Francis started, “It was only a conversation—” But Vincent threw him such a look, the small man wilted and ducked his gaze.
Edward, his shoulders still bunched with tension, looked away. “I will remember myself.”
“Good,” Vincent said to him. “Do endeavor to be pleasant for at least another hour.”
Elizabeth could not interpret what she had witnessed—rivalry, authority, uncertainty, all of it. The goading, the reprimand—perhaps it was that they were only brothers, deeply competitive. But there was more than that at work here. We decided we would like to come in from the woods . . .
Francis bowed something that was like an apology and went off to another room. Vincent followed him, and she expected Edward to do likewise.
Instead, he turned to her, his expression chagrined. “My deepest apologies. Tell me you will forgive me and grant me one more dance?”
She should have been frightened of him, after what she had seen. But she took his hand and stood before she knew what she was about.
“You like him,” her father said, as they sat at supper. She was with her parents near the Brannocks. The brothers Wilde were at the far end of the table. She didn’t dare steal a glance at Edward, though she was sure he was stealing glances at her.
Elizabeth gathered herself as well as she could, folding her hands before her. “I don’t know that I would use so strong a word,” she replied. “Mr. Wilde is very . . . interesting.”
“That is more than you have said about any other man who has ever turned an eye toward you, my sweet girl.” He kissed her hand and smiled knowingly.
Perhaps she could persuade Edward Wilde to return to whatever woods he had come from, and take her with him. This thought was shocking—and pleasant. She wrapped herself up with it.
While the gentlemen smoked and drank their brandy, Mrs. Brannock led the ladies to the drawing room. The gossip that followed there was mercenary. For once, the thoughts of the women were just as stark as the words they spoke. There were more daughters than available bachelors in the neighborhood, and the arrival of the Wildes was a boon.
“But what of their family? Does no one know anything of them?”
“Clearly, the family made its money in business, this is why no one has heard of them.”
“They do have a rough edge to them, don’t they?”
“But money forgives many faults, doesn’t it?”
A few stray glances went to Elizabeth, who pretended to be occupied with the lace on her sleeve.
“I would know more about them before allowing them to claim one of my daughters.”
“Does anyone know if they even have this fortune that everyone speaks of? Taking Lilies Park isn’t a sure sign of it—”
“They’d have had to prove their credit before taking the estate, surely—”
“I’m sure I don’t understand such things—”
“But they do seem very fine, don’t they? Ah, to be young again, I might try to catch one of them for myself!”
The worry over money was valid, but it had a second function: to raise doubt and thus put off rivals. Whatever they said, the mothers would be happy to have their daughters married to money. None of them were so fine that they could easily refuse anything upward of three thousand a year. If the marriage went poorly years hence, whether because of money or disposition, they would all say that they knew from the first it would be so. None would remember the talk of this evening.
Amy leaned close to Elizabeth. “You are thinking very deep thoughts, my friend.”
“Oh? I’m told that thinking in ladies is unattractive.”
“Usually it is, but it makes you appear quite mysterious. I approve.”
“Amy, you’re a bad influence on me.”
“Good! Now, do share.”
She took a deep breath. “I am thinking, what a pack of vultures.”
Amy burst out laughing, and the matrons and their daughters turned sharp looks to them, which caused Elizabeth’s friend to choke back even more laughter.