Mothers can be firm things when the situation suits, and Mrs. Lambert was no exception. She, unyielding when reason demanded, had little tolerance for nonsense.
"Tomfoolery has never had any business in my family," she told Lori in a decided tone after tugging the last bur from her tangled hair. (The latter had crawled through the neighbouring hedges to visit Fairy-Floss Forest, a fiction of her childish imagination.) "And I'll not have any child of mine dawdling in it for too long. Life has no patience for fools... Now you'll be needing a good brushing—Anne!"
It was only two days after this that the traitorous Lori shared the details of the races with her mother; although she'd vowed silence to Wade, the temptation of Ruth's Chocolate Dutch-Nothings and Vanilla Walkovers with whipped cream and golden syrup was too much! But in all fairness, her resistance was impressive when compared to her tattling on her favourite cousin the previous summer, who'd sneaked out to the garden to meet a mysterious beau late in the evening. Once relieved of the burden of decision, Lori savoured her loot in the oldest apple tree until the full weight of remorse struck her conscience. Because of this, she resorted to avoiding her brother until everyone forgot the entire affair.
But Wade Lambert, knowing his sister well, predicted this outcome from the beginning, and was once more ahead of the game. He was out of the manor before dawn (careful to avoid his mother's favourite haunts of the estate), handling his affairs for the day. None knew of his whereabouts until a letter arrived during breakfast.
"For Miss Brightley," Foster informed them, his white gloved hand balancing the silver letter tray.
Everyone watched as she took the message and perused its contents with an air of indifference. Having read it twice over, she returned it to its envelope and began spreading a generous helping of marmalade onto her toast.
"Mr. Lambert has invited me to a picnic later this afternoon."
Ellyn Poe squealed with girlish delight.
"What fun! A pity he didn't take me on one of those, but if he had, we'd have missed the thrill in the orchard. No," she said decidedly. "Although a picnic is a lovely affair, it's not so rapturously delightful as an apple fight!" And she beamed at Lori, who grinned as though she'd won an award despite her mother's frosty glare (she had received a good fleecing for ruining her dress that day, but nobody knew it).
Mrs. Lambert took a drink of her tea.
"I hope a picnic is to your liking, Miss Brightley?"
There was silence as Idrielle, in her reserved manner, paused to think. At last she raised those grey eyes, surprising her hostess, who saw the glimmer of a smile in them.
"I have a fondness for picnics, Mrs. Lambert, as does my sister. We—" she stared at Lori for a moment before smiling. "There are heartwarming memories attached to them, I suppose. A refreshing recollection..."
Mrs. Lambert only smiled at this before Ellyn Poe fell into a descriptive tale of how her cousin's cat trampled their most recent family picnic in pursuit of a couple of squirrels. Mrs. Lambert made encouraging enquiries where necessary but often found herself gazing in Miss Brightley's direction.
Alice Flynn frowned at her breakfast before flashing an angry eye at the ever-cool Miss Brightley, who (in her begrudging eyes) represented the epitome of quiet grace and tact. She felt a bit slighted by this elegant creature since their disagreement on love and romance a week prior. Miss Flynn had a colourful idea of romance and felt it stymied when Miss Brightley, in her reserved manner, said she held no particular view on the subject.
"Why should such a cold, disinterested creature have a chance at Mr. Lambert's heart?" she'd complained to Ellyn Poe some time after. She decided then she did not like Miss Idrielle Brightley.
Why should Wade Lambert invite her to a picnic when I had to accompany him to the races? It's completely barbaric!
These were her thoughts as Lori was begging Ellyn Poe to retell the part where the cat had startled Aunt Griselda so much that she'd ended up smarting herself in the face with her cake!
This one-sided feminine tension (Miss Brightley had been oblivious to the effect her opinion had had on Miss Alice) did not go unnoticed by Mrs. Lambert. She observed everything at her table—not to mention her house!—summing up unfolding events with her keen gaze and alert intuition. Despite Miss Brightley's oddities (which were many, according to sources) she rather liked the girl.
"A solid oak with tresses in the river," was how she put it to Mr. Lambert when she'd first arrived. "The sturdy sort, wouldn't you agree, Raymond? Not an ounce of vanity," she added as she brushed her hair before the mirror. "Though if there is, she manages it well, and it likely lies not in her face, though she is stunning..."
Words could not express her relief that Wade's evening with Miss Brightley would be a sensible one. She hoped he would make an effort this time (she'd felt hard-pressed to take matters into her own hands after that racing nonsense with Alice Flynn!)
"I just hope she smiles, Raymond," she said to her husband as they took their walk after breakfast. "A smile can do a lot for a woman, you know, and I am certain she has a wonderful one."
Mr. Lambert had never seen the girl smile, so he could not be sure. To him, there was an emptiness in the girl's eyes that saddened him. He'd always imagined his future daughter-in-law to be a cheerful, smiling one like his Lori.
"She seems to have enchanted little Lori, so I don't imagine there isn't some charm in her stiff nature," he said instead.
But Idrielle Brightley was not stiff, Lisabeth Brightley would have argued. Reserved perhaps, but stiff! And here she would have ruffled her plumes and begged her father to have her cousin beat the man (or woman) who'd uttered such distasteful words.
Although everyone at the Idleworth shared different views on Miss Brightley's 'stiffness', Lori thought her precious! Had he witnessed the young woman's tender hair brushing and melodic bedtime singing to his daughter, her ability to persuade her to undertake sewing, and their joyful laughter as they chased unseen pixies and nymphs in the garden, Mr. Lambert would have smiled and considered the girl an endearing and celestial presence indeed.
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Bride of Choice
Historical Fiction[Cover Design by Angel S.] Wade Lambert was known throughout the enchanting countryside of Harwickshire by friends and relatives alike to be the perfect epitome of trouble. And his handsome features and air of sophistication did not help matters as...
