by Amanda Scott
Colin swallowed again, then looked manfully into his uncle’s eyes. “I told him that Cousin Sarah was nutty about him, too,” he confessed. “I said she had told me so, that she thought he had beautiful eyes, that she was partial to red hair, that … that, she dared not speak to him for fear of you.” He had opened the budget, and now he avoided Sarah’s eyes and his uncle’s as well.
“Wretch!” Sarah muttered angrily under her breath, but then she glanced at Lady Packwood, who was having difficulty stifling merriment, and the humor of the situation was brought home to her. She looked at Nicholas. His lips were pressed together into a thin line, and he did not look at all amused, but he said nothing, merely fixing his stern gaze upon the culprit until the silence became uncomfortable.
Colin had been staring at the floor, waiting for his uncle’s wrath to descend upon him, but at last, he could tolerate it no longer and looked up with a sigh. “Are you going to punish me, Uncle Nick?”
“That remains to be seen,” Nicholas replied gravely. “You owe Cousin Sarah an apology for putting her in such an uncomfortable position. I think that after you have made it, I shall accompany you to your bedchamber, where we shall have a little chat. That should help me decide whether or not further punishment is necessary.” The boy looked as though he believed the conclusion to be foreordained, but Nicholas added softly, “I think you are truly sorry, Colin, and that is very important.”
“Oh, yes sir, I am,” Colin said stoutly. “I never meant …” He turned to Sarah. “Please believe I never meant to cause you embarrassment or discomfort. I never thought Lionel would … well, I’m very, very sorry. Must I apologize to Lionel as well, Uncle Nick?”
“No,” replied his mentor shortly. He strode across the room to the door, waiting for the boy to pass through.
“Nicky?”
Nicholas paused, shutting the door behind Colin, and turned to Lady Packwood. Sarah was astonished to note amusement in his eyes. “Don’t worry, ma’am. I’ve no intention of murdering him. But it is definitely time and past to discuss certain matters. I doubt he had any notion of the sort of mischief he might have caused.”
“Nicky will handle that well, I think,” commented Lady Packwood when he had gone. “Colin worships him, you know, so Nicky will be able to give him quite a lot of very sound advice.”
Sarah nodded thoughtfully. She had not given the matter any consideration before, but she decided now that her ladyship was very likely right. At any rate, Nicholas would certainly not prose on and on. He was much too matter-of-fact.
She and Miss Penistone didn’t wait for the tray to be brought in but returned to Dower House even before Nicholas came back to the library. Sarah was very sleepy and readily agreed to her companion’s suggestion that they make an early night of it.
She awoke next morning fully refreshed. Betsy brought her her chocolate, and she sat up in bed sipping cautiously while Lizzie made several suggestions regarding possible attire for the day. Glancing out the window, Sarah was glad to see that the clouds of the day before had gone. It would not do for Sir Percival and Lionel to be delayed by a storm. But the day was clear, the sunlight brilliant, and it bade fair to be warm, so she agreed to Lizzie’s suggestion of a simple cream muslin frock with a red silk sash and a rosebud-embroidered flounce. The tiny puffed sleeves had been gathered near the lower edge with red silk thread, and a narrow red ribbon was tied around Sarah’s throat. Lizzie arranged her hair à la Didon, and she was ready to go downstairs, where she found Miss Penistone already in the dining room. Betsy was serving coddled eggs with ham and jellied muffins.
“You look charmingly this morning, my dear,” Penny said calmly. “I am pleased to see you completely recovered from yesterday’s unpleasantness.”
Sarah grinned at her. Penny was also looking well. She no longer drew her hair back into the tight little bun at the nape of her neck but dressed it in a younger, far more becoming style. However, Sarah knew better than to comment on the change, so she merely replied that the incident could not have been all that bad. “After all, it has rid us of the loathsome Lionel, whilst allowing us to continue to enjoy her ladyship’s company.”
Since Miss Penistone had already gone so far as to express the opinion that Lionel Packwood was not quite nice in his ways, she could not, in good conscience, refute or rebuke, so she gently turned the conversation into more acceptable channels by asking Sarah what her plans were for the day. Sarah had no notion, but before she had a chance to say so, Betsy stepped in again to say that Master Colin was at the front door begging to have speech with her.
“Well, show him in,” Sarah laughed, “and you’d better refill the muffin basket, for I daresay he’ll want several.” A moment later, Colin hurried in. He hesitated on the threshold, and Sarah grinned at him. “Come in, Colin, and sit down. Betsy is just bringing you some hot muffins:”
“Thank you, ma’am,” said the boy, slipping into a chair, “but I came to apologize again. I don’t think I did it very well last evening, for I didn’t perfectly understand the matter then, you know. But Uncle Nick explained things, and I do quite see now that I oughtn’t to have said such stuff to Lionel.”
Sarah smiled but held her tongue while Betsy plumped down a steaming, linen-covered basket and a cup of chocolate in front of him. He sniffed appreciatively and lifted the napkin to help himself to a muffin. Then, when Betsy had shut the door behind herself, he looked at Sarah expectantly.
“You made a fine apology last night, Colin,” she said kindly, “and I hope your uncle was, not dreadfully vexed with you, for I promise I am not. I might have been, of course, had you not owned up as you did, but after a night’s reflection, I have come to the conclusion that none of it was truly your fault. Lionel should have known better than to take your word for my sentiments, and he should certainly never have behaved as he did under any circumstances!”
“No,” the boy agreed after carefully swallowing the remains of his first muffin. “That’s what Uncle Nick said.” He reached for another. “These are first rate, ma’am. Do you think Betsy would show Cook how to make them?”
“You must ask her. I’m sure she will be flattered. What else did your uncle say?”
“Well, like you, he said it wasn’t my fault that Lionel made such a cake of himself. They’re gone, you know. Gram said to tell you they left at eight. Uncle Nick said that since Lionel is much older, he must bear all responsibility for what happened, but then he explained certain things to me.” Colin’s color rose noticeably, and he applied his attention to the buttering of his muffin. “He didn’t really rake me down, but he said that I behaved in an ungentlemanly way, and now that I know better, he’ll make me sorry I was born if I ever do it again.” He looked her in the eye. “I won’t though, you know, now I’ve seen what can happen. Uncle Nick told me exactly what that … what Lionel tried to do. I’m awful sorry!”
“We shall say no more about it,” Sarah said firmly, remembering Lady Packwood’s thoughts on the subject of prolonged discussion of one’s sins. “The matter is over and done, and we are still good friends. Your uncle will very likely not refer to the matter again, so we shall not either. Agreed?”
The boy nodded, finishing off the third muffin. “That puts me in mind of something else,” he added when he could speak. “Uncle Nick said to ask you if you’d like to ride over to Randolph’s farm later—about ten, I think he said—to have a look at that sow’s brood. I’m to go with him—Gram, too, I daresay—and he said to ask Miss Penny if she will come also,” he added, smiling at that lady.
Miss Penistone declined politely, and Sarah, happily accepting the invitation on her own behalf, later confided to Colin that, despite that lady’s unflagging serenity, she had a dreadful fear of horses and never rode. The boy soon took himself off, whistling, to inform his uncle and grandmother that Sarah would accompany them, and an hour later he presented himself again to escort her to the stables.
Nicholas and Lady Packwood were already there.
He was dressed simply, in buckskins and top boots with a dark leather jacket, while her ladyship sported a dashing habit that Sarah hadn’t seen her wear before. It was severely cut of bright cherry velvet, and embellished with black embroidery at the sleeves and hem. The jacket fastened with black silk frogs, and the little red cap atop her smoothly coiffed head boasted a black ostrich plume that dipped down to the shoulder. As Nicholas tossed his mother into her saddle, Sarah caught a glimpse of neat kid half-boots topped with three-quarter-inch red fringe, and mentally changing the primary color to gold or russet, she decided then and there that the moment she could safely put off her mourning in public, she would order just such an outfit herself.
It was a cheerful group that turned onto the woods path, for Colin was excited at the prospect of seeing the piglets, and Nicholas exerted himself to be charming. They had been riding for some distance in pairs with Nicholas and her ladyship behind Colin and Sarah, when they came upon a widening of the trail that seemed to continue for about a quarter mile.
Suddenly, Lady Packwood urged her mount forward. “Colin! I’ll wager five pounds to a groat you cannot reach that white-barked tree up ahead before I do!” And with barely a pause for the boy to collect his wits, she was off.
Laughing, Colin shouted that she would lose her money and kicked his horse to a gallop. Nicholas rode up alongside Sarah.
“Would you care to make a side bet on the outcome?” he asked, smiling at her in a way that made her insides feel a bit twittery.
“Well,” Sarah replied seriously, “I think her ladyship could win if she had a mind to, for she had a headstart, after all, but I think she intends Colin to beat her.”
“Maybe I should take you to Newmarket with me,” he teased. “It seems that you have a knack for calling races.”
Her smile was a shy one, and she made no reply to his sally. The racers reached the white-barked tree, and from Sarah’s viewpoint, it looked to be a tie, but Colin was crowing that he had won.
“By a full head, Gram! You’ve lost your five pounds!”
Lady Packwood was laughing, trying to catch her breath. “You’ll have to wait for it, my lad. I’ve not got a penny on me.”
“Uncle Nick! I won, and now she won’t pay!”
They drew in alongside the other two. Lady Packwood was still chuckling. “Don’t look to me for it, brat,” grinned his uncle. “The lady pays her own debts. But you’ll get it, never fear. That’s one who doesn’t play and not pay.” Lady Packwood reached out to ruffle her grandson’s curls, but suddenly her face contorted in pain and she gave a sharp cry. Nicholas leaned quickly forward. “Mother! What is it?” Sarah, too, leaned anxiously toward her. Her ladyship had clapped a hand to her side but now managed a weak smile.
“’Tis nothing, children, I assure you. Merely a stitch in my side. I daresay I allowed my woman to make the waistband of this habit a bit tight, that’s all. I should know better than to ride neck or nothing when I’ve got it on.”
“Would you like to dismount and sit for a spell?” Nicholas asked solicitously. “We can spread your blanket under a tree.”
“That’s an excellent notion,” applauded his mother. “Then you may pick me up again when you return, or else I shall just go on home again when I feel better.”
“Why, you mustn’t stay here alone!” Sarah exclaimed, before Nicholas could speak. “I wouldn’t hear of it. His lordship and Colin can go ahead, and I shall stay with you.”
But his lordship objected to that scheme, saying that even the woods path was not necessarily safe for two lone females. “If it’s only a stitch, it will pass quickly enough,” he said. “We shall remain here until it does and then carry on as planned.”
A frown of annoyance flitted across her ladyship’s brow. “That sounds quite practical, dearest, but do you know I think I should do much better just to go back when I feel up to it, for I’m certain the pain will return if I attempt to go the distance. These things can be very unpleasant that way, you know. Now, before you say another word,” she added firmly, “let me say that I shall not allow you to cancel your visit, because the excellent Randolph is simply dying to show off his sow to you, and you promised you would go. If you do not like to leave Sarah—and I quite understand that—then, Colin may look after me.” Colin opened his mouth to protest, but a quelling look from under his grandmother’s nicely arched brows caused him to shut it again. “He will take good care of me, I assure you, and perhaps you will allow him to ride over later with that groom of his—Jem, I think he’s called—so he won’t miss out on the piglets altogether.”
“I cannot think you will be much safer with a boy for company than you would be with Sarah,” commented her son with an odd, speculative gleam in his eye.
Colin looked indignant, but her ladyship only smiled again. “Nonsense, Nicky. Colin would be quite resourceful in a crisis. Besides,” she added sweetly, with an air of one about to have the last word, “I have my pistol by me, so we shall be quite safe.”
Nicholas chuckled, shaking his head at her, but he made no further objections. With nearly exaggerated care, he helped her to dismount and supported her to a nearby tree, while Colin unsaddled her horse and brought the saddle blanket to spread upon the ground. “It’s a shame you neglected to bring your vinaigrette, Mama,” his lordship observed dryly.
Lady Packwood glared at him. “Yes, isn’t it!” she replied. “Do go, Nicky dear.”
Sarah frowned at Nicholas’s seeming levity and watched worriedly until her ladyship seemed quite comfortable. She thought it sounded exactly like Lady Packwood to have her own pistol with her while, at the same time, to have neglected to bring anything so quackish as a vinaigrette, but she worried that the “stitch” might prove to be something more serious. Her ladyship still complained of pain, yet she did not seem pale, rather the contrary. Her color was excellent, even a little high. Could it be fever? But when she suggested this to Nicholas after he had remounted, and even added that perhaps both she and Colin ought to stay, he only chuckled.
“Your concern does you credit, Countess, but I beg you not to worry. It is my conviction that we have all been rather neatly outmaneuvered.”
“I fear I don’t understand your meaning, my lord.”
“Piqued, repiqued, and capoted,” he added cryptically. “The pistol was a very nice touch indeed.”
Sarah opened her mouth to demand an explanation, but one suddenly presented itself to her, and she felt warmth suffuse her cheeks. Could Lady Packwood actually have been shamming the whole thing in order to throw her together with Nicholas? Glancing quickly at her companion, she was grateful to see that, although his eyes held a distinct twinkle, he was looking straight ahead. A few moments later, she had herself well in hand again, however, so that when he made a conversational gambit, she was able to reply appropriately.
Nicholas had clearly set himself to be pleasing, so the rest of their ride to the Randolph farm was very enjoyable. Mr. Randolph was delighted to see them both and expressed his sorrow at Lady Packwood’s sudden indisposition. His plump wife, when the matter was explained to her, suggested several possible causes and cures, till. Sarah was hard put to repress the laughter that kept threatening to bubble up. She dared not look at Nicholas and was very glad when Randolph finally escorted them out to the sty to view the sow, Judith, and her numerous offspring.
The piglets were darling, but Judith had whiskers all over her long gray-pink snout, and Sarah found it difficult to understand why everyone was so pleased with her. The sow did nothing more than lie on her side expelling an occasional long-suffering grunt, while her progeny scrambled and squealed over one another in voracious attempts to attach themselves to any portion of her anatomy that seemed to offer itself. Judith, meanwhile, showed not the slightest interest in any of them. Sarah had expected her to treat them as a cat does its kittens or a bitch its puppies, but Nicholas chuckled when she mentioned this to him.
“Pigs are very unpredictable,” he said. “I�
�ve seen a sow give birth and immediately roll over on top of the new piglet. I’ve also seen them, when the job was done, simply get up and leave with never another thought for their offspring. Believe me, Judith is doing very well indeed.”
He was in excellent spirits on the return journey, and Sarah found that she was enjoying his company very much. He uttered not a single critical word but kept her laughing and chattering until they had returned to the white-barked tree, where he showed no surprise to discover that Lady Packwood and Colin had already gone. He merely noted that his mother must have recovered enough to ride back to the Park, and the fact was confirmed a short time later, when they encountered Colin and Jem.
“Gram said I may as well go along now,” Colin explained. “She seems to be quite recovered, so I didn’t think you would mind if I left her in Miss Penny’s care,” he added naively.
Nicholas grinned at him. “I’m sure you were a comfort to her, brat, and she couldn’t be in better hands than Miss Penny’s, so you go on and stay as long as Randolph will put up with you.”
Sarah observed somewhat defiantly that she was much relieved to hear that Lady Packwood was recovered, but since her companion’s only response was a mocking grin, she might have become a trifle flustered had he not had the presence of mind to call her attention to a spread of wildflowers on a grassy knoll some little way off and to ask her opinion as to the species. This method answered very well, and they were soon quite comfortable again.
They returned to the main house and went immediately to pay their respects to the erstwhile invalid, only to discover that she was enjoying the pleasure of a morning caller, a lady of uncertain years and hair of a dubious straw color that hung in clusters of side curls over her ears. Her three-quarter gown was puce, cut high to the neck and long to the wrist, and it fit rather snugly around her generous waistline. Lady Packwood introduced her as Mrs. Tibbetts.
