by Fran Baker
“Yes, we are going to walk for a bit in Kew Gardens,” Jeanette told her as she warmed her hands in front of the fire in the library. “Susan Boyle has informed us that the snow is cleared away from several paths every day, and it is quite pleasant moving about there—though a bit brisk, perhaps. But just think of the good it will do us.”
“Come along now, no dallying,” Nicky urged. “We need to go while the weather holds.”
Sophie made short work of slipping into her warm overclothes and the four young people headed for the door.
“Here, Jeanette, allow the footman to assist you,” Nicky commanded as they started down the slippery front steps. “And, Sophie, the same. I’ll not have any broken bones on my hands. That’s right, Ellen, you may hold on to me.”
Once the young ladies were settled in the perch phaeton, with fur rugs tucked about them, Nicky’s tiger released the horses and leaped onto his perch.
It was cold and dark out and still somewhat foggy. But it had been so long since any of them had seen the sun they accepted their lot and were grateful that there was no gale blowing. When they arrived at Kew Gardens, Nicky’s tiger leaped to the horses’ heads and Nicky set about helping the girls to descend.
Sophie and Jeanette linked arms, as did Ellen and Nicky, and the four of them surveyed their surroundings. There was snow everywhere. All the trees were heavily laden, and a path led off like an alley between two long white mounds. Nearby a workman was floundering about in the rough, knocking snow off a pine tree’s limbs with a long pole.
“Now, where should we start?” Sophie asked. “Did Susan advise a particular route we should follow?”
Nicky waved a hand to his tiger. “Take the horses off a bit, and keep ’em moving. I don’t want ’em standing about in this cold.”
“Aye, sir,” the tiger said and, bounding into the phaeton, drove off down the street.
Slowly the party began to move along the nearest path.
“This is delightfully sheltered,” Sophie observed. “Not nearly so cold as the west meadow at Vaile Priory when there’s a storm coming in from the north.”
Jeanette shuddered. “It is cold enough, all the same.”
Suddenly Sophie stopped. “Look there!” she hissed, pulling her hand free and pointing through an opening in some ice-laden shrubbery. “There’s Fairmont. If we scurry along this path, I am confident we shall meet him at a crossroad. Come along everyone, let us canter on our own two feet for a ways.”
“I cannot,” Ellen protested. “I’m afraid I’ll fall on this slippery snow.”
Nicky cleared his throat. “Then we shall stay behind and Jeanette shall run along with Sophie to meet Fairmont. I’ve something that I wish to say to Ellen.”
Jeanette smiled. “We shall be back shortly.”
Their arms locked tightly together, Jeanette and Sophie hurried along the path. Immediately Sophie began to skid, her feet nearly slipping out from under her. She had no sooner leaned on Jeanette and righted herself, than Jeanette began to slide in the other direction and Sophie was obliged to hold her up as best she could by pulling the other way. Again they regained their balance, then both girls slid forward, skidding, performing a neat little schottische and ending at a standstill on an intersecting path in front of Fairmont. They burst into peals of laughter.
Jeanette’s cheeks were pink and her eyes sparkling. Sophie thought she had never seen anyone so beautiful. She turned to Fairmont and found him staring at her companion in such a way that she took a quick step back.
“Oh, dear,” she said, releasing Jeanette’s arm. “I have left something in the phaeton. Would you both excuse me for a moment?”
She scurried off through the shrubbery, slipping and sliding. To her relief she discovered that she had gained some skill in navigating the icy path, and although she was required to perform some rather elaborate steps to keep herself upright, she managed to remain in a vertical posture. She rounded the corner and could see Nicky and Ellen, and there a surprising sight met her eyes.
The two had apparently mended their differences, as Nicky was holding Ellen in a torrid embrace and kissing her passionately.
And marching toward them, his mouth set in a grim line, was Albert de Lisle.
“Let go of her!” he commanded. “You’re insulting the woman I love!”
Grabbing Ellen by the arm, he wrenched the two lovers apart.
“Dash it all!” Nicky protested.
Albert pulled back his fist and landed a punishing blow on Nicky’s jaw. Nicky fell heavily backward over a snowbank and disappeared abruptly behind it. For a long moment there was nothing visible but his boots waving above the pile of snow.
“Good heavens, sir!” Ellen exclaimed. “Whatever can you be about?”
Albert turned to her in surprise. “Oh, I’m sorry,” he said. “I mistook you for someone else.”
At that moment an irate red face appeared over the snowbank.
“Damn you, Albert!” Nicky roared. “How dare you! I demand satisfaction, sir! My seconds shall call upon you before nightfall.”
“But . . .” Albert sputtered. “It was a mistake, old man. I’m sorry, I swear it.”
Nicky emitted rumbling sounds. “Shall I horsewhip you then—here and now, on the spot, you damned rascal? You can’t walk up to a man, give him a crack on the jaw, and knock him into a snowbank with impunity—at least, not Nicholas Althorpe. Out with it, sir. Do you wish to meet me with pistols? Or shall I take it out of your hide this very moment?”
Albert’s brow had lowered. “Send your seconds,” he snapped. “I shall be happy to meet you.”
He turned on his heel and stomped off through the snow. Once his right foot slipped and he danced crazily to keep his balance, marring somewhat the picture of outraged dignity he was attempting to present. Somehow, though, he managed to maintain his footing until he was out of sight.
Ellen, who was gasping and squeaking in dismay, pulled a hand out of her muff, put the back of it to her brow and began to sink down in a faint.
Nicky scrambled to catch her before she landed on the ice.
“Dash it all,” he grumbled. “First someone plants me a facer and now my fiancée faints and will probably freeze. It’s too much, I say”
Jeanette and Fairmont, who had walked up in time to observe the conclusion of this drama, hurried forward to assist. Jeanette pulled the muff off Ellen’s hand and she and Sophie chaffed both of them while Fairmont signaled to the phaeton to draw near. Ellen’s eyelids fluttered. Immediately she began to weep.
Fairmont muttered under his breath. “De Lisle is a cold-blooded scoundrel, to be sure. I’ll be happy to second for you, Nicky.”
“Dashed kind of you,” Nicky said.
Ellen whimpered. “You’ll be killed, Nicky. The moment our differences are swept away, I’m going to lose you.”
“Nonsense,” Fairmont hastened to assure her. “There’s nothing to fear. Nicky’s the finest shot in England and Albert the worst. The odds are stacked very much in our favor.”
“But then he’ll kill Mr. de Lisle and be obliged to flee the country,” she sobbed.
“There there, now,” Nicky crooned. “Nothing so dire. But I couldn’t let him off free, don’t you see? Now, now, Ellen, don’t carry on so. There’ll be no harm done, I assure you.”
Nicky and Fairmont bundled the three ladies into the perch phaeton, and it was a much subdued party that made its way back to Vaile House with Fairmont following behind them in his curricle.
“Fairmont and I have decided to announce our engagement also,” Jeanette said, her eyes taking on an unnatural glitter. “But perhaps we should wait until after tomorrow, to be sure that everything turns out happily.”
Nicky trembled with indignation. “Of course everything is going to turn out happily! What are you implying? Ellen, must you keep up that caterwauling? You’re putting me in a devil of a fidget.”
Ellen stifled her sobs, but her tearstained face was a constan
t reminder to Nicky that his days might be numbered. When they arrived at Vaile House, he remained in the phaeton, pointing out that his horses would be put in jeopardy if he did not return them to his stables as quickly as possible. A footman lifted Sophie out of the carriage and helped her up the front steps as Nicky urged his team off down the street.
Jonathan had returned from a business meeting and was bent over some books in the library when Sophie hurried into the house. She quickly poured out the story.
He muttered angrily under his breath. “That damned fool!” he growled. “He mistook Ellen for you, no doubt. But it’s all very strange. Does he still think there’s a way he can win you? The unmitigated conceit of the man!”
“It’s all so dreadful! Ellen and Jeanette are terrified. Will he kill Nicky, do you suppose?”
Jonathan frowned. “There’s no telling what he’ll do, though I doubt that he’ll risk murder in front of witnesses—if he could manage, that is. He’s a wretched shot.”
‘Then Nicky will be obliged to kill him and flee the country.”
“He’d never shoot a man in cold blood.”
“But how will he avoid it?” she asked. “If they stand and fire their guns at one another, one of them will certainly be injured, if not killed.”
“I doubt they’ll fire at each other,” he explained. “If Albert can be relied upon to behave like a civilized human being, they’ll both delope.”
It was necessary for him to explain this maneuver to Sophie. When he had finished telling her how the gunmen could throw away their first shot by aiming at the ground, she raised her eyebrows scornfully. “I am amazed,” she said. “I had never realized how foolish young men can be.”
Jonathan chuckled. “It’s true. There are many nonsensical ploys we’ve adopted to keep our pride intact.” He sobered. “The thing that troubles me is that you girls were witnesses to all this. Just think of the horrors Ellen and Jeanette are going to endure before morning.”
“Yes, we must take steps to stop this absurd duel and assure that neither Nicky nor Albert is seriously harmed.”
“It’s out of our hands,” he told her. “There’s no way we can settle it for them.”
The following morning Sophie roused at dawn. To her despair the skies were temporarily lighter and there was a lull in the snowfall, which, she realized, would make it possible for Albert and Nicky to carry out their sinister plans.
But when she made her way down to the dining room, expecting to be greeted by the grimmest possible news, she was surprised to find Jonathan and Lady Biskup chatting happily together.
“What has happened?” she asked them. “Is anyone wounded?”
Lady Biskup snorted. “Good heavens, no! It has all come out as we should have predicted. Albert has panicked and fled, the craven. His seconds are quite beside themselves with chagrin.”
Sophie clasped her hands. “How wonderful! So Nicky is quite safe?”
Jonathan nodded. “And he’s sent the announcement to the papers. He and Ellen will be married on the first day of June.”
“I’m so glad!” she said as she sat down and unfolded her napkin.
Lady Biskup chuckled. “Yes, joy is rampant. Jeanette and Fairmont have also sent an announcement to the papers. They’ve selected the first day of April for their wedding.”
Sophie tilted her head. “And do you have the information you promised me today, Aunt Ruth?”
“No, I’m sorry.” Lady Biskup made a sad face. “The weather has hampered my emissary. It will be another day before I’ve answered certain questions.”
Her brows knitted, Sophie turned to Jonathan.
“Another day of uncertainty is better than a lifetime of regret,” he pointed out.
“Of course,” Lady Biskup agreed. “And we’ll be occupied with two weddings today.”
“That’s right, Anna is marrying Johnnie Aysgarth,” Sophie recollected.
Her aunt nodded. “And later Elizabeth will wed Charles Wellstone.” She turned to Jonathan. “By the way, have you heard what is happening to the Thames? It is freezing solid, for the first time since the reign of Elizabeth.”
“We’re having the steadiest snowfall in two hundred years,” he said. “It’s the same all over England, I’ve heard—and the Continent, as well.”
“They are planning to hold a Frost Fair, constructed on the ice” Lady Biskup told them. “Perhaps, if all goes well, we shall visit it tomorrow. Such a novelty, don’t you agree?”
* * * *
Shortly after noon Anna Finch and Johnnie Aysgarth were married. All the Vaile carriages were brought out and Jonathan hired five more coaches to transport the servants comfortably to the church. Lady Biskup and Jonathan served as official witnesses. Anna wore a new dress—a gift from her mistress—and a stylish new bonnet from Madame Young’s, which Sophie had insisted that she must have.
When the party returned to Vaile House, a sumptuous repast was awaiting them in the servants’ hall. Jonathan sat at the head of the table, toasting the couple and exhorting the gods to endow them with all possible good fortune. There were cheers from the guests, more wine was poured, and it was not long before the room was filled with happy laughter.
When it was discovered that Edmund McCoy played a spritely fiddle, the long table was folded away and Anna and Johnnie Aysgarth led a swarm of dancers onto the floor. By this time everyone had forgotten that their “betters” were present, and a general air of hilarity prevailed. Cook, who had been a Columbine in her salad days, set the company on its ear when she capered onto the floor and executed a vigorous solo. When she had completed her performance, however, it was necessary for her staff to carry her to a chair and fan her with Anna’s bonnet.
Sophie had not seen Johnnie Aysgarth without his hat for many years, and she was amazed to discover that he had grown into a handsome man. In fact, he was nearly as handsome as Ferguson, but he had a brightness and intelligence that made him infinitely more attractive.
She was also surprised to discover that, without her hair pinned down in a proper maid’s style, Anna was quite pretty—not so dazzlingly fair as Johnnie, but wide-eyed and puckish. And it was readily apparent that they were both very much in love.
When Jonathan led Anna out onto the floor for the second dance, Johnnie Aysgarth offered his arm to Sophie. “I’m hopin’ there’ll soon be such a day fer you, miss,” he purred in his soft North Country speech. “Ah wish ah could dance at yer weddin’, too.”
“You shall, Johnnie,” she assured him. “If it’s a happy one.”
This statement took him momentarily aback, and he peered at her curiously. But before she was obliged to explain her meaning, one of the footmen swung his partner into them and there was a heated exchange of pleasantries. Then the dance was resumed and everyone whirled around the floor until it was necessary for them to stop and catch their breath.
Eventually everyone realized that the couple had slipped away, undetected, and Lady Biskup led Sophie and Jonathan out of the servants’ hall. Sophie glanced wistfully back over her shoulder at the continuing merriment.
“I wish it were not necessary to leave,” she whispered to Jonathan. “I am certain that Elizabeth’s wedding will not be so warm and entertaining as this.”
* * * *
Late that afternoon the Vaile landau carried Lady Biskup, Sophie, and Jonathan to St. Paul’s Cathedral for the marriage of Elizabeth Bingham and Charles Wellstone. The snow was thick on the streets, but only the faintest hint of a powdery mist sifted down onto the guests’ shoulders as they left their carriages and made their way into the church. Inside the air hung in icy curtains. Each breath that was exhaled produced thick puffs of steam.
“It is as though we’re all smoking,” Sophie whispered to Jonathan.
He nodded and waited for the two ladies to settle onto the cold wooden pews before taking his seat. As soon as they were all settled, attendants knelt in front of them and placed hot bricks under their feet.
&nbs
p; Sophie wondered if the celebrants were a bit depressed by the darkness of the day, which might have been construed as a harbinger of cold and sadness to come. But when the organ began to roar and the bride appeared, moving slowly up the aisle on the arm of her grandfather, it was apparent that she was truly happy. She was, in fact, quite radiant and suddenly appeared to be much younger than Sophie had thought her. And Wellstone was so pleased with the outcome of his suit that he even forgot himself to the point of smiling once—a pinched and crabbed smile, to be sure, that barely revealed the bottom edges of his upper teeth, but a smile nonetheless.
The wedding dinner was an event that Sophie was certain she would never forget. Not only were there eleven different meat dishes, seven types of fish, thirty-four removes, and fourteen sweets for over six hundred guests, but the tables were laid with tons of exquisite silver, china, crystal, and flowers. More amazing yet, each of the eleven festive boards held a small ornamental lake at its center with water lilies and live swimming ducks. The head table had the good fortune to boast two such lakes, one of which was in front of Sophie’s place.
Each duck had one leg tied to an anchor underwater to prevent its wandering about among the wineglasses. Sophie was taken aback by the way the ducks were restrained, and it troubled her that they could only swim in a circle.
The meal had barely begun—the bride and groom were solemnly drinking to each other’s health—when a restless young hen in Sophie’s pond began to take exception to her restraints and to beat her wings in a frantic attempt to become airborne, splashing water all over the table and nearby guests. This evoked shrieks and wild laughter.
Jonathan sought shelter under the table while Sophie tried to think of a way to help the duck. No sooner had several stern footmen appeared with dry towels for the victims than the drake let out a torrent of furious quacks. This caused the other ducks in the room to set up their own indignant quacking and rendered conversation among the guests impossible.
The footmen were quickly ordered to remove the all the ducks from all the ponds in an attempt to restore order. One of the footmen began to fumble underwater to unfasten the drake’s tether, but the offended animal thrashed its wings and honked at the top of its lungs, sending water in all directions. Guests leaped from their seats again and fled squealing. Sophie and Jonathan retreated to a far wall while the unfortunate footman endured surges of water across his breast. By this time the remaining ducks in the room had set up a wild chorus of sympathetic cries.
