by Carla Kelly
As soon as she thought her legs would move again she walked to the table where there was a pretty jug waiting to be ornamented with the roses she had cut. She began to trim the stem of each butter-yellow bloom and place it in the jug. She had to admit that Alex had never exhibited any embarrassment in her presence. Perhaps he was telling the truth when he said he did not notice her disfigurement. She had to admit she forgot it herself, when she was playing with the children, or in the company of good friends whom she had known for years.
She had even forgotten it in the earl’s presence, more than once. Just now, for example, when he had called her an opponent worthy of his mettle. That was pure foolishness, of course. Alex was merely being kind. She slowly added another rose to the jug. He had said on more than one occasion that he was not renowned for being kind. But if not kind, what had he meant? She shook her head. The man was an enigma, she could not make him out at all. Yet there was no doubting that he made her forget that she was a cripple, that she had one leg shorter than the other.
But had she? It occurred to her that she had never questioned it before. Diana put down her scissors and placed her hands on the table top. She consciously adjusted her weight until it was spread evenly between both her feet. She was so used to favouring her left leg, keeping the weight from it when walking or standing, that she felt the strain immediately in her calf muscles, but both heels were on the floor. Perhaps the difference was not so great, after all...
‘Oh! I beg your pardon.’
Diana swung around at the sound of the soft voice, blushing as if she had been caught doing something reprehensible.
‘Do come in, Lady Frances. I was just replacing the flowers in here.’
‘Pray, do not let me keep you from your work.’ Lady Frances moved forward, the skirts of her pale-blue riding habit billowing slightly as she glided into the room. ‘Lord Davenport is taking me driving this morning. He is gone to fetch the curricle but there is such a chill wind sprung up I thought I would wait here by the window until he brings it to the door.’
‘Oh, yes, yes, of course.’ Diana trimmed the final few roses and added them to the arrangement before placing it carefully in the centre of the table.
‘How pretty,’ remarked Lady Frances, in the same patronising tone she used for the children. ‘I am sure the earl appreciates your efforts here, Miss Grensham. Alexander is a great lover of all things beautiful. He has acquired quite a collection of works of art, did you know?’
‘Yes, I had heard that.’
‘He is considered something of a connoisseur, I believe.’ She sighed. ‘Dear Alexander, he is quite intolerant of anything that is less than perfect. He has the most exacting standards, I vow I am almost afraid to go out in this wind lest it should pull my curls out of place.’
‘I like blustery days,’ replied Diana, adding with a smile, ‘which is fortunate, since we have so many of them.’
‘Ah, but you have the advantage of me, Miss Grensham.’ Lady Frances replied in silky accents. ‘The appearance of a governess is of little importance, is it? Ah—here is the earl now. I must go!’
She swept out of the room, leaving only silence and the faint trace of her heavy, cloying perfume in the room. Slowly Diana gathered up the abandoned leaves and trimmings from the roses and placed them back in her basket. She heard the thud of the main door and went over to the window. Alex’s curricle was standing on the drive with Stark the groom holding the heads of the restive greys while Alex helped Lady Frances to climb up.
There was no doubt they made a handsome couple, Alex so large and rugged, the perfect foil for the lady’s fair beauty. The final vestiges of the morning’s happiness drained from Diana’s spirit. Even if she could rid herself of that hateful, limping gait she would still be small, thin and freckled. No pretensions to beauty at all.
With something like a sigh she picked up her basket and limped slowly from the room, her left leg dragging more heavily than ever.
Chapter Nine
A day spent with Meggie and Florence restored Diana’s cheerful spirits. Knowing the visitors would be leaving in the morning engendered a holiday mood in the schoolroom. The wind showed no sign of abating and by the afternoon the rain had set in, so they kept to the top floor all day, venturing downstairs only to join the house party for an hour after dinner. The girls were by now quite at home with their guests and when Mrs Peters invited them to come and sit with her they ran off happily, leaving Diana to retire to her customary sofa on the far side of the room. She was a little apprehensive when she saw the earl approaching, which he noted immediately.
‘Lay those ruffled feathers, Diana, I have not come to quarrel with you.’
‘That will indeed be a novelty,’ she replied, unable to resist.
He grinned. ‘Witch. I merely came to say that if you were planning to bring the children to London again you need not put up at an hotel. I have rooms enough for you all at Half Moon Street.’
‘Th-thank you,’ stuttered Diana, surprised. ‘I—’
‘It is a bachelor establishment, but if you bring Nurse, or your maid, I am sure they will be able to make everything comfortable enough for you.’
‘I do not have a maid,’ she said, distracted. ‘At least, not one that could be spared to come to London. Jenny, the head housemaid, does all I need.’ She added, her encounter with Lady Frances not yet forgotten, ‘My appearance is of little importance.’
He frowned, accentuating the ragged scar across one dark brow.
‘Why the deuce should you think that? Meggie and Florence have no mother to guide them. You must set them an example, Diana. How will they learn to run their household if they have no experience of such matters?’
‘Surely there is time for that later?’ she responded, nettled. ‘From your wife, perhaps.’
He said irritably, ‘It may have escaped your notice that I have no wife.’
‘Not yet, but—’
‘You will appoint a maid, madam, with immediate effect. Take this Jane, or whatever her name is, if she suits you, and bring in another housemaid.’
‘But—’
‘See to it, Diana, or I shall do so.’
His tone and his look were implacable and Diana eyed him resentfully. His frown disappeared as suddenly as it had come and he laughed.
‘I know, you think me overbearing and autocratic, do you not? But it is not only the girls’ comfort I am thinking of. You are a lady, Diana, not a servant.’
His swift change disconcerted her but before she could say anything they were interrupted by calls for music.
‘It is our last night here and we should dance with the little girls,’ declared Lady Frances. ‘And Miss Grensham can play for us again, since she does not dance.’
‘Oh, but Diana does dance.’ Meggie’s young voice floated across the room. ‘Very well, too. She never limps then.’
Diana’s faced flamed. Alex was looking at her and she quickly excused herself, hurrying away to take her place at the harpsichord before anyone could press her to dance.
* * *
The carriages were at the door, the trunks and bags had all been loaded and now it was time for the guests to take their leave. Diana stood in one corner of the hall with Meggie and Florence while everyone bustled to and fro. Mr Hamilton dashed upstairs in search of Mrs Peters’s lost gloves, Miss Prentiss tied and re-tied the strings of her cloak and no one seemed in any hurry to quit the house. Lady Frances came across to take her leave, acknowledging Diana with no more than a nod, but bending to say goodbye to the children.
‘Your uncle has promised that we shall come to Chantreys again very soon,’ she said, giving Meggie and Florence her dazzling smile. ‘Then you will dance for me, will you not?’
‘I am sure they will not disappoint you, Frances,’ said the earl, coming up. He turned
to Diana. ‘When I come again the party will be much larger, the south pavilion must be opened up to accommodate my guests.’
‘I am sure Mrs Wallace will take care of that, my lord.’
‘And the orangery must be cleared. Meggie and Florence will need somewhere to show off their dancing skills. And, of course, we must have a ball.’
‘A ball!’
‘Why, yes, Miss Grensham.’ Lady Frances straightened and sent a smiling glance towards Lord Davenport. ‘Why should you be so surprised? It is time the new earl was seen by the local society, especially if we—if he is to spend more time at Chantreys.’
Diana had no doubt that the slip was deliberate. Her eyes shifted to Alex’s face, but it was inscrutable. Lady Frances, however, was looking like a cat that had lapped up a bowl full of cream as she took the earl’s arm.
‘Of course, Alexander, for such a large party you will be needing a hostess.’
‘I do not see that.’
‘Oh, my dear sir, how can you be such a tease? You must have a hostess to look after your guests.’
The lady gave a soft, sultry laugh and threw a coy glance at him. Diana was aware of a very reprehensible feeling of satisfaction when the earl appeared unaffected by these blandishments, but his next words surprised her.
‘Then Miss Grensham shall do it,’ he declared.
‘No!’
Diana’s dismay was matched, if not surpassed, by that of Lady Frances. Her smile disappeared and her eyes positively snapped with displeasure. Alex, however, continued as if nothing was amiss.
‘Since Diana will be here with the children she might as well make herself useful.’
Diana gave an uncertain laugh. ‘How gallantly expressed, my lord.’
There was a glint of humour, but no remorse in his hard grey eyes when they rested upon her.
‘You have lived at Chantreys for years. Clearly you are the best person to oversee the preparations for my visit. I also need a list of all the local families to be invited to the ball. Do you think the task too much for you?’
‘Not that part of it, but I have no wish to be your hostess.’
‘You are in effect the mistress of this house. By your own admission you do not wish to leave. It seems only fitting that you should fill the role. Unless you would prefer me to put one of my other properties at your disposal?’
So that was it, he was trying to oust her from Chantreys. Well, he should see that she would not be moved. Head up, she smiled, aware that her charges were listening intently to the exchange.
‘Having promised Meggie and Florence the pleasure of another visit from you, I could not deprive them of it now, my lord.’
There was a flicker of appreciation in his eyes but he merely nodded and began to pull on his gloves.
‘I will send you word of the dates for my next visit as soon as it is decided. I shall also have the invitations for the ball printed. How many people do you think we can get in the orangery, a hundred, two?’
‘When the late earl held a ball there we had every family in the neighbourhood plus guests from London, so over a hundred.’
‘Ah, so you have done this before.’
‘I helped my sister with the arrangements, but your brother’s secretary, Mr Timothy, took care of most of the work.’
‘Then he shall do so again. He has been making his way around all the estates for the past few months, refreshing the inventories for me, but I shall write and ask him to come to Chantreys to help you.’
Lady Frances shifted impatiently at his side.
‘My lord, everyone else has gone to the carriages.’
‘Yes, yes, one moment, I have yet to say goodbye to my wards.’ He bent to accept a kiss and a hug from Florence and Meggie, and as he straightened he addressed Diana again.
‘I shall leave all to you. Write to me, tell me what you need. It shall be done.’
With a final nod he turned and went out with Lady Frances on his arm. Diana and the girls followed and stood on the drive, waving until the carriages were lost from sight.
‘When do you think they will be back?’ asked Florence. ‘How long will we have to learn a dance for them?’
‘And will we have new dresses?’ asked Meggie, skipping back to the house beside Diana. ‘Oh, and shall we be allowed to go to the ball? When Alice Frederick’s parents held a ball last year Alice said she was allowed to sit at the top of the stairs and watch the dancing.’
‘But there are no stairs in the orangery,’ Florence pointed out. ‘And there is no minstrels’ gallery either. Squire Huddleston has a minstrels’ gallery at the Manor, and that is where the musicians sit to play. Where will they sit in the orangery, Diana? And what about—’
‘Peace, peace!’ Diana laughed, stopping and throwing up her hands. ‘I have no answers for you. We must wait until Lord Davenport decides upon a date—indeed, by the time he reaches London he may have thought better of the whole idea!’
And I really, truly hope he does, she thought in silent desperation.
* * *
‘So you have set the date for the Chantreys ball.’ Gervase Wollerton ushered Alex into the box he had secured at the King’s Theatre. ‘Your grand ball will take place on the ninth of September.’
‘Correct,’ said Alex. ‘I would have preferred it to be earlier, but I was obliged to delay when I learned that peace with Bonaparte is at an end. Lady Hune believes her granddaughter is trapped in France. It was inevitable that the Treaty of Amiens would not hold and she had written to Lady Cassandra, urging her and her husband to return to England, but it would seem they remained just a little too long.’
‘Dashed unfortunate. I believe there are a number of families caught up in that way. How is Lady Hune taking it?’
‘You know my great-aunt, Gervase, she faces it with her usual sangfroid, but she is anxious and I want to be nearby to support her,’ replied Alex. ‘Having agreed to sponsor Miss Tatham in her first Season, Lady Hune is committed to remaining in town, but she would want to stay in any case, since if there is news it will reach here first.’
‘Then let us pray there is some news, and soon, my friend,’ said Gervase with unusual gravity. ‘When do you intend to go to Chantreys?’
‘Two weeks before the ball. I will be taking a party of guests with me, including you, Gervase.’
‘And will your wards be in residence?’
‘They will indeed,’ Alex replied grimly, thinking of the letter he had received that very morning.
‘So Miss Grensham hasn’t panicked at the thought of the house being overrun with your louche friends.’
‘On the contrary, Miss Grensham has informed me that the children are looking forward to it. They are preparing a theatrical performance for us.’
Gervase laughed, but quickly turned it to a cough when Alex glared at him.
‘I think she has your measure, Alex,’ he said, keeping his eyeglass fixed upon the dancers who were now coming on to the stage. ‘You are too fond of your wards to want to corrupt them. And she knows your guests won’t be that disreputable. After all you are holding a ball to introduce yourself to the local society.’
‘I am well aware of that,’ replied Alex impatiently. ‘I thought when I suggested the ball, the idea of acting as my hostess would have been enough to make her vacate Chantreys, for a few months at least.’
Mr Wollerton tore his eyes away from the stage long enough to cast a reproachful look at Alex.
‘I have seen your guest list—it is hardly the sort of party we discussed holding there, old friend.’
‘I am well aware of that fact, too!’ Alex scowled. ‘Dash it, Gervase, I had to invite my more respectable acquaintances. I can’t take a crowd of rakes and lightskirts to Chantreys while Diana and the children are there.’
; His scowl deepened. If he was honest with himself, the society of his more outrageous friends held little appeal for him these days. He would not have invited Lady Frances if he had not as good as promised her she should attend. However, she was entertaining company and would add a little leaven to the respectable party he had put together.
As the orchestra struck up for the opening melody he turned his eyes to the stage, wondering what had possessed him to arrange such an event. He could easily have found another property for his parties and his precious art collection, instead he had committed himself to what could only be a very tedious two weeks. The answer was clear, of course. He had told Diana he would persuade her to leave Chantreys of her own free will and he was not about to back down, not when the protagonist was a slip of a girl who showed no deference at all for his title or his social standing.
The dancers tripped on to the stage. Beside him Gervase raised his eyeglass to inspect them, but Alex was too lost in his own thoughts to give them more than a cursory glance. He had always been impatient of the sycophants who bowed and scraped and agreed with his every utterance, but Diana should show him some respect. He was after all several years her senior, as well as being a great deal more worldly-wise.
He shifted in his chair. It wasn’t that he was conceited, puffed up in his own esteem, but it had become a matter of pride. Even as the thought formed he felt a grin tugging at his mouth. He had to admit he enjoyed pitting his wits against Diana. He wrote to her in the most high-handed manner regarding the arrangements for the house party and she always answered him graciously. She made no demur at his rapid and frequent changes to the guest list for the ball, and his outrageously flippant suggestion that she should invite the Prince of Wales was firmly but politely declined on the grounds that to have such an august personage at Chantreys would run the risk of at least two of his neighbours being carried off by apoplexy and seriously overpower the sensibilities of several local matrons.
