***
When mother and daughter reached Miss Eames' room, it was to find her removing the plain blue cambric (that had been the dress of the pretend pastor's daughter, Sally supposed) and having a superb riding dress of light blue velvet lowered over her head by the silent French maid.
'It will get covered in mud!' said Sally involuntarily. 'Oh, I beg your pardon!'
'Ladies! Do come in,' said the smiling Miss Eames. 'You are quite right about the riding dress — quite impractical — but it was too delicious to pass up when my Paris dressmaker brought it, and Cherie assures me that it is easily cleaned.'
The grave maid, disposing the folds of the garment about her charge, gave a frosty smile. 'It makes nothing,' she said with a Gallic shrug.
'See?' said Miss Eames.
Lady Richards and her daughter rather thought they did see, having spent an hour trying to get mud from Sally's velvet muff, sadly dropped in the street some months since.
Her Ladyship said. 'We are intruding, my dear Miss Eames. We only wished to become better acquainted and thought perhaps we might all go for a walk this morning.'
'That would have been lovely! But as you can see, I am engaged to ride this morning.'
'Engaged?' said Sally.
'Yes, with Audley. I assured him I would be rested enough to ride this morning, but he insisted it be after breakfast. He doubted my stamina, you see.'
Sally looked at her mother, both wondering how to break the bad news. 'I do not think,' began Lady Richards, 'that Lady Fox will permit you to use any of—' she faltered, and Sally continued.
'We have been forbidden to ride while we are here,' she finished for her mother, looking apologetically at the now magnificent figure of Miss Eames, who laughed. Sally jerked. Who would laugh at such a thing?
'Oh, I assumed some such. My mare Purity is stabled at Audley, and I've already directed Jenkins to bring around a gig to take me there.' She looked at the other women's open mouths and when it seemed like Lady Richards would make a further protest, she added, 'To a side entrance, fear not. I don't wish to argue with Her Ladyship before I go to my entertainment.'
'You stabled your mare at—' said Lady Richards.
'You brought her from France?' said Sally, and then was prompted into a vulgarity, 'But I thought you had no funds…'
'I really didn't, but the gentleman who secured my passage quite understood that I could not leave my Purity behind.' As there was no reply to this statement, which cast up too many questions to answer, Miss Eames said, 'Do you ride, ladies? Shall I wait until you change so that you can come with me to Audley? I believe it is only four miles hence.'
'I do not ride,' began Lady Richards, 'and besides—'
'Oh,' said Sally, taken over by longing, 'How I wish I could! It is two months since I was on a horse. But Lady Fox would not permit—'
'She need never know about you. Your mama could just say that you are keeping to your room.'
'I could never…' objected Lady Richards.
'Oh, falsehoods? I'm afraid as the daughter of a spy I am a little too easy with falsehoods, dear Lady Richards. For the good of the nation, you understand.' She smiled, and even Lady Richards, a little shocked at this, gave a slight answering smile. Miss Eames clapped her hands and turned to Sally. 'Well, I have it! Repeat after me, Miss Richards. Mama, I believe I will keep to my room this morning.'
'Mama,' said Sally, as though under a spell, 'I believe I will keep to my room this morning.'
'Now you, my lady, can honestly repeat this to Lady Fox. My daughter has said she will keep to her room this morning. And it will be quite true!' She beamed. 'If she enquires further you may say you are not at all sure, but that it is nothing serious, you believe.' She turned to the bemused Sally, 'Hurry and change, I'll wait for you here.'
'But there is no horse…' protested Sally.
'Audley will no doubt mount you, my dear. Hurry now!'
Sally ran from the room and Lady Richards sat down hard on the bed. Miss Eames joined her, taking her hand, 'Am I a shocking bully, Cousin? Might I call you Cousin?'
Lady Richards squeezed her hand. 'Oh, please do. Call me Cousin Emma if you please. And you are not a bully, only so much braver than we are. You seem to be quite unafraid of your position here.'
'I am not quite unafraid,' said Miss Eames, and Lady Richards saw some tears in her eyes. 'Only, I refuse to be squashed by someone so crude as Lady Fox. And you know, though I have no money, I do have friends, even here in England. Like the marquis and Mr Fenton. I could have stayed in London with the Fentons, you know. They begged me most sincerely. They had lately had a young lady, a Miss Felicity Oldfield, stay with them for the Season — but she is now married, they told me, and they would welcome my company.'
'Felicity Oldfield!' said Sally, returning. 'Did she reside with the Fentons? I only met her a couple of times, but she really was the loveliest girl. I felt so sorry when I heard there was some scandal around her, and I knew it would be false. And it was, for Viscount Durant married her.'
'So I understand. I was tempted to stay with dear Lady Aurora, but I thought it would be more fitting to come to my family,' said Ianthe.
'Before you met them, you mean,' said Lady Richards, lapsing into the confidentiality this frank young girl seemed to draw from her. 'Sally was so sorry not to get an offer this Season, only to spare me this visit. We have such a tiny income you know, and our friends the Houstens, who have housed us since my husband died, always make a three-month trip at this time of year. We were at Studham last year at the height of our mourning, and I hoped never to return again. I know I am being shamelessly ungrateful, but the family are always at each other's throats and we feel very much in the way. They call them the Fighting Foxes in town.'
'Well, I am glad you are both here, for now we make each other comfortable, whatever Lady Fox chooses.'
'She can be cunningly cruel, my dear Miss Eames,' said Lady Richards, looking into the young woman's eyes. 'I may as well confess that we heard you before. With Lady Fox.' She dropped her voice and said, with frightened sympathy, 'You would not really do such a thing—'
Miss Eames flushed a little, but returned in a laughing tone, 'You are shocked, and I do not wonder. I chose the term carte blanche to shock Her Ladyship, I'm afraid. I have no need to do anything so desperate, I assure you. I've simply had a fevered desire to annoy the woman since the moment I met her. Dreadful, I know!'
'Your instincts were quite right,' said Lady Richards, earnestly. 'She is the most dreadful woman of my acquaintance, Miss Eames.' She sighed. 'How ungrateful that must sound!'
Ianthe laughed and cast her arms around Her Ladyship. 'Oh, dear Cousin Emma, I think I shall love you very much. Please call me Ianthe, for I intend to be your most intimate cousin.'
'Oh, dear Ianthe,' said Lady Richards into her hair. 'Do take care.'
Chapter Four
The First Ride
By dint of squashing themselves into the gig with the groom, the two ladies arrived at the Marquis of Audley's country estate in good time and were taken to the stables directly. Sally Richards had never seen the house up close, but she was able to as they passed. Studham was old and grand, but Audley was more than double the size, and the construction was in some light-coloured stone that seemed to glow white in the sun. It was magnificent, with a multitude of glittering windows, and a dozen white columns on its raised portico.
The marquis, waiting for them in the stable courtyard, looked equally magnificent. His hair was, well, bronze was the only word she could use for it, burnished bronze. It was swept back from a noble brow, over a chiselled face of perfect symmetry. He was leaning against a wall and languidly moved his limbs to the upright position before coming towards the gig lazily, holding out a hand to Ianthe Eames, whose quick, athletic jump contrasted with his languor. Ianthe looked up at his great height, beaming like a child who had escaped the schoolroom. Only the hooded, laughing eyes looking down into his friend's hinted at som
ething less than godlike, Sally thought. Something Puckish in his look. Sally believed she would have been shaken to receive such a look, but Ianthe, as Miss Eames had been insistent Sally call her, seemed less than shocked. She tried to withdraw her hand, Sally saw, but he seemed to hold it more closely. 'How dare you keep me waiting, Ianthe? Have you no esteem for my consequence?'
'None at all,' Ianthe replied shortly, snatching her hand back. 'You have another guest, Audley. Pray give your hand to her.' She said this pertly, with a smile, and Sally, entranced by their mutual beauty, suddenly realised that those hooded eyes were turning towards her. She jumped from the gig in her haste to avoid them, and fell to adjusting her riding dress, looking down.
'Miss Richards, may I present the Marquis of Audley?' Ianthe's voice was still teasing while Sally turned in Audley's general direction and made a low curtsy. As she looked up, he was bowing perfunctorily, the laugh gone from his eye. Sally, expecting it, was nevertheless annoyed. She frowned. Ianthe was continuing, 'Audley, you have a mount for my cousin, don't you? I promised her a ride and Lady Fox has … well, I believe there is nothing suitable at Studham.'
'Of course,' said the marquis. Sally blushed. He must know the stables at Studham were near to full. He turned his regard to her, looking her up and down, and then said to a waiting groom, 'Saddle Missy for Miss Richards please, John.'
'My lord.'
As the marquis mounted a large, shiny, black stallion he called Night, and Ianthe petted a pretty piebald mare, cooing their reunion, the groom at last emerged with a mare of obvious docile disposition, presumably Missy. Sally sighed audibly and encountered a quizzical look from the marquis to whom she attempted a polite smile. 'Thank you, my lord,' she said and mounted the beast.
Ianthe, who had done the same, said, 'Lead on, my lord, I want to blow away the doldrums and you may show me the safest path to do so.'
Sally doubted that she would be blowing anything away at this rate, since it was a fine day, and the speed that Missy would reach would not involve creating a wind beneath her. The marquis headed out, Ianthe behind, and she brought up the rear, with an accompanying groom. Eventually they came to a wide expanse, free of trees, where the other two paused and talked a little, waiting for Missy to catch up.
'Go ahead, pray,' Sally said to them as she approached, 'I can see you are itching to get going. I shall enjoy a quiet exercise.' She smiled at them and Ianthe looked torn.
'Yes, go, Ianthe,' said the marquis. 'And John, go with her. I will accompany Miss — eh — Richards is it?'
'Yes,' said Sally at her most colourless, 'it is.' The marquis looked a little stunned at her tone, and fairly arrested. 'You need not accompany me, however,' Sally continued in the same tone. 'Your horse will fidget.'
'Nonsense. He has much better manners,' said the marquis.
'Well, you need not have better manners, my lord,' she said, nettled at this assumption of courtesy from a man who had set her on this horse. She attempted lightness of tone, however, for she did have good manners. 'Go with Ianthe, do. I shall be the rear guard.'
Ianthe laughed, looking from Sally's especially bland expression to the marquis' surprised one. 'Now that I see you are becoming well acquainted,' she said with a mischievous grin, 'I shall indeed leave. Yah!' she dug her heels in at this, and the piebald mare took off with even more power than Sally had thought possible. The groom raced to catch her up.
'Oh! I see now why she could not leave her in Paris!' said Sally, with such longing in her voice that the marquis laughed.
'I apologise for mounting you on Missy, Miss Richards,' he said politely. 'You are obviously disappointed.'
Sally was, and his amusement annoyed her. Moreover, she was raw from three weeks of the Foxes. Rubbed and insulted by Lady Fox, patronised by Curtis, ignored by the bad-tempered Lord Fox, she had thought at least she would be granted some bracing exercise today. Her hopes had been lifted by Ianthe's enthusiasm, and were now dashed as she sat upon the most placid nag she had ever thrown her knee over. The marquis, whom she had known about in Town, but who had only a few times been in her orbit, had trampled on all her hopes of an hour's diversion. Moreover, she was so far below him in rank that she was sure he now expected some flattering, perhaps even flirtatious, reply. Another maiden hoping for his attention. She had smiled and smiled at gentlemen in London to gain just such attention and change her fate, but never to someone so above her in rank as he, for she was not such a ninny. And now, the plodding steps of the horse, that his own stallion needed to be held back to match, were simply too depressing for politeness. 'I am only surprised that you house such a slug in your stables.'
He let out a laugh. 'Slug?'
'What else would you call her?'
'My grandmama's favourite mare.'
This was too much. 'Your grandmama?'
'Well, how was I to know you had such a seat until I saw it? My other horses are all full of spirit,' he said, still amused. 'You might have been a lady who was easily unseated. I sought to prevent an accident or embarrassment.'
'Just what about my appearance made it justifiable to seat me on the …' She held herself back, closed her eyes briefly and put on a polite smile. 'I am sorry, my lord. I am most grateful.'
'No, you are not,' laughed the marquis.
'No, I am not, though it would have been polite of you to pretend to believe me.' The marquis' eyes were more amused than ever as Miss Richards schooled him in manners. She glanced a little resentfully at him. 'Even a lady with limited expectations needs some glimmer of hope in life. Riding today was mine. Blowing away the doldrums, Ianthe called it, and I too thought to do so.'
'I apologise once more, Miss Richards. If you come tomorrow, I will mount you better. But I ask again, how was I to know?'
Again, she shot a blank look at him, and again it shook him since he was normally only shown the smiling face of the young ladies he talked to. 'You saw me race,' she said, flatly.
'I beg your pardon?'
'At Housten Hall last summer. Where I have resided since my father's death. There was a ladies’ race on the day you came to dine.'
There was a pause. 'Ah, I remember.'
Sally, still depressively plodding on Missy's back, fed him his own sauce, 'No you don't.'
He could not help his laugh of shock at her bluntness. Then, 'Wait! Were you the lady in the red habit who won?'
'I was. We dined together afterwards,' she added, to drive his lack of manners home.
'There were forty people at that table—' He realised he was explaining himself, which the great Marquis of Audley was not given to do.
'I was seated on your left-hand side at the table. Next to you.' A decisive blow, she knew, and she enjoyed delivering it.
'I beg your pardon.'
The marquis was, she thought, glancing at him for a moment, looking somewhat ashamed. She decided to let him off her hook. 'Do not. You were very nice indeed to Miss Frampton on your right-hand side. And you did at least greet me.'
He did not attempt to hide the slight frown on his handsome face and Sally liked him better for his honesty. 'Well, at least I had some manners. Miss Frampton was the put-upon young lady with the sandy hair?'
'Yes. And spots. Her mother had been frightful with her the whole time, berating her for not using cucumber water or some such thing. I quite see why you chose to be nice to her and not me.'
'You do?' said the marquis interestedly, not really quite remembering himself.
'Oh, yes. It is because I am a middling sort of woman.' The marquis raised an inquisitive eyebrow, so she continued, 'At balls you know, it is the best connected or prettiest girls who are fawned on, and the poor little dabs who are protected by the hostesses, making sure they have enough dances.'
'Yes?'
'Yes. I am well enough for at least two or three gentlemen perhaps, to ask me to dance, so there is no need for the hostesses to bother with me. But young ladies like me probably end up more neglected than the poor little d
abs. And that night at dinner, you were kind to Miss Frampton, whom no one could expect you to marry, and careful to avoid me, the middling sort of young lady whose hopes might be raised by even such a slight thing as some attention at the dinner table.'
This masterly summation had him stumped. He attempted to lift the conversation with raillery. 'Well, we are talking now, Miss Richards. Am I to suppose your hopes are raised?'
'Of course not,' she said, dismissively. 'It is obvious that to your own guests you have an obligation to be polite, and you have done so very creditably since Ianthe foisted me upon you. And since there is no one here to see you talk to me, we need not fear to give rise to speculation. And then again, as to my own feelings, you may rest assured. I will never forgive your mounting me on a slug.’
He gave an ironic bow from the waist at her, which caused his horse to fidget. 'I am deeply shamed, Miss Richards, and I promise to do better next time — and at dinner on Sunday, if Lord Fox can be persuaded to come.'
'Oh, pray do not talk to me at dinner,' said his companion with more anxiety than he had seen her show. 'It would encourage my mother in wild speculation, and enrage Lady Fox, with whom we are committed to live for another two months.'
'Shall I disdain you then?' she looked up at him and he gave her a dreadful glare down his nose.
Finally, she laughed. 'Just like that! Lady Fox will be appeased. But if you do so, watch out for my mother.'
'Will she eat me for my rudeness?'
'No, but it might cause her pain, and break her habitual good humour. She might even frown. You would do better to just ignore me, as you did last time.'
'It will be a much smaller gathering, and harder to achieve.'
'I'm quite sure,' said Sally, looking up at him with a wicked sarcasm, 'that you can manage it.'
Ianthe and the Fighting Foxes: The Fentons Book 4 Page 3
