by Brenda Hiatt
"Does she?" Lady Dearborn turned towards Miss Winston-Fitts with a smile. "That is certainly what is needed."
"Yes," went on Rosalind's mother, "she used to help in our herb garden when she was younger." She forbore to add that she herself had forbidden her to continue once she turned sixteen, deeming it an unladylike pursuit. As the Countess obviously did not consider it so, Mrs. Winston-Fitts was only too willing to change her opinion on that head.
"I hope you remember to keep some of your rosemary planted at the doors. 'Tis very lucky to do so. What other talents is she blessed with?" asked Lady Dearborn, apparently deciding that the mother was a more likely source of information than the daughter.
"Oh! She does the most exquisite needlework imaginable," responded Rosalind's proud parent. "Why, even Elinor here has said that her work is like that of fairies."
"Very true, my lady," concurred Ellie eagerly. "My cousin can make nigh invisible stitches. Her patience and precision amaze me, for I can never sit still long enough to do a piece of work to even my own satisfaction, much less anyone else's." Despite her own conflicting feelings regarding the forthcoming match, Ellie very much wanted Rosalind to get on with her future mother-in-law. Unfortunately, however, the Countess seemed less than impressed.
"I fear needlework has never been one of my strengths," said Lady Dearborn. "I, too, find myself unable to sit at something so mindless for very long." Then, seeming to realize what she had implied, she quickly added, "It is a most admirable and feminine accomplishment, however, and one to be commended."
"Quite so," agreed Mrs. Winston-Fitts with a barely perceptible sniff.
"Here we have our little apple orchard," said the Countess, plainly eager to change the subject. "The blossoms are past their prime now, but they were quite spectacular a fortnight ago, I assure you." She was interrupted at that moment by an unearthly wailing from above.
Looking up, Ellie saw an orange tabby cat far out on the limb of a nearby apple tree. He had apparently gone out farther than he had intended and was now fearful of retracing his route, although he was actually no more than six or seven feet from the ground. As she watched, the cat emitted another pitiful howl.
"Oh, gracious!" exclaimed Lady Dearborn. "It would be Red Devil. Forrest, I don't suppose you would..."
"That monster took a swipe at me just last night," protested the Earl. "He's a foul-tempered beast. Oh, all right, Mother," he relented at the pleading look she sent him. Reaching up to where the cat clung just over his head, he crooned, "Come, puss, puss. Come on, then."
The cat, unappreciative of Lord Dearborn's charitable intentions, hissed menacingly and let go one forepaw to swat at the outstretched hand, claws extended.
"I've no intention of letting this brute injure me," the Earl informed his mother, withdrawing his hand. "He may stay there till he starves, with that sort of attitude."
John Willoughby stepped forward. "I'll give it a try, m'lady, if I may," he said confidently. "Watch this, Miss Winston-Fitts," he added to Rosalind with a wink. Easily topping six feet, he was an inch or two taller than the Earl and his face was nearly on a level with the cat when he stood on tiptoe. "Now you just come down, Mr. Red Devil," he ordered loudly, reaching up with a quick motion to seize the animal by the scruff of the neck.
Red Devil, however, had other ideas and twisted round like lightning to sink his teeth into Mr. Willoughby's wrist. The young man let go with a howl not unlike those that the cat had been uttering before.
"Bloody ungrateful beast!" he cried. "Hang there, then!" The cat flattened his ears and hissed again.
"Oh, dear," said the Countess. "I should have warned you, John, that Red Devil tends to be a bit nervous around strangers."
Her son guffawed at this understatement. "Nervous? Vicious is more like it, and I'm certainly no stranger to him!"
"I suppose we should let him calm down a bit. Perhaps he'll come down on his own if left alone," said the Countess worriedly. The group obligingly moved away, but Lady Dearborn glanced backwards several times to where the cat had resumed his cries.
"Might... might I try, ma'am?" asked Ellie diffidently. She very much feared that she might appear to be showing off, and she knew for certain that her Aunt Mabel would not approve, but the animal's distress bothered her nearly as much as it plainly pained its mistress.
"He really is a most intractable pussy, Miss O'Day," Lady Dearborn cautioned her. "And however would you reach him?" Like the Countess herself, Ellie stood barely over five feet tall.
"If one of the gentlemen would be so kind as to pull that chair over, I could stand on that," she replied, nodding towards an ornamental wrought-iron bench that stood against the hedge. Timothy Willoughby moved with alacrity to do her bidding, though Lord Dearborn was obliged to help him before the bench was properly positioned beneath the tree.
"I really must advise you against this, Miss O'Day," said the Earl earnestly as she prepared to step onto it. "My mother found that cat running wild when he was half-grown, and he's never been quite tame. I would never forgive myself were he to injure you."
"Nor I, my dear," agreed the Countess. "I'm not at all certain that naughty kitty deserves such a risk on your part."
"Certainly not!" chimed in Mrs. Winston-Fitts. "I pray you will refrain from making a spectacle of yourself, Elinor, and come away at once!"
"You needn't watch, ma'am," Ellie informed her sweetly. "In fact, I will no doubt go on much better without an audience." Lady Dearborn's concern for the cat was evident, and Ellie had resolved to do what she could. "I promise to be careful, my lady," she assured her hostess, climbing onto the bench.
Mrs. Winston-Fitts, incensed to have her orders flouted by her niece but unable to do anything more while the Countess supported this mad scheme, turned to go back to the house. "Very well," she said tightly. "If it is as you say, we had best leave you alone with the beast, I suppose. Come, Rosalind."
Rosalind followed her quite readily, only too willing to leave the cat's vicinity. Accordingly, the two Willoughbys and their mother came along, as did Lady Emma, Prudence and Lady Fenwick. The Countess and her son remained behind, however, much to Mrs. Winston-Fitts's vexation.
Ellie waited until the majority of the group had left the orchard to turn her attention to the cat, now less than a foot above her. Making little chirrupping noises, she reached up very, very slowly, pausing anytime the cat reacted by so much as twitching an ear. "Goood Devil, sweeet Devil," she crooned softly, advancing her hand until she could stroke him between the ears. Still he did not flatten them, so she stroked further, smoothing the ruffled fur along his spine. As she felt him relax, she reached up with her other hand until she could cradle him between them. He clung to the branch for a moment, but then apparently decided to trust his weight to her and came away easily enough. Ellie stepped down and handed him to the Countess.
Lady Dearborn set him down quickly after a brief hug caused him to struggle. It appeared that even his mistress had little control over Red Devil. "I don't know how to thank you enough, Miss O'Day. He might very well have got down on his own, but I would have fretted about him all day. You have quite a knack with cats, it would seem."
"I used to play with the barn cats all the time when I was a girl, and most of them were at least half wild," explained Ellie, suddenly shy. "I learned that avoiding any sudden movement was the surest way to win their trust."
"I'll certainly remember that the next time I have dealings with the Devil," said the Earl, laughing. "Why did you not warn me of that earlier, Mother?"
"I must confess, I had not thought of it," replied the Countess. "We may have to keep you with us, Miss O'Day," she said teasingly. "You are quite too useful to be without."
"Indeed," agreed the Earl, smiling down at Ellie, who suddenly felt herself blushing furiously. "I can't imagine what we ever did without her."
* * *
CHAPTER 11
AUNT MABEL had been right, thought Ellie, alone in her room a sh
ort time later. She should never have put herself forward so. Why, any observer could be forgiven for assuming that she was trying to supplant Rosalind in the Earl's affections —or at least in his mother's affections —as Aunt Mabel most assuredly must.
And was she, she wondered? Could she truly be so despicable as to deliberately try to ruin dear Rosalind's best chance at a happy marriage? She devoutly hoped not.
She had tried to make her cousin appear in a more favourable light to Lady Dearborn, and indeed, what she had said about Rosalind's embroidery was perfectly true. Somehow, though, whenever she tried to help, her efforts seemed to backfire and draw that much more attention on herself. She could not be completely sorry for helping that poor cat, of course, and she knew that the Countess had been sincerely grateful, but Lord Dearborn had seemed more amused than anything else. What had he meant by agreeing with his mother that they should "keep her with them?"
Had Rosalind perhaps suggested to him that she stay on as her companion after their marriage? As much as Ellie loved Huntington Park, the cats and even the Countess, she knew she could never bear that. No, when the Earl had looked down at her with an almost tender smile in his eyes, she had realized once and for all that she could never regard him merely as a friend. And where did that leave her? Sighing, she seated herself at the pretty pink and gold dressing table to tidy her hair before nuncheon.
It was a pity that none of her especial admirers had been invited to the house party, she supposed, although the idea of marrying any one of them did not much appeal to her, particularly now. Still, what else was there? Timothy Willoughby had shown her some attention, she thought dispiritedly. Perhaps she ought to encourage him. Of course, that would still mean living in the neighbourhood of Huntington Park, if not on the estate itself.
"You're being a very poor sort of cousin," she told her reflection aloud. "You should be focusing your energy on ensuring Rosalind's happiness, not on your own wretched future! There will be time enough for that later." A sudden vision of the empty years stretching ahead almost made her quail, but she straightened her back and raised her chin defiantly. "Perhaps I could induce Lord Dearborn to fall in love with me— though I doubt it," she said to the image in the glass. "But I would hate myself forever for it. Whoever else may share my future, I shall always have to live with myself!"
* * *
Nuncheon was a lively meal, in spite of Mrs. Winston-Fitts's marked coolness towards her niece. Timothy Willoughby was frankly impressed, and his brother even more so, at the Earl's recital of Ellie's rescue of Red Devil.
"Are you certain you are not hiding bites and scratches beneath your gloves, Miss O'Day?" asked John. "If not, you must be quicker than I."
Ellie repeated what she had told the Countess, that slow movements rather than quick ones were what made the difference. As she spoke, she glanced at Lady Dearborn, who had been listening to another recital of Rosalind's accomplishments from Mrs. Winston-Fitts. At Ellie's words, however, she turned.
"Yes, Miss O'Day was quite wonderful. We must think of a way to keep her with us, I think," she said, echoing her words in the orchard, as Ellie had half feared she might.
"Oh, you must have her to stay on as Rosalind's companion, then, should a certain happy event take place," suggested Mrs. Winston-Fitts quickly. "My daughter has quite come to depend upon her, as well, you must know, for Elinor has often proved herself useful." Her tone put Ellie firmly in her place as a poor dependant.
"An excellent notion," agreed Lady Dearborn, with a sidelong glance at her son. "Don't you agree, Forrest?"
Daring a glance at the Earl, Ellie saw him frown as he replied, "If Miss O'Day can contrive no better situation, she would certainly be welcome here."
Ellie dropped her eyes, flushing scarlet with mortification. Between them, her aunt and Lady Dearborn seemed conspiring to force her into precisely the impossible situation she was determined to avoid! In desperation, she said, "I'm certain Rosalind can get along perfectly well without me. Indeed, I hope she can, for I plan to accept my grandfather's offer to live with him in Ireland in the very near future." With great effort, she managed to keep her voice steady.
"Oh! Have you heard from Lord Kerrigan, then, Elinor?" asked her aunt, momentarily diverted from savouring her double triumph. Not only had the Earl all but declared himself just now, but he had offered to take her irksome niece off of her hands, too.
"Your grandfather is Lord Kerrigan, Miss O'Day?" interposed the Countess before Ellie could answer. "Lord Kerrigan of Kerribrooke? I knew him rather well in my youth. He was quite the charmer, as I recall. How does he go on these days?"
"He... he has been ill, my lady, but I believe he is mending now." Ellie prayed that this might be the truth, though she really had no idea, as the offer she had just alluded to was entirely fictitious. "His heir, Lord Clairmont, has been seeing after the estates."
"And Lady Kerrigan?" prompted the countess with a half smile. "He married Miss Alice Winchell, I remember. She and I were bosom rivals in those days." Her eyes took on a faraway look.
"I'm afraid Grandmama went to her reward nearly five years ago, Lady Dearborn," said Ellie quietly, reluctant to cause her hostess pain. She had never been as close to her grandmother as to Lord Kerrigan, but vividly recalled her father's grief at her passing.
"Poor Alice. She always was a sickly thing —the die-away, delicate sort that some gentlemen prefer. As for me, I could dance till dawn and still be up for a gallop before breakfast. Then, of course. I don't say I could do so now." Her tone clearly indicated that she believed she could, however, and Ellie saw no cause to doubt it. Lady Dearborn had shown herself to be possessed of remarkable energy for a woman of her years.
"So Kerrigan is on his own, is he?" the Countess continued. "I must send a letter of condolence about Alice, and tell him how much I like his granddaughter." She nodded decisively.
Ellie could not suppress a smile. "Thank you, my lady," she said warmly. "He will appreciate it, I know."
"As I was saying, ma'am," broke in Mrs. Winston-Fitts at this point, apparently deciding that she had been ignored long enough, "Rosalind was the wonder of the county for her singing. Perhaps we might open your instrument tonight after dinner if any of the young ladies —or gentlemen —play."
Lady Dearborn allowed that she was not averse to such a scheme and the conversation turned to more general topics, to Ellie's relief. She silently thanked the Countess for her inquisitiveness about Lord Kerrigan, which had prevented her from being forced to reply to her aunt's query about his supposed letter.
Perhaps some good would come of her little deception, she mused. If Lady Dearborn actually wrote to him, and mentioned her in her letter, the longed-for invitation might finally come. She hoped so, for she would sooner live without a roof over her head than under the same one that sheltered a newly —and undoubtedly happily— married Lord Dearborn and Rosalind.
* * *
That evening, after a dinner of surpassing excellence, the company assembled in the drawing room. The gentlemen had lingered only briefly over their port, eager, no doubt, to discover what the countess had planned for their evening's entertainment.
"Forrest said something earlier about a few tables of whist," she began, "and as there are sixteen of us, we can just fill four. However, we may do that another evening just as well." Lady Dearborn glanced about, gauging the reactions of her guests to this suggestion. She dearly loved a game of whist herself, and had even been known to prevail on the Hutchinses to make up a table when Forrest was at home.
"Did you not earlier mention the possibility of music, my lady?" Mrs. Winston-Fitts ventured when no one else seemed likely to suggest an alternative to a vulgar evening at cards. "Perhaps one of the young people could be prevailed upon to play for us, and Rosalind, I know, would be delighted to sing." She was determined to display her daughter to advantage, and singing was Rosalind's one real talent, apart from embroidery.
"Oh, very well, I suppose I did,"
replied the Countess, thinly concealing her disappointment. "As I said, we may play at whist just as well tomorrow night. Prudence, would you care to play?"
Lady Emma nudged Miss Childs forward, nearly as eager to show her daughter off before Lord Dearborn as was Mrs. Winston-Fitts. She had been trying to bring Prudence to the Earl's notice for years and had nearly given it up, but he was not betrothed yet. And, of course, there were the two young Mr. Willoughbys, both respectable husband material, to consider.
Ellie watched the two young ladies with sympathy, for it was perfectly obvious, to her, at least, that neither had the least desire to perform. Rosalind, she thought, should be used to it by now, for her mother had been putting her forward like this since she had discovered her daughter's singing voice at the age of fifteen. Judging by Miss Childs's resigned expression, she had been similarly prodded by her ambitious mama on frequent occasions.
The performance was pleasing, if not spectacular, and after listening awhile, Ellie was able to conclude that her aunt had better cause for encouraging her daughter's exhibition than did Lady Emma. Rosalind's voice was sweet and true, as always, but poor Prudence's playing was scarcely above average and served mainly as a vehicle for Miss Winston-Fitts's singing. That Miss Childs knew it as well became obvious when, after only two or three songs, she stood and declared herself fatigued.
"Someone else, surely, can play for a bit so that I may more fully enjoy Miss Winston-Fitts's performance," she suggested. It was apparent that she shared none of her mother's aspirations and preferred to end her own part in the proceedings as soon as possible. Ellie warmed to the girl instantly and went to sit beside her.
"You did very well," she said in an undertone as Timothy Willoughby took over at the pianoforte.
