by Cheryl Bolen
She had quickly seized a seat in front of the instrument so she would not be called upon to sing. If one hundred ladies were to sing this evening, Miss Featherstone had no doubts she would be the worst of the lot. Because her physical attributes were greatly lacking, Miss Featherstone was possessed of just enough pride that she never wished her other defects displayed.
Lady Sarah, as the guest, sang first. Her voice perfectly matched her angelic looks. What man would not fall in love with her? How Miss Featherstone envied her cousin her many blessings. And now a new one could be added. Soon, Lady Sarah would acquire three sisters! All their lives she and Sarah had lamented they had no sisters. Did Sarah have to get everything? Could there not be a crumb left for her poor relation?
Then Miss Featherstone would feel wretchedly guilty over her jealousy. She loved Sarah and always wanted what was best for her cousin, just as Sarah wanted what was best for Jane. They had always looked upon each other as sisters.
When Lord Slade saw that Miss Featherstone was having difficulty turning the pages of the music while playing the pianoforte, he came and sat on the bench beside her and began to flip the pages for her. She recalled him telling her that he was a great music lover.
Instead of comforting her, though, his close proximity sent her heart racing and her hands trembling. Whatever was the matter with her? Miss Jane Featherstone had never been so profoundly affected by a man before. If only poor Mr. Poppinbotham could elicit such a reaction in her!
After each of the ladies had sung–with Miss Featherstone politely declining–Lord Slade turned to Mr. Poppinbotham. "Would you care to sing for us?"
"Oh, dear me, no. Never had time for music."
Of course he didn't. No money to be made there, Miss Featherstone thought, most uncharitably. "But my dear Mr. Poppinbotham, you've spent four decades toiling to make your fortune; now it's time to indulge in life's pleasures," she said, "and music is most definitely one of those pleasures."
He offered her an appreciative smile. "'Tis blessed I am to have met the likes of you, Miss Featherstone. You not only understand me perfectly, but you know exactly what I need for the next rung on the ladder of success."
"You are a fortunate man, indeed," Lord Slade said.
Jane felt wretchedly guilty for any uncharitable thoughts she had toward the printer, er, publisher. "Tell me, Mr. Poppinbotham, do you know how to play the pianoforte?"
He shrugged. "I'm embarrassed to admit it, but I do not."
Miss Featherstone addressed him. "There's nothing to be ashamed of. You paid handsomely for a dancing master to teach you to dance, and I can vouch for his success. Why do you not engage someone to teach you the pianoforte? That is, if you are inclined to want to play at the pianoforte. You are obviously an apt pupil."
The flattered man tossed a glance to their host. "You must see, my lord, how very good Miss Featherstone is for me."
She thought perhaps Lord Slade was losing his patience with the other man. He was barely civil when he said, "Indeed I do."
* * *
It was nearly midnight when the sisters showed Jane and Lady Sarah to their bedchambers on the third floor. Lady Mary Ann, holding high a brace of candles, led the way. "This is the family corridor," she said. They began to pad down the broad wooden hallway where the only source of light was a lantern sconce midway down the hall.
"How many bedchambers on this corridor?" Lady Sarah asked.
Jane could tell her cousin was clearly impressed over the monumental size of Dunvale's interior. Lord Clegg's country home was a great deal smaller.
Lady Mary Ann set an index finger to her chin. "Let me think."
"Twelve," Lizzie announced proudly.
"The rooms we're putting you ladies in are almost identical. The only difference is Lady Sarah's is emerald coloured, and Miss Featherstone's is in red." Mary Ann stopped in front of a tall timber door and opened it.
Since the room was green, Jane knew it was her cousin's.
Lady Sarah hurried into the chamber where a fire glowed from the small hearth, and emerald coloured broadloom carpet covered the cold stone floors. The bed was draped in velvet the same shade of green as the carpet. The occupant was elated. "What a wonderfully cozy room! Who would have thought a castle could be cozy?"
"I'm glad you like it," a clearly delighted Lady Mary Ann said.
"Oh, I assure you, I love Dunvale," Lady Sarah said.
"We are so gratified. I hope you sleep well, Lady Sarah." Mary Ann faced Jane. "Now to your chamber, Miss Featherstone."
The fire in Jane's bedchamber had also been laid. She hoped these few days at Dunvale were not costing his lordship an excessive amount he could ill afford to spend. She had noticed at dinner that dozens of costly wax candles lighted the long oaken dining table. Such an expense!
"Thank you, Lady Mary Ann." Jane turned to the other sister. "I am decidedly appreciative that you've made mine and my cousin's stay here so comforting and enjoyable." She – as well as her cousin – had taken an immediate liking to the sisters. They displayed a genuine warmth of character and well-informed minds. Just like their eldest brother.
"The joy is all ours," Lady Diana said.
"Indeed, it is a delight to have guests," Lady Mary Ann added.
Lizzie smiled. "Tomorrow we shall steal you away from the males and bombard you with questions about the newest fashions in London and the assemblies at Almack's."
"You're much too young to be filling your head with such things," Lady Mary Ann chided as she set a gentle hand on her sister's shoulder and guided her from the room.
"My cousin will be happy to discourse on fashion," Jane said. "It is a subject upon which her knowledge is vast."
"I could certainly tell that by the quality of her beautiful clothing," Lady Diana said.
Lady Mary Ann sighed. "As if one that lovely even needed beautiful clothing!"
Alone in her scarlet bedchamber, Jane put on her night clothes, then climbed onto the high bed that on colder nights would be enclosed with the scarlet velvet draperies that now gathered around the four bedposts. She lay there in the semidarkness, the wood fire crackling in the grate, her thoughts spinning over the day's events, then settling on Mr. Poppinbotham. Until today, she had not admired the man, and while he had yet to do something to earn her respect, tonight he had won her affection.
Certainly not the same kind of affection which Lord Slade elicited in her, but now she saw Mr. Poppinbotham as a man struggling to better himself. And he needed her in order to accomplish what he wished to accomplish in life. The very notion of being needed gave her a sense of purpose.
She tried to imagine being kissed by Mr. Poppinbotham, but the thought made her exceedingly uncomfortable. Not like with Lord Slade. The very idea of kissing him had a profound physical effect upon her entire person–a pleasant physical effect. Indeed, she could think of nothing which could be more pleasant.
She had come to believe that Mr. Poppinbotham meant to ask for her hand in marriage. She was flattered that among all the pretty ladies surrounding them this evening he only had eyes for her. Would he ask for her hand in marriage on the morrow? What would be her response?
Chapter 18
"Whatever is the matter, Runt?" Lord Slade asked Lizzie as he entered the saloon the following morning and saw her reddened, teary eyes.
"My . . . my persecutor insists that I cannot get out of my lessons today." She glared at her eldest sister.
He stopped and regarded Mary Ann. "I appreciate that you have Lizzie's best interest at heart, and I'm cognizant that it's a great burden having to serve as mother and father while I'm away, but I think this once it can't hurt for her to take a day away from lessons." He knew how much Lizzie loved a picnic.
Mary Ann's features softened. "Honestly, Slade! You are such a tender heart. I knew you'd come right behind me and undermine my efforts to instill self discipline in her."
He drilled Mary Ann with a stern look. "Can you honestly tell me Lizzie
is so deficient in knowledge that she cannot miss a single day of instruction?"
"You know she's more than capable. She's too devilishly clever, by far." She mumbled under her breath. "She's entirely too much like you."
He hugged Mary Ann. "A most fortunate girl, to be sure."
Lizzie flew to him and threw her arms around him. "You are the best brother any girl ever had."
"Indeed you are, Slade." Mary Ann looked up at him with admiration shining in her eyes. "It's you who have all the burdens. It's not fair that you're saddled with all of us, and you're not yet thirty."
He stiffened. "Pray, don't ever speak like that. I count myself as the most fortunate man in the three kingdoms to have four such delightful siblings."
"All the same," Mary Ann said, "it's a pity you had to make that Vow."
He shrugged.
Mary Ann pushed at Lizzie. "Go tell your governess you'll not be taking lessons today."
After Lizzie left the chamber, and the two of them were alone, she spoke her mind. "I know that wretched Vow is forcing you to dance attendance upon that empty-headed – albeit beautiful – heiress when it's plain as the nose on your face that Miss Featherstone's the very girl for you."
He felt rather as if someone had walloped his chest. Miss Featherstone! He had never given the lady the slightest consideration–in a romantic way.
Because he knew he could not.
He had a duty to his dying father. His own preferences were not to be considered. There were too many people dependent upon him. "You are quite mistaken. Have you not noticed that Miss Featherstone and Mr. Poppinbotham are courting? I believe the man means to propose to her during their stay here at Dunvale."
She winced. "That would be a terrible shame."
"Why do you say that?"
"They are so mismatched." She nibbled at her lip, then lowered her voice. "And because I know she's in love with you."
"You can certainly know no such thing!"
"But I do, Slade. Women know about these things."
He looked at her skeptically. "Seventeen is hardly a woman."
"You've told me all my life I'm much older and wiser than my years. It's because I'm the firstborn daughter with the attendant responsibilities, just as you, as the firstborn son, have even greater responsibilities."
"You understand I have to court Lady Sarah."
She solemnly shook her head. "I just wish you had free will to marry the woman who would make you the best life partner."
He turned away, then spun back and faced his wise sister whose face so resembled his and David's–in a pretty version. "What makes you think Miss Featherstone has the least interest in me?"
She lowered her voice. "Surely you can't believe her serious about that hanger-on!"
"Actually, no. I am sure Miss Featherstone has more sense than that." He continued to lower his voice because he really would not want poor Mr. Poppinbotham to hear him. He certainly did not dislike the man. It was just that he was so far beneath the touch of the impeccable Miss Featherstone.
Mary Ann shrugged and kept her voice low. "I can't actually say how I know Miss Featherstone's in love with you. Perhaps it's the way she watches you. Or the way she looks so sad when you communicate with her cousin. Or perhaps it's the way she seems to perk up like a pup whenever you address her. Certainly nothing like she responds to her so-called suitor." Mary Ann abruptly stopped talking, her gaze darting to the doorway.
He turned and saw Miss Featherstone. "Good morning," he said, bowing. "I have good news. The dark clouds have gone, and we will be free to take our country walk and to have our picnic this afternoon."
"That is good news," Miss Featherstone said.
"Where's your cousin?" he asked.
"Your brother has stolen away with her. She consented to allow him to regale her with tales of India."
"Are they in the library?"
"No, I believe they're walking outside the castle grounds."
He had wanted to be the one to show her the parkland surrounding Dunvale. He'd always thought it Dunvale's best feature.
"This morning I should love to ride," Miss Featherstone said. Was she trying to take his mind off his disappointment?
He frowned. "I'm afraid we don't keep a proper stable here at Dunvale."
Her face fell. "Oh, of course. You do spend most of your time in London, but - - -" She suddenly must have realized he kept no stable in London, either.
Poppinbotham entered the chamber, chatting amiably with Diana. The man's face brightened when he saw Miss Featherstone.
Lord Slade did not at all like to think of Miss Featherstone encouraging the poor man. Not when there was no way an intelligent woman like her–a woman from one of England's oldest families, no less–would even consider uniting herself to someone like Cecil Poppinbotham.
Perhaps Slade should have a word with her today, let her know of Poppinbotham's plans so she could give the best consideration as to how to let the old fellow down gently.
* * *
David led the way along the broad lawn to the rear of Dunvale, Mary Ann on his left, and Diana on his right. Next came Lord Slade, with Lady Sarah linking her arm to his and an adoring Lizzie strolling beside the Paragon of Fashion and quizzing her unmercifully about London fashions. Miss Featherstone and Mr. Poppinbotham were just a few feet behind them.
"Have you decided what angle you wish me to use when I sketch Dunvale, my lord?" Miss Featherstone asked.
It was as if she'd stolen into his thoughts for he had been wondering the very same thing. "Ideally, I'd like to get the lake in the foreground."
She laughed. "I was going to suggest the same thing. You know, my lord, I was a bit surprised when you expressed in interest in having me draw Dunvale."
His step slowed, and he turned to look back at the lady. He hated to address anyone– especially a lady–when his back was presented to her. "Why do you say that?"
She shrugged. He noticed that, unlike her cousin who wore a lovely pink velvet pelisse on this cool day, Miss Featherstone wore a knitted shawl of dark green--practical and economical, like the lady who wore it. The green shawl was perfectly becoming on her. "It's just that I never felt you held Dunvale in great admiration," she said.
He gave a bitter laugh. "How very well you know me, Miss Featherstone. I must own that one of the reasons I wished to have a good drawing of Dunvale was to have it for my brother when he's off on his travels for crown and country. My brother seems to have inherited all the affection for the old pile that the heir was supposed to possess."
"I have noticed that Captain St. John does seem every bit as enamored of the castle as my cousin," Miss Featherstone said.
"I declare, Cousin Jane, I believe you're right!" Lady Sarah gave a scolding look up at her escort. "Really, my lord, you should be more proud of your ancestral home."
He sighed. "But my dear lady, I've taken the liberty of sparing you exposure to Dunvale's warts."
She looked straight ahead. "I shouldn't think there could be any warts at Dunvale that could not be repaired with a hefty purse."
"But alas, my lady, I'm sadly in want of that." As uncomfortable as the confession made him, he was relieved that he'd finally been honest with the young lady. He was also relieved to have all his warts out in the open. He disliked deception of any kind.
As they continued on, with Lizzie and Lady Sarah discussing fashion, he pondered what the lady had just said. There couldn't be any warts at Dunvale that could not be repaired with a hefty purse. Surely that had to mean she was considering him as a potential husband. Isn't that exactly what he wanted?
Then why did he feel so very low?
The land surrounding the castle resembled a green carpet that was symmetrically dissected by a wide gravel path. As they strolled across its vast expanse, pockets of trees stood out in the distance. These had been carefully planted to provide as many varying shades of green as possible. Though Lord Slade looked upon the castle itself as a burden as
well as a cold and grim monstrosity of a building, he enjoyed its landscape.
Once they neared the trees, Capability Brown's curving lake came into view. Lord Slade always smiled when he noted the little humpback stone bridge that spanned the lake at one of its narrower points. That had been his mother's lone contribution to the landscape.
"I declare, my lord," Lady Sarah said, "one could never want to return to London."
"I cannot convey to you how happy those words make me."
They circled the lake, and then still farther beyond they came to the summer house, a neoclassical structure situated on a manmade hill that overlooked the lake. There, his footmen were setting up tables for their picnic while Cook and the scullery maid were unpacking baskets that were brimming with food and drink.
By the time their group reached the summer house, they had walked for an hour. House was an inaccurate name for the structure. It was really more of a pavilion because it had no proper walls. Doric columns supported the pedimented roof.
Several tables had been laid out to make one long table that was now generously set with food. There was cold mutton, fresh country cheese, apples, hard-cooked eggs, and ale and wine with which to wash down the meal.
"Please feel free to sit where you'd like," Slade said.
Lady Sarah ended up with a brother on either side of her. As the meal progressed, Lord Slade was disappointed in himself for not being a more interesting conversationalist. David, on the other hand, practically held court. He had Lady Sarah listening in raptures to his tales of India. What a pity that he, Lord Slade, was incapable of establishing a closeness between himself and the young lady he was trying to woo.
He had hoped he and Lady Sarah could stray from the others today in order to establish some intimacy between them, but most of his thoughts were being channeled into the question of how he would find the opportunity to prepare Miss Featherstone for the inevitable question Poppinbotham intended to present to her. Slade did not at all like to allow Poppinbotham to speak to her before he himself had a chance to warn the young lady.
