by Buck, Gayle
Joan laughed when she read the arch phrases, for she knew the good lady’s love of gossip and intrigue. She promised herself that she would one day return to visit the Percys and satisfy their curiosity. But in the meantime, she thought, the wiser course laid in the least said, the better.
Lady Cassandra covertly studied the clothing that Joan wore through the succeeding days. She was satisfied by the well-bred appearance that Joan always presented, but she thought the girl’s gowns were something lacking in dash. When she commented upon it, Joan said in surprise, “But I am in mourning, my lady.”
“Yes, but one may be in mourning and still contrive a bit of elegance. Perhaps a few ribbons for refurbishing, and a second muff,” mused Lady Cassandra, a speculative light in her eyes. She gave a decisive nod. “Yes, we must see about it.”
Joan realized from the manner in which Lady Cassandra was visually measuring her figure that her hostess planned to go to an expense greater than the cost of a few new ribbons. “Ma’am, truly I am in need of very little. I could not possibly accept your largess, however gracious it is of you to extend it.”
“Nonsense! You are my granddaughter, so let there not be another word about it, my dear. I shall have the dressmaker in this very afternoon.” Lady Cassandra smiled soothingly at her guest. “If it is the expense that has you in such a pucker, pray put it out of your head. It pleases me to spoil you, but if it should ease your conscience, I shall naturally present the bills to your husband.”
There was a wicked gleam in her cool gray eyes and Joan flushed.
She thought she well knew what the lady was about, but yet she could not help the tingle of embarrassment that suffused her whenever she thought of the viscount in the role of her husband. She had recalled more than once the offhand comment that he had made while at the inn regarding “numerous progeny.” She shied away from all the ramifications of that loaded statement.
“You are an incorrigible, my lady,” she said, mildly scolding. “I suppose that I have little choice in the matter, do I?”
“None whatsoever.” Lady Cassandra laughed. She stretched out her hand to the bellrope that hung beside her writing desk. In answer to her imperious tugging, a footman entered and Lady Cassandra issued the order to summon her personal needlewoman. The door closed again behind the footman’s retreating figure.
Lady Cassandra turned her head to appraise her guest once more. She enjoyed the girl’s frank manners and her lack of pretension. The refreshing qualities compared favorably against the solicitous cozenings of her own relations.
She was a wealthy woman, well-known for her perversity, who had often commented that there was scarcely a handful in the lot of her descendants who were worth their salt, and therefore were hardly suitable specimens to stand as her inheritors. As a consequence, she was much fawned over at any gathering of kinsmen and even the most outrageous of her opinions was given grave consideration.
“I liked you from the moment I met you, my dear. I hope that you will not lose that blend of gentleness and forthrightness that characterizes you,” she said abruptly.
Joan looked at her ladyship, suspicious that she was being made game of again. But there was none of the taunting light in Lady Cassandra’s eyes that she had quickly learned to associate with her ladyship’s cutting and sardonic wit. She inclined her head, not daring to comment on her ladyship’s unusual sentimentality.
Instead, she said, “I see that you have finished your correspondence. Would you like me to give your letter into the footman’s hands? I was just thinking that if you would not miss me, I would go for my shawl so that I could take a turn about the garden. I would gladly carry the letter out for posting as I went.”
The ladies were ensconced in the library. Joan had been reading a book of poetry beside the fire, occasionally commenting on various verses that took her fancy to Lady Cassandra, whom she had discovered shared her love of verse. Lady Cassandra had occupied herself at her writing desk, and Joan had seen that she had sealed the sheets with her own signet pressed into the wax.
“Thank you, my dear. And also convey my desire that a sherry be brought to me. I intend to move closer to the fire and enjoy the warmth of the flames with my wine,” Lady Cassandra said.
Joan set aside the book and rose. As she took the letter from Lady Cassandra, she chanced to glance at the recipient’s address. In Lady Cassandra’s distinctive penning was the name of the Countess of Dewesbury. She felt herself pale.
Lady Cassandra noticed her expression. She said in an offhand manner, “I am inviting myself to Dewesbury in a few days’ time. It has been too long since I availed myself of my daughter’s hospitality and I have decided to seize the opportunity to take advantage of my grandson’s escort whenever he should decide to travel in that direction himself. I hope that you will not mind it, my dear.”
Though it had gone hard against her inclinations, she had not penned a single word concerning the newly wedded couple to the earl and countess. Time enough for them all to learn of the vicar’s daughter, she thought with rare anticipation.
The color returned to Joan’s face. “Oh, no, not in the slightest, my lady. Of course I shall be delighted to continue our acquaintance.” She could not deny her heartfelt sense of reprieve. When she had thought of traveling to Dewesbury, even with the assurance of the viscount’s presence, she had felt apprehensive about facing his family. But if Lady Cassandra was also to go with them, she would feel herself much better able to carry it off.
Lady Cassandra smiled, well able to read the young woman’s relief in her expressive brown eyes. “Go along with you, my dear. You will want to finish your walk before teatime, I expect.”
Joan left the library, bearing the letter to be posted, and dutifully conveyed to the footman Lady Cassandra’s wish for a glass of sherry. Then she went up to gather her shawl and returned downstairs to exit the manor through the back and thus into the garden.
She had quickly discovered the garden, and in the past several days she had managed to slip away in the afternoons to walk the overgrown paths. It was not the usual formal garden that one might expect of a noblewoman’s abode; rather, it was a tangle of blooms and species that upon first discovery had strongly reminded Joan of her unconventional hostess.
Only one corner of the garden had any pretension to formality and it was highlighted by a charming arbor of climbing roses. As always, Joan avoided the path to the roses, preferring instead to wend her way among the rest of the garden.
Joan breathed the scented air, loving the feel of the breeze as it brushed her hair. She walked slowly, savoring the quiet as always. The peace that she had always felt among growing things had been a particular gift to her since her arrival at Blackhedge Manor.
Lady Cassandra had succeeded only to a point in diverting her attention for her circumstances. Joan was still nipped by doubts. There was so much unsettled about the future, so much that she could not easily discern. Joan sighed. She supposed that she would simply have to wait on events to show her whether she had made the wisest choice, after all.
The sun was slanting deep gold across the heads of the flowers. It was coming close to teatime, she thought. She turned her steps back in the direction of the manor.
Chapter Ten
After Joan had freshened up, she returned downstairs to the drawing room for afternoon tea. Lady Cassandra had apparently gone upstairs also and had not yet come down.
Joan amused herself while she waited for her ladyship by glancing through a lady’s magazine. She was genuinely interested in the fashion plates, taking particular note of the small changes in waistline placement and hem lengths and the sort of trimmings depicted. She was used to making several of her own ensembles each year, her father’s living having never stretched so far as to pay for a seamstress except for the occasional special gown.
Joan heard conversation in the entry hall, coming closer, and of a sudden she recognized the viscount’s voice. She looked up quickly from her magazine.
The next moment the drawing room door opened and the viscount entered with his characteristic quick step.
“My lord! I am glad to see you returned,” she exclaimed, setting aside her magazine. She rose and went to him with her hands outstretched.
Lord Humphrey caught her hands, smiling in his turn. “How are you, my lady? But I hardly need to ask, for I can see that you are very well. My grandmother has not eaten you whole, after all. I am greatly relieved.”
Joan laughed merrily. She disengaged herself to gesture an invitation for him to join her on the settee before she sank down on the cushions. He seated himself beside her. “No, indeed. Lady Cassandra has been a most solicitous hostess. I have learned much from her ladyship. I am truly in her debt for any number of things.”
Lord Humphrey quirked a brow, his disbelief plain in his eyes. “Indeed! Dare I inquire in what way?”
Joan felt warmth start into her face and she put up her hands against her cheeks. She threw him a laughing look. “Oh! You have put me out of countenance—and without the least intention of doing so, I know. Lady Cassandra would have my head if she were to see me. She is forever drumming into me that I must maintain my poise whatever else may be happening about me.”
“That sounds a good deal more like her ladyship,” Lord Humphrey said, laughing. He regarded her with curiosity. “But what should have embarrassed you in my question?”
Joan flashed a warm smile that invited him to share in her easy amusement. “Why, didn’t you guess? Her ladyship is determined that I shall be the epitome of a grande dame, above reproach and unaccountable to lesser opinions. Indeed, I am to become so full of myself that I shall be able to deliver the most cutting of set-downs without the least effort.”
“Good Gad,” said Lord Humphrey, taken aback. He eyed her in a considering way. She did not seem much changed, yet now that she had mentioned it, there was an air of easy confidence about her that had not been there before. There was surely something different about her hair as well, he thought, and her gown was more flattering than the one that he had seen her in previously.
He came to realize that he was staring at her when he saw that she was blushing again, even more vividly than before. For want of a better way to ease her self-consciousness, he said, “That is a particularly fetching gown.”
Joan inclined her head, suddenly to all appearances complete mistress of herself. “Thank you, Edward,” she said in a throaty voice.
He was surprised, but obscurely pleased that she had called him by his Christian name. “You have gotten over your shyness of me, at least,” he said.
“I am trying to do so,” Joan admitted frankly. With a fleeting smile, she explained, “Lady Cassandra has told me it would be very odd in me to address you always in a formal manner, since we are to have been acquainted for some time. Her ladyship has impressed upon me that I must practice until it becomes quite natural to me.”
Lord Humphrey laughed and she asked anxiously, “I hope that you are not offended?”
“No, of course not! Why should I be? If you recall, I requested the same of you several days past,” Lord Humphrey said. He chose not to reveal to her that it was her earnestness that amused him. “I am glad that my grandmother is taking such a benevolent interest in you, Joan. I wondered whether . . . Well, one can never predict exactly how her ladyship might go on and at times she can be a frightful old dragon.”
“Surely not! I have found Lady Cassandra to be exacting and decisively opinionated, perhaps, but never the least dragonish! She has been most kind to me, really,” Joan said.
Lord Humphrey grinned. “She has had you fetching and carrying for her, has she? And perhaps reading to her as well? And requiring you to agree to all manner of things that are exactly counter to your own opinions?” He saw from her expression that he had hit uncomfortably close to the truth, and he laughed again. “I shall not ask you to admit it aloud, my lady. I can see that it would cause you a struggle to be so disloyal and ungracious as to do so.”
Joan was relieved that she was to be let off so easily. “Yes, well, that at least I shall admit to.”
Lord Humphrey laughed again, making it difficult to hide her own smile.
While they were still laughing, Lady Cassandra entered the drawing room. In her wake came Carruthers and a footman carrying the tea um and a tray of cakes.
“What is this?” Lady Cassandra asked. “A party, and I have not been invited to it?”
The viscount leapt up and made an elegant leg. “On the contrary, Grandmamma. You are most welcome to join us.”
“Edward, my dear boy,” Lady Cassandra bestowed her hand on him, feeling a surge of uncharacteristic affection. It made her voice warmer than usual as she said, “I am glad to see you.”
Straightening, Lord Humphrey said, “I have just these few minutes past arrived. My lady has been regaling me with all that you have been putting her to during my absence.”
Lady Cassandra threw a thoughtful glance at Joan’s guilty face. “Indeed! I hope that I have not been cast into the role of tyrant, my dear.”
Lord Humphrey realized that he had inadvertently exposed his lady to Lady Cassandra’s possible displeasure. He rushed to Joan’s defense. “Quite the contrary, ma’am. Joan would have it that you are not at all the dragon that I would paint you,” he said daringly.
“Thank you, my dear Joan. You see with what lack of respect that I am treated by my own flesh-and-blood,” Lady Cassandra said dryly. However, she did not seem in the least offended and in fact smiled at her grandson’s newfound impudence. She seated herself and waved the viscount back to his place.
During the greetings, tea had been served and the servants left the drawing room.
Lady Cassandra arranged herself comfortably, giving a number of twitches to her skirt as she put her feet up onto the customary hassock. “Well, Edward, tell us what you have gotten up to since we last saw you,” she said.
“I have submitted the notice of the engagement into the Gazette. It should be printed by the time that we go to Dewesbury Court. I have also apprised the earl and my mother by the post of my later arrival. I do not think that they will continue to speculate as to the cause behind my absence once they have the opportunity to read the next Gazette,” said Lord Humphrey. With a quick grin, he added, “Lord, I am glad that I shan’t be there.”
“Quite,” said Lady Cassandra, at her driest.
“I have also brought down my man with me this trip so that it will all seem quite respectable and thought out. There will not be a hint of unseemly haste about the business,’’ Lord Humphrey said, pleased with himself that he had thought of everything. He looked over at Joan. “Have you that abigail still?”
“Yes. Lady Cassandra was concerned that the girl might gossip about the wedding, but I have spoken to her and she assures me that she will not do so,” Joan said.
“That’s all right, then,” Lord Humphrey said, nodding. “There will be all sorts of speculations running rife at Dewesbury, I shouldn’t wonder, and you’ll need a servant you can trust.”
Lady Cassandra sipped at her sweetened tea, then said, “I am going to Dewesbury with you and Joan.”
Lord Humphrey looked startled. “Are you, my lady?”
“Lady Cassandra goes to support me in my failing nerves,” Joan said with a laugh.
“Nonsense, girl. I simply wish to see the expressions on the faces of my dutiful daughter and her most worthy husband when the viscount introduces his chosen fiancée. It will undoubtedly afford me much entertainment,” said Lady Cassandra. Her tone was deliberately cool.
There was a short silence, during which Joan looked stricken, and Lord Humphrey surprised and angry. It was broken by the viscount.
“Grandmamma, have I ever mentioned what a very wicked creature I think you?” he asked quietly.
“Not before now, my dear,” Lady Cassandra said serenely. She raised her brows as she regarded the subdued pair. Her eyes had turned rather hard. “I am a capriciou
s old woman. I care for very little and very few. Perhaps you would both be wise enough to keep that in mind.”
“Then why have you chosen to help us, my lady?” Joan asked.
Lady Cassandra smiled slowly. “It pleases me to do so, Miss Chadwick.” She saw the start that the girl gave. “Ah, does that form of address surprise you, my dear? Pray become comfortable with it, for you must be Miss Chadwick from this moment on.”
“I understand perfectly, my lady,” Joan said, in a low trembling voice.
She turned her head so that she could look at the flickering flames, presenting her neat profile to Lady Cassandra. She was beginning to understand a great many painful things, she thought. She had believed that she and Lady Cassandra were becoming quite close. She had shared several confidences with her ladyship and in return Lady Cassandra had treated her as a well-liked young friend. However, her assumption of their mutual liking had just suffered a severe setback.
Joan recalled the several times in the last several days that Lady Cassandra had told her that she would not be able to trust anyone. She had simply brushed aside those hints, but Joan realized now that Lady Cassandra had also been speaking of herself.
Joan felt the rejection deeply. Lady Cassandra had encouraged her to talk of herself and her interests, of her father and her life with him. Lady Cassandra had been an exacting companion, but she had also appeared to be genuinely interested in her. But it had all been a dreadful sham. She had merely provided an amusement for Lady Cassandra, which was now done.
Satisfied that her cruel point had been taken, Lady Cassandra turned to her grandson. “Edward, what date did you give to the earl and your mother for your arrival?” she asked.
Lord Humphrey stared at her ladyship from under gathered brows. He had not cared for the churlish manner in which Lady Cassandra had spoken to Joan.
