by Merry Farmer
By the time Elizabeth nudged her under the table, Alex was exhausted from pretending to find the man interesting.
Elizabeth leaned close and whispered, “Be my second.”
“In what?” Alex asked.
“I’m about to go to battle with Mayor Crimpley.”
“Don’t you already have a valiant knight sitting on your other side?” Alex teased.
Elizabeth giggled. Mr. Throckmorton didn’t notice. He was looking the other way, surveying his staff to make sure the event was being carried off without a hitch, no doubt. His mouth twitched when one of the maids, the same one as earlier, met his eyes for a moment.
“I need someone who can argue the point,” Elizabeth whispered on.
“What point?”
Elizabeth sat straighter, cleared her throat, and sent her full attention across the table. “Mayor Crimpley.”
Conversation at the table stopped. The mayor glanced up from his meal as though Elizabeth had fired a warning shot. Mr. Throckmorton’s attention snapped back to Elizabeth.
“Mayor Crimpley,” Elizabeth launched her offensive, “I should like to bring up the topic of the Main and Lake Street intersection with you.”
The mayor paled. “Lady Elizabeth, I have assured you that every effort is being made to look into the matter.”
“What’s this?” Lord Ramsey asked.
He gave Elizabeth just the opening she needed. “We have a dreadful intersection in the center of town, Lord Ramsey. It is a terrible hazard, and two weeks ago a woman was killed there. She was struck down by a speeding carriage that had no thought for the traffic in Brynthwaite or the lives that he was putting in danger.”
“Lady Elizabeth, perhaps a celebration supper, such as this, is not the time nor the place to bring up such grave matters,” Mayor Crimpley said, moustache quivering.
“On the contrary, Mayor Crimpley,” Elizabeth replied with all the disdain of her position. “I have made two attempts in the last week to schedule an appointment to discuss this matter and the safety of our town with you, but I have been denied. Why would I be denied over something so vital?”
“My lady,” the mayor fumbled, “I understand that this topic is a sensitive one, and that you have taken it to heart, but the incident in question was a mere two weeks ago. Perhaps we should allow for more time to mourn our—”
“But it is not just two weeks, sir,” Elizabeth pushed on. “That intersection has been dangerous for far longer. It was poorly designed to begin with and needs immediate improvement. Don’t you think so, Mr. Throckmorton?”
“Yes, of course,” poor Mr. Throckmorton answered, directly on cue. Alex winced for the man. Elizabeth could suggest the town sponsor a mass drowning of puppies in the lake and he would lend his support without giving it a second thought. He was that smitten.
Or was he? The maid he’d exchanged a glance with a few minutes before walked directly behind his chair, and Alex was certain she saw him tense and flush. The maid wore a smile that could feasibly be labeled mysterious as well, and Mr. Throckmorton’s gaze flickered after her for the barest of moments. No one else at the table caught the lightning-fast interchange, but to Alex—who had had to rely on the slightest changes in expression and body language to diagnose the ills her patients over the years—it was significant. And why not? Rich and powerful he may be, but Mr. Throckmorton was still an orphan who had his beginnings as a ward of the crown—something Elizabeth certainly hadn’t forgotten, no matter how fervently she lapped up the man’s attention.
“So what I propose is a series of stop-signs placed around the intersection,” Elizabeth had gone on haranguing Mayor Crimpley with her ideas for improvement. “That way, all carriages driving through Brynthwaite would be forced to go slowly and to stop to allow pedestrians the right of way, thus avoiding any further catastrophes.”
“Well, my lady, I…I can see the point of your suggestions,” the mayor was in a huff as he tried to dismiss the idea without dismissing Elizabeth. “It’s just that there would be an expense. And an outcry from carriage owners. And the constable might not have the men to spare to police the intersection.”
“Nonsense,” Elizabeth brushed him off. “What else do the constable’s men do? Don’t you agree, Alexandra?”
“Oh yes,” Alex answered as fast as Mr. Throckmorton had. “Absolutely.” It seemed that she was just as well-trained.
Elizabeth smiled, far too pleased with the wave of support she had on each side. She did love it when one and all agreed with her.
“I’m just not sure there is precedent for this kind of measure,” Mayor Crimpley went on.
Alex had no interest in listening to the debate. She took another quick bite of her supper, noticing that the staff had already begun to clear plates away. She sat a little straighter and peeked as casually as she could around the room. At last, she spotted Marshall sitting on the far side near the windows at a table with his daughters, Lawrence and Matty, and a few others who she didn’t know. Marshall happened to catch her looking. He broke into a weary smile and raised a hand in greeting.
Relief flooded Alex. She couldn’t wave back the way she wanted to, but she smiled and nodded. What she wouldn’t give to be sitting at that table, far from the center of attention and maneuvering. She wanted nothing more than to discuss the day’s cases from the hospital with Marshall, to get his opinion on courses of treatment and other things that truly mattered. She would have settled on simply standing by his side, making observations about the finery of the hotel and the pretension of some of the guests. A night spent in conversation with Marshall Pycroft would be worth a thousand nights of being stuck at a table with her mother and Elizabeth on a mission.
“So you see, it’s a matter of necessity,” Elizabeth finished her call to arms.
“I suppose the town council could look into it,” Mayor Crimpley said, defeat etched in the lines of his face. Of course it was, Elizabeth always got her way.
“I’ve had the most delightful idea, and now seems like as good a time to share it as any,” Lady Charlotte snatched up the reins of the conversation before anyone else could. “I’ve decided to throw a house party at Huntingdon Hall.”
“A house party? What a splendid idea,” Lord Ramsey said.
“Have you agreed to this?” Mr. Throckmorton asked Elizabeth, full of concern.
“Yes, I have,” Elizabeth said, her smile not entirely enthusiastic. She had agreed, but only after a week’s worth of brow-beating on Lady Charlotte’s behalf. As Alex had suspected, Elizabeth wasn’t as enthusiastic about inviting a dozen or more strangers to stay at her home for a month, eating her food, occupying her rooms, and disrupting her life.
“Then it sounds as though it could be a pleasant diversion,” Mr. Throckmorton went on.
“Yes, I thought so,” Lady Charlotte said. “I’ve already complied a dazzling list of acquaintances I shall invite, including some old friends of ours from Hampshire, Mr. Anthony Fretwell and his son, George.”
“I’m afraid I don’t know them,” Mr. Throckmorton said, “Though perhaps this will be an opportunity to remedy that.”
Alex bit her tongue to keep from laughing. Mr. Throckmorton wasted no time fishing for an invitation.
“Perhaps some of the guest could stay here, in your lovely hotel,” Elizabeth suggested. The genuineness of her suggestion put a smile on Mr. Throckmorton’s face. If only he knew that the suggestion had been made to keep as many people out of Elizabeth’s hair as possible.
“I would be honored to provide accommodations,” Mr. Throckmorton answered. “Perhaps a few days of entertainment as well.”
“Yes, that would be brilliant,” Lady Charlotte said. “I may enlist your help in planning several events.”
Planning, Alex thought, hiding a wry grin. Planning events for her mother was a far cry from being invited to stay and attend as one of the guests. A twist of pity for Mr. Throckmorton struck at Alex’s heart. He’d done nothing to deserve the treatme
nt he was likely to get if he wasn’t careful. She found herself hoping that there was something brewing between him and that maid after all.
Jason
The chance to host guests of a country house party. The chance to attend himself. Never in his wildest imagination had Jason seen himself blending business and pleasure so perfectly. On the one hand, if he could convince Lady Charlotte to direct some of her guests to the hotel and to let the hotel play host to tea parties, soirees, and outings, he could stand to make a large amount of money. The toffs who attended house parties tended to be loaded, and since, as often as not, parties were just excuses to show off one’s wealth in an attempt to snag a spouse, he could manufacture plenty of items for the guests to splurge on. On the other hand, he himself could impress Lady E. with the fruits of years’ worth of his own efforts. His mind reeled with possibilities.
But one thing at a time. The night was only half-done.
“Lady Elizabeth.” He turned to Lady E. “Have you finished with your supper?”
“Why yes, I have.” She smiled.
“Then if you will permit me, I will move the evening along to its next event.”
“Please do, Mr. Throckmorton.”
With a wide smile, Jason stood, taking a knife and one of the crystal wine goblets with him. He tapped the glass, causing it to chime, until the room quieted.
“Ladies and gentlemen, if you would, I invite you now to return to the gardens. The sun is setting, and very soon you will be able to see the secret splendor of what electricity can do to enhance nature.”
Oohs and aahs sounded from all around him. Good. People were impressed. If enough of them were impressed, then Lady E. would be too, and hers was the only opinion that mattered.
He stepped behind her chair and pulled it back so that she could stand. All around, his guests stood from their places and began moving toward the doors leading to the garden. The side doors had been opened along with the front door to allow access to all parts of the garden. Jason helped Lady E. to her feet, then let her go on ahead of him. He sought out Flossie in the milling mass of people. Now was when the magic began.
“Everything is under control,” Flossie told him before he could even ask the question as he approached her.
The center of the room was already empty, and each member of his staff knew their jobs. The kitchen staff was already rescuing whatever food was left-over to feed the entire staff once the night was done. The upstairs women were clearing dishes and silver. Flossie had devised a system where each one was responsible for two tables. The male staff had started removing the chairs and would roll away the tables as soon as everything else was carted off.
“Twenty minutes?” Jason asked her.
“I’ll do it in fifteen,” she replied with a wink.
His whole body reacted to her confidence and her wit. Delicious and damnably inconvenient. He’d gone a full three hours without so much as a pip from the taskmaster in his trousers, but now he would have to waltz through the rest of the evening at full attention. At least he had the promise of release in the small hours of the night when both he and Flossie were done with their work. If they both weren’t too exhausted. Knowing what was waiting made it easier to ignore the strain.
“The flower arrangements will be taken up to each guest room once you’re all dancing,” Flossie went on, “except for Lady Eagan, who told Samuel when she checked in that lilies give her hay fever. While you’re dancing, I’ll be putting together a special arrangement for her.”
“Good.” Jason nodded. He glanced over his shoulder at the door Lady E. had left through. She had to be impressed by this. Converting a gala supper into a sparkling ball in twenty—no, fifteen—minutes? If that didn’t make her sit up and take notice…well then he’d just had to think of something else.
“Go,” Flossie shooed him, her eyes bright with excitement. “I’ve got work to do, and so do you.”
He wanted to kiss her. No, that would have to wait for later. He nodded to her with a grin that was far too heated for the number of staff members scurrying around them, then pivoted and marched for the door leading to the lobby. Behind him, his staff worked with the efficiency of the clock and the heart of a lion. They would all receive bonuses in their pay packets this week.
Outside, his guests were murmuring with awe and wonder. He was eager to see the full effect of his electric garden himself. The idea had come to him in London, while touring exhibits on the modern use of electric lights and while at the theater. No one that he knew of had thought to bring a show quite like this to the lazy environs of Brynthwaite. It would cost him a staggering sum, and he wouldn’t be able to turn all of the lights on every night the way they were turned on tonight, but this was the grand opening, and as such it had to be a grand to-do. Rows of lights ran along every path at calf length, illuminating the way. In the back garden, lights outlined the gazebo and the trellis that Lawrence had outdone himself to make. Beyond that, discreetly placed lights shone on the finest of the rose bushes and lit up the fountains that splashed merrily in the front garden. Not a soul who attended tonight would ever see anything as fantastical again if he had anything to do about it.
“It’s simply breathtaking,” Lady E. said when he caught up to her and her aunt at the far side of the front garden. “I’m speechless.”
Deep, stirring pride filled Jason. The only thing that was better than Lady E’s astounded smile was the thought of Flossie racing away in the dining room, preparing his next spectacle. The curtains had been closed as his staff worked to provide the maximum effect when it came time for the revelation. After tonight, his reputation would be set in stone. No, in gold.
“I am so very pleased that you are enjoying yourself, Lady Elizabeth,” he said with all of the outward calm and grace of a dignitary, even as his heart raced like a child.
He spotted Rev. Albright standing by himself to one side.
“Lady Elizabeth,” he said. “Though you were seated at the same table, I’m afraid there wasn’t sufficient time for me to introduce you to a dear old friend and mentor of mine. Would you allow me?”
“Elizabeth. No.” Lady Charlotte whispered.
“Of course, Mr. Throckmorton,” Lady E. said at the same time, ignoring her aunt.
Jason did his best not to frown at the disagreeable older woman as he took Lady E’s arm and escorted her through the marveling crowd toward Rev. Albright. To his relief, Lady Charlotte hung far back, as though torn between not wanting a thing to do with them but feeling responsible for chaperoning.
“Lady Elizabeth Dyson, I would like you to formally meet Rev. Curt Albright,” he said as they approached. “Rev. Albright was one of the housemasters at—” He stopped and cleared his throat, face burning hot, then finished with, “Growing up.” The less he reminded Lady E. of his origins, the better. “Rev. Albright, this is Lady Elizabeth, daughter of the Earl of Thornwell.”
“Ah yes, I knew your father, Lady Elizabeth,” Rev. Albright said.
“Oh?” Lady E. brightened. “Then you should come up to Huntingdon Hall to wish him well, for his health prevents him from getting out much. He does like to visit with old friends, though.”
“Alas,” Rev. Albright lowered his head, “I’m not certain my company would be welcome.”
“Why not?” Lady E. asked with a sweet smile.
Anxiety grabbed Jason by the throat without warning. It hadn’t crossed his mind that old rumor and innuendo could rear its ugly head at an event like this. Could that explain why so many people were avoiding the company of a fine and caring man? He didn’t want to think about it, and most certainly didn’t want it to get out of hand, but he would put anyone in their place who tried to insult Rev. Albright to his face.
“I’m certain Rev. Albright could tell a hundred different stories about the boy I was,” he said, attempting to be charming and steer the conversation away from dangerous territory.
“Really?” Lady E’s face lit even more. In the glow of
electric lights, she was radiant as she turned her smile to Rev. Albright. “I would love to hear a few naughty tales.”
“I have plenty of those,” Rev. Albright laughed. “Young Jason and his friends were particularly rambunctious. They got into more trouble than half the rest of the orphanage combined, and somehow managed to get out of more trouble than the others too.”
“How delightful.” Lady E. clapped her hands together and slid closer to Rev. Albright’s side. “What did he do?”
Jason’s pleased grin faltered at the mischievous look Rev. Albright shared with her. Perhaps this wasn’t the best idea after all.
“Well, there was the time that Jason and Marshall and Lawrence snuck out of the orphanage one night to go visit old Mother Grace in the woods.”
“I’ve heard of Mother Grace,” Lady E. said. “Isn’t she a witch?”
“Oh yes,” Rev. Albright said with all due gravity. “She had them dancing in the moonlight, painted with woad, acting out some pagan ritual or another.”
Lady E. laughed merrily. “No!”
Jason cleared his throat, dread sinking into his stomach. “Yes, well, we were young.” He glanced around for a way of escaping embarrassment while still saving face.
“Were they caught?” Lady E. asked.
“Yes they were,” Rev. Albright said. “Red-handed. The rest of the staff of the orphanage was terrified of Mother Grace, though, so I was sent to go fetch them. Grace and I are old friends, you see, and—”
“If you will excuse me, I need to check on…on the preparations.”
Jason peeled away from the conversation before Rev. Albright reached the point of telling about the punishment that was doled out to him and Marshall and Lawrence, or about the unfortunate permanence of the blue dye they’d taken for woad. With any luck, Lady Charlotte would step in and put a stop to the stories. What was he thinking, letting Rev. Albright tell tales on him? He was thinking his old mentor would say something complimentary, about how hard “Young Jason” had studied or how he had scored top marks in his class every year. Well, there was still hope that topic would come up.
