Although he could identify no trace of sarcasm in the dull tone, the words themselves disgruntled him. “You should see my seat, and there’s hardly time to plan a longer excursion if we are to be here when most of the festivities get under way. Everyone will wish to meet the new Lady Greenwood.”
The thought appalled Maggie, all those curious eyes observing her, wondering how such a pallid little thing had snared a baron, making snide remarks on her lack of polish, and speculating on her background. She was incapable of finding anything to reply.
“Well, does that suit you?”
“Yes.”
Adam eyed her with disfavor, though he was really more disgusted with his own lack of forethought and ingenuity than with her meek response. “I could take you somewhere else later, in the summer or the autumn. To Paris, perhaps, or Naples. Spring isn’t all that good a time to travel because of the rain, you know. The roads are often knee-deep in mud, and carriages are forever getting bogged down. Summer is much better, and even early autumn.” When she said nothing, he struggled on. “I realize it’s hot then, and the roads are dusty, but the channel crossing is a great deal more pleasant. Do you get seasick?”
“I don’t know. I’ve never been on a boat.”
He regarded her as though she were some sort of oddity beyond the limits of his comprehension. Most of his friends had at least been on the packet to France or sailing on the Thames. Gloomily, he remarked, “You’ll probably be sick as a dog.”
“We needn’t go,” she said softly.
“Of course we’ll go.”
“There is plenty of time to discuss it later.”
“I said we would go. You may tell your friends so.”
His scowl was intimidating and Maggie abruptly withdrew her arm from his. “If you wish.”
Adam felt a churlish fool, making such a fuss over nothing. His custom was to spend the summer months at his seat, often having friends to stay with him for long periods of time, but since that would be out, there was no reason not to travel. Lady Anne had seemed to think it strange that they weren’t to have a wedding trip, and he had only wanted to straighten out the situation, not to frighten the little mouse beside him.
Maggie had started walking toward Windrush House and he set his pace to hers, though he made no attempt to regain her arm. “Miss Somervale, you must realize that I’m unfamiliar with what is expected of a bridegroom. Very few of my close friends are married, and I don’t recall whether or not they took wedding trips. Cynthia didn’t, but then Captain Morton had to leave almost immediately for duty. I don’t mean to slight you in any way, I promise you.”
This handsome apology was delivered with a smile that Adam knew to be particularly winning; seldom did it fail to gain him favor. But Maggie had not looked at him since the scowl unnerved her and she was currently in the process of adjusting the little canary in her hair where it had toppled in an unexpected gust of wind. “Thank you, Lord Greenwood. You are very obliging.”
Exasperated, he watched her unsuccessful attempt to untangle the ornament. Was the girl totally helpless? “Here, let me. It’s caught in your hair and you’re twisting it the wrong way.” He extracted the little bird with deft fingers and held it in the palm of his hand for a moment to examine it before replacing it near the edge of her cap. “A very charming piece. Are you fond of canaries?”
“Why, yes, but it isn’t mine. Emma lent it to me,” she confessed, embarrassed.
Adam was beginning to think there was nothing he could possibly say to her that would not in some way lead to an uncomfortable situation. Fortunately, they had arrived back at Windrush House, and it was obvious that she was impatient to be off to the dressmaker. Actually, Maggie thought it rude to keep anyone waiting, no matter what his or her position, and her fiancé showed no disposition to make her linger.
“Tell Cynthia I’ll be in the village when she’s ready to depart. I’ll leave my coachman here for her and they can pick me up.”
“Very well. Thank you for coming, and for bringing your sister,” Maggie said with the formality of the schoolgirl she was. Her hesitant smile was answered by a nod, and she fled up the stairs while he, with a long sigh, strode purposefully toward the village of Kensington.
Chapter Four
Emma listened with interest to the list of dresses Maggie had ordered from the modiste, nodding her head in approval from time to time. So as not to interrupt the flow of her friend’s discourse, she made notes on the back of the nearest sheet of foolscap, which happened to be an assignment in French translation she was supposed to turn in that afternoon. When Maggie finally concluded, breathless, Emma grinned.
“I know it sounds a monstrous amount, my dear, but I’ve noted several items you will need to go along with all that. You mustn’t forget shoes and reticules and bonnets. Madam Minotier won’t be able to supply those. Do you suppose we could convince Mrs. Childswick to let us go into town? Considering the occasion, she would have to agree, wouldn’t she?”
There was a decided snort from Anne. “Since when have you credited Mrs. Childswick with humanity, Emma? She’s as likely to let us go into town as she is to fly. You are placing overmuch reliance on her good nature, which I admit tends to exhibit itself when there is a marriage in the offing, but she has already excused us from classes this morning and I have no doubt she expects us to attend this afternoon. Lord, I can just see her face if you were to ask her to allow us the carriage, and a maid to attend us, and the extra money we would need just for a few tolls and tea in London.”
Ignoring these substantial objections, Emma was giving further consideration to the expedition. “I think we would wish to take Polly as our chaperon. She’s much less starchy than the other maids. Or do you suppose Mrs. Childswick would insist on one of the mistresses?”
“I think you are all about in your head, Emma,” Anne retorted. Maggie looked more hopeful. “I really would like to go. Do you think you could actually arrange it, Emma? And if it has to be one of the mistresses, I would as soon have Miss Clements as any of the others.”
“You’re both crazy,” was all Anne could say.
“I think you’ve solved our dilemma, Maggie.” Emma’s eyes were dancing with mischief. “Miss Clements would be the perfect chaperon, and besides, I think she would be very sympathetic to your cause. Do you mind if I approach her on your behalf?”
As Maggie nodded in bewilderment, Anne asked suspiciously, “You’re going to approach Miss Clements first?”
“Why not? She took us to the theater, didn’t she? I’ve always suspected that she was sympathetic to all of us locked in here as though it were a prison. Haven’t you seen her gazing out the window when we’re doing our work? It’s just as much of a prison for them, you know. Mrs. Childswick gives them only a half day and Sunday off. Come to think of it, do either of you know when Miss Clement’s half day is?”
“Of course, goose.” Anne laughed. “She’s off when the dancing master is here Thursday afternoons because she’s the prettiest of the teachers and Mrs. Childswick doesn’t want to take a chance on Monsieur Rovot falling in love with her.”
“My dear Lady Anne,” Emma opined in the arctic tones of Mrs. Childswick she so well imitated, “there is no other reason for Miss Clements having Thursday afternoon as her half day than that it is most convenient. And I think it would be convenient for us as well, don’t you? Better tomorrow than today, that is. This way I shall have the opportunity to speak with her this afternoon to arrange it. We might have to have a glance at the Elgin marbles or some such edifying sight, and I for one would wish to treat Miss Clements to tea and perhaps a pair of lavender kid gloves for giving up her free time to us. I’ve saved a bit from what Aunt Amelia sent me. What do you say?”
“You never cease to astonish me, Emma,” Anne admitted, convinced. “I do believe you can bring it off. I’ll chip in for the gloves, but she may prefer tan. I have yet to see her wear anything so exotic as lavender.”
Maggie surpr
ised them by saying, “I have. One evening when I was downstairs looking for a book in the blue room she came in from her free afternoon. Did you know they have to be in by eight? Emma’s right—it is as much a prison for them as it is for us! Well, anyhow, her dress was covered, so I couldn’t see it, but she was wearing the most delightful lavender pelisse of that new silk called zephyrine. It had half sleeves of alternate folds of gros de Naples and zephyrine, and the skirt was trimmed at the bottom with a fullness of lavender-colored gauze intermixed with satin.” Maggie looked apologetic. "I was so taken with it that I described it to Madame Minotier and asked that she make me something like it.”
“Clever girl!” Emma congratulated her. “Did she have lavender gloves?”
“I don’t remember. I was so taken with the pelisse that I didn’t notice.”
“Well, never mind. She shall have whatever color gloves she wishes, and we shall have a chance to complete Maggie’s wardrobe. Her bridal clothes,” Emma amended, smiling happily at her companions.
Neither of them doubted any longer that she could carry it off. Emma had a knack of accomplishing such hopeless feats, for which they were both grateful, since it had made their years at Windrush House a great deal more comfortable. They had left her alone with Miss Clements after class, and when she emerged to find them waiting in the hall, sure enough she was glowing with success. “She will speak with Mrs. C. about it right away and send us a message.”
When the message arrived shortly before the dinner hour, Emma frowned. Her companions felt an unaccustomed disappointment until she said, “Ugh! It’s to be the medical museum. Ah, well, we can survive looking at skeletons and various instruments of torture in a good cause, can’t we?”
Since they were ostensibly headed for an educational experience, and one of the last they were likely to have while at Windrush House, Mrs. Childswick had grudgingly allowed them the use of the school carriage. It might look impressive in her brochure, she had once decided, if she were able to say that her girls made use of it on educational expeditions during the year. Could any other similar establishment make such a claim? She doubted it. It would be a first for Windrush House, and see if it didn’t steal away some of the best families from the haughty Mrs. Wilson, whose school at Highgate was her main competition. Emma was astonished to find the headmistress there to send them off with a rather bombastic speech on the prowess of Windrush House education, its farsightedness and innovative philosophy. Her references to the carriage itself were almost ludicrous, since it was certainly no less then twenty years old and had been acquired at an auction when a previously wealthy family had been reduced to pauperism by the gambling mania of a succession of loose-living heirs.
Eventually Mrs. Childswick allowed them to depart, and the four ladies settled themselves back against the cracked squabs. Miss Clements directed her attention to Maggie with a kind smile. “So you are to be married, Miss Somervale. May I offer you my congratulations?”
“Thank you. You are kind, and especially so to come with us, ma'am.”
“Miss Berryman is very persuasive,” Miss Clements said with a rueful glance at her. “She was sure you would enter marriage with no more than the clothes on your back if you weren’t allowed an expedition to town.”
At Maggie’s reproachful look, Emma grinned. “I did perhaps exaggerate the slightest bit, of course, but I knew Miss Cements would understand. And I admitted that Madame Minotier had been to school, though I did point out how devastating it would be to have all those lovely gowns and not a pair of shoes or a bonnet to go with them!”
Miss Clements patted Maggie’s hand. “Don’t fret on my account, dear. I promise you I relish the opportunity to observe a shopping spree. Who are you marrying, if you don’t mind my being so presumptuous as to ask?”
“Lord Greenwood. My father arranged the match.”
“No, no,” Emma protested. “You aren’t to tell people that! For God’s sake, Maggie, let people believe that his lordship caught sight of you and fell desperately in love on the spot.”
Maggie’s lips trembled slightly. “No one will have to do more than catch sight of his face for them to know better than that.”
“Emma is right, Maggie,” Anne interposed. “Let people believe what they wish, but never tell them the truth. It is needlessly self-deprecating.”
For some time Maggie stared at her hands and the others were silent as the carriage jolted along the road toward town. Eventually Emma broke their uncomfortable cogitations by suggesting, “I think you should simply tell them that your father introduced you to Lord Greenwood. You needn’t say more than that, and it is perfectly true. After all, Maggie dear, there is nothing so exceptional in your marrying a handsome young lord. Your father is a baronet and you would be expected to marry well, with a good dowry. Now, Anne,” Emma mused, grinning at her, “we shall all expect to marry a duke, at the very least, if not one of the doddering princes. With your father a marquess and your mother coming from a long line of earls, you would be foolish to throw yourself away on a mere baron or viscount. Even an earl may not be lofty enough, considering the size of your dowry.”
Anne cast a hasty, apologetic glance at Miss Clements. “I promise you I have never so much as mentioned my dowry to her!”
Miss Clements gave her head an exasperated shake. ”I think, as she mentioned previously, that Miss Berryman is prone to exaggerate, Lady Anne. No one could accuse you of exploiting your position or boasting of your family’s wealth."
“Ah, but only a moron wouldn’t know of both!” Emma protested. “Of the three of us, our Anne is destined to marry the best. And she deserves such good fortune, with her delightful modesty and genteel manners. I haven’t a chance of competing with her! Alas,” —she sighed dramatically—"I haven’t the position of either Maggie or Anne. I shall have to content myself with some old man who leers at me, no doubt. My closest connection with the aristocracy is my aunt, and she only married into it. My family is really quite obscure and of no long-standing position in the ton. Not that my aunt has not drawn a certain amount of attention to us,” she admitted with a roguish lift of one brow.
“You aren’t dowerless,” Anne said dryly, ignoring this reference to Lady Bradwell, “and your constant spirits are likely to turn every male head in sight, when you make your bow in society. As to an old man for a husband, I think there’s not the least likelihood. He wouldn’t be able to catch up with you to offer.”
Emma appeared to consider this. “Perhaps not. I shall have to gain sympathy from being an orphan, then. What a pity that my father did not die in battle. I might have gained the ear of some young captain of the Guards with tales of his heroic deeds against the French brutes. Maggie, do you suppose Lord Greenwood numbers any such fellows amongst his acquaintance? He could introduce me.”
“I wouldn’t be at all surprised,” Maggie said, in a burst of rueful candor. “He probably knows any number of them.”
Emma laughed, and looked to Miss Clements. “You see how beneficial our jaunt is for Maggie?” But immediately she was back to her original hypothesis. “That is how it shall be, I imagine. Lord Greenwood will introduce me to a dashing cavalry officer in the moonlight at a masquerade. The captain will insist that I unmask so that he can identify me in future, having already been smitten with my dancing (à la Monsieur Rovot). When he takes off my gilded mask he will be so overwhelmed that he will fall to his knees and declare himself on the spot.”
With a mournful shake of her head Miss Clements said to the other two girls with a sigh, “I wish she would expend so much effort on her themes.”
“I am saving my energies for the Real World,” Emma declared magnificently.
“You will find, my dear,” Miss Clements told her in all seriousness, “that in order to develop your potential, you will have to use your energies in all phases of your life, and not just the Real World, as you call it. You have invested society with a glamour you will eventually find superficial: someone of your ca
liber cannot fail to do so over a period of time. Most important are your friends and your mind. Cultivate both, Miss Berryman, and you will not find yourself lonely as you grow older.”
At Emma’s aggrieved expression, she continued, “I realize you think I’m lecturing you to no purpose on our holiday, but believe me, these are the truly vital elements of your life. I watch the girls leave school, with dreams of handsome men and lavish homes. A husband who will solve all their problems, present them with happiness. But happiness comes from within, not without. I am not saying that circumstances beyond our control do not influence grief or joy. Ultimately, though, your own attitudes and resources are what provide content or discontent.”
That Emma thought such sentiments sprang from her unmarried state, Miss Clements could clearly discern by the girl’s skeptically raised brows. She chuckled. “Oh, I’m not suggesting you don’t marry! That friendship could be the most valuable of all, if you are willing to invest your energies in it. But not if you take it as a matter of course, as your right, your voucher to a place in society. And I don’t subscribe to the theory that women are a mere ornament, to be worn with pride on a husband’s cravat, or relegated to producing offspring. In either role you would soon expire of boredom, Miss Berryman. On the other hand, if you were to take an interest in the things that interest your husband, if you were to keep abreast of current affairs, if you felt you had some influence on those around you—that would give you satisfaction. Your mind is too active to settle for ignorance, your heart too generous to tolerate indifference. I won’t say it is better to give than to receive, but the energies you expend on behalf of others make you feel more deserving of the rewards you reap. Otherwise the rewards are empty, meaningless baubles.”
If Emma shifted a bit uncomfortably during this well-meant exposition, Maggie appeared to drink in every word with keen interest. “What if,” she asked haltingly, “someone didn’t want to take what you gave?”
The Loving Seasons Page 5
