Wedding Flowers-Chapter Twelve
Victor was at Victoria's side by the parlor door in a flash.
"Victoria!" he whispered urgently.
"Victor!" she whispered back in the same tone.
"I need to talk to you," they said in perfect unison.
There was a brief pause. For a moment they stood looking at one another. Victor rather felt the surprise on Victoria's face must mirror his own expression.
"About Mr. Weary," they said, again at once.
There was another pause. Victor scratched the back of his neck. Victoria took a quick glance across the entry to the dining room.
"So you know already," she said, turning to look up at him. Her tone was slow, cautious, as though she were tiptoeing, afraid to set him off. As though he were some sort of landmine. Which, he realized, was actually rather close to the truth when it came to the romantic lives of his daughters. Luckily when he went off the only casualty was his tie. With conscious effort he pulled his hand away from his collar, and put his arms behind his back. He looked down at Victoria, who was still studying him carefully.
"Did she say anything to you about all this?" Victoria asked, searching his face. "Did you know, before now?"
"No, she didn't tell me," he said, feeling silly for not having guessed. All of the signs were there, in retrospect. "I rather assumed she'd said something to you."
Victoria shook her head. "No, she didn't. But when I saw them tonight, in the parlor..." she trailed off, looking toward the dining room again. In the brief pause he studied her profile. Victoria's expression was strange. Wistful, unsure, somehow soft around the edges. As if she were wishing she had a tie to twist as she contemplated her many inner "other hands." Victor couldn't quite put a name to it. But he thought he understood the feeling. He put a hand to her waist.
"Mr. Weary asked to speak with me after dinner," he told her in an undertone. Victoria put a hand to hear mouth, covering a little gasp as she turned back to him again.
"You don't think?" she whispered, her eyes wide.
"I do think," he replied. They gazed at each other again, this time their expressions matching in parental agitation. After a moment Victoria's gaze moved down to Victor's mangled tie. Without a word she reached up and absently smoothed and straightened it for him.
Murmured conversation and the scraping of chairs against the floor came from the dining room. They couldn't stay out here much longer. How lucky that Catherine was such a good hostess—she could hold the fort, as it were, until Victoria arrived. Victor was in no rush to go in there, particularly given these new developments. The entire point of the evening had been to avoid an engagement.
But perhaps...perhaps this was different. This was Lydia deciding on her own. As she always did. Victoria had finished with his tie, but she was still running a hand over it. Absently, her mind plainly elsewhere. Most likely she was thinking along the same lines he was. With a small smile, he gave her waist a squeeze.
"I suppose it's not that surprising, really," he finally whispered, trying to soothe and reassure. And, honestly, trying to convince himself of the truth of his words. "After all, they've known each other for over a year, worked together, he's come to call on her...What? What's wrong?"
Victoria's eyes had gone even wider, her mouth falling open in surprise. She shook her head at him, her hand no longer stroking his tie but waving about in a clear No, no, shut up sort of way. So Victor shut up and just stared at her, bewildered. After a quick glance at the dining room door, she reached up and put her hands on his shoulders. Stepping closer, she looked up at him, and shook her head again.
"Victor," she said, quiet but urgent, "I think there's been some sort of misunderstanding."
"What do you mean?" he asked, confused. He'd thought what he'd heard had been rather clear. No real mystery in it at all. "What've I-"
"What in the world are you two doing out here?" boomed Maudeline's voice. The two of them turned to see her standing in the dining room doorway, regal in her severely cut purple silk, hands on hips, staring at them down the length of her nose. On instinct left over from young adulthood, Victor and Victoria took their hands off of one another and took a step apart.
"It is a full five minutes past eight, and your guests have had to seat themselves," Maudeline scolded. As she turned and went back into the dining room, she added, "Come at once!"
Here they were, forty-five years old, and still being scolded by Victoria's mother. Maudeline could make anybody feel like they were nineteen.
"I need to speak with you before you speak to Mr. Weary," Victoria whispered quickly, already making her way toward the dining room. Victor nodded, still confused, and then followed her, taking a few long strides to catch up.
When Victor entered the dining room, he pulled the door shut behind him, the latch seeming to catch in a very final sort of way.
0—0
Lydia had never attended such a silent family dinner. For her family, that was saying something. From soup to fish no one had said a word. However, the atmosphere was positively crackling.
It was probably for the best that Lydia was sitting next to Ned, with Anne and Catherine across the table. Poor Anne was having a hard enough time keeping a grip on her silverware and cutlery with Ned across from her. If they'd been side by side, brushing elbows in front of everyone, she'd probably have fidgeted herself right off her chair.
Even Catherine was quiet, seemingly content to happily watch Anne and Ned make eyes at one another. Lydia had to admit it was sort of sweet. She'd been both pleased and embarrassed to see that Ned looked at Anne just the way that Father looked at Mother, when he thought nobody else was paying attention. Catherine, meeting Ned and seeing the two of them together for the first time, plainly found it adorable. And yet...Lydia couldn't help feeling a bit envious, and she thought she detected a glimmer of envy in Catherine's eyes, too, when their gazes happened to meet across the table.
There had been many eye conversations tonight, actually. They set Lydia on edge. She much preferred words. Clear-cut, unambiguous words. Worst of all was Father. Every time she looked in his direction she found him giving her the queerest look. Finally, the fourth time she noticed, she realized it was the same look he'd given her when she'd gone off to school for the very first time. He'd looked at her just that way, with a wistful kind of fondness, all the way to the train station. Having no idea what that was all about, she decided to just ignore him.
Finally, when Alice and the girl that Mother had hired just for the evening had cleared away the last plate and had disappeared through the door that led down to the kitchen, Grandmother straightened up in her seat. Taking her cue, Grandmamma did the same. A ripple seemed to go through the company, all around the table. Everybody, even Mother, either shifted a bit or sighed or squared their shoulders.
Here it comes, Lydia found herself thinking, unsure of what "it" was, precisely. She noticed Father and Mother share a long look with each other from their opposite ends of the table. Somehow it seemed like some sort of psychic hand-holding when they did that. Lydia, discomfited by that thought for some reason she couldn't quite figure out, looked at her plate.
"Thank you for the dinner, Victoria," Grandmother said, steely and polite, with the definite sense that her politeness was mostly habit. She gave Ned a brief look. Ned, to his credit, didn't cower. "Do forgive us, Mr. Weasley-"
"Weary," Father corrected quietly.
"Whatever," said Grandmother with a wave of her hand, not bothering to spare Father a glance. "We have family business to discuss, I hope you don't mind."
"Er, no, not at all," Ned said, looking at Lydia for help. She could only shrug. Maybe it would've been good to warn him about this. In the excitement and nervousness of his impending engagement to her sister, Lydia'd forgotten to mention that the whole point of this dinner party was to agree on husbands for her and her sisters. Husbands who were emphatically not Ogdred Weary, Chartered Accountant.
"It's fine," Lydia said out of the corner of her mouth. And it would be, Lydia was sure. It always was. She was quite interested to see how it would play out tonight, on this scale. Besides, if Ned really wanted to join their family, this would doubtless be excellent practice. Here he was, looking at what would be the next fifteen years of his life, at least. Again, to his credit, he did not seem frightened.
"Indeed we have! Haven't we?" Grandmamma said, looking down the table at Mother, who met her gaze. Her face was completely impassive.
"Yes," she said evenly, putting her hands in her lap. "We have. Victor?" Father nodded, his expression giving away rather more than Mother's.
"Let's not fuss over this any longer," Grandmamma said. "It's high time we got these girls engaged. Suitably engaged," she added pointedly when Grandad opened his mouth to say something. Thus rebuked, Grandad closed his mouth again, but gave Lydia a wink and a nudge. Lydia rolled her eyes.
"Why the rush?" Grandfather asked, more to his glass of wine than the company. Grandmother turned to glare at him over Catherine and Anne's heads.
"Finis, what are you talking about?" she asked. Grandfather curled his lip a bit, and harumphed down at the table.
"Are we having some sort of financial difficulty I'm unaware of that would necessitate a wedding?" he asked in return. Grandmother just narrowed her eyes and looked down her nose at him.
"Not at all, business is smashing!" Grandad broke in, suddenly energetic now that talk had turned to a topic he knew about. "Defense contracts! We're feeding the entire military-"
"Thank you, William!" Grandmamma said, leaning forward to better glare at him past Ned and Lydia.
"Finis, we have discussed this," Grandmother sniffed. "The children must marry up. That is what we are arranging."
"Hmph. Well," Grandfather said. Then he shrugged, and mumbled mostly to himself, "just as long as the checks keep coming." And he took a swig from his wine glass, apparently satisfied.
"Oh yes, of course they will, no worries there," Grandmamma put in, with a flick of her wrist and a little laugh. Quick as a blink her manner changed, and she went on seriously, looking at Lydia and her sisters each in turn. "We're going to elevate every one of you. No trading sideways or down, girls."
Lydia couldn't help noticing how Grandmamma looked at her the longest, staring at her with a clear "if you know what's good for you..." glint in her eye. If she'd been within range, Lydia was sure she'd have gotten a jab in the side with Grandmamma's fan. Grandmamma also seemed to incline her head pointedly at Ned, but perhaps Lydia was imagining that. Inwardly she groaned. Grandad and his big mouth and silly ideas...
Quickly Lydia glanced around at her sisters and parents. As always, her grandparents had all simply taken off, commanding the dinner table as if it were theirs. As if Mother and Father weren't even necessary to the discussion. As if Lydia and her sisters weren't necessary to the discussion!
She glanced around the table again, trying to gauge how everyone was taking this, and how and when her parents were planning to put a stop to it. Catherine, unruffled and unconcerned, tipped Lydia a friendly wink when she caught her eye. Suddenly it occurred to Lydia that Catherine had been living with these conversations and negotiations for years, ever since her coming out party. It was what came of being the only one of the four of them who looked like a purebred, betraying no outward sign of Van Dort blood. Van Dort money, yes. Blood, no. If Catherine wasn't concerned, then Lydia probably shouldn't be, either. She looked at Anne, and was less reassured. Poor Anne looked as though she was about to throw up what little dinner she'd eaten. Lydia bit her lip, and looked over at Father.
Luckily Father happened to be looking at her again. When their eyes met, he gave her a small nod, clearly meant to be reassuring. Again, he was giving her that look, that affectionate and wistful little smile. Then he nodded again, his face hardening a bit, as though coming to a decision. He turned to Grandmamma.
"Mother, we have discussed this several times," he said. "We are not arranging marriages for the children, and that is final." After a brief pause, he added, "But...er, thank you for your concern."
"How, may I ask, do you intend to marry them off if you do not arrange it?" Grandmother asked, looking down her nose at Father. For a split second it seemed that Father was ready to give up, to waver, but the moment passed quickly. Lydia watched as Father sat up straighter, squared his shoulders, and tilted his head back so that he could look down his own nose at Grandmother. It didn't quite work, but the intent was clear. And Grandmother didn't look pleased.
"They'll marry when and if they choose," he told her, his voice level. Lydia looked at her sisters, wide-eyed, to find them looking back at her the same way. They'd never heard Father speak to Grandmother that way before.
"Yes, they will," Mother agreed quietly, sounding reflective. Lydia saw that Mother was wearing an expression very similar to the one Father had been giving her all evening. Only she was looking at Anne.
"Choose for themselves?" Grandmother asked, slowly. She sounded incredulous. "Young people can hardly be trusted with such decisions. Daughters are informed that they are engaged. It should come as a surprise."
"Certainly, Mother, you must appreciate that we'd like to properly know the gentlemen our daughters marry. And that we insist our daughters know them," said Mother, giving Grandmother a meaningful look. "Given past...events."
At that, everyone looked anywhere but at each other. Father especially seemed to lose a bit of his starch, his mouth turning down a bit, his eyes getting a sad cast to them as he looked at Mother down the table. But Mother wasn't looking at him this time. Mother remained as she was, her eyelids dropped low, a hint of steel in her gaze. As if daring Grandmother to come up with a response.
Lydia felt a familiar pit start to form in her stomach. She'd always found her parents' history to be an uncomfortable one, one that she didn't like to think about. It made her angry and sad to think about Mother's first marriage, about what had happened to her, and it shook her even more deeply to think about Father's—she stopped there, noticing that she was clenching her fist hard enough to feel her fingernails digging into her palm. Lydia relaxed her hand, let out the breath she hadn't noticed she'd been holding, and tried to focus on the conversation.
"Oh really, Victoria, how long are you going to hold that messy affair against us?" Grandfather finally asked, gruff and impatient, looking at her sideways. Mother's eyes widened, her mouth dropping open a little. And then, after a moment, it seemed she'd given up. She dropped her gaze, no steel in it now.
Seeing her looking that way seemed to galvanize Father, though. He narrowed his eyes at Grandfather, a dangerous expression on his face. Before he could speak, though, Ned broke in.
"I don't blame Mrs. Van Dort," he said quietly. "That was a very sad thing. It was...upsetting."
There was a pause. As one, the entire family turned slowly to stare at him. Ned spoke as if he knew. He seemed to realize that all eyes were on him, though, and he gave a little start in his chair. Plainly he hadn't quite meant to speak aloud.
"I...er...would imagine," Ned said lamely, going a little pink. He briefly glanced at Mother, head bowed. "Forgive me, Mrs. Van Dort, I...wasn't thinking."
Mother didn't immediately reply. She didn't look angry, quite. Merely confused. Actually, she was wearing the expression she usually ended up wearing at least once during get-togethers with the entire family. Head tilted a bit to one side, a slight frown, blinking slowly. That sort of bemused stare, as though she couldn't quite believe that all of these people had anything to do with her.
"Mr. Weary?" Father finally ventured, glancing between Ned and Mother, a look of pure puzzlement on his face. But Mother waved a hand, her expression once more impassive, inscrutable.
"Thank you, Mr. Weary," Mother said, without quite looking at him. There was a long, uncomfortable pause. The clock on the mantel ticked. The atmosphere was no longer crackling with expectation. Rather, it seemed to be thick with discomfort of varying degrees. Lydia sighed a little. She wanted to go to bed.
"Well!" Grandad suddenly said. He leaned forward a bit to better look at Ned, who was staring at his lap, still pink around the ears. "You certainly know how to bring a room down, Mr. Weary. It's last month's finance meeting all over again, isn't it?"
"That's all right, though," Grandad went on when no one replied. He even seemed unfazed by the fact that nobody seemed to be listening to him. "Since you're going to be a member of the family, I'm sure we can make a few allowances for you!"
That got everybody's attention. Every head snapped up, every pair of eyes focused on Grandad, who merely sat back in his chair, a small smile on his face.
"I beg your pardon?" Grandmother asked, her voice murderous. Anne was sitting with her knuckles to her mouth, wide-eyed. Luckily Grandmother was too focused on Grandad to notice.
"Mr. Weary," Grandad replied cheerfully. "He's been courting Lydia. And I daresay we'll be hearing some wedding bells soon enough!"
The silence was awesome. Horrified, Lydia turned to Ned, to find him looking just as horrified back at her. Catherine, transfixed, could only shrug, unable to help. Anne looked ready to burst into tears.
"What is the meaning of this?" Grandmother asked when she'd recovered. Lydia put a palm to her forehead, trying to think of a way to fix this. Ferociously thinking Shut up Shut up Shut up in Grandad's direction wasn't working, so she needed a new plan.
"Oh, you know how it is," said Grandad, clearly having an inappropriate amount of fun. He waved a hand. "Working together, get to be friends, little meetings, passing notes-"
"Hmph," put in Grandfather, squinting at Ned. "Very unprofessional." Grandad shrugged.
"It's to be expected, when a young woman's around eligible bachelors all day," he said. Lydia's mouth dropped open as he added, "Just like the girls who come in to pack herring every season! Most of them seem to leave with husbands."
Herring packer? Looking for a husband? Herring packer? That tore it. Lydia had only been embarrassed a moment ago. Now she was furious. Quite forgetting herself, she turned to Grandad and said, a bit more angrily than she meant to, "I'm not unprofessional, and I'm not seeing N—Mr. Weary." She looked around the table. Everyone just looked back at her.
"I'm not!" she insisted. "And Ned isn't courting me."
"Lydia," said Father gently. She looked up to see him giving her such a kind and understanding look that it made her want to scream. "We already know. It's all right."
"No, it's not!" Grandmamma cried, clearly unable to contain herself any longer. "It is most definitely not all right!" Whipping open her fan, she started fanning herself, one hand to her forehead.
"Don't get all a-flutter, dear," Grandad said mildly, even as Grandmamma continued to mutter to herself.
"Oh, I think we are all well past 'a-flutter,' Mr. Van Dort," said Grandmother icily. She turned to Lydia and Ned. "Explain yourselves."
Lydia heaved a sigh, trying her best to make sure it didn't come out as a growl. This was...this was...mad. Unbelievable. And it ended now. She should've known better than to get involved in all of this. She should have told Ned to call on her sister and court her respectably, like a normal person. No secrets, no sneaking. Couldn't anything related to marriage be normal and simple in their family?
"I did pass notes, and I did invite Mr. Weary over tonight," Lydia said slowly, "but it's not...I wasn't.. I was doing it for-" Lydia caught Anne's eye, and stopped abruptly. Her little sister's eyes were pleading.
She couldn't do it. She couldn't give Anne away, not like this. Poor Anne didn't have the constitution for it. With a sigh, thinking how very much Anne owed her for this, Lydia sat back in her chair.
"I confess," she said flatly, tossing her hands in the air, looking around the table. "Mr. Weary and I. Courting. All of it."
Catherine's mouth was hanging open most unbecomingly as she stared at Lydia. Anne was also staring, but her gaze was plainly one of thanks. Ned, who had been tensed up as though ready to make his escape through the window if necessary, began to relax.
"But, Lydia," Mother began. She'd been completely quiet until now. When their eyes met Lydia concentrated hard, trying to will Mother to figure out what was going on. Something must have clicked, because Mother gave her an almost imperceptible nod. Sitting back, Mother folded her hands in her lap and was quiet, eyes cast down. Lydia, rightly or wrongly, took that as permission to keep going.
"He asked me to marry him," Lydia announced. She had to raise her voice over her grandparents' groans and general protests as she went on, "He proposed, and...I'm saying no."
During the pause that followed Lydia tried to gauge reactions. It was hard to tell. Everyone seemed more confused and surprised that anything else. Grandmamma had even stopped in mid-fan, and Grandfather was paused with his nearly empty wine glass halfway to his mouth. Anne was relaxing more with each moment, it seemed, which was good. So Lydia turned to Ned.
"I'm sorry I led you on, Mr. Weary," she said, trying to ignore the way that Catherine was attempting to stifle her laughter with her dinner napkin. "But I just can't marry you." With that, Lydia folded her arms over her chest, leaned back, and waited for the next move. She'd done all that she could.
"Uh..." Ned said. He looked around the table, helpless and confused. Nobody would look at him except for Father, who just gave him a shrug that seemed to say, Sorry, but what can you do?. So Ned turned back to Lydia and managed, "Er...that's...all right. I understand. Thank you for your, uh, candor."
"You're welcome," Lydia replied flatly, not looking at him.
"You could've let him down a bit more easily than that!" Catherine finally said, clearly recovered from her giggling fit. Lydia glared at her, but she just smiled sweetly in return, adding, "Poor Mr. Weary! I apologize for my sister."
Well, Lydia couldn't really blame her for having some fun at her expense. This whole situation was ridiculous, something out of a bad farce. Catherine always did love farces. So Lydia just shook her head as Ned replied, "Um, thank you."
"Well then," said Father, clearly bemused. He too sat back in his chair. "I suppose that's settled." And yet he seemed troubled, evidenced by the way he lifted a hand and began gently twisting at his bow tie.
"Not quite," said Grandmother. Father stopped his tie-twisting and looked at her warily. Grandmamma, who had recovered enough to put her fan away again, nodded.
"Oh, but that was a close call!" she remarked, patting her hair. "It's a good thing our Lydia's smart enough to know when to say no!" She looked at Ned out of the corner of her eye, and added in a low tone, "Though you should've known better than to chase after an heiress."
Across the table Anne gave a little groan, and Catherine patted her on the arm before leaning over to whisper something to her. Whatever it was made Anne nod, and smile just a little. Again, Lydia just shook her head, crossing her arms more tightly over her chest.
"Ahem," Grandfather said. He was looking at his watch, and when he spoke next it was more to the timepiece than to any of them. "Can we get on with this, please?" he asked, making a hurry-up gesture. Next to him, Mother was still impassive, looking at the tabletop. It was the look Mother wore when she was thinking. Lydia hoped whatever plan Mother came up with to fix things was better than her own.
"We'll not be having any more close calls, nor will we be allowing any further courtships," Grandmother said, pronouncing "courtship" has though it were a dirty word. She also levelled a meaningful stare at Lydia. Lydia, not feeling at her most respectful, stared right back until Grandmother looked away again.
"We've husbands picked out for all four of them," Grandmother announced. With an imperious glance at Ned, she added, "Not one of them an accountant."
So saying, she pulled a creamy white piece of paper, folded into thirds, out of some hidden pocket of her dress. Ceremoniously, she opened it. Even from her seat, Lydia could see the Everglot crest at the top of the paper.
"Four excellent prospects," Grandmother continued, waving the paper a bit. "All arranged. You may thank us for our hard work at any time." This last was directed down the table at Mother, who was now paying full attention. Her eyes, large and apprehensive, followed the paper's movement before moving to Father, who was also staring at the list with narrowed eyes.
"All you need to do is say yes!" said Grandmamma, tapping Father on the arm with her folded fan. She either didn't notice or chose to ignore that Father's frown was getting deeper by the second, as she happily continued, "We can start planning the first wedding tomorrow, and have at least one them taken care of by summertime!"
Lydia looked at Father. His face was dangerous, his eyebrows lowered so much they were making a straight line.
"May I see that list?" he asked, still looking Grandmother straight in the eye. For a second she seemed unsure, and looked across the table at Grandmamma. Finally she handed it over. Everyone watched, breathless.
Father looked at it for a moment. He held it up, as though to better catch the light, and then tore it cleanly in two. Then, his expression unchanging, he crumpled the pieces into a ball in one fist. He turned slightly in his chair, and with one neat flick of his wrist pitched it toward the fireplace, where it bounced off the grate and onto the hearth. Everyone gasped.
"Victor!" Grandmamma cried, shocked. Father didn't reply, merely turned back to the table, a very satisfied kind of expression on his face. Grandmother didn't say anything, but she seemed genuinely taken aback. Lydia was also rather certain there was a grudging bit of respect in her expression, too.
"Victoria!" Grandmother said, looking down the table. All Mother did was shrug a little, barely giving Grandmother a glance. She too had been staring at Father, wide-eyed. Clearly she was very, very impressed. So was Lydia, come to that. He did care about them. All of them. It was nice to be reminded. She looked over at Catherine, who also seemed to be looking at Father in a newly respectful way.
Mother did not reply. She merely stood, and everyone followed suit. Dinner was over.
"Thank you all for coming," Mother said, her voice even and polite, as though nothing out of the ordinary had happened. "Do let me ring the maid to see you out."
"No need," Grandmother said, her voice icy. She swept over to the door, pulled it open, and stepped out, Grandfather following in her wake.
"We're not through with this!" Grandmamma said, not to be deterred. Mother ignored her, and instead went over to the bell pull to summon Alice. Father just put his hands behind his back, gazing into the fireplace.
"Yes we are, dear," Grandad told her. "Let's have the car brought round, shall we? Night, all!" he added over his shoulder on the way out. Almost as an afterthought, he pulled the door closed behind him, closing out Grandmamma's continued complaints.
Lydia stood behind her chair, holding onto its carved back as though it would anchor her. Watching as Ned skirted around the table to join Anne, and as Mother went over to join Father at the head of the table, Lydia wondered if she'd handled that the right way.
Herring packer, indeed, she thought again with a snort.