‘My Mother had a similar vehicle, and I thought that with some minor adjustments to the step …’. Lord Mardham stepped back and let Lord Levedale and Mr Court discuss the finer points of the phaeton.
‘As your lordship says, this would be very stable, nice low centre of gravity, and since speed is not an issue, there are no problems which we might think to encounter. It’s glad I am that you have an understanding, my lord. Many’s the time a young gentleman has come to us, fired with ideas, but which would not work when put together.’
‘The thing is, Court, how soon could you have the thing “put together”?’ interjected Lord Mardham. ‘You see, Miss Mardham’s birthday comes at the end of the month and it would be nice to have it near that time.’
Mr Court tapped a finger to his lips, and frowned.
‘Well, my lord, I would usually say a good six weeks, depending upon the finish. The painting takes a tidy time, especially if there are decorative details.’
‘I think Miss Mardham would prefer something of simple elegance, since it is for local use, not to trot about the countryside showing off. How about if it was one colour, a decent blue, and darker coach lines, with no curlicues or extravagancies?’ suggested Lord Levedale.
‘That would take off a good few days, my lord, because of the hardening of the paint required. If your lordships would be so good as to wait here a minute, I will have a look at what we have in progress.’
Mr Court withdrew into the workshops, from whence the sound of plane and saw emanated. He returned within a few minutes.
‘I have had a good look at the books, my lords, and we have a repair that is of no urgency,’ by which he meant that the client was a yeoman farmer whose gig might be put back a fortnight without anyone wondering at it, ‘and I took receipt of a nice pair of wheels just the size you would need for the larger pair in this case but yesterday, in preparation for another commission due in October. If we treated this as our priority, I reckon as we could have the vehicle ready for October the fourth, a Friday that is. Would that be acceptable, my lords?’ He looked from one to the other.
Lord Levedale expected to have left Meysey before then, but he knew that it would have been unreasonable to think it might be built in the twinkling of an eye. Lord Mardham looked pleased.
‘Indeed it would, for her birthday falls upon the twenty-seventh, and that is pretty dashed close. A pair of twelve twos, would you say, to fit between the shafts?’
‘Aye, my lord. Twelve two to thirteen hands, no more. A nice little pair of ponies would have no troubles with just the lady and a groom up behind, and not doing long distances.’
‘Best we look out for a pair next week in Cirencester and then, if there is nothing that takes our fancy, we can try the sales here or in Cheltenham.’ Lord Mardham was thinking out loud. Lord Levedale was pleased to be included in the ‘we’. It was his idea, after all, and he was central to the whole plan. They concluded their business with Mr Court, discussing the cost with every appearance that it was something of indifference to each, though it was not. It was Lord Levedale’s turn to take a step back during this part of the process, and he manifested a great interest in the book of designs that the firm had built up over the years to show prospective clients who were not quite sure what they wanted.
With the shaking of hands, matters were concluded, and the noble lords, feeling very pleased with their morning, repaired to take luncheon at The Bell, which lay conveniently close, and where they had stabled Lord Levedale’s curricle and pair.
‘Are you a good judge of horseflesh, Levedale?’ enquired Lord Mardham, as he surveyed his lamb collops.
‘I think myself a reasonable judge, sir. Having said which, from choice I take my groom with me, because Jeb Knook can spot a “wrong’un” as he calls them, from fifty paces. He also seems able to form an opinion of temperament in the time it takes to trot a beast up and down, and I am not at all certain about that myself.’
‘Well, a wise man knows his limitations,’ remarked Lord Mardham, sagely. ‘We will take him with us to Cirencester. It is not a large sale, and quite a few of the animals are for farm work, but Bathurst has had some very tidy carriage horses from it, and I have told Richard time and again that the chestnut he bought at Tattersall’s for a hefty sum was no better than a riding horse I bought five years ago at the local sale for half the cost.’
‘London prices, my lord. I am not a Town man, at heart. I rather like rural society. There is an honesty to it, and junketing about at parties making small-talk to people one barely knows is all very well for a Season, to see how it is done, but palls pretty soon. My Father would disagree with me on that, but then we disagree on a number of things.’ There was a touch of bitterness in Lord Levedale’s tone that was not lost on Lord Mardham. Since Lord Mardham did not think particularly highly of the Earl of Curborough, this did Lord Levedale no great harm in his eyes.
‘I am a social fellow, but agree, it is better to be social at home, or with one’s friends, not making how-de-dos to all manner of people one “ought to know” and could not care a fig about.’
It occurred to Lord Mardham that a man who had no great love of London and prancing about at balls might be just the man for Celia, if he could see past her infirmity. The tragedy of it was, he could not see that any young man was actually going to do so. Thinking of his daughter made him confiding.
‘You know I think this will do Celia the world of good, having something to be excited about,’ Lord Mardham mused. ‘Life has been rather grim for her these last eighteen months, and she has put a very brave face upon it, poor girl. There was she, all ready to go up to Town and be a Success, and then …’ He sighed. ‘One can never tell what lies around the next corner of life.’
Lord Levedale nodded, but was thinking that around the next corner lay the possibility of him finding himself married, which was rapidly becoming a more attractive prospect, but to Miss Marianne Burton, which was not attractive to him in the slightest.
Chapter 10
Celia was a little early for her first driving lesson. It might be in a humble pony cart but it was a promise of independence, and in addition, time with Lord Levedale. Since they were not going to leave the estate, and he had her father’s permission, there would not be a groom in the pony cart, which would have made things very cramped. She came out, leaning on her stick, and went to the pony’s head to speak soft words to it and make friends. She missed horses, and getting to the stables was almost impossible, whilst chatting to the animals that pulled her Mama’s barouche would have resulted in being taken to task for acting like a stable boy. The pony was old and placid, and appeared imperturbable.
Lord Levedale emerged from the house to see Miss Mardham rubbing the pony’s velvety nose and whispering blandishments in its ear. He smiled to himself. She turned at the sound of his tread upon the gravel.
‘Now, do not tell me this is Thunderer, or Flyer, my lord.’
‘To be honest, Miss Mardham, I did not ask his name, but he ought to suit our purposes very well. I will ascertain before our next lesson. If you prove as apt a pupil as I confidently expect, I will go with your father to the next sales at Cirencester, if not Gloucester, and we will find you a pair of nice little sweet goers, even in all paces, and of polite temperament, whom you may name yourself.’
‘If it proves to be the case, I think Paragon and Perfection might be in order, sir.’
‘Perfectly good names, both, ma’am.’ He smiled at her. It was a very natural thing to do, and she smiled back. ‘And now, Miss Mardham, if you would take your place in this formidable chariot, we will commence your first lesson.’ He swept his arm in a theatrical gesture, and Celia hobbled round to the rear of the little cart and climbed in. The additional step, which she remarked upon as being very convenient, made it a lot easier for her, but Lord Levedale’s hands hovered close, in case of need. She turned before seating herself.
‘Which side, my lord?’
‘Oh, I will ha
ve you handling the reins almost from the outset, Miss Mardham, so take your place as the driver. I can manage from the “wrong” side for a short while, and after all, this is not quite how you will drive your phaeton and pair.’
She settled herself and arranged her skirts neatly about her, and then Lord Levedale climbed in. It was not the sort of vehicle in which he had ever travelled before, and sitting sideways on to the pony would feel a little odd, but the principles of driving remained the same. He looked at Miss Mardham and her patent eagerness. With his long legs and her inability to bend the knee of her bad leg sufficiently to tuck her foot right back, their knees were so close they could sense each other.
‘The prospect of a phaeton and pair is terribly exciting, sir, though I am sure I should not admit to it.’
‘Why not? I was as proud as punch when I got my first turn-out.’ He made no suggestion that her excitement had anything to do with her restrictions. He took the reins, recommending that she observe for a few minutes. She did so, and they were silent, only the steady trot of the pony’s hooves disturbing the peace. The silence became unnatural, and Celia felt the need to converse.
‘I have to say, my lord, that I am aware of two very lowering thoughts.’
‘You are, Miss Mardham? And what might they be?’
‘That you are doing this out of pity, and that you are also, having discovered the advantages when we visited the Dower House, doing it to avoid “The Darwen”.’ Celia dropped her voice melodramatically.
‘Ah, upon the latter point you have me.’ He grinned. ‘I admit that it occurred to me that even she would draw the line at offering to act as groom. She is so very … dogged.’
‘In more ways than one,’ agreed Celia, recalling the lady’s comment at breakfast, which had again drawn attention to Celia’s disability.
‘Which leads one, very reprehensibly, to wonder which breed.’ He comprehended so easily, and his smile was infectious.
‘Something with a nasty bite, and a tendency to snap. The sort I would assume is sent down rat holes, sir.’
‘Infelicitous, Miss Mardham, since she appears to be chasing me. Ergo, I am a rat.’
‘Oh dear me. I apologise, my lord. You are most definitely not rattine.’ She bit her lip to stifle the giggle.
‘Thank you.’ He bowed his head in mock acknowledgment of the compliment. ‘And where did you acquire your Latin?’
‘I am no bluestocking, I assure you, sir. It was merely that I learned animal names from my brother when he studied it. I was at the curious stage. I promise that I could not decline a fifth declension noun if you offered me a diamond necklace.’
‘Yet you know a fifth declension noun exists. That ought to be worthy of a pearl pin at the least.’ Their eyes met, and both held laughter. ‘Have you ever wondered why learning is considered a bad thing for the fair sex, Miss Mardham?’
‘Well, it might be that if we were to be taught in the manner of boys, we might excel them. I doubt we would be as easily distracted. I think some of it is silly. If it is acceptable for a girl to learn Italian, why not Latin?’
‘I think some of the subject matter is not best suited to young ladies.’
‘You think we could not cope with the description of battles, my lord?’ She cast him a questioning look, and he realised it was entirely genuine.
‘You put me to the blush, ma’am. The Romans had, er, different morals, shall we say, and certain subjects were written about quite openly.’
It was Celia whose cheeks actually changed colour.
‘I am sorry. I did not mean to …’ She paused, but then rallied. ‘And if such things are inappropriate for young ladies, why should they not also be so for youths?’
‘A fair point. Now, having agreed upon Miss Darwen, discussed education, and being on a suitable stretch of driveway, I think, Miss Mardham, it is time that I did as I promised, and taught you how to handle the ribbons.’ He thereby avoided answering her first point.
It occurred to her that for all the excitement she had felt at the prospect of learning to drive, she had completely forgotten about it in the last few minutes. Lord Levedale brought the pony to a halt, and began to explain the basics of handling the reins, and controlling a horse without being upon its back. Being seated opposite each other in the little pony cart, and with him assisting her, it was impossible for their knees not to touch, especially since Lord Levedale was so long-limbed. Indeed, the height of the seat meant that his knees stuck up rather obviously, and made him feel frog-like. He made a valiant attempt to deny the frisson that being in such close proximity to Miss Mardham, and failed.
‘Now, you should have no problem feeling the pony’s mouth. You are a horsewoman, so will understand the connection and keeping him up to the bit.’ He was adjusting her hold upon the reins, and even though both parties were gloved, it took all his concentration not to dwell upon the delicacy of her fingers. His throat felt dry.
‘I am a horsewoman no longer, Lord Levedale.’ Celia gave a twisted smile, and her voice held regret.
‘You no longer ride, ma’am, but that is not the same thing at all. If you have an understanding and love of the animal, you are a horsewoman still. I saw you with this fellow when you came outside. It was noticeable that you went first to him, and introduced yourself, checked him over. You did not simply come to the step and get in. No, Miss Mardham, you are a horsewoman still.’
She looked at him, and there was a film of tears in her eyes. Everyone noticed what she could not do. This man was asserting what she could do, ability she retained.
‘If you knew…’ she whispered.
‘I do not know, but I can in part imagine. You said that you feared I was teaching you to drive out of pity. “Pity” is not the right word. I feel for your restricted lifestyle, and wish to offer you any assistance that might make it possible for you to do more.’ There was nothing light-hearted about his tone.
‘You do not simply seek to do things for me and accentuate my feebleness. That is a kindness in itself, sir.’
‘You are not feeble.’ A spark of anger flared against her seeing herself as being some form of charity case. ‘You suffered an injury, a potentially fatal injury, and you survived. Does that not prove you are far from feeble? You do not give in to the disability fate has imposed upon you, but challenge it in the way you live day to day. It would be easy enough for you to have a servant assist you down the stairs each morning and sit in a chair all day, having everything brought to you, but you do not “play the invalid” Miss Mardham. You are frustrated, because you fight. I have never met a woman with such strength. It is your leg that is weak, not You.’ He spoke with an intensity that took her breath away.
They stared at each other, and then stepped back from the emotional brink.
‘My apologies. I spoke heatedly, Miss Mardham.’
‘None are needed, sir. What you said was a great compliment.’ She contrasted it with the way Sir Marcus wanted to treat her in the completely opposite fashion. ‘Now, turning. How is that best accomplished?’
Teaching the very fundamentals of driving, and with a docile pony that knew exactly how to respond, did not take up all of Lord Levedale’s mind. This was a good thing, since the rest of it was in some turmoil.
*
The lesson lasted for a little over an hour, with the promise of another the next day. He judged an hour to be long enough to assimilate the skills of the lesson, and not so long that he might give in to the urge to woo Celia Mardham.
What he did not realise was that she already felt as though something very special existed between them. She had no experience of flirtation, and whilst she saw his behaviour towards Marianne Burton in that light, what they experienced – the light banter, the mutual understanding – was not, in her mind, at all similar.
She arrived back at the house most confused, and not about the act of driving. They had been on such good and easy terms, frank and open with each other, comprehending each other so easily
, that she felt a true bond between them. He was the most charming man she had ever met, and yet he was not ‘charming’ her. When she was with him she felt light-hearted, and light-headed too. Was he intoxicating? She would have smiled at that, but the other side of it all was that she found his manner with Marianne upset her. She could not see it as genuine, felt it was some strange game, and yet he persisted, as much as he might with Miss Darwen forever at his heels. She could not ask him why he behaved like this. Was his natural familiarity with her a brotherly sympathy? Was it because he was a kind man who saw her plight and sought to alleviate it, which was in part what he had admitted? Lord Deben was a kind and thoughtful man, but he had not offered to teach her to drive. Was it madness to feel as she did about Lord Levedale?
Her head was full of questions, and very few answers. When Lady Mardham waylaid her, keen to hear what had happened, she was disappointed to see the frown upon Celia’s brow.
‘Did something go awry, Celia dear? You look displeased.’ She could not believe Lord Levedale had misbehaved, but one never knew with men.
‘Oh no, Mama. Everything went very well. It is just … I am unsure of things.’
‘Of course, my love, you will take time to master it all.’ Lady Mardham misunderstood, but Celia was happier that she did so. ‘I think it very adventurous of you to make the attempt.’
Celia did not want to say that thus far, controlling the pony had been very easy. Part of her wanted as many lessons as possible, and not to improve her skill with whip and reins. For one whole hour she had Lord Levedale to herself. They could speak as they wished, and oh, the thrill that had run through her when his hands had held hers to correct her hold upon the reins. It must end in disappointment, but it was too magical to lose even a minute of it.
Bless Thine Inheritance Page 11
