by Dorothy Mack
Trotton’s impassive facade and deliberate motions as she put a clean handkerchief in the reticule she presently handed to her mistress belied the simmering cauldron of conjecture that was her brain at the moment. She was as eager to see her mistress descend to dinner as the latter was to avoid being late. There would be plenty to be learned from the conversation in the Hall when the upper servants had their meal.
If Vicky went in to dinner that night in happy ignorance of the amount of speculation about her activities rife among the servants, it was because she was still adjusting to the change in circumstances herself. The conversation at table would not have furnished the footman who assisted Cavanaugh with any titillating titbits to pass on to the staff. Lady Honoria and Lord Ellerby filled Vicky in on the social happenings since her departure from town, and she, with an occasional assist from Drucilla, related the details of how they had been spending their days in the country. From time to time, Lady Honoria posed questions about certain local residents which only her niece could answer. During these intervals, Drucilla shyly revealed her reactions to country life at the prompting of Lord Ellerby.
After dinner the ladies retired to the drawing room, where they were soon joined by his lordship. Vicky was softly playing on the pianoforte, and he urged her to continue as he settled himself comfortably in one corner of the plush sofa. She smiled her acquiescence, then returned her attention to the keyboard. She selected a sonata by the new German composer Ludwig van Beethoven, which was a particular favourite of Lady Honoria’s.
“Thank you, my love,” said that lady when the last note died away. “That was lovely. You have a marvellous sure touch. It is always a pleasure to listen when you play, which is more than can be said about most ‘accomplished’ young lady musicians.”
“Since playing the piano is my sole feminine accomplishment, it is fortunate that I do it passably well.” Her niece laughed, rippling her fingers over the keys.
“I must respectfully differ with you there, Vicky,” put in Lord Ellerby, smiling intimately at her. “There isn’t another young woman in London who can claim the half of your accomplishments.”
A gurgle of amusement escaped from Vicky’s lips. “I thank you, Gregory, and wouldn’t dream of embarrassing a guest by challenging you to name another accomplishment. Honesty will compel you to admit that singing certainly isn’t among my talents. Luckily for us, Drucilla has a lovely voice. Will you give us the pleasure of hearing you sing, my dear?”
“Oh, please, my voice is nothing at all out of the common,” pleaded the young girl, reluctant to be thrust forward, “and I was so enjoying your playing. Won’t you continue?”
Lord Ellerby turned the full force of his charming smile on the shrinking girl and added his voice to that of his hostess in requesting a song or two.
“Your modesty does you credit, my child, but I promise you we are not severe critics,” said Lady Honoria briskly, “merely people who enjoy a little music in the evening.”
“In that case, ma’am, I shall be glad to sing for you.” Drucilla’s shyness was routed by a greater fear of seeming ungracious in the eyes of this somewhat formidable lady, who was regarding her not unkindly but with every expectation of being obeyed.
“Shall I play for you, or would you prefer to accompany yourself?” asked Vicky, preparing to rise from the instrument.
“Oh, no! I’d rather not have to worry about my fingers too. Please play for me.”
Drucilla was a trifle awkward initially, but once she was launched into a melody, the pleasure of producing music overcame her diffidence. Her sweet soprano, though not strong, had been well-trained and she possessed abundant musical sense and timing. Encouraged by an appreciative audience, she relaxed and forgot herself completely by the second song.
Vicky, admiring the picture her protégée made in a becoming coffee-coloured muslin gown that had been altered to fit her by Nurse just the other day, was persuaded there could scarcely be a man breathing who would be immune to the appeal of the girl’s entrancing prettiness and sparkle. A glance from under her lashes at the only gentleman present, however, revealed that his eyes at that moment were fixed not on the singer but the pianist, with an unmistakable warmth in their expression. Her trained fingers continued to produce the correct accompaniment, but her thoughts branched off again, plodding over familiar ground with the monotony of oxen ploughing a field. What was wrong with her? Why could she not be thrilled and grateful for such devotion from a man she both liked and respected? What more did she expect from life?
The end of the musical selection brought this fruitless self-questioning to a halt. Vicky was encouraged to read genuine pleasure and admiration on Gregory’s face as he praised Drucilla’s performance. It was evident by the young girl’s downcast eyes and fluttering lashes that she too had discerned his sincerity but was still too timid in his presence to return the sort of raillery she engaged in so naturally with Mr. Massingham. This unaccustomed shyness, Vicky decided, would do the girl no disservice in Gregory’s eyes. He was extending himself already to set her more at her ease, so that when Vicky suggested they try their hand at a duet he exerted every effort to persuade Drucilla to embark on the musical experiment, after warning her his voice was not really worthy to be associated with one of such fine quality. Naturally, no very young lady would desire to leave the impression that she considered her talents above those of her companions. Drucilla speedily agreed to engage in a duet with Lord Ellerby.
The improvised concert delighted the ears of their audience despite the lack of rehearsal. The gentleman’s easy light tenor blended beautifully with the soprano voice, to the enjoyment of all. Flushed with pleasure at the response of Lady Honoria and Vicky, Drucilla was emboldened to initiate a search through the music stored in the rosewood cabinet against the wall for additional songs she and Lord Ellerby might attempt for another evening.
Vicky took the opportunity thus afforded to move to a seat beside her aunt. “I think the evening has gone rather well, do not you?”
“That depends on whose advantage you are consulting,” returned Lady Honoria, eyeing without favour the dark and fair heads absorbed in a sheet of music they had unearthed from the cabinet. “I should say it has gone well from Miss Hedgeley’s point of view.”
Vicky grinned at the acerbic tones but demanded, “Don’t you agree they make a handsome couple, with Gregory’s fairness such a perfect foil for Drucilla’s dark beauty?”
“They are a good-looking pair, certainly,” conceded Lady Honoria, “but so are you and Gregory, and there are those who prefer a matched pair.”
“We were not matched in the more important sense of the word, Aunt.”
Hearing the earnest quality in the quiet reply, Lady Honoria searched her niece’s serene visage for a moment with a probing blue gaze. “Is your mind set on this absurd match?” she asked abruptly.
“Not, of course, if they should prove unsuited on longer acquaintance, but somehow my instincts tell me that I am onto a winner in this instance.”
A resigned sigh signalled her aunt’s acceptance of this answer to the question she had not asked. A second later she removed her attention to Drucilla, who was inquiring if anyone was familiar with a song by Bononcini that looked interesting. When Lady Honoria pronounced it to be a very old favourite of her late husband’s that she hadn’t heard in years, Drucilla’s sparkling face took on an added glow. “Then I shall learn it for you, if you would like it, ma’am?”
Lady Honoria studied the enchanting face looking up at her expectantly and felt her resistance crumbling. “Thank you, Drucilla, I should like that very much indeed.”
Lord Ellerby’s approving look at the young girl was not lost upon his hostess, who took it as a sign that some little headway had been made this first evening.
Although bruised and sore in too many places to enumerate by the time she crawled thankfully between the sheets of her bed, Vicky’s last thoughts before succumbing to the spell of Morpheus wer
e not of her aching limbs. It would not do to give way to overconfidence so early in the game, but it might not be beyond what was reasonable to indulge a little cautious optimism that Gregory’s arrival would prove the very thing needed to wean Drucilla away from her lukewarm attachment to Mr. Massingham. And if at the same time Gregory could be beguiled into transferring his affections to a much more suitable female — well, there was no harm in killing two birds with one stone, surely. And so Miss Seymour drifted off to sleep smugly pleased with her masterly strategy, regrettably having forgotten so soon her own sage warning against just such presumption.
Vicky’s scheme to promote a rapport between her two guests received a temporary setback the next morning when she asked Lord Ellerby if there was anything he particularly desired to do that day. The three younger members of the household were having breakfast in the small sunny room formed by one of the three protruding bays on the east front. Lady Honoria, who steadfastly declined to face the morning sun until after eleven o’clock, always breakfasted in her own rooms. The younger element, seated around a small oval table in the bay, far from objecting to the light and warmth admitted by ranks of long narrow windows on three sides, were lingering over second cups of coffee and soaking up the October sunshine. Vicky, still a bit stiff from her tumble, had to rouse herself from a pleasant lethargy induced by the sunshine to play the role of conscientious hostess.
Lord Ellerby smiled lazily at her and declared himself entirely at her disposal.
“Lobbing the ball back into my court, Gregory?”
His lordship’s smile widened to a grin at this challenge, but he made no effort to defend himself as he selected another apple muffin from a silver basket.
“Well, then, perhaps you would care to ride over the estate on such a lovely day?”
“That sounds delightful if Miss Hedgeley will not find it tedious to repeat what must have been a recent outing for her too.” Lord Ellerby smiled a question at the silent girl across from him.
“Oh, no. That is to say, I do not ride, but you must not regard that. I shall amuse myself quite happily in the music room.”
“You never ride, Miss Hedgeley?”
Drucilla blushed rosily as the blue eyes of the gentleman widened in surprise. “I can’t ride; I have never learned,” said the young girl half-defiantly. “Besides, I prefer walking.”
Here Vicky intervened. “Perhaps you will succeed where I have failed, Gregory, in convincing this foolish child that she will not be placing life and limb in jeopardy by agreeing to accept some elementary tuition. I have promised her the gentlest horse in the stables, but all she will say is that she is too stupid to learn, which is a great piece of nonsense.”
“Of course it is. Learning to ride demands no special talents, Miss Hedgeley,” Lord Ellerby assured the unbelieving girl in a kindly manner. “And once you have acquired some competency, you will find so many more possibilities open to you than walking allows, at least in the country.”
“Vicky drove me around the estate in the gig,” said Drucilla, yielding not an inch.
“I drove you around the perimeter, where there were paths,” corrected her hostess. “You have not been in the home wood or down by the stream, which is lovely this time of year. I have offered to teach her, indeed I have begged to be permitted to teach her to ride.”
This last was addressed to Lord Ellerby, who promptly offered his services in the cause, smiling at Drucilla with a charm that was nearly impossible to resist.
“I am afraid of horses!” The shamed admission was jolted out of the pretty brunette as she was manoeuvred into a corner by the combined onslaught of the two people she would most like to please. “I have always feared them. They are so very large and … twitchy! One never knows what they will do next,” she blurted defensively, driven to further explanation by the shocked silence that greeted her confession.
“My dear, pray forgive me for seeming to press you,” said Vicky contritely. “This puts a very different complexion on the matter. Not,” she added in firm tones as some of the tension drained out of her young friend, “to learning to ride, of course. That remains an eminently desirable accomplishment, but first we shall have to rid you of these perfectly idiotish fears.”
“They’re not idiotish!” flared Drucilla, goaded into retort. “You cannot deny that horses are huge and unpredictable, always throwing up their heads and backing away as if fearing one meant them harm, when in actuality they are the most cossetted creatures on earth.”
“Certainly they are large,” conceded Vicky in soothing accents, exchanging an amused glance with Lord Ellerby, “and if the equine disposition were akin to that of the tiger, their size could well engender fear, but it is not so — the opposite, indeed. Am I not correct, Gregory?”
Thus appealed to, Lord Ellerby assured the disbelieving girl that in his experience horses had been, with few exceptions, very well-disposed toward mankind in general.
Drucilla preserved an unconvinced silence, which her hostess prudently decided to ignore, saying briskly to Lord Ellerby, “It seems to me to be of the first importance that Drucilla should become a little more accustomed to being around horses before her riding lessons actually begin. Do come with us to the stables this morning, my dear, and meet several of my favourites while the grooms saddle horses for Gregory and me.”
Again she preferred not to recognise the reluctance on her guest’s face, ruthlessly bearing Drucilla upstairs to her own rooms to keep her company while she changed into her habit, activated by a shrewd suspicion that if she took her eyes off her the girl would contrive to vanish in the meantime.
On the whole, the results of the morning’s events were highly satisfactory. Drucilla had surrendered to force majeure, accompanying her hostess and Lord Ellerby to the stable block. If it was not exactly what she would have chosen had her wishes been consulted, at least her manners and sense of obligation were such that she exerted herself to show willingness. If she was unable to counterfeit any appreciable enthusiasm for the enormous equine specimens she was called upon to examine at rather closer quarters than she would elect, she did manage to express sincere aesthetic appreciation for the magnificent Othello, who had sired Shadow and whom Lord Ellerby would be riding while his own mount rested after two days of travelling. The big black, though well-mannered, was of a slightly nervous temperament. He stood still for one brief pat on his handsome nose but eyed Drucilla in a manner that caused her to shrink back immediately, though she tried to conceal this with a laughing remark that he made her feel her breeding was inadequate to rub shoulders with him.
Lord Ellerby had chuckled at this nonsense, but Vicky said quite seriously, “That is very perceptive of you, Drucilla. Othello is a bit top-lofty, to be sure. You must meet Sheba, who despite her royal name has a very humble nature and is always grateful for any small attentions.”
Drucilla had followed her friend inside, where the nearly recovered mare was still confined. Sheba, with her soft brown eyes and smaller stature, was certainly more to her taste than Othello. She crooned in sympathy over the mare’s injury and laughed aloud as the velvet nose nuzzled in the vicinity of the pocket that contained a carrot thoughtfully provided by her hostess. When Sheba bared her teeth to reach for the carrot, the incipient friendship had suffered only the merest flicker of a reversal. At sight of those large efficient dentures, Drucilla snatched her hand back, earning a reproachful whicker from the mare. Once Vicky had demonstrated the proper open-handed technique for offering treats to horses, her guest had speedily redeemed herself, and girl and horse parted friends. Since Manley decreed that Sheba might begin gentle exercise the following day, it was settled that she should be Drucilla’s first mount, and the initial riding lesson was scheduled by Vicky and Lord Ellerby for the next morning. By some oversight, Drucilla’s opinion on the matter was not consulted.
Lord Ellerby’s tour of the grounds with his hostess was a pleasant interlude, though by the time they returned to the house the
re was a slight but perceptible dimming of the high spirits with which Vicky’s former fiancé had greeted the rare opportunity to have the object of his affections all to himself. He had admired the beauty spots in the area with becoming enthusiasm, asked pertinent questions about the game to be found in the woods, and responded with well-bred civility to an introduction to one of the tenants who farmed Seymour land, encountered while riding back for lunch. Vicky could not be certain that she was not being overly sensitive to nuances that may have existed only in her own mind, but she could not help wondering if Gregory had been a trifle taken aback by the sheer size of the estate. He could not have been unaware that she was widely regarded as a matrimonial prize in London, but there would not have been any reliable sources of an accurate estimate of her fortune. The Seymour family had sadly dwindled in numbers of late, and though well-connected, had not been prominent in the social scene in London during her father’s lifetime. He and her mother had preferred to remain in the country year round. Lady Honoria, daughter of an earl and the recent widow of a baronet, had overseen the social career of her dead sister’s child. To all polite questions or indiscreet inquiries as to the girl’s expectations, she had consistently returned the same vague answer, that her niece was well-dowered. Over the years, the estimate of Vicky’s fortune had steadily risen, and she had warded off her share of fortune hunters since her long-ago come-out.
