the stout figure of Mrs. Robottom, her hand on Bennison's arm, puffing her way up. A pair of wooden pattens, their iron rings hidden from view, sat neatly on the flagged entry floor, and a great red oiled-silk umbrella reposed nearby, dripping onto a cloth hastily set down by Bennison.

“Good day, Miss Fairchild,” wheezed Mrs. Robottom as she neared the top of the staircase. “Lovely weather for ducks, I daresay.” Then she chuckled as though she had uttered words of original wit.

Giving the woman who had been the originator of a great deal of her grief since coming to Bath a wary look, Clare politely replied, “And good day to you as well. I confess I am surprised to see anyone out in such rain."

“She just said not a minute ago that she doubted we would have any company, and now here you are,” Venetia said with surprising satisfaction.

Clare wondered if Venetia merely preferred to avoid direct conversation, for Mrs. Robottom was no particular friend of hers. Ushering the stout matron into the drawing room, Clare bade her sit down. Bennison paused by the door, a brow raised in inquiry.

“Tea and cakes, I believe,” Clare ordered, figuring that her caller would appreciate such. Then she crossed to take a chair close to where Mrs. Robottom perched.

“I heard there was a near disaster yesterday,” began her visitor.

Nodding cautiously, Clare decided to allow Mrs. Robottom to do most of the talking, as which near disaster she meant was beyond Clare.

“That poor baby,” continued the caller, “must have been frightened nearly to death. You are a very brave woman, Miss Fairchild."

“La,” Venetia inserted, “she is quite intrepid. I wonder that she dare do half the things she does, for I should faint, I am sure.

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