by Lynn Morris
Taking a silver goblet, she went to Giles and handed it up to him. “I wish you good hunting, sir. I send you to the field with a cup of my father’s finest port.”
He took a sip, his eyes smiling at her over the cup. “It is fine port indeed. It’s generous of your father, considering that half of these fellows wouldn’t know good port from dark ale. Won’t you join me in a toast to the hunt, my lady?”
“You know very well that I don’t drink port.”
Slyly Giles asked, “Shall I fetch your ratafia?”
“I take it back. I hope you never set eyes on a fox.”
Giles shrugged and drained his drink. “That would suit me. I don’t relish being in on the kill. I enjoy galloping hurly-burly all over the country, however. As you’ve told me countless times, I do like to swagger.”
“Swagger on, then. I’m going to serve Mr. Rosborough before my mother beats me to it.”
Mirabella served the rector, and then a couple of tenant farmers of the Camarden estate. Then the Master of the Hounds sounded a stirring call on his horn, and the dogs immediately formed a pack and dashed out across the park, with the huntsmen galloping hard behind them.
The ladies gathered back in the banqueting house to finish their tea. Lady Camarden said, “Ladies, this year Lady Mirabella has offered to allow all of you to pick your own bouquets from her conservatory.” Pleased murmurs sounded from the ladies. “After that I hope you’ll join us for luncheon.”
Walking by twos and threes, the ladies followed the path through the formal gardens back to the house. Mirabella and Josephine came to Lady Dorothea’s side. Her limp was noticeably more pronounced than usual this morning. With concern Mirabella said, “Aunt Tirel, should you like to stay at the banqueting house and let me fetch a carriage for you?”
“I would not. Great heavens, girl, I used to lead the pack on these hunts. I’m not going to start being carted around like an old cripple, for I’m neither old nor crippled.”
Mirabella and Josephine exchanged wry glances behind Aunt Tirel’s back. “Of course you aren’t, Aunt Tirel. Are you coming to the conservatory?”
“Yes, I am, I’m looking forward to visiting with Mary Eldridge again. We’re old friends, you know, and I haven’t seen her in an age. In fact, why don’t you two girls go ask her to walk with me? She won’t mind being as slow as a snail. Get along with you, now, I’m perfectly fine.”
Mirabella and Josephine asked Mrs. Eldridge to join Lady Dorothea. Mirabella tucked Josephine’s arm in hers and said, “There’s something I really need to speak to you about in private. Would you come with me up to my dressing room?”
“But surely you can’t neglect your guests?” Josephine said hesitantly.
“Fie, they’re all practically family, except for Clara,” Mirabella retorted. Then her eyes widened and she pressed her hand to her mouth. “I can’t believe I said that.”
“I can,” Josephine said knowingly. “Very well, I’ll come with you if Lady Camarden gives us permission to desert our posts.”
“I’ve already asked her, and she said it would be fine if we don’t stay too long. I simply must talk to you, I can’t wait any longer.”
“I’m not at all surprised, you so rarely have to wait to get whatever you want,” Josephine teased her.
The two girls slipped through the conservatory, leaving the chattering ladies behind, and went upstairs to Mirabella’s dressing room. Mirabella sat on a settee and patted the seat beside her. After Josephine sat down Mirabella took both of her hands, and suddenly looked grave.
“You know, dearest, that I wouldn’t offend you for the world,” she said hesitantly.
“I doubt that you could offend me, even if you tried.”
“I’m happy you feel that way. Because I’m going to ask you a particular favor, and you may find it difficult to grant it.”
Josephine looked mystified. “I’m trying to decipher what favor you could possibly ask that I might find difficult to grant, or might find offensive. Do you wish me to launder your smallclothes? Arrange a secret assignation with a lover? Finally tell my father how absurd he looks with his hat and muffler?”
Mirabella smiled with delight. “I do love you, Josephine. No, none of those, although it might perhaps be time to address the hat and muffler. No, I think—I hope—that my request will be easier for you. I want—I want—oh, hang it all, I’m just going to say it. I’m so excited that you’re coming to London with me. I want to supply you with a wardrobe for the Season.”
Josephine’s raven-wing eyebrows shot up. “No, Mirabella, I can’t possibly allow you to do such a thing. It would be an incredible expense, and it would be wasted, for I’d have no use for such finery after the Season.”
Mirabella sighed. “I knew you’d say that, so I knew that I’d be wasting my breath in offering to buy you all-new gowns. But please, would you consider this? I’ve been horribly extravagant this year, I’ve purchased practically an entire new wardrobe because—because this Season is going to be so special to me. That means that I have dozens of gowns that are only a year or so old, and that are not outmoded yet. We’re much the same size, you know,” she finished in a pleading tone.
Josephine stared at her for long moments, then her dark eyes grew soft and warm. “Mirabella, you thought I’d be offended at this offer? No, no, dearest, not in a thousand years. It’s so generous of you, and so kind. Not many women would be so caring as to think of it.”
“Actually, Lewin told Giles that you were worried about your clothes, and Giles told me,” Mirabella admitted. “But I would have thought of it eventually. So, you will accept?”
“I will, gladly, on one condition. After the Season I’ll give the finest gowns back to you. I know that you give all of your clothes to Colette, and I’ll have no use for grand ball gowns when I return home.”
“Oh, fie on Colette,” Mirabella said crossly. “It’s not in her service contract for me to give her every gown I don’t wear any more, she’s just so impudent that she wrangles them out of me. But if that’s your condition, then I agree. I have a condition, too. I absolutely forbid you to thank me every time you set eyes on me. It’s more blessed to give than to receive, you know.”
“Very true, and the corollary of that is that it’s harder to receive than to give. But I shall try. I won’t burden you with effusive gratitude, I’ll take every gown you give me very much for granted.”
“Please do, I’ll be so relieved.”
“So you tell me that my brother told Giles, who told you, that I was worried about being a drab church mouse in London? How extraordinary, that men would give such things a moment’s thought.”
“I doubt very many men would. But then Lewin and Giles are extraordinary gentlemen, are they not?”
Josephine nodded. Mirabella had released her hands, and she looked down and slowly smoothed her skirt. Quietly she said, “Did you know that Lewin is staying with Giles?”
“He is? He’s not at the rectory?”
“He was, but as you know, Constance and John came down for the hunt, and they brought the baby, so it’s crowded and rather hectic. I think that it’s a good thing for Lewin. He seems to need some quiet and solitude. Giles leaves him to his own devices.”
“He would, he’s an intuitive, understanding man. And it may be good for Giles, too. I’ve so worried about him at Knyveton Hall all alone. You know, my father goes to call on him often, but he hasn’t extended an invitation to my mother and me since his mother died. Of course we don’t take it as a slight, but we have been concerned.”
Josephine nodded. “From what Lewin has told me, Knyveton is in such an odd state that Giles won’t think of trying to entertain.”
“An odd state? In what way?”
Josephine smiled ruefully. “Apparently Sir Edwin was in the middle of redecorating and refurbishing the Hall when he died. Lewin says the drawing room and the master’s and mistress’s bedrooms look like a French brothel.”
K
nyveton Hall, like Camarden Court, had been built in the Tudor period. It was a quadrangle enclosing a courtyard and had a moat, where swans peacefully glided. The ground floor was of gray ashlar and the first floor was half-timbered, with old wavy diamond-shaped paned windows. Unlike Camarden, however, Knyveton had not been renovated; it still retained the medieval atmosphere both inside and out, including Elizabethan furniture and tapestries.
Mirabella sighed. “Yes, my mother and I saw the drawing room and Lady Knyvet’s bedroom, spindly gaudy rococo furniture, all white and gilt and flowery upholsteries. We knew the furnishings must have been imported from France, and must have been costly.”
“They were. Giles was horrified. He tracked down the old furniture, which was stored in two old barns on the estate. They were carelessly thrown in there, and evidently require some extensive, and expensive, restoration. Giles is sending them to a London craftsman one piece at a time.”
“What about the tapestries?” Mirabella asked. “All I saw were those awful sentimental florid paintings, including not one but two prints of The Swing.”
“Giles was much relieved to find that the tapestries at least were carefully stored, wrapped in linens with marigolds and lavender, up in the attic. He’s taken down the silly paintings and replaced the tapestries, although he said that they only make the furniture look even more ridiculous. Did you see the matching armchairs in the drawing room that were in the shape of big swans?”
“I had managed to forget about those eyesores, but yes, now I do recall them. I was shocked when you told me that Lewin said that about the brothel, but if they’re still there he’s perfectly justified.”
“No, Giles showed them to Lewin, he’d tossed them out into the barn. He said that in good conscience he could hardly destroy such expensive chairs, but it also went against his conscience to take money from some half-wit that might want to buy them.”
“That sounds like Giles.”
Josephine asked, “Did you see the dining hall?”
“No, we hadn’t actually dined at Knyveton Hall for some time before Sir Edwin died.”
“He replaced the oak floor with encaustic tiles. Not just a border, or a central pattern. The entire floor is covered in encaustic tiles that have a huge red-and-black flower pattern. Giles said that if he ever entertained again he was going to strew the floor with rushes, bring in the dogs to throw them the bones, set up a head table with a throne, and throw away all the forks.”
Mirabella said, “At least he’s been able to retain his sense of humor over the sad state of affairs his father left him. It’s generally known that the Knyveton estate usually makes about ten thousand a year, which seemed always to allow them to live comfortably, both here and with the town house in London. Those last two years of Sir Edwin’s life he must have been horribly imprudent, and you know that Lady Knyvet would never have objected to anything he wanted, she was such a meek woman. But to this day Giles has never said one word about it to me, I only know because of some things my father said.”
“Mirabella, you know that Giles has such a delicate sense of honor, he’d never complain about his father, or engage in any sort of poor-mouthing. Lord Camarden has been so helpful to Giles since his father died, advising him and counseling him on how to repair the damage, it only makes sense that Giles would confide in him.”
Mirabella asked hesitantly, “Josephine, do you know any details of Giles’s trouble? I hate to pry into his private affairs, but he is so dear to me that I honestly want to try to understand what he’s going through.”
“I know you’d never pry just for the pleasure of gossiping, Mirabella. One thing I do know is that Sir Edwin died owing just about every tradesman in the county large sums of money, from the collier to the draper. Apparently there were no small debts owed in London, too. They completely refurbished and remodeled the town house, bought carriages and expensive horses, and ran up debts to the tailors and dressmakers and even some of the jewelers.”
With irritation Mirabella said, “My father told us that in the last two years of his life, Sir Edwin suddenly developed high political aspirations. In his years of standing MP for Camarden, he had become good friends with Prime Minister Perceval and seemed to be aiming for leader of the House of Commons. He was working hard to impress the MPs and the Lords. Pappa also said that apparently Sir Edwin developed that infuriating aristocratic attitude that tradesmen need not be paid for months, or even years. I’m sure Giles was absolutely horrified.”
Josephine said sadly, “It’s even worse than that, in a way. For two years Sir Edwin had refused to contribute to the schools.”
The Marquess of Camarden and Sir Edwin Knyvet had established four charity schools in the county, administered by the church. There was one boys’ and one girls’ school for the children of the villagers, cottagers, and tenant farmers, one academy for young ladies that taught the genteel arts of French, music, dance, and deportment, and another advanced school for young men that taught the classics and mathematics. Many of the young men who had attended this school had gone on to get scholarships to Oxford and Cambridge, and there were several whom the marquess and Sir Edwin had sponsored themselves.
Mirabella moaned, “Oh, no, poor Giles, he must have been so ashamed! Josephine, you should have told me, I would have been happy to make up the shortfall myself.” Out of her personal allowance Mirabella contributed generously to the schools.
Josephine said quietly, “Of course Lord Camarden made up the shortfall, Mirabella. I felt so badly for Giles. My father said he was distraught when he found out. Both my father and your father tried to persuade him to simply begin the contribution again in the next year, but Giles was adamant. He said that everyone completely understood that gambling debts were debts of honor and must be paid immediately, and it astounded him that people couldn’t see that obligations to charity were a higher debt, of much higher honor. He sold some of his mother’s jewelry to pay the funds back to your father.”
“Oh, Josephine, this is so distressing, I can hardly bear it. I knew that Sir Edwin had left Giles in a tangle, but I had no idea it was this bad.”
Josephine patted her hand. “Please don’t be so upset, dear Mirabella. Giles has recovered amazingly, you know. Just think, he’s making silly jokes to my brother about swan chairs and Tudor banquets. And he and Lewin are coming to London for the Season, so Giles must be at least a little more comfortable, as far as finances go.”
Mirabella brightened. “Yes, you’re right, of course. Giles is so clever, I’m sure he’s straightened it all out. And speaking of London, and the Season—how did we end up on such a dreary topic? Let’s go ransack my wardrobe and look at all of your new gowns!”
Josephine rose, drew Mirabella to her feet, and said sternly, “Your mother may allow you to ignore your guests, but my mother will blame me for your shameful neglect. We have four months for me to steal your clothes. Just now we must go attend to the ladies, or they’ll strip your conservatory bare.”
“You order me around as badly as does Colette,” Mirabella grumbled.
“Lady Mirabella Tirel,” Josephine said, smiling, “no one on this earth orders you around.”
Chapter Five
On Saturday the cruel November rains swept in. Mirabella despised being forced to stay indoors, and often would brave a gentle rain to take a walk, but the weather was simply too fierce, with dark-gray skies, rain falling in great torrents, and wind blowing hard from the north.
On this bleak day, however, she had two solaces. The first was her conservatory, for it was so lush that it was very like the outdoors. Although Camarden Court had a separate orangery, Mirabella had brought orange, lemon, lime, and citron trees into her conservatory and had placed them and the plants to simulate a real landscape, instead of a flower warehouse. Regardless of how cold it was, the conservatory was always warm in winter. There were two fireplaces at each end, and an ingenious series of flues ran under the brick floor to provide even heat throughout
the greenhouse.
Her other delight was that she was playing with her nephew, Alexander. Her sister-in-law Clara had initially demanded that her family return to its estate, Reynes Magna, on Tuesday, the day after the fox hunt. Mirabella and her parents had urged and pleaded with her to stay longer, for they so rarely got to see Alexander. Finally Clara had told them that she was expecting, and wanted to go home. To be fair, Mirabella reflected, Clara had had a very difficult time during her entire confinement with Alexander, and now that she thought about it, and considered it from Clara’s point of view, she sympathized with her. She even realized that it was during Clara’s pregnancy that she had become so querulous and snappish; she had never been a warm-natured woman, but until then she had not seemed to be morose and glum.
Mirabella’s mother had told her that she’d had a long talk with Clara. She was two months along, and so far she’d had none of the debilitating sickness she’d had with Alexander. Lady Camarden had told Clara that often the first pregnancy was the hardest, and subsequent ones might not be so devastating. Clara had seemed doubtful, but still she must have been reassured, for she had agreed that they would stay at Camarden for another week.
Alexander was an audacious three-year-old, bright and energetic, and was already showing signs of a highly creative imagination. One reason he was so engaging was that he was such a beautiful child, with thick tousled black curls, sparkling velvety-brown eyes, a complexion any woman would envy, a mobile mouth and, even at three years old, fine, even teeth. He was in fact very pretty, although he was in no way girlish. Mirabella reflected how strange it was, that Alexander was nothing like either his father or his mother.
How odd it would be, she thought idly, if I and my handsome theoretical husband had a pudding-faced, dull child. I wouldn’t care, I’d adore him or her anyway.
“Aunt Mirabella, you said we could see the fawn today,” Alex urged her.
“Just look outside, Alex. We can’t go out in this storm. But you’re staying another week, and I’m sure we’ll get a chance to go see Dolly. That’s what I named her. But surely you don’t mind staying here with me? I brought your toy soldiers, and I’d very much like to play with them.”
