A Lady Never Tells(130)

“It’s an insult to him that someone attacked us,” Camellia said.

“Yes,” Vivian agreed. “But more than that, it makes him absolutely determined to keep you safe. You are under his protection. You are his family, however little you know each other.”

“And no one threatens his family,” Charlotte added.

Mary nodded. “I understand. I just would not have thought it of him.”

“Don’t underestimate Stewkesbury,” Vivian told her. “That is always a mistake. After all, he had the good sense to turn down Sabrina.”

“What?” Mary turned to her, eyes rounded.

“I am sorry. I forget that you are fond of her. I should not expose you to my bias about the woman. No doubt I should say nothing about Lady Sabrina. Or I should preface my remarks by saying that my opinion is prejudiced by the fact that she took the place of my very dear and delightful aunt, who had been in her grave only three months when Sabrina started her pursuit of my poor, befuddled, grief-stricken uncle.”

“Yes, that is a most unbiased statement,” Charlotte agreed with mock gravity.

Lady Vivian shrugged. “I cannot pretend to like the woman. And while in theory it is all very well to say that one must say nothing rather than something ill of anyone, I cannot help but think ’tis better to warn those who do not know her that the coin of Sabrina’s friendship is—well, perhaps not false, for she does truly like to have people about to admire her—but it certainly first and foremost is for the benefit of Sabrina.”

“I told you I didn’t like her,” Camellia put in triumphantly.

“Do not turn away from her on my say-so,” Lady Vivian said. “As I said, I am not impartial where Sabrina is concerned. But give your friendship to her with care.”

She broke off as a footman brought in the tea tray, and they spent the next few minutes in the ritual of pouring and distributing tea and cakes. All the while, however, Mary’s head was buzzing with what she had just heard. As soon as the servant left, Mary turned to Vivian.

“But it was Royce, not Lord Stewkesbury, was it not?” Mary asked. “I mean, Sabrina told me that she and Sir Royce were in love.”

“She had his heart in her hand, that much is true,” Charlotte agreed.

“But she tried to interest Stewkesbury first,” Vivian said. “He was the heir, obviously, and he is a handsome man. Always was. As I remember, I had something of a tendre for him myself.” She let out an amused chuckle.

“You did?” Charlotte set her cup in its saucer with a rattle. “I never knew that!”

“Well, I could hardly confide in you, could I? You were his cousin. I mean, I thought he was a terrible prig, of course, but I think one reason I played so many tricks on him was simply that I wished he would notice me.” She laughed again. “Anyway, Oliver would have nothing to do with Sabrina. She told me so herself.” Vivian took a sip of her tea, then sighed. “Obviously, I must expose my own youthful idiocies. I was still a gawky girl at sixteen, all legs and teeth and hair that looked as if someone had started a fire on my head. I was terribly flattered when Sabrina made overtures of friendship to me.”#p#分页标题#e#

“I remember. I was jealous about all the time you spent with her,” Charlotte agreed.

“I was a fool,” Vivian replied dispassionately. “I didn’t see how unlikely it was that a girl three years older than I and already out, the beauty of the surrounding countryside, would want to be friends with me. Nor had I learned the valuable lesson that a duke’s daughter is prey to all sorts of people eager to be one’s ‘friend.’ Only in this instance, it was my uncle, not my father, who interested Sabrina. My aunt had died not long before, and Sabrina saw an opportunity in Uncle Humphrey. Through me, she would have a way into his house, his confidence. She could offer a sympathetic and soft white shoulder to cry on. Then, of course, she could offer other things to soothe his heart and make him forget his sorrow. Within weeks, she dropped Sir Royce and married my uncle.”

Vivian sighed, then shook her head. “There, now, I have run on far too much, I fear. You girls will think me a spiteful old hag.”

They began to talk of other things, but Mary did not say much. Her mind was too busy going over their encounters with Lady Sabrina, seeing them in a new light. Had all of Sabrina’s concerned statements actually been subtle attempts to create the fear and intimidation and inadequacy that she had been telling them not to feel? It seemed bizarre, but Mary had to admit that the woman’s comments had always reminded them that they were not dressed properly or that their manners were not acceptable or that they did not know enough. Had she taken them that day to visit the vicar’s wife in the hope that Mrs. Martin would dislike the Bascombes? Camellia had suggested as much the other day. Mary found herself reluctant to believe it, but she was honest enough to admit that her reluctance sprang primarily from the fact that it hurt to think that Sabrina had only been manipulating them.