Improper Miss Darling. Gail Whitiker

and Ridley has assured us that he will be here in time.’

      ‘As, hopefully, will Father,’ Peter Taylor said, glancing at his mother. ‘We must have everyone in attendance for such an important occasion. Isn’t that right, Mother?’

      Lady Widdicombe looked up and shared a brief glance with her eldest son. After a pause, Lord Stewart said, ‘Of course everyone will be here, Peter. It is, after all, the celebration of your engagement. And, on that note, may I ask you to rise, raise your glasses and join me in a toast,’ he said, getting to his feet. ‘To my brother and his lady. May they experience good health, prosperity, and may they always be as happy as they are today.’

      Emma dutifully raised her glass. It was not the most romantic of toasts, but perhaps Lord Stewart was not a romantic man. Just because he looked the part didn’t mean he had the temperament to go along with it. She spared a quick glance for her sister, who was smiling blissfully into her fiancé’s eyes and knew Linette didn’t care a whit about flowery tributes or good wishes. She was in love and the man she loved, loved her in return.

      Not even the most pedantic of toasts was going to rob her of the pleasure she found in that.

      At the conclusion of meal, Lady Widdicombe led the ladies into the elegant Green Saloon, leaving the gentlemen free to enjoy their after-dinner indulgences. Emma, who was decidedly relieved to be away from the probing eyes of Lord Stewart, found the Green Saloon far more to her liking. It was peaceful after the dramatic Chinese room, due no doubt to the absence of snarling dragons and sabre-waving warriors everywhere she turned.

      ‘Mrs Grand,’ Lady Widdicombe said as she settled into an emerald-green wing chair. ‘You are, I understand, a widow?’

      ‘Yes. My husband died three years ago.’

      ‘So you now live with your brother and take care of his family?’

      ‘Oh, no, your ladyship. I live in London with a companion. I’m not one for country life,’ Aunt Dorothy admitted. ‘I prefer the hustle and bustle of town. Always something going on and plenty of shops to spend your time and your money in. But I try to come down at least twice a year to be with my brother and his family.’

      ‘I see. Then I take it you, Miss Darling, have the responsibility of running the house and looking after your siblings,’ the countess said.

      Emma smiled. ‘I look after the housekeeping and the accounts, and I take care of Papa and Linette as best I can, but my brother, Ridley, is presently away at Oxford and quite able to look after himself.’

      ‘And neither you nor your brother is married.’

      ‘No.’

      The countess turned to regard Aunt Dorothy again. ‘Is it not unusual, Mrs Grand, for a younger daughter to be settled in marriage before the older son and daughter have made a suitable match?’

      ‘I suppose it is, your ladyship.’

      ‘Am I to assume, then, that Miss Darling has not been to London?’

      The older woman’s cheeks coloured. ‘I believe she has.’

      ‘But obviously met with no success.’

      ‘On the contrary, I was most successful,’ Emma said, having had enough of people talking about her as though she wasn’t in the room. ‘I spent a good deal of time at the British Museum and, by the time I left, I had sketched nearly the entire contents of the Egyptian wing and made a decent start on ancient Greece.’

      The comment was clearly unexpected and the resultant look of surprise on Lady Widdicombe’s face prompted Aunt Dorothy to say, ‘Emma is quite gifted when it comes to drawing, Lady Widdicombe. Her sketches of the Elgin Marbles were really quite astonishing.’

      ‘Indeed.’ Lady Widdicombe turned her attention to Linette, obviously finding Emma’s achievements less than noteworthy. ‘Miss Linette, are you able to play the pianoforte?’

      ‘I am, Lady Widdicombe.’

      ‘Then pray be good enough to entertain us.’

      ‘Yes, of course.’ Linette quickly got up and moved to the instrument. ‘Oh! A Broadwood grand piano.’

      ‘Yes. Peter had it brought down from London.’ Pride resonated in the countess’s voice. ‘He plays exquisitely.’

      Linette ran her fingers lightly over the keys, picking out a simple tune. ‘What a lovely sound. Emma, you must come and turn the pages for me.’

      Dutifully, Emma got up and joined her sister.

      ‘What shall I play?’ Linette whispered. ‘I am so nervous.’

      ‘You have nothing to be nervous about.’ Emma calmly flipped through the sheets of music on the platform and pulled one out. ‘You play beautifully and your voice is that of an angel. And here is one of your favourite pieces.’

      ‘“Greensleeves,”’ Linette said, relieved. ‘Yes, I shall be able to do justice to that.’

      She began to play and though Emma dutifully watched her progress so as not to miss turning the page at the appropriate time, she did risk an occasional glance at Lady Widdicombe to see if she was enjoying the performance. She hadn’t missed the ambivalence in the countess’s attitude towards Linette. While she wasn’t precisely hostile, neither was she warmly welcoming. Fortunately, she seemed to appreciate Linette’s skill on the pianoforte. She actually closed her eyes once or twice during the performance and was gracious in showing her appreciation at the end.

      ‘Very nice, Miss Linette. You play tolerably well and have a very pleasant singing voice.’

      ‘Thank you, Lady Widdicombe.’

      ‘Of course, both would be improved by regular practice. I would advise you to take the required time during each day to do so.’

      ‘Yes, Lady Widdicombe.’

      ‘And now, it is Miss Darling’s turn to entertain us,’ the countess said. ‘Unless she feels it will be too embarrassing for her.’

      Emma smiled. Had Lady Widdicombe not tossed in that last line, she might have gracefully demurred. But never one to back away from a challenge, she sat down on the bench recently vacated by her sister and said, ‘I do have one or two tolerable pieces in my repertoire. I simply shall not sing for that would be most humbling after Linette’s performance. And I doubt that would be improved if I were to practise every hour of every day from now until I died.’

      Lady Widdicombe said nothing, allowing Emma a brief moment of victory. The countess might be able to tell Linette what she should and should not do, but she certainly wasn’t going to exert the same influence over her. One had to draw the line somewhere.

      It would have been a great deal better, Emma reflected later, had she been the first to perform and Linette the second. Because by the time Linette had taken Emma’s vacant seat next to Aunt Dorothy and Emma was ready to play, the door opened again and the gentlemen walked in. And it became immediately evident that no one had been expecting to see her seated at the pianoforte. Emma saw a look of startled pleasure on her father’s face and a slightly more cautious one on Mr Taylor’s.

      Lord Stewart’s expression was unreadable. Nor could she glean anything from the tone of his voice, when, moving to stand beside the fireplace, he said, ‘I did not expect you to honour us with a performance, Miss Darling.’

      ‘I did not say I was unable to play, my lord,’ Emma said evenly. ‘Only that I do not play as well as I paint. Nor do I sing as well as my sister, whose performance you just missed.’

      ‘Then I hope we may prevail upon Miss Linette to sing for us again. But we should regret not hearing you play first.’

      Equally sure he wouldn’t have cared had she left immediately after dinner, Emma turned her attention back to the piano. Normally, she would have quailed at having to perform in front of such dignified