by Tess Byrnes
chapter FOURTEEN
Hillaire Castle was a huge, sprawling edifice situated in a beautifully manicured park. As Mrs. Hartfield’s well sprung traveling chaise pulled up the drive to the main entrance the huge oaken doors were thrown open, and several liveried footman and a stately butler descended to assist the new arrivals from the carriage. Once inside, Priscilla looked around with awe at the impressive entry hall, complete with two shining suits of armor at the bottom of either side of a sweeping double staircase that met on the second story landing. On the far side of the huge room, recessed into the stone wall, was a fireplace in which Priscilla could have easily stood upright, and the wall itself was covered with pieces of ancient armature.
“You have arrived, at last,” a deep, familiar voice called from the top of the stairs. “Welcome to Hillaire.”
Priscilla looked up and saw the Viscount, leaning over the balustrade in welcome. He was attired in riding dress, tight fitting buckskins and a dark brown riding jacket that seemed molded to his broad shoulders. His hair was slightly tousled from a recent ride, and he was smiling in unaffected pleasure at his guests. priscilla, her color heightened, was suddenly conscious of a very strong feeling that she should have stayed away. As he descended the stairs, his eyes went directly to Priscilla, who was uncomfortably aware of wearing the same grey alpaca traveling outfit in which she first found the Viscount, lying in the lane. Not wanting to excite his memory, she became quite interested in the suit of armor beside her. With eyes that laughed, Jasper greeted Mrs. Hartfield and Lucy, as several footmen struggled by carrying their trunks to their chambers.
“I’m very pleased to see you, ma’am. And Miss Lucy. I hope you will have a most enjoyable stay. Most of our guests have arrived and are resting before dinner, but tea will be served in the drawing room in a few minutes for the hardy few who are up.” His polite words were at strong variance with the wicked glance he sent Priscilla’s way. He was clearly bent on enjoying her discomfiture. Priscilla straightened her back, and met his glance with an admonishing one of her own. Sir Jasper responded with a smile of understanding, yet with such a gleam of pure mischief in it, that Priscilla had to resume her scrutiny of the armor in order to hide her immediate response.
“But I am sure you are fatigued from your journey, and would like to take the opportunity to rest before dinner,” Jasper continued with a rather guilty look at Mrs. Hartfield, who was visibly drooping after sixteen hours in her coach, beautifully appointed though it was.
“Thank you, my lord,” the grateful matron replied. “I am a little fatigued, as you say.” She looked over at lucy, who was patently disappointed at the thought of retiring to rest, and continued. “Miss Hawksworth, if you are not too exhausted, perhaps you would accompany our Lucy down to tea?”
Priscilla, who had resolved to stay as completely in the background as possible, smiled politely at her employer. It was impossible to refuse. Priscilla was aware for the first time of being at a distinct disadvantage. In her role as governess she would be unable to command her own movements as much as she would wish.
“Yes, of course, ma’am,” she responded with a little constraint. “We’ll just freshen up a little, and be down in an hour.” The look she gave lord Jasper was a little less polite, and caused his own grin to widen.
“Delightful,” he said with a look that combined triumph with amused comprehension. “I, too, shall retire to prepare for tea. I should have apologized for greeting you in all my dirt, ma’am,” he told Mrs. Hartfield, indicating his faultless riding clothes. “I have been indulging myself in frequent rides since I returned to Hillaire.”
He turned to Priscilla. “Lucy, I know, doesn’t care to ride, but I have placed a mare at your disposal, Miss hawksworth. If you care to ride, you have but to send word to the stables.” He gave Lucy a quizzical look, and teasingly promised her all the carriage rides she could desire.
If Mrs. Hartfield thought it was odd that her daughter’s governess was being treated as an honored guest, she showed no signs of it. Instead she excused herself to the calm and quiet of her chamber to rest until the dinner hour, allowing Priscilla to take her arm as they followed a liveried footman up the wide staircase. Priscilla had expected to be housed away from the main guests, but was shown to a beautifully appointed room that communicated with Lucy’s, and had a lovely view of the sweeping gardens, and on away to the vast estate that surrounded them.
Hillaire Castle in its present state was a culmination of the architectural additions of many generations. A portion of the original castle still stood, it’s expansive and draughty rooms mostly unused, the now outmoded furniture draped in holland covers. The huge west and east wings, added on in the Georgian years, were those currently most used by the family, with the Viscount occupying rooms in the west wing. His mama presided over the east wing, where the guest rooms were located, as well as the main salons, and, above stairs, the immense ballroom.
Priscilla promised herself a tour of the older portions of the castle as soon as she could arrange it. She unpacked quickly, having dismissed the maid who came to assist her. Her wardrobe consisted of three muslin day dresses, two silk evening gowns, and the second of her ball gowns. She also pulled her riding dress from her trunk, feeling a twinge of guilt. She had known, of course, that riding would be a popular entertainment for the guests, and that, as a governess, she was unlikely to be a participant. Back at Pleasance, she had ridden daily, and Lucy’s fear of horses, and refusal to ride, had been a disappointment to Priscilla. She had hoped for the chance to ride at Hillaire Castle, knowing that the grounds were extensive, and the scenery thought to be some of the best in the country, and so had packed her riding habit. But his lordship’s generosity in placing a horse at her disposal somehow made her feel guilty.
“Which is complete nonsense,” she told herself sternly. “He probably has dozens of horses in the stables, all eating their heads off and in need of exercise.” She thought it would be best, anyway, if she arose early, riding before breakfast when the guests, as well as her host, would still be abed. She felt a sense of anticipation at the thought of galloping over the Viscount’s lovely estate. The carriage ride through the orderly fields and village of the Viscounts property, up to the beautifully kept park in which the castle was situated seemed a perfect setting for the rides she had so missed.
Her mind dwelt on the surprising reception she had received from Lord Jasper. Their last meeting had centered around her absolute refusal of his offer of marriage, and Priscilla admitted that she had been doubtful of her welcome. She thought back over the conspiratorial glances the Viscount had sent her, and of the secret he was keeping on her behalf. She was honest enough to admit that she didn’t exactly hate being the object of this handsome Viscount’s attention. “If only I could find a man who gave me that kind of attention because he wanted to marry me, not because he felt obliged to do so,” she thought, and then gave herself a mental shake. “What difference would that make?” her sensible self replied. “Sir Harry Greenwood wanted to marry you, and that sent you fleeing from your home in the dead of night!” Putting these thoughts resolutely aside, Priscilla changed her dress quickly, and once attired in a sprigged muslin morning gown, and having combed through her gleaming curls, she went to collect Lucy.
Lucy was not to be found in her own chamber, and as Priscilla approached the one assigned to Mrs. Hartfield, the reason for this was soon evident. Lying upon a satin chaise lounge, one hand clutching a vinaigrette, and the other the hand of her eldest daughter, Mrs. Hartfield gave every appearance of one not long for this world.
“My dear Miss Hawksworth,” this lady moaned softly. “I require Lucy’s attendance until my maid can have a bath prepared. I have never been a happy traveler, and find that the journey has overset me more than I had thought.”
Priscilla watched in dismay as her employer waved her vinaigrette weakly under her nose, leaning wearily against the satin cushions beneath her bewigged head. A glance at
Lucy’s countenance was reassuring. This young lady, very familiar with her mother’s mood, wore an expression of amused tolerance, and came forward to lead Priscilla a few feet away, and out of ear shot of her mother.
“She took one look at that inviting sofa, and the beautiful fire in the grate, and declared that she was unable to move from this spot until the dinner gong should sound,” Lucy explained, sotto voce. “She really does not travel well, though,” she added with a kindly glance at her prostrate mother. “Carriage rides make her head ache terribly.”
“Well, I shall stay with her, my dear Lucy,” Priscilla decided, “but I fear you should not go down to tea unaccompanied.”
“No, no,” Lucy interjected hastily. “I, uh, know how to settle her most comfortably. You must go down and be the Hartfield representative at tea, dear Hawkie, and I shall join you if I am able.” Seeing that she hadn’t quite convinced her, she added impetuously, “Oh, you must go down.”
“Well, all right, Lucy,” Priscilla agreed, a little suspiciously, “but it would not be unseemly for us to remain in our rooms during tea, given the long journey we have had to get here. Why is it so important that one of us go down to tea?”
“Oh,” Lucy replied with an assumption of nonchalance. “It isn’t important, I suppose, but you always have tea at this hour, and we need not both attend Mama. You know she hates to have a fuss made. Do you go, Hawkie. I’ll be down if I can.”
She propelled Priscilla gently but inexorably toward the door as she spoke, closing it behind her with relief. She turned to find some feathers to burn, happy in the belief that she was getting back in step with her plans.
As Priscilla descended the grand staircase, she became aware of the sounds indicating the arrival of another guest.
“Jasper, darling,” a soft feminine voice was saying in a tone that complained and caressed at the same time. “I think I would have died, literally expired, if you hadn’t cooked up this little Christmas party.” Her voice was almost a purr. “I thought it was going to be weeks until I saw you again, but I should have known you wouldn’t allow that. You are so clever.”
“Hello, Esmé,” there was a laugh in the Viscount’s calm voice as he replied. “That is the most unusual traveling dress I think I have seen today.”
“I’m glad you approve,” the honeyed voice continued. “I had you in mind while I was putting it on.”
Priscilla’s eyebrows rose involuntarily at that.
“I didn’t say I approved, Esmé dear, I said it was unusual,” the Viscount replied provocatively. Priscilla couldn’t hear Esmé’s reply to this, but she set her shoulders squarely, and continued down the stairs.
She rounded the bend, and hoped she showed none of the trepidation she felt at intruding upon this scene. She refused to turn and scuttle back up the stairs to her chamber. Priscilla gave a swift, appraising glance at the tall blonde woman with whom the Viscount had been conversing.
She was a very beautiful woman, and if Priscilla doubted the verity of her burnished auburn locks, her deep green eyes were real enough. She looked to be about thirty years of age, a little older than the Viscount, and was dressed in a black and white dotted traveling dress that gave the appearance of having been painted onto her very curvaceous figure. Huge purple feathers adorned her outfit at the shoulders and hips, and it was topped with a Shako style hat with more of the dyed feathers coming down to rest lightly on her perfumed cheek. The glance she gave Priscilla seemed to tally the cost of her garment and weigh her stature as a competitor, and was entirely dismissive.
“My dear Miss Hawksworth,” Jasper called out. Esmé’s attention was caught by the genuine warmth in the Viscount’s voice, and her attention returned swiftly to the young woman who approached. She looked quickly up and saw the welcoming smile unconsciously lighting his eyes, and her own eyes narrowed.
Jasper continued. “Come and allow me to make you known to Lady Spencer.” Priscilla came reluctantly forward for the introduction, and was surprised to hear herself introduced as a guest, and not as a governess or even as a companion.
“He’s probably ashamed of having anyone find out that he offered for someone who must work to support themselves,” she thought, a little bitterly. Still, she wasn’t at all sorry to be able to meet Lady Spencer on an equal social footing.
The tall auburn- haired woman had her gloved hand possessively tucked into Lord Jasper’s arm, and the proprietary looks she cast his way gave no room for doubt as to her feelings for the Viscount. Priscilla, firmly squelching a pang of jealousy, smiled politely at the new arrival, said a polite how do you do, and excused herself. Next to the extremely elegant older woman, she felt like a gauche country cousin. She was completely unaware that her fresh, untouched complexion, wide blue eyes and her youth contrasted very favorable with the arts Lady Spencer used to create her look.
Priscilla bowed to the older woman. “It’s very nice to make your acquaintance, Lady Spencer,” she murmured politely.
“And your, Miss Hawksworth.”
“Well, you’ll be eager to rest and change, I’m sure,” Priscilla smiled and continued to descend the stairs.
She left the two on the landing, and crossed to the drawing room where afternoon tea was to be served, and turning to look back at the couple, despite a firm resolve to do no such thing. She watched as Esmé, one foot on the stair, blew a kiss on her purple gloved hand to the tall Viscount. But the Viscount had already turned away, and the blown kiss was ignored, a fact Priscilla hoped, but doubted, Lady Spencer had noted.
“Miss Hawksworth,” Jasper called, as he caught up with her at the door to the drawing room. “May I impose upon you to join me for tea with a very special lady?”
Seeing the wicked gleam back in his blue eyes, Priscilla feared that the Viscount had perceived her tiny gleam of jealousy. She responded coolly, “I don’t think that you and Lady Spencer really require a third, Lord Jasper.” She turned as if to enter the room.
His hand on her arm detained her, and meeting his eyes a little belligerently she saw nothing but amusement in his, causing her wrath to bubble up.
“No, no,” he said laughingly. “Absolve me of all intent to anger you, my dear. Even if it does make your eyes flash beautifully. I was referring to my Grandmother, who resides in the Dower house, and to whom I owe a visit.” He dropped his hand from her arm, and made a graceful bow. “I would be most honored if you would join us for tea, Miss Hawksworth,” he intoned graciously.
A reluctant smile lit Priscilla’s eyes, and she placed her hand in his. “I would be most pleased to accept,” she replied formally, ruining the effect a moment later by adding, “To tell the truth, I was a little reluctant to go into tea unaccompanied, knowing no one of your party.”
“Shall I stand by as protector?” he questioned laughingly.
“Actually, I think that is my role,” she chuckled up at him.
“Do you think I need protecting from anyone in particular?” he queried, raising one eyebrow.
“I was speaking of protecting Lucy,” Priscilla said with a quelling frown. ”You do remember that I am here in the capacity of governess and companion, correct?” She watched him closely to see if this reminder caused him discomfiture, and didn’t know if she was relieved or not when he merely smiled down at her and commented that with Miss Lucy she was likely to have her hands full.
“Lucy is a sweet, unaffected girl!” she objected in defense of her charge.
“Sweet, yes. Unaffected, perhaps. Enterprising, certainly,” he smiled. “My dear girl, have you not noticed how she is always disappearing whenever there is a chance to leave us alone? Why did she not accompany you down to tea? And have you ever noticed her to have a love for bird watching except when in our company?”
Comprehension dawned on Priscilla’s face, but she was quick to make excuses for her protégé.
“You need not defend her to me, my dear, for I am in complete agreement with her, and thank her for her efforts.” His fa
ce darkened, “Except for the incident in the lake that is. Still,” he continued optimistically, “she’s bound to get better with practice.”
“But I don’t want her to get better with practice,” Priscilla responded indignantly. “I don’t want her to practice at all. I have already refused your very obliging offer, which was made out of pity, and, oh, I should return at once.” She turned as if to resume her steps which had led them out of the castle and through a very pretty walk to a big old stone house outside the main gardens.
“Please don’t,” Jasper said persuasively. “Stay and have tea with my grandmother, and I promise to be a perfect gentleman, and not embarrass you with continued protestations. Yet, that is.” The combination of gentle laughter and wicked mischief in his eyes was one which Priscilla was starting to recognize as her downfall, yet she turned back into step with him, and, exhorting a promise that he keep to his word, allowed him to hand her up the walk to the front door of the Dower House.
The room which they entered off of a dark hallway was a large salon, with graceful gold draperies, and a startling quantity of furniture. Small loveseats crowded around gilt occasional tables. Chairs of various architectural eras lined the walls. A bright fire burned in the grate, and from amongst the furniture clustered around it a voice called out in a slightly querulous tone, “If you’ve come to join me for tea please step forward. I’d get up and join you, but I fear I’m trapped by a particularly malevolent chesterfield.”
“Watch your language, love, I’ve brought you a visitor,” the Viscount spoke warningly, with a laugh in his voice.
Priscilla sent him a smile of curiosity, before replying soothingly in the direction of the voice, “No, please don’t get up. We shall be very happy to join you at the fireside.” The two made their careful way towards the voice, and, reaching their destination, they sank gratefully into two overstuffed chairs.
