“Well, I was going to. Lord Deverill is not one who will give me away, and certainly not to Papa or to Grandpapa.”
“No, indeed,” Deverill agreed instantly. “Tell me.”
“Well, the real reason I wanted Lady Catherine to ride the Duchess is that I can make her limp by whistling at her, and that is what I did, and so Clemons had to take her back to the stable, on account of Lady Catherine thought she had strained her hock again, which she never really did in the first place, only Clemons said she did, and so of course I said the same thing. Only Aunt Daintry knew all along it was me.”
Deverill looked at Daintry in astonishment. “Is that the truth? Has she really taught the mare to limp on command?”
“Don’t encourage her to boast of the tricks she has taught the horses in our stables,” Daintry said, laughing. “I began it by showing her some simple schooling methods, but she left my teaching in the dust long ago, and I fear that any number of the things she’s taught them since must be entirely reprehensible.”
“No, they aren’t, Aunt Daintry. Well, only that one, maybe, but I did it because Duchess limps so often anyway that I thought it would be easy to teach her to do it on command, and so it was. Aunt Daintry says I have a knack, sir, though I still have not managed to teach Victor here not to be afraid of thunder.”
Deverill said, “You terrify me. I have schooled any number of horses, and I cannot remember a single time I have been the least bit tempted to teach one to limp on purpose.”
“Well, but we have taught them lots of useful things as well,” Charley assured him. “May we ride on ahead, Aunt Daintry? Melissa wants to try jumping the walls.”
Daintry, noting the quickly masked look of dismay on Melissa’s face, said, “You may certainly ride where you like, girls, so long as you do not go where I cannot see you, and so long as you are careful. You may jump the gates, Charley, but not the stone walls. One day when we can take time to examine them carefully first, we will see about attempting them, but not today when you two want to ride on ahead of us.”
When the little girls gave spur to their horses and dashed away, Deverill said, “They ride extremely well for their ages. Two of the firmest seats I’ve had the privilege of seeing.”
Pleased that he recognized their skill, and even more pleased that he had not qualified his praise by adding the infuriating words for little girls, or worse, for females, Daintry said with a smile, “They practiced their balance by riding without relying on reins or stirrups until they could sit on handkerchiefs and hold bits of paper between their legs and the stirrup leather. They have become quite skilled indeed.”
He nodded but made no reply. Charley had set Victor at a timber gate, and he watched alertly until horse and rider sailed smoothly over. When Melissa had followed Charley’s lead without mishap, he said, “I wondered if the little one might be a bit tentative. She seems less confident than her cousin, but I suppose I have done her a grave injustice by saying so.”
“She has implicit faith in Charley, sir. The difficulty was to induce her to look for her own route and not always to depend upon Charley to give her the lead. I finally convinced her by pointing out that she would be teaching Tender Lady always to require a lead horse, so now she makes it a habit to take turns with Charley. There now, you see, she will come back first.”
They continued to watch until the two children rode into the next field, when Deverill grinned at Daintry and said with a hint of challenge in his voice, “You will not want them to leave us too far behind, I suppose.”
She knew that Charley would do nothing of the kind, but she had been wishing she might join in their fun, and she did not hesitate now, giving spur to Cloud and riding to leap the nearest gate. Deverill, riding beside her, opened the distance between them and took Shadow over the wall at the same time.
Drawing up a few moments later, Daintry glanced at her two charges to see that once again, Melissa was taking the lead. To her experienced eye, it was evident that Tender Lady was going too slowly, but she relaxed when she saw Melissa touch the mare’s flank with her whip. Tender Lady seemed to jump cleanly, with the little girl leaning back just slightly, the way she had been taught, and all would have been well had the mare not stumbled on the landing. Melissa collected her without falling, but as the mare recovered and broke into a run, it quickly became clear that the little girl had lost at least one of her reins.
Looking frantically over her shoulder, she cried, “Charley!”
Muttering an epithet, Deverill urged Shadow forward, but Daintry drew rein, knowing Melissa was in no danger.
Before Shadow had taken half a dozen steps several piercing, gull-like shrieks rent the air, and Tender Lady slowed to a trot, then to a walk, before she stopped altogether. Melissa leaned forward, clinging to the mare’s mane and trying to snag the loose rein with her whip. “It’s broken,” she called to Charley.
Deverill had reined in the black, and looked back now at Daintry, raising his eyebrows. “Another of her little tricks?”
“An extremely useful one, you will agree,” Daintry said. “The only drawback is that well-nigh every horse in our stables responds the same way that Tender Lady just did. It would have been no use my trying to dash after her like you did until after Charley had whistled. However, that is one reason Melissa has become a confident rider. She was terrified to ride at Seacourt, because she cannot control her pony. The little beast has the worst manners in the world, and there are times when I think Geoffrey must have been mad to purchase him. But once Charley proved to her that Tender Lady would not run away with her, she became much more interested in learning to ride well. Now, I daresay even that awful pony won’t frighten her anymore.”
Charley had joined Melissa, and as they approached, both girls looked at Daintry. Charly said, “She knows she ought not to have relaxed her hold on the rein, Aunt Daintry.”
Daintry smiled at Melissa. “I am sure she does. You kept your head very well, my dear. I was proud of you.”
Melissa flushed a little but said, “The rein is broken. She must have stepped on it.”
Deverill, dismounting, said, “I have just the thing, ladies. I, too, know a few tricks, having spent more months campaigning than I care to remember.” He reached into a leather pouch attached to his saddlebow and took out a coil of leather. “I always carry an extra rein, because one never knows when a mishap will occur, only that when it does it will be most inconvenient.”
Charley exclaimed, “What a good idea! I shall begin to do that myself. If saddles were properly designed with notion bags, one could carry as much as Aunt Ophelia does in that great traveling reticule of hers. But how does one attach that, sir?”
He showed her how to attach the new rein to the broken piece. “It is only makeshift till your tack man can repair it properly, and we must attach it so the broken end will not flap around. If I had a knife with me, I could cut it off, but that will serve you until you get home.”
Melissa thanked him prettily, and Daintry said, “We all thank you, sir, but I do think we had better return now.”
“I will not offer to accompany you,” he said, frowning. “That is, unless your esteemed parent has changed his … No, I didn’t think he had. However, perhaps I will see you at Mount Edgcumbe’s house party on the twelfth.”
Her spirits rose considerably. “We have been invited, sir.”
“All of you?”
She chuckled at his dismay. “My father does not attend such parties, sir. He likes shooting parties, of course, but not mixed hunting parties, theatricals, or dancing, so I believe our group at Mount Edgcumbe will consist of only my aunt, myself, and Charles and Davina, for Geoffrey’s tastes are similar to Papa’s.”
“And there will be no children,” Charley said with a sigh.
Deverill laughed. “Your day will come soon enough, Miss Charlotte, and I doubt that the beau monde will ever be the same afterward.” The two little girls broke into delighted laughter, and under its cov
er, he turned to Daintry and said warmly, “I look forward to advancing our acquaintance, my lady.”
Unable to resist looking over her shoulder as she rode away with the children, Daintry saw that he was still where they had left him, watching. Smiling, he raised his hat, and she turned quickly away, but she could not so easily dismiss him from her thoughts. He could be charming and delightful, but he could also be extremely vexatious and at times even stuffy, as when he had taken her to task about her groom. In point of fact, there was no place in her life for a man like Deverill. At best he would provoke her; at worst he would rob her forever of the independence she sought.
Gideon stayed where he was until the three riders had disappeared over the rise. He had enjoyed himself enormously and wished he might repeat the experience soon, but he knew he would gain nothing if St. Merryn discovered his daughter meeting the enemy at his gate. Mount Edgcumbe would be soon enough to learn if he could stir the little termagant’s passions.
In the meantime, he enlisted Shalton and a pair of sturdy footmen to help with the chaos in the muniments room, and the four of them attacked the mess with ruthless efficiency, their labors undisturbed since Jervaulx had received word that his presence was required at once at the Abbey and had journeyed post into Gloucestershire. Though Gideon was interested only in the years shortly before his grandfather’s marriage, the records and papers dated back to the fourteenth century, and his orderly nature required that all of them be at least sorted if not catalogued. Even that much proved to be a Herculean task, but before long order began to emerge from the chaos, and he decided that when he returned from Mount Edgcumbe, he would be able to proceed with a more thorough search.
Nine
THE TARRANT FAMILY ACCOMPLISHED the fifteen-mile journey to Mount Edgcumbe in four carriages, the first and most elegant one carrying Lady Ophelia, Davina, and Daintry, who occupied the forward seat with Lady Ophelia’s traveling reticule. Their maids and Charles’s valet followed in the next coach, and the enormous amount of baggage required by four members of the beau monde for a week’s visit to one of the county’s most fashionable houses more than filled the last two vehicles. Charles disliked being confined and had chosen, despite the threatening skies, to ride.
Rolling thunder accompanied them along the way, causing carriage horses and Charles’s mount to skitter nervously from time to time, but there were no unfortunate incidents, and the rain most generously held off until after their arrival.
The house at Mount Edgcumbe, perched on its promontory at the entrance to Plymouth Sound and surrounded by picturesque parkland, was compact and symmetrical, a golden three-story mock castle with four octagonal corner towers and a broad rectangular central tower at the front. The carriages approached it by way of its gardens. Long considered to be some of the most beautiful in England—though not at their best at this season—they were adorned with temples and a ruined folly, which loomed in turn out of the dusky gloom. Above the sound of the distant thunder could be heard the nearer sound of guns overlooking the harbor as they roared their host’s welcome to arriving guests.
From the east front, they could see across the mouth of the River Tamar to the city of Plymouth, a view touted by many but deplored by more discriminating persons who disliked gazing down upon dockyards. Daintry, who had been to Mount Edgcumbe before, enjoyed the sense of being on top of the world looking down at the ships and yachts, and she particularly enjoyed the lights of Plymouth at night. On a clear day one could see the Eddystone Light, fifteen miles out to sea, a beacon to ships entering Plymouth Harbor, as well as a warning to ships proceeding toward Southampton and London not to venture too near without care. The lamp had been lit early because of the gloom, and looking back as she followed Lady Ophelia into the hall, Daintry could see its friendly, sweeping glow in the distance.
In the lofty, candle-lit front hall, which was as large as a courtyard since it had been built two hundred years before to replace one, the sound of their heels on the tessellated marble floor echoed from the high ceiling and distant walls despite the heavy, magnificent tapestries with which the latter were hung.
Liveried servants scurried to deal with baggage while a pair of tall, handsome footmen led the way to the guest bedrooms in the east wing, one stopping to attend to Charles and Davina while the second went on with Lady Ophelia and Daintry, who were given adjoining bedchambers near the southeast tower.
Though Daintry was curious to know if Deverill had arrived, she knew better than to make a gift to any servant of information that might provide grist for the ever-active rumor mills. Moreover, it was already time to dress for dinner. If Deverill was present, she would see him soon enough.
In fact, he was practically the first person she did see when she and Lady Ophelia joined the other guests in the first-floor saloon, a noble, gilded white chamber with a high, coved ceiling and a magnificent pink and gray Axminster carpet. Judging from Deverill’s expression—and from the way he instantly detached himself from the gentleman he was speaking to—that he had been watching for her, Daintry felt a glow of satisfaction and greeted him with a smile.
“I was afraid this dismal weather might put you off,” he said, then turned guiltily to Lady Ophelia, as if he had just recalled his manners, and added, “Good evening, ma’am. I hope your journey was a pleasant one.”
“It was,” she replied, her eyes twinkling, “but if you consider this to be dismal weather for Cornwall, young man, you have been away much longer than I had thought.”
He chuckled. “I have been away a good many years, but in my own defense, let me point out that we are practically in Devon, where the weather is thought to be considerably more temperate.”
She smiled. “As a recovery, that was not too bad, but close as Devon might be, we are still in Cornwall, where they say sunny days are so few as to be worthy of underscoring in one’s journal, though I rarely bother noting the weather in mine at all. However, I daresay that having spent so many years on the Continent, you are more accustomed to sunshine than we are.”
“It was certainly warmer than England,” he said, “but here is our host bearing down upon us. There will be dancing after dinner, Lady Daintry. May I hope that you will honor me?”
“Certainly, sir,” she replied, wondering what her brother would have to say about it and deciding that Charles, loath as he was to endure dissension, would say nothing whatever, nor would he carry tales of her activities to their father.
Deverill bowed and left them as the Earl of Mount Edgcumbe approached. In his fifty-first year, he was a neat little beau and an accomplished flirt, having been a widower for twenty years. Since his hostess for these occasions was his cousin Albinia Edgcumbe, he did not hesitate to greet Lady Ophelia as if he would like to add her to his long string of conquests. They had known each other for years, and as Daintry knew, her aunt, despite her oft-expressed prejudices against the strong sex, enjoyed these encounters as much as his lordship did. Daintry came in for her own share of winks and compliments, but she was feeling charitable to all men at the moment, and did not mind.
Her pleasure in being at Mount Edgcumbe suffered a slight setback when Davina, whose opinion generally counted for little with her, met her on the way into the dining room and, as the two of them fell back to allow Lady Ophelia to precede them, pulled her to one side in the corridor and demanded to know what she meant by setting the whole company agog.
“I don’t have the least notion of what you are talking about,” Daintry replied, irritated by Davina’s air of criticism but genuinely at a loss to understand her.
“I have heard from at least four persons, including Sally, that you have set your cap for Deverill,” Davina said in an angry undertone at odds with the smile she kept pinned to her face for the benefit of passersby, “so don’t play the coy lamb with me. If you shake everyone by the ears before we have been here a day, only think what a temper your father will be in when we return!”
“Oh, pooh,” Daintry retorted, n
odding at an acquaintance who passed them to enter the dining room. “He will hear nothing about it, and even if he did, he can scarcely expect me to be uncivil to Deverill. That really would cause a scandal.”
“Civil? Do you call it civil to run to him the minute you arrive and to stand talking to him, fluttering your lashes and blushing as if he had been the only man in the room? I am only glad I did not actually see you myself.”
“Well, I wish you had,” Daintry said with asperity, annoyed that anyone had described her in such a ridiculous manner. “It was nothing like that, Davina. He came to pay his respects to Aunt Ophelia when we joined everyone else before dinner. We exchanged a few comments about the weather, and then Mount Edgcumbe chased him away so he could flirt with Aunt, just as he always does. Whoever was unkind enough to speak such nonsense to you was exaggerating the situation beyond all reason.”
“Well, it was Sally, so I do not doubt that you are telling me the truth,” Davina said, stepping back as yet another group went by, “but it just goes to show, Daintry, how easily the smallest thing can be made into scandal.”
“Well, you are scarcely one to talk,” Daintry said grimly, “and nor is Lady Jersey. How anyone can call her ‘Silence’ quite astonishes me, for a greater chatterbox I do not know.” She was not on such terms with the fifth Countess of Jersey as to call her Sally like Davina did, but she had decided opinions about the woman. “Her family has provided more than its share of scandal, what with her mama eloping with her papa and her sister-in-law running to Scotland to divorce Lord Uxbridge and marry Argyll, so your precious Sally should not criticize others. She may be a great heiress and a patroness of Almack’s, but she is not kind.”
Davina looked swiftly around. “Merciful heavens, Daintry, do not let anyone else hear you! One fatal word from Sally and you will be sunk beyond reclaiming. Your flirting with Deverill merely amused her, for she knew him in Brussels, and of course, everyone knows all about the feud between your two families.”
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