by M. C. Beaton
“No, sir,” said Jilly.
“Hey, you must eat, ladies. What would you like?”
“Just a little toast,” whispered Mandy.
“And coffee?”
“Chocolate, please,” said Jilly, beginning to relax slightly.
He called to a passing waiter and ordered chocolate and toast for both of them. He tried to make conversation, but both girls, by a sort of unspoken communication, had remembered the presence of the waiting Lady Harrington, who would no doubt beat them or lock them in a cupboard or both. So Sir John tactfully picked up his newspaper and continued to read until they were finished.
Neither Mandy nor Jilly really saw much of the countryside on the journey to Greenbanks, Sir John’s home. Nor did they appreciate the beauty of Sir John’s home when they arrived. Greenbanks was an old house of mellow golden Cotswold stone, so old and long and low and sprawling, it seemed to have settled comfortably into the landscape, rather like the Harringtons themselves.
Sir John ushered them into a long, low drawing room. Lady Harrington rose to meet them. “I have been so worried,” she cried. “Why are you come so late?”
“If we are to be locked in a cupboard,” said Jilly, “may we please be locked in the same cupboard?”
“What cupboard? What is this?” Lady Harrington’s eyes flew to her husband’s face.
“They slept late. I did not disturb them,” said Sir John. “The fault is mine.”
“But why on earth should I put you both in the same cupboard?” exclaimed Lady Harrington. “Is that a new ton word for bedchamber?”
Jilly giggled with relief. “My lady, we are used to being locked in cupboards as punishment.”
Husband and wife exchanged shocked glances. Lady Harrington said firmly, “No one punishes anyone here. You are here to enjoy yourselves. Christmas is still a few weeks away, but there are plenty of balls and parties to go to.”
The door opened and a lady and gentlemen came in, the lady carrying a chubby baby. “My son, James, and his wife, Betty,” said Lady Harrington proudly. “And that is young Master Charles.”
It was like opening a box of delights, thought the girls. First there was to be no punishment, then the talk of balls and parties and Christmas, and now this son and daughter who carried around their own baby instead of leaving it in the nursery with the maid. But there was more to come.
“After you have seen your rooms,” said Lady Harrington, “we will have a cold collation. Then, James, dear, the village pond is hard frozen and we have plenty of skates. Why do you not take the girls out and give them a spin on the ice?”
“We cannot skate,” said Mandy, wide-eyed.
“Then you will learn,” said Lady Harrington. “Come, and I will take you to your rooms.”
The house was flooded with shafts of sunlight striking through the old mullioned windows. The air smelled of flowers and woodsmoke from the many fires. Lady Harrington led the way up a shallow staircase and along an old passage full of little steps up and steps down. “This is your bedroom, Miss Davenport. Yours is next to it, Miss Amanda.”
“Lady Harrington.” Jilly took a deep breath. “Would you please call us Jilly and Mandy?”
“Such pretty names. Of course I shall. I shall leave you to wash and change. Ah, there you are, Peg. Peg will fix your hair. She is an excellent lady’s maid.”
The girls shyly waited while Peg selected gowns for them from the drab selection the housemaids were putting away in the closets. Then Jilly sat down at the toilet table first while Peg brushed down her hair and then began to deftly put it up. Mother would be furious, thought Jilly, but Mother was not here in this wonderland. Next it was Mandy’s turn.
When they were finally taken to the dining room, where the Harrington family had been augmented by the presence of the local squire, Sir William Black, his wife, and two noisy children, Jilly and Mandy felt very fashionable and grand and did not notice the compassionate look Lady Harrington gave their gowns or know that that lady was already deciding to hire a dressmaker to alter their clothes.
Jilly and Mandy were bewildered by the easygoing meal, the squire’s teasing, the noise of the children, who chased each other round the table and under the table, the barking of several old dogs, and the way in which no one seemed to condemn them for anything at all.
The “scratch” meal, which was how Lady Harrington described it, seemed delicious to them.
Jilly began to wonder whether the offer of skating was to be forgotten, but James finally wiped his mouth on the tablecloth and rose to his feet. “Come along, Jilly and Mandy,” he said. “Skating time.”
Lord Ranger and Lord Paul had established themselves at their host’s mansion a few miles distant from the Harringtons’. They were staying with Colonel Tenby and were delighted to find not only his beautiful niece, Lady Harriet John, in residence, but her equally pretty friend, Lucinda Darcy. That afternoon they decided to ride out before the light failed.
They were approaching the nearby village of Benham St. Anne’s when they heard laughter and shrieks. Lord Ranger reined in his horse and pointed with his riding crop. “Over there, Paul. They’re skating on the pond. What fun! Let’s go and see.”
They rode forward and down towards a circular village pond. Lord Ranger immediately recognized the redhead from the inn as both men dismounted and walked to the edge of the pond. Jilly was being led round the ice by James while Mandy watched.
“I am exhausted,” they heard James cry. “You misses must try on your own.”
An imp of mischief sparkled in Lord Ranger’s eyes. “Can we help?” Jilly saw him, gasped, lost her footing, and slid down onto the ice. James helped her up and said to the two men, “I have my hands full.”
Lord Ranger and Lord Paul introduced themselves after James had introduced himself and Jilly and Mandy. “We have plenty of skates in the hut over there,” said James, “if you wish to help my young ladies find their feet.”
“I would not even try,” said Jilly. “We are quite hopeless.”
“We shall see,” was all Lord Ranger would say.
He and Paul tied on skates. Lord Ranger skated up to Jilly. “You cross arms with me like so,” he said, “and then try to relax.”
She shyly did as she was bid, glancing up at his handsome profile. She stumbled and he caught her round the waist and cried, “Confidence, Miss Davenport.” And then all at once, she was skating. She thought afterwards that it must have taken longer than that, but it seemed as if one moment she was floundering and stumbling, and then the next, she was sailing round the ice, held by those strong hands. The sky above sparkled with bright stars, for the sun had long ago disappeared behind the Cotswold hills. White frost glittered on the surrounding trees and grass. Servants had placed lanterns around the pond, which cast a golden light over the black, glassy ice. They changed partners, Mandy with Lord Ranger and Jilly with Lord Paul, but for some reason the girls immediately seemed to lose their footing, and so they changed partners back again.
And then Lord Ranger swung Jilly to a halt. “We must go,” he said, “and so must you. Mr. Harrington has come back for you.” And there was James signaling from the edge of the pond. The girls had not been aware of his leaving.
“Thank you,” said Jilly shyly.
Lord Ranger smiled down at her in a friendly way. “We are neighbors, so we shall meet again.” And with those last magic words, he and Lord Paul mounted their horses and rode off.
When the girls reached Jilly’s bedroom after being instructed to ring for the maid when they were ready to dress for dinner, Mandy sat down suddenly in front of the fire and burst into tears.
Jilly crouched down beside her. “What is it?” she cried. “What happened? Did Lord Paul insult you?”
She shook her head and smiled through her tears. “He was everything that is kind and charming. It is all too much for me, Jilly, the fun and the laughter and the freedom.”
And Jilly held her close and began to cry a
s well.
Chapter 2
Lady Harrington reflected at dinner that evening that Mrs. Davenport might at least have supplied her daughters with some white muslin gowns, the usual fashion for the young miss. Both were again wearing identical gowns, this time of a dark purple silk, both with very high necklines and no flounces or bows, sleeves long and tight at the wrist. And why dress them the same? They did not look alike. Jilly was tall and slim with that fiery red hair, and Mandy was small and plump and dark-haired. What set them apart from other young ladies was the sheer beauty of their eyes. Jilly’s were grass green, fairy green, like shining emeralds, and Mandy’s were huge and very blue, like the summer sea. Proper dressing would do miracles for them.
Besides, Lady Harrington had been intrigued to learn from her son about Lord Ranger and Lord Paul. Before dinner, she had sent a boy out to scout around for news. Gossip flowed easily in the countryside, and the boy returned with a short biography of both men, including their parentage and the depressing fact that Colonel Tenby also had charming ladies staying at his home as well.
“So kind of Lord Ranger and Lord Paul to teach Jilly and Mandy to skate,” said Lady Harrington. “The least we can do is to invite them to dinner.”
Sir John’s eyes sparkled. He knew his wife had started to matchmake. “By all means, my love. I can send the boy over with an invitation this very evening. What about tomorrow night?”
“Too early,” said Lady Harrington quickly. The village dressmaker was exceptionally good. Get the woman up here first thing, see what she could do with those dowdy clothes, and then issue the invitation. “I will let you know tomorrow,” she said.
Jilly felt quite breathless with excitement. She had not thought to see Lord Ranger again. It had seemed too much to hope for. But if he came, he might sit next to her at the dinner table, he would be in the same room. Mandy thought of Lord Paul with his amused drawling voice and the way his clever eyes teased her. Neither girl had ever thought before of love. Marriage was something worthy that would be arranged for them by their parents. Then, instead of being under the rule of their parents, they would each be under the rule of some man. They had not read romances, had not been allowed to, and yet occasionally rosy little dreams had crept into their minds to make their futures seem even more bleak.
A few miles away, Lord Paul and Lord Ranger were also sitting down to dinner. It was a large house party, so there were twenty of them down the table, the men on one side and the ladies on the other, the colonel being old-fashioned. Looking across the table at the beautiful Lady Harriet seated opposite, Lord Ranger, who knew his host’s wife was an American, could only be glad she had not brought American fashions with her and had the ladies dining in another room altogether.
“Enjoy your ride this afternoon, gentlemen?” the colonel asked them.
“Excellent well,” drawled Lord Paul. “We had a most amusing diversion with two young ladies.”
“Flirting with village misses?” asked Lady Harriet.
“No, we were teaching two pretty ladies how to skate. Their name is Davenport and they are guests of the Harringtons.”
“Must ask the Harringtons and their guests over,” said Colonel Tenby.
Lady Harriet exchanged a speaking little look with her friend, Lucinda, and muttered, “Not rivals already.” She raised her voice. “Tell us about your charmers, Lord Paul.”
“Oh, we had met them already, or rather seen them. They were residing at the Spread Eagle in Banbury, and the landlord told us that they were strictly guarded. Very dowdy clothes and the worst bonnets I have ever seen on any females.”
“Worthy ladies,” mocked Lady Harriet. “Just what you need to reform you.”
“Lady, your beauty is enough to reform the devil,” said Lord Ranger, and Lady Harriet flirted expertly with her eyes over her fan, and everyone forgot about the Davenports.
“I do not know what Ma will say.” Jilly watched nervously as the dressmaker began to rip up two of their gowns, preparatory to altering them.
It was the following morning. Lady Harrington was supervising the operation. “We will cross that bridge when we come to it,” she said airily. “Mrs. Tibbs here is very skillful with the needle. Are you sure those brown silk things will alter, Mrs. Tibbs?”
“They can be decorated,” said Mrs. Tibbs, her head on one side as she considered the wreck of the gowns. “Once the necklines are lowered, the waists raised, Miss Jilly can have green silk shoulder knots and a broad green silk sash, and Miss Mandy, blue. Perhaps your maid, Peg, can help me with the pinning so that we can get both ladies up to the mark at the same time. Then tomorrow I’ll get to work on the white muslin.”
“So tedious, being pinned,” said Lady Harrington. “I know, I shall read to you to pass the time. Peg, fetch me that new novel. Such an amusing title, Pride and Prejudice.”
Mandy opened her mouth to say that they were not allowed to read novels, but shut it again. There was so much they were doing now that they would never be allowed to do at home, and yet she could see nothing wrong in any of it. Lady Harrington was kindness itself. She pictured the cold, dark rooms of her home in Yorkshire and suppressed an involuntary shiver. How quiet and grim it seemed set against the constant noise and movement and light in the Harringtons’ messy, friendly, sprawling home where old dogs were allowed to sleep on the chairs and the baby was adored and passed from one to the other for a cuddle.
The book was produced and Lady Harrington began to read. The girls had never heard anything more wonderful. They twisted and turned obediently under the dressmaker’s busy hands and did not notice the time pass. The dressmaker finally said, “I think I can have these ready for this evening, Lady Harrington. It will mean employing a couple of girls… .”
Lady Harrington waved a hand. “Do it. I must have two fashionable ladies by this evening. It will do them a world of good.”
She stood up to leave. “Could you leave the book behind?” pleaded Mandy.
“Only if you promise not to tell me what happens,” said Lady Harrington.
No sooner had she left than Jilly picked up the book where she had left off and began to read to Mandy. After nuncheon, they were almost disappointed when James suggested another skating lesson because both were anxious to go on with the story, but then both thought that perhaps by some miracle those two lords might come riding up, and agreed to go and get ready.
But as the sun sank and they began to be able to skate without hanging on to James, there was no sign of any riders coming over the hill.
A cheerful dinner in their newly altered gowns and a noisy game of charades afterwards and the prospect of that book waiting abovestairs quite banished Lord Ranger and Lord Paul from their minds. Their lives were full of warmth and color and affection.
Lady Harrington, looking at their glowing faces, whispered to her husband, “Send an invitation to Lord Paul and Lord Ranger. Two days’ time, I think. Their muslins should be ready by then.”
“Are you sure about this?” Sir John bent his head close to his wife’s so as not to be overheard. “They are such a pair of children. Parental cruelty has kept them very young, and you are planning to throw them before two—from what I gather—very experienced rakes.”
“Pooh! I am not planning marriage,” lied Lady Harrington. “Doesn’t it break your heart to see how humbly grateful they are for every little kindness?”
“You should ask ’em if they can dance. There’s a local ball at the White Hart in Moreton next week, but I’ll swear they probably don’t know a step. Colonel Tenby will no doubt take his guests there, and that means the waltz and the quadrille as well as country dances.”
“And ball gowns!” said Lady Harrington in dismay. “I swear they haven’t got one between them, and if they have, they’re probably sludge-colored and last century’s fashions!”
She went to talk to the girls and returned looking downcast. “It is as I feared. They can’t dance. No ball gowns. This is war! I will not b
e defeated. James!”
Her son protested that her young guests would wear him out. First skating lessons and now dancing lessons, but Lady Harrington was adamant. The carpet was rolled back, and she sat down at the pianoforte. Sir John got to work partnering Mandy, and James, Jilly.
It was two in the morning before a dazed Mandy and Jilly rolled into bed. They were to learn that there was no strict timekeeping in the Harrington household as there was at home.
They were to have more pinnings and fittings in the morning and then more dancing lessons in the afternoon. The young curate, said Lady Harrington, was an excellent dancer, as was Mr. Parse, the schoolteacher. They had been invited to call in the early evening to take over the lessons from Sir John and James.
The curate was a shy young man called Mr. Tawst, and the schoolteacher was tall and lank. But they danced with a will while Mrs. James Harrington and Lady Harrington took turns at playing the piano.
When it came to the quadrille, Lady Harrington told them that to really cut a dash, one had to throw in a few entrechats, and to that end she herself had hired a ballet dancer in London to teach her. To Jilly’s amusement and Mandy’s shock, Lady Harrington picked up her skirts so that all could see her ankles and demonstrated how to perform entrechats, laughing when they all tumbled over trying to copy her and said it was surely harder than teaching them to skate.
Again it was two in the morning before the girls finally rolled into bed. The only thing to give Jilly any feeling of unease before she fell asleep was the fact that the days seemed to be rushing past. Time had speeded up like a runaway horse. At home, time crawled, punctuated by the monotonous tick-tock of the many clocks that Mr. and Mrs. Davenport liked to collect.
The girls were to learn that a dinner party at the Harringtons’ was quite an event. The house and table had to be decorated and everybody helped, James bringing in branches that still had red and gold leaves on them to be dipped in glycerine in the still room to preserve them, and Sir John cutting fine blooms for the table and drawing room in the hothouses at the end of the garden.
