“Then let us just say that my sole object was to make certain that Anne and Alice had their ball—or are you not amazed at how reasonable Lady Sandifort became once she learned that I had invited the earl?”
He opened his mouth to speak and then he understood. “Oh,” he murmured. “I begin to see.” He sincerely doubted, however, that Lucy had guessed at the entire truth as to why Valmaston’s presence would so greatly appeal to Lady Sandifort. Of course she would have designs on the earl, but he saw something more, something that had provoked her into refusing the ball in the first place. In truth, Lady Sandifort had been angry with him, but this he could not say to Lucy, certainly not without receiving a host of questions on the subject, which he had no desire to answer.
“Robert, I suppose I am asking you to trust me. Can you?”
He was surprised by the question. “A little, I suppose,” he responded, but there was an odd voice from deep within his mind that said, you trust her a great deal more than that. He found himself shocked.
She smiled. “I suppose a little will have to do then. Let me just say that I have a profound reason for requiring Valmaston’s presence here at Aldershaw.”
“So I have apprehended but I do not believe you understand everything.”
“Perhaps not,” she said, “but of one thing I am certain. There will now be a ball whereas yesterday there would not.”
At that he smiled. “To argue that point would be fruitless.”
“So it would,” she said cheerfully.
“Then a ball there will be and Valmaston shall reside beneath my roof. Good God!”
“Then all that remains is to settle the date for the ball. I shall consult with Lady Sandifort. Will that be agreeable to you?”
He shook his head. “As much as any of this can be!”
Lucy returned to the house and discovered that Lady Sandifort had already spoken with Cook, and the date of the ball, which would of course include a supper for which Cook would be responsible, had been set for the third Tuesday in August. Armed with this information, Lucy retired to her bedchamber and opened her writing desk. She penned a long letter to Lord Valmaston explaining her need of him at Aldershaw, something she knew would come as a complete surprise to him, for she had indeed told more than one whisker about having invited him to Anne and Alice’s come-out ball. How her conscience prickled her! But there was nothing for it—a woman of Lady Sandifort’s unhappy character required measures of the most extreme!
Instead of seeing the letter posted by the mails, however, she walked to the village and hired a man to ride to London and deliver the message personally to the earl’s townhouse in London. She knew he was fixed in the metropolis for several weeks and she only hoped that, after all her machinations, he would be able to attend a ball about which he had not even the smallest awareness. She instructed the rider to await an answer, even giving him sufficient funds for several nights’ lodging should he be required to stay in town until such time as he could receive the response.
Afterward, she went to the local pub and discussed the hiring of laborers with the innkeeper who, by the nature of his profession, was able to direct her to the proper men. Though she did not have her entire fortune at her command, her quarterly allowance was quite generous so that in the end she was able to hire several house servants as well.
Later that evening, in the armory where the family gathered as was the tradition, Lucy informed not Robert but Lady Sandifort as to precisely what she had done, that she had hired laborers and servants to put the house and gardens in order so that the family could be comfortable. She had not dared to look at Robert as she spoke. “I know it was presumptuous of me and impertinent, but it is my gift to Anne and Alice that they might enjoy a proper come-out ball. Of course, had I not already invited Lord Valmaston, I would not have done so.”
Lady Sandifort lifted an approving brow. “You did very right, though I daresay had Robert managed his affairs better he could have long since seen things mended at Aldershaw. But you have done what was right and good.”
“Thank you, ma’am.” Only then did she dare to look at Robert to see how he received her news. As she suspected, he was not in the least content with her. His complexion was ruddy, his eyes seemed to bulge a little in their sockets, and the glare he settled upon her face sent a severe shiver down her spine. In for a penny, in for a pound, she thought.
Lucy glanced at the others. Henry appeared completely stunned, Hetty not less so. George, however, merely frowned rather heavily.
“We are to have a proper number of upper maids?” Rosamunde asked, glancing around in strong disbelief.
“Yes,” Lucy responded.
“I shall have a bath every night,” she murmured ecstatically. “In rose water.”
Her husband glanced at her, clearly surprised that she would say such a thing. As for the others, several throats were cleared.
Robert rose solemnly to his feet.
Lady Sandifort called out sharply. “Now, Robert, I can see that you mean to give our darling Lucy a dressing down but I wish you will not, for she has meant only what was best for all of us. I take it kindly in her that she has acted on behalf of your sisters and why should she not be of use while she remains here?” She turned to Lucy and offered a beaming smile.
Lucy said, “You have spoken my thoughts precisely. I ought to be of use and I will be.”
Anne regarded Robert anxiously. “Do you mean to forbid our ball? Is that what you were going to say before Lady Sandifort interrupted you?”
Lucy watched a great deal of indecision pass back and forth across his face. “I was,” he said.
“No,” Anne whispered, tears filling her eyes.
Robert turned to Lucy and cast her a scathing look. “I suppose if I refuse now I will be harassed by all the ladies of the house.”
“Yes, you will,” Hetty said, but she was laughing and hurriedly gained her feet to slip her arm through his. “All will be well,” she said. “You must trust that Lucy is doing what ought to be done. Do not worry. We will find some way to repay her for this great kindness.”
“Yes, we will,” Henry cried, also rising to his feet. He crossed the room to quickly possess himself of Lucy’s hands. “You are an angel. I am convinced of it.”
George, seated in a chair near his wife, shook his head. “But these expenses will be very great, indeed! Are you certain, Lucy? I only wish that I could be of use as well, but all my funds are fixed at Baddesley.”
“Do not distress yourself, George. I believe my father would have wished for me to be of use to your family. He loved you all so very much, and you in particular, for he always thought you would have made a very fine officer had your inclination tended in that direction.”
George glanced at his wife and appeared to grow uncomfortable. “Very kind of you to say so. Colonel Stiles was a favorite here at Aldershaw, as you very well know, Cousin.”
“Am I to have no say in this?” Robert inquired strongly.
“No, Brother,” Hetty stated softly. “Lucy is doing what she believes is right and following the dictates of one’s heart is always a proper thing.”
Lucy watched Robert’s shoulders fall and she realized for the first time that he was obviously bearing a rather heavy burden, perhaps heavier than she had yet come to understand.
Two days later, the rider returned with word from Valmaston. He would be delighted to attend the come-out ball as well as to pass several days at Aldershaw. With this portion of her scheme in motion, Lucy turned her attention to the manor and surrounding grounds.
The next fortnight at Aldershaw saw rapid changes. Three upper maids entered into service and Mr. Quarley was assigned six stout laborers, fine young men used to hard work, to remove years of debris from the orchards, portions of the home wood, and all the areas of the formal gardens both in the front of the house and the back. No part of the estate was left unattended, so that as each morning dawned, Lucy saw improvements that warmed her hear
t.
Her primary interest was in shaping the leggy shrubs, trees, and overgrown flowerbeds into a reasonable state but not so severely that they would require months of recovery before appearing pretty again. To this end, part of the job of the laborers was to bring water to the garden, a task that required primarily the work of their shoulders as they hauled brimming buckets from the stream by the home wood.
The effect of sufficient water applied beneath a vibrant summer sun was evident day by day and week by week. The lawn recovered quickly and even the bare patches filled in speedily. The entire expanse, both front and back, was kept properly scythed by a seventh man that Robert decided to hire permanently as undergardener to Mr. Quarley. Fortunately for the lawns and the flower beds, summer showers became sufficiently frequent so that within a month Aldershaw had the beginnings of recovery.
Lucy had the children help supervise the trimming of the maze yews. Of course, their involvement added greatly to the amount of time the task required, but she believed all four of them benefited from the parts they played. Where the yews were too thin and the walls not established clearly, Miss Gunville had the children collect long reeds and taught them how to weave them into loose lattices, which Mr. Quarley in turn used to shore up the maze walls.
The final addition to the maze was a surprise that Lucy had prepared for the children. Miss Gunville had kept them in the schoolroom until Lucy sent for them. Once at the center of the maze, they were astonished to discover a fort made of fallen logs from the home wood, supplemented with lumber prepared by the laborers.
Eugenia and Hyacinth gasped in wonder. “We have a proper place for our tea parties,” the latter cried.
“Tea parties!” William called out in disgust, racing toward the door of the fort. “We will have nothing so absurd in this outpost. Who would serve tea to soldiers doing battle with Indians?”
Violet, carrying the doll Lucy had given her on the first day, entered after William then slowly emerged, her expression beatific. “There is a table and chairs inside just my size. I am going to bring Tom in here as well.”
“He won’t stay,” William cried. “No cat will.”
“Tom will,” Violet said, scowling up at her older brother.
“A table and chairs?” Eugenia cried. “Then we can indeed have tea parties.”
“No tea!” William cried.
“What about lemon cake, Will?” Hyacinth asked, coaxingly. “ ’Tis your favorite.”
“Well, lemon cake might be all right, and if we did have cake I suppose you could have your tea, but you shan’t make me put on a bonnet like you did last year!”
Lucy bit her lip to keep from laughing. Her heart swelled at the sight of their happiness. The fort even had a short staircase leading to a tower, a place William claimed as his own a moment later.
“Lucy has certainly made great strides in the past month,” Lady Sandifort said.
Robert was standing by the open window of his library and looking down into the garden below. Mr. Quarley was directing three of his laborers in the planting of a great many shrubs and flowers that he had apparently been nursing to maturity for the past two years. In the center of the lawn, Lucy had a kerchief tied about her eyes and was leaping and lunging in the direction of four squealing, laughing children playing at blindman’s buff. He vowed he had not heard so much laughter in years at Aldershaw and she had done this. His heart swelled in gratitude and something more he was reluctant to put a name to. A month past he had told her he wished she had never come, but how foolish such a statement seemed now.
To Lady Sandifort he said, “Indeed, you are quite right. I am beginning to think Lucy could heal a blind man if she set her mind to it.” He turned away from the window.
Lady Sandifort was gowned exquisitely as always. She wore dark blue silk that accented her brown hair and warm complexion quite perfectly. Her hair was gathered in a knot of curls atop her head. She was almost beautiful save for the hawk-like expression of her eyes, something all her beauty could not dispel.
“I wonder,” Lady Sandifort said softly, in just that tone of voice all too familiar to his ears, “if she could work a small miracle for me.”
He shot a reproving glance, then asked briskly, “So, have all the invitations been sent for the come-out ball?”
She smiled, also in a manner too familiar. “You do not mean to ask me what miracle I would wish for Lucy to perform for me?” She was advancing on him slowly, drifting the tip of her finger over the table that separated them.
He tried again. “Hetty said there were no less than one hundred invitations and that we should expect twice that number in guests, even if many cannot come.”
She began to pout but continued to move toward him. “Do you mean to be tiresome this afternoon?”
“I mean to be sensible. My feelings have not changed and I would not wish to encourage you.”
“Encourage me? What a ridiculous thing to say.” Still she moved in her languid manner toward him. She looked as hungry as a cat eyeing a bowl of cream. “You speak as though I desire something proper between us.”
He drew in a deep breath, wishing she would not press him in this manner. She held all the cards and he could hardly give her a set-down lest she take a pet and once more refuse to allow the ball. “You are my father’s widow and because of my love for my father I would never disgrace you in any manner, nor his memory.”
“I do not think a kiss would disgrace your father’s memory. One little kiss?”
“No, Lady Sandifort. It is improper and I do not want you to think, that is to hope for more from me, as I have said a score of times before.”
“I do not hope for anything save one little kiss,” she said. Her eyes were very wide and, for all their innocent shape, held so cunning and devouring a look that he wished himself a thousand miles away. “A single, quite harmless kiss, nothing more.”
The day Lady Sandifort wanted nothing more would be the day she drew her last breath.
“Enough,” he said sharply.
She pouted in her flirtatious manner and continued to advance on him.
A scratching sounded on the door. “Come,” he called out, greatly relieved.
Henry strode in. “Rosamunde has already left on her weekly pilgrimage to Chaleford, and Hetty cannot be found at all. It would seem a very large parcel has arrived from the dressmaker’s and one of the needlewomen begs a word.
“I will go,” Lady Sandifort said.
She swished by Robert, her current purpose forgotten in the exhilarating prospect of seeing the new gowns that had been ordered not just for the come-out ball but for daily use as well. Lucy had been beyond generous in every way and in this moment he was particularly grateful to her since Lady Sandifort’s attentions had been diverted away from him. He wondered just how he would ever be able to repay her and that for so many things!
“What is all the laughter I am hearing?” Henry asked, moving toward the window. Robert followed him. “Ah, it is Lucy, of course. What a darling she is. Are you not glad she has come?”
“Yes, for I have never seen Hyacinth smile so much, nor Violet.”
“I do not believe they have been happier,” Henry observed.
“I quite agree. Hetty told me only last week that Lucy has finally persuaded Lady Sandifort that she ought only to be a mother to her children in those ways that pleased her else the children would be, how did she put it, ‘distressed by her own evident unhappiness.’ ”
“Do I take that to mean our beloved stepmother has ceased torturing her children by insisting they be brought to her each morning?”
“Precisely.”
“So that is why we have not heard Lady Sandifort shrieking so much of late.”
Robert shook his head. “There are some women who should not have children. She is one of them.”
“By all accounts, then, Lucy ought to have a dozen.” Henry sighed deeply. “I am come to believe she is a very great lady and she is certainly the fir
st person I have known who could manage Lady Sandifort.”
“I think you may be right.” He paused for a moment, then asked, “So tell me, are you prepared to take holy orders yet?”
Henry immediately grew uneasy. “Not yet. I beg you will forgive me but I have decided to wait to make my decision until the autumn.”
Robert glanced down into the yard, clapping him on the shoulder. “You could not do better,” he said, watching Lucy reach for William and miss him entirely.
“Then you know?”
“Of course. A sapscull could see you are in love with her and I begin to think you well suited. She is never so calm as when you are about.”
“As opposed to you, Robert? It has not escaped my notice that you set up her back with the speed of lightning. Sometimes I have even wondered—”
“What?”
“Well, you do not seem to appreciate her as I think you ought. You rarely compliment her on the progress of the grounds and the house! Good God, all the rooms have been made so pleasant, there are fresh flowers everywhere, and the smell of lavender and beeswax in every chamber. Would it hurt you terribly to thank her?”
Robert rolled his eyes. “I fear thanking her,” he stated firmly. “I fear what such a statement will cause her to think. I fear she will dig a canal!”
Henry threw his head back and laughed so loudly that the children called to him from below.
“What is so amusing?” William shouted.
“Your eldest brother said something absurd!”
“What?”
“He said he is afraid Lucy means to dig a canal on his property!”
William thought this a great joke as well, as did the other children. So it was that Lucy removed her kerchief and called back. “What an excellent notion! If we dug a canal—just a small one, mind—the children could have fun helping, and we could bring water more easily to the gardens!”
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