Charming Artemis, page 17
“Do you suspect your Artemis hates being married to you?” Mr. Barrington asked.
“I have more than mere suspicions,” Charlie said. “We’ve disliked each other for a very long time and were forced to marry due to a rather stupid misunderstanding. I would declare myself entirely certain of her hatred of our current situation, but—”
“But she doesn’t have sincere conversations.” Mr. Barrington nodded his understanding. “And you find yourself wondering not only what your future now looks like but also who the lady you’ve married actually is.”
Lud, that was a discouraging summary.
He scratched at the back of his head. “She was so open with you, Mr. Layton. And when she told me yesterday how pleased she was to have met you . . . ” He emptied his lungs, letting his arm drop once more to his side. “I felt like I was seeing her—the real her—for the first time.”
Mr. Barrington leaned forward, watching him with a searching gaze. “And did you like who you saw?”
He didn’t say anything, but the growing grins on the gentlemen’s faces told him he didn’t need to.
“I remember all too well your father realizing he’d begun falling in love with your mother.” Mr. Layton laughed quietly, then looked to Mr. Barrington. “Heavens, Lucas was caught unawares by that change, wasn’t he?”
Mr. Barrington nodded. “And, miraculously enough, managed to salvage the mull he’d made of it all up to that point.”
While there was something reassuring and heartwarming about hearing stories of his father, it was also frustrating. “If he were here, he could tell me how he managed to turn his marriage around. I’m stumbling my way through mine.”
“Charlie,” Mr. Layton said kindly, “we were with him as he managed that.”
A fragile bit of hope blossomed inside.
Mr. Layton rose and motioned him to do the same. “Take a stroll around the grounds with us. I think we can give you a bit of the advice your father would have, and perhaps warn you of a few of the missteps he made along the way.”
“And a few of the missteps the rest of us made as well,” Mr. Barrington added. “The Gents rather bumbled our way through the 1780s.”
“And beyond,” Mr. Layton added.
They took the stone steps down to the pebbled path and began a meandering circuit of the grounds.
Somehow, Mr. Layton looked regal even during something so unrefined as an afternoon ramble about the back lawn. Mr. Barrington looked utterly academic. How would an onlooker describe Charlie? Probably “desperate.”
“I think our first question must be, What is your goal for this marriage?” Mr. Barrington asked. “Do you wish for a love story for the ages?”
“I would settle for anything that isn’t a complete disaster.”
The other two exchanged glances.
“Sound familiar, Digby?” Mr. Barrington asked his friend.
Mr. Layton nodded. “His father’s son through and through.”
Charlie wasn’t often compared to his father. Even though this similarity was less than flattering, he liked hearing it. “Father clearly managed to avoid disaster. He and Mater had the sort of marriage most people only dream of.”
“The deep love they had for each other was not his initial goal,” Mr. Barrington said. “His first focus was to build a friendship and a much-needed degree of trust.”
Friendship and trust. Two things Charlie’s marriage didn’t yet have, though there’d been moments when both had at least seemed possible.
“How did Father approach that?”
“He chose activities that could be easily enjoyed by two people who were not in love; many, in fact, were the sort of playful pastimes one indulges in during childhood.” Mr. Barrington adjusted his spectacles as he spoke. “He was operating under the theory that Julia could enjoy the undertaking without worrying that she was opening herself up to being hurt.”
Hearing Mater referred to by her Christian name was so odd. She’d been Mater all his life. He had some vague memories of Father calling her Julia, but no one else ever did.
“She worried a lot about being hurt,” Mr. Layton said. “She had suffered through so many losses and so much pain in her life. I don’t know that she could have endured another blow. Though she made a good show of being strong and unbreakable, Julia was quite fragile. Once Lucas realized that, once he truly appreciated the fear she carried with her, the pain that rested just below the surface, it changed his entire approach to his marriage. His frustration gave way to compassion. His railing at being forced into a marriage he hadn’t wanted gave way to a deep desire to build a life with her. His desire to avoid being hurt himself became nothing compared to his need to protect her from further suffering. It changed him.”
Charlie spun a leaf in his fingers as he listened. So much of what they were describing could be applied to him. His frustration, his railing against what he’d lost, his seemingly strong but undeniably hurting wife. “Changed him?”
Mr. Barrington nodded. “Your father was always a good man and the best sort of friend. But letting himself love your mother, deciding to be the kind of person she deserved to build a life with, brought out something more in him than had been there before.”
“He was always good,” Mr. Layton said. “He became remarkable.”
“And he and Mater were happy in the end.” Charlie knew that for a fact.
“My boy,” Mr. Layton said kindly, “they were happy long before the end.”
“How did he go about building a friendship between them?”
Mr. Barrington nodded his approval. “The best place to begin. Well chosen, Charlie.”
The compliment warmed him. These gentlemen, who had been unknown to him days earlier, were proving reassuring and strengthening. Hearing their approval felt nearly like hearing it from Father himself. Nearly.
“Take what opportunities you can find to undertake a lark or two,” Mr. Layton said. “Laughter is a glue too many underestimate. You can build a bond through happy moments that will see you through the sad ones.”
Charlie nodded. He’d seen the truth of that already. Playing catch us, catch us with Artemis, Oliver, Persephone, and Hestia had been just one of those happy and joyous moments. It had given him hope.
“Discover what her interests are,” Mr. Barrington said. “And share yours with her. Your parents built their connection on a foundation of mountains and mathematics.”
That last caught Charlie’s attention. “Father was a mathematician?”
Again, the men exchanged the sort of look one saw only between friends with decades of connection behind them. It was a knowing, amused look.
“No,” Mr. Barrington said. “He wasn’t.”
“You did say mathematics,” Charlie insisted.
“We did,” Mr. Layton said, “but you assumed which of your parents had the passion for it.”
Charlie stopped on the spot, shock holding him perfectly still. “Mater had an interest in mathematics?”
Mr. Barrington nodded. “When I was visiting them at Brier Hill early in their marriage, I came upon your mother teaching herself differential calculations.”
All Charlie could do was stand and stare at them. Why had no one told him this before?
Mr. Layton slapped a hand on his shoulder. “At the risk of shocking you further, Charlie, your mother is, in my estimation, likely a genius. Were she a gentleman, she would have proven herself an academic legend at Cambridge.”
“You’re having a laugh at my expense, aren’t you?”
Mr. Layton shook his head. “As fond as I am of a laugh and a bit of absurdity, we’re in earnest.”
“Entirely,” Mr. Barrington said. “I’m in the Royal Society, have lectured here and there, have published extensively on scientific topics, and I do not believe I have ever met your mother’s intellectual equal. Life limited her opportunities for building on her natural abilities, but, I assure you, we are telling you the truth of it.”
“Hare and hounds,” Charlie muttered in shock.
They laughed and nudged him forward.
“To add to your feeling of being overwhelmed,” Mr. Layton continued, “I suspect the lady you have married is remarkably intelligent as well. Her area of interest and expertise lies with fashion. I was impressed with her ideas on the topic last evening. And she was clearly excited to speak about it.”
“She spends hours sketching and sewing clothing,” Charlie said. “She has dedicated an entire room at Brier Hill to that undertaking. But I know nothing of fashion. I don’t know that I could have a one-minute conversation with her on the topic, let alone build a friendship around it.”
Mr. Barrington tipped his head in Mr. Layton’s direction. “You’ve an expert here. There’s no end to his ability to speak on the subject.”
“I think I’d do better to resurrect a few childhood games. I’m less likely to humiliate myself there.”
“You are Lucas’s boy,” Mr. Layton said by way of warning. “There will be no avoiding humiliation.”
Chapter Twenty-Two
“I have been so pleased to see the fashion plates in La Belle Assemblée favoring slightly lower waistlines and bolder colors.” Artemis was in absolute heaven in this deep discussion about fashion with Rose and Mr. Layton. “We are convinced that ladies’ fashions are moving permanently in that direction but wish they would make the change more quickly.”
The three of them shared this passion. Artemis had no worries that she would be looked down on for her area of interest. Rose had always been dependable in that way. Now she had Mr. Layton as well. It was freeing. She felt safe enough to be more herself than she generally ever allowed.
“If only gentlemen’s fashions were moving in an encouraging direction,” Mr. Layton said. “That dolt Brummel has convinced the lot of them to be afraid of anything but the most mundane fabrics and adornments.”
“Lord Lampton is not afraid of eye-catching choices,” Rose pointed out.
Mr. Layton smoothed his sleeves with a look of self-satisfaction. “And who do you suppose undertook his fashion education?”
Artemis made a show of pondering the question all the ton could have guessed the answer to. “Wilson?”
Amusement tugged at Mr. Layton’s mouth. He was a decidedly handsome gentleman. He had likely been entirely devastating when he first entered Society. “The same person who taught Lord Lampton how to cut a dash also taught Wilson the finer points of fashion.”
“That someone was you, of course,” Rose said.
“They both already possessed a knack for such things,” Mr. Layton said. “I simply showed them how to improve upon their talents.”
“My uncle did much the same for me,” Rose said. “I’m grateful he did.”
“As am I,” Artemis said.
“And I, Miss Narang.” Mr. Layton dipped his head to her.
Rose, Artemis had discovered over the past almost two years, didn’t allow sentimentality to last long. “Artemis and I believe the lowered waistlines would be best complimented by a widening of necklines and dropping of sleeves. We, unfortunately, do not have the ears of those who decide such things.”
“For my part,” Mr. Layton said, “I believe you should be those ears.”
“Not possible.” Artemis knew that perfectly well. “Society forbids a lady of my position to be involved in any sort of venture. And the deeply engrained prejudices of this country prevent Rose from doing so.”
“Artemis.” Charlie quite suddenly arrived in the room, his gaze eager and excited. “The little ones are gathered in the portrait gallery, eager for some games on this rainy day. Will you come play with us?”
“You count yourself amongst the ‘little ones’?” Mr. Layton asked.
“I have always been counted amongst the little ones,” Charlie said. “I can’t imagine better company could be found anywhere.”
Mr. Layton smiled. “Your father felt the same way.”
She had heard that about the late earl. “Do all of the Gents share that ideology?”
“I cannot say there is one among us who, upon seeing a child in need, even if that need were simply to be cheered, would not immediately commit ourselves to the undertaking,” he said. “I cannot say we are saints—Henri is likely the closest—but we’d not any of us be able to turn away from a child in need.”
Artemis studied him a moment, trying to imagine his face years earlier, attempting to picture him in the fashions of more than a decade ago. He would have come to the aid of a lost and lonely child; he had said as much. But had he? Had he found a little girl in Heathbrook? Had he held her? Told her he loved her?
“You should go join the children for their games,” Mr. Layton said. “They are the most enjoyable of companions.”
It seemed so possible that he might be the gentleman she searched for, and yet, he didn’t seem to recognize her as the little girl he had once shown such love and devotion. Perhaps he assumed she didn’t remember him. Or perhaps he wasn’t the person she sought. How she wished she had answers.
Charlie had crossed to them. “Do come, Artie. They’re calling for a rousing game of huckle buckle beanstalk, and it promises to be an absolute ruckus of an afternoon. You can’t miss it.”
“You want me to join in?” She waited for the answer with bated breath.
“You were brilliant at catch us, catch us. We need your game-playing expertise.” His eyes danced. He was, in that moment, utterly endearing. And undeniably handsome. “Kendrick is proving rubbish at it. So disappointing.”
“He is only one year old.”
Charlie shook his head theatrically. “No excuse.”
Artemis looked once more at Rose and Mr. Layton, reluctant to inflict offense at abandoning their conversation and wanting some bit of direction. So much with Charlie was uncharted territory.
“Go,” Rose said.
Mr. Layton shooed her away. “It is the very best way you could spend your afternoon.”
“You won’t be upset that I’ve abandoned the both of you?”
“On the contrary,” Rose said in her typical dry manner.
“This is a matter of utmost importance,” Mr. Layton said. “Learning that the tiny Lord Jonquil not only has very little hair—something I’d hoped he’d outgrow—but is rubbish at huckle buckle beanstalk is a disappointment I was not prepared to endure. You must go salvage the Jonquil name, my dear.”
She appreciated the bit of humor, but she had concerns. “I don’t think the Jonquils are too pleased that I have laid claim to their name.”
He leaned forward and squeezed her hand. “I assure you, Artemis, that is not true.”
“You’ve asked them all, have you?”
His dazzling smile was the sort only a true dandy could produce. “I’ve asked the ones who matter.”
She laughed. Oh, Mr. Layton was a delight.
Charlie held out a hand to her. “Come join in the games, Artie. The family name needs defending, and you are just the person to do it.”
She liked that answer very much indeed. “You will remember from our long-ago game of lawn bowls that I take competition very seriously indeed,” she warned him lightheartedly.
One corner of his mouth tipped up. If not for their difficult history and equally difficult present, she’d have described the expression as flirtatious. “Why do you think I’ve asked you to be on my team?”
She set her hand in his, still outstretched toward her, and rose. He didn’t drop her hand, as she’d assumed he would, once she was standing but walked at her side, with her hand in his, their arms swinging between them like two old friends.
Charlie’s show of happy friendship was calming and reassuring. It may not have been the adoration and fervor she’d let herself imagine over the years, but there was something so steady in it. She was not hiding herself behind her shield of theatricality, and yet, he seemed pleased to be with her.
“Do many gentlemen take such delight in time spent with children?” Artemis asked.
“In this family, yes.” He looked over at her with a flush of embarrassment. “That likely makes us seem rather pitiful.”
She shook her head. “If more people were kind to children, were willing to make certain little ones knew they had value and were loved, what a difference that would make.”
He raised their clasped hands to his lips and kissed her fingers. “I am sorry your father did not make certain you knew that.”
Artemis leaned her head against him. Father had neglected her in every conceivable way. But Papa, her beloved, darling, elusive Papa, had given her reason to hope. He was out there, somewhere. Perhaps somewhere nearby.
How tempting it was to tell Charlie of her suspicions regarding Mr. Layton. But, then, Charlie didn’t know about Papa. No one did.
They reached the portrait gallery. All the Jonquil grandchildren were there, except for Edmund, the oldest at ten and likely feeling himself too old to indulge in games with the youngest of his cousins, and Stanley and Marjie’s little one, who had not yet arrived at Lampton Park. It was quite a gathering. They all looked over at the door, and their eyes lit. A chorus of “Uncle Charlie!” filled the high-ceilinged room. There could be no doubt they adored their youngest uncle.
“I’ve brought your aunt Artemis to join the fun,” he said. “She is an excellent game player.”
The children cheered and called the two of them over, begging for the festivities to begin.
Charlie pulled Artemis directly to the center of them all, where they sat on the floor in front of them.
“Have you decided on an object to hide?” he asked the group.
Caroline took the lead, something Artemis suspected was a well-established dynamic. “This carved horse.” She held out a small, well-crafted toy.
“Excellent choice,” Artemis said. “It’s large enough for the littlest seekers to spot without being so large that it would be difficult to hide.”
