“You go back. I’ll stay,” I whispered. “I cannot leave them with her; she will agitate Lady Hester too much.”

Julia, clearly torn, shook her head. “No, I will come too. We can draw Emelia away so they can retreat.”

We took the last steps, emerging into the gallery. Although it was early in the day, the wall sconces and side table candelabra had been lit, providing a warm light along its majestic length. The two hearths, however, had not yet been lit, so the air held the chill of morning. Lady Hester and Miss Grant stood about halfway along, swathed in paisley shawls and politely nodding as the Ermine—in a pale blue fur-trimmed mantle—expounded upon what sounded like the game of hoop rolling.

“Ah, Lady Augusta, Lady Julia,” Miss Grant called, valiantly trying to keep the relief from her voice. “You have come to walk too?”

Mrs. Ellis-Brant turned. “We have all had the same idea,” she said gaily, pulling her mantle more securely around her shoulders. “If Charlotte joins us, it will be quorum.”

I smiled, ignoring the misuse of quorum. “Indeed,” I said as we walked to join them. “A morning walk is aways beneficial. Even on such gloomy days.”

We all exchanged curtsies. It seemed we had arrived just in time: Lady Hester gripped the edge of her paisley shawl a little too hard, and Miss Grant was chewing on her lip. No doubt suppressing the desire to scream.

“I was just telling Mrs. Carter and Miss Dashwood about the fun that dear Charlotte always organizes for our amusement,” the Ermine said. “Just the thing to help one’s convalescence, Mrs. Carter. A little bit of vigorous exercise will chase away the doldrums.”

Lady Hester made an incoherent noise.

“I think my sister will need bed rest more than hoop rolling,” Miss Grant said.

“Of course, of course,” the Ermine said. “You no doubt found London exhausting. If one is not used to city life, it can be a trial. It must be very different from the isolated wilds where you are from. How did you end up in such a place? I cannot imagine anyone choosing to live in a swamp if not forced to do so.”

Since we had failed to rehearse a story of how Mrs. Carter and Miss Dashwood had ended up in Bournemouth, we all stared at her, momentarily nonplussed.

“Weymouth is not that isolated or wild, Emelia,” Julia finally said.

A beat of nonplussed silence met my sister’s comment.

“Weymouth?” the Ermine said, and gave a small giggle. “Do you not mean Bournemouth, Lady Julia?”

Oh no.

She turned to Lady Hester. “Did you not say you were living in Bournemouth?”

“Yes,” Lady Hester managed, her alarm plain to see.

For a long, awkward moment, Julia did not answer—I could see her horror at the slip—but she finally rallied. “Of course, Mrs. Carter is from Bournemouth. I misremembered, that is all.”