He must keep his wits about him. Wooing Miss Dainty, Lord Thatcham’s sister, would require every scrap of the charm and courtesy that had made him a favourite with young ladies before the war.
He must remember not to favour his bad leg. Miss Baldwin had proved that young ladies were very willing to gasp in awe at tales of dashing adventure in battle, but were less keen to witness the indelible traces of its brutality. Miss Dainty would doubtless prefer her hero in one piece.
Chapter Seven
Olivia’s head spun. The green tea in the old tin cup made her feel strange and a little lightheaded. She’d tasted nothing like it before. Her senses whirled but her feet flew along the path. Finding the way was easy, now. She hardly needed Theodore. It was very curious. Before the visit to the cottage, lost in the woods, she’d given in to foolish terror, but that had completely dissolved. Confidence brimmed over. Why, this must be how it felt to be a woodland animal, quite at home under the looming trees. She clapped a hand over her mouth to prevent a giggle.
The visit to the cottage had been an adventure, but it was puzzling. Why did the woman want to meet her? Such a strange old lady—a little scary, but fascinating. Olivia would visit again.
As she left the shelter of the trees, Olivia caught sight of Mr. Roberts and Miss Dainty strolling arm-in-arm; a most attractive couple. Well, Miss Dainty was welcome to such a sarcastic companion.
Miss Dainty waved. “Oh, there you are, Miss Martin. We were quite afraid you were lost.”
Olivia blinked, struggling to concentrate through the fuzziness in her head. Of course, she shouldn’t have spent the past hour wandering around the estate, but Miss Dainty didn’t seem annoyed. “I lost track of the time.”
Mr. Roberts raised an eyebrow, but Olivia pressed her lips together and said no more. She wouldn’t discuss the afternoon’s adventure while her head still buzzed, but would think it over in private, first. There was nothing in Miss Dainty’s manner to suggest displeasure. “We have been picking flowers, as you can see. It’s been quite delightful. Thank you so much, Mr. Roberts, for helping.”
The young ladies parted from their new acquaintance. Olivia longed to sleep, if just for a few moments, but Miss Dainty, fizzing with energy, chattered happily. “Do you not think Mr. Roberts a charming man?”
“Indeed, he is very personable, and clearly thought you equally delightful. He was most attentive.”
“He was, wasn’t he?” Miss Dainty giggled. “I am so glad we burst into Hugh’s study. It was well worth the scolding my brother will doubtless deliver, to see the expression on Mr. Roberts’ face. I do not believe he was expecting to meet us just then.”
Olivia stopped, surprised. “Do you mean to say you knew he was there?”
“Of course. I overheard Mayhew telling Mrs. Rivers all about him. I know it’s very bad to listen to servants’ gossip, but they didn’t know I could hear their conversation.” She had the grace to blush a little. “In any case, the servants are all very worried about James, you know. Well, we all are, of course, but I have a feeling Mr. Roberts will soon find a way to prove the poor fellow’s innocence. I think our new friend likes to succeed. By the way, we had the most delightful conversation in the flower garden.”
The massive clock that dominated the hall chimed the hour. “We have just enough time to visit the puppies in the gun room. Shall we?” She grasped Olivia’s hand and tugged her down a long passage, passing two maids who curtsied and attempted to disappear, flattening their bodies against the wall.
John Dainty, Lord Thatcham’s seven-year-old son, was already there playing with six tiny, four week-old puppies, the offspring of Lord Thatcham’s black Labrador and his wife’s young Springer spaniel. Miss Dainty cuddled three wriggling puppies at once. “I do declare, it is quite true that dogs grow to look like their owners. Would you not agree that these have a look of Hugh?”
John, a sturdy blond-haired boy with no trace of shyness, hooted with laughter. “I am sure Papa will be pleased to hear it. Will you choose one to take home to the Manor, Miss Martin?”
“Oh! What a lovely idea.” One of the pups, the smallest, but with big brown eyes and a lop-sided white mark on its nose, nuzzled Olivia’s face. “May I really?”
“Of course, but you must wait a few weeks. The pups aren’t yet ready to leave their mother.”
Mayhew arrived to shoo them all away. “Now, young ladies and gentleman, dinner will be served in less than one hour. Shall I send Violet to you in your room, Miss Dainty?”
John trailed away to the reluctant ministrations of the governess. Miss Dainty pulled Olivia into her room to discuss the gowns for the evening, untying ribbons, tossing her bonnet aside, and fingering dishevelled ringlets. Peering into the large mirror that took pride of place on the dressing table produced a frown “Oh dear, I think I must call Violet to arrange my hair. The wind has blown it into such a sad state.”
The young ladies’ eyes met in the mirror. “Don’t look so worried, Miss Martin. I’m sure everything will be well. James would never do something so foolish and wicked as hurting the cows on Mr. Jones’ farm, no matter how bad-tempered the old farmer is. Any number of boys in the village are more likely to do such a thing. I believe the accusation to be pure spite on Mr. Jones’ part. He’s never liked James.”
She stopped as Violet entered. “Violet, help Miss Martin to dress first, please? I want you to do something rather special with that lovely hair.” She smiled. “If I leave you to decide on a style, Miss Martin, I know you will just have your hair bundled up behind your head like an old woman.”
Olivia submitted as Violet subdued her wayward hair, parting it neatly in the middle and braiding the long strands at the back, drawing them up and around her face. She brandished a small brush dipped in pungent oil.
Olivia blinked, eyes watering. “Good heavens, whatever’s that?”
“Bandoline, miss. It keeps the hair smooth and shiny.”
Miss Dainty twirled Olivia round twice, inspecting every hair and thread, from new hairstyle to dark green kid slippers. Olivia, unused to such intense scrutiny, resisted a childish urge to wriggle and shuffle her feet.
At last, Miss Dainty gave the final opinion. “Perfect. Your hair is like a halo around your head. It’s the most wonderful colour. Violet, would you bring over my jewel case? I’m sure I have just the necklace there for Miss Olivia.”
“No, no.” Olivia could see herself in the cheval glass, cheeks a-blush. “I have my own things…”
“Nonsense. Emeralds are the stones for you, not pearls. They will match your eyes and the delightful green ribbon on your gown. Here.” Miss Dainty dipped into the purple velvet lining of a lacquered case and pulled out an egg-shaped pendant in an elaborate curlicue setting on a gold chain.
Olivia’s hand flew to her neck, fingering the glowing green gem. “Oh!” She’d never worn such a beautiful thing. “What would Mama say?”
“Your mama is not here. Come, Violet, put it around Miss Martin’s neck.”
Violet obliged. “Oh, Miss, it’s lovely.”
“And far too grand!” Olivia fought to sound firm, but a trembling voice betrayed sudden emotion. In the mirror, face glowing like ivory in the candlelight, surrounded by the circlet of fiery red-gold hair, eyes flashing with a green that answered the gleam of the emerald, a new, sophisticated young lady stared out “Why, it hardly looks like me at all.” So, this was what Mama meant when she begged Olivia to take more trouble with her appearance. What would Mr. Roberts think? Olivia thrust that thought away. Why would that matter?
“There. Was I not right?” Selena smiled with pride. “Your mama would hardly recognise you.”
The light from myriad chandeliers glittered on glass and silver as Olivia took her place at the grand Thatcham Hall dining table, seated on Lord Thatcham’s right, opposite Mr. Roberts.
Lord Thatcham was talking. “Had you a pleasant afternoon, Miss Martin?”
“Oh yes, thank you.” She couldn’t
resist a quick glance at Mr. Roberts, who sat between Lady Thatcham and Miss Dainty. He smiled that crooked, mocking smile. She should not have met his eye. The all-too-easy blush crept hotly across Olivia’s cheeks. Only fierce concentration on the splendour of the table, where rows of knives gleamed silver beside every plate, crystal glasses twinkled in the candlelight and a magnificent bowl of early pink and white roses decorated the centre of the table, enabled her to keep an appearance of composure.
“Did you meet any of the villagers today?” Lady Thatcham leaned towards Olivia. Once plain Philomena Taylor, nursemaid at the Hall, she seemed perfectly at ease as the lady of the great house. Her confident command of the dining room ensured the gentle, constant flow of polite conversation.
“I met a strange boy in the woods. His name was Theodore.”
Mr. Roberts’ head lifted. “Do tell us more, Miss Martin.” His voice was warm. Was that a tinge of admiration in his glance? Olivia sat a little straighter, fingers straying to the emerald at her neck. Perhaps he’d forgiven that display of bad temper in the meadows. Maybe he wouldn’t tease tonight.
Olivia related her adventure. The strange effect of the tea had worn off, leaving her head clear. She avoided any mention of the strange brew. Really, she shouldn’t have tasted it. Anything so delightful must certainly be forbidden.
Nor did she confess to the ridiculous tremors of fear that accompanied her time in the woods. Cracking twigs, leaves that shivered and murmured in the wind, and branches that leaned close together were all perfectly natural, after all. She had been foolish to be scared, and the last thing she wanted was Mr. Roberts’ teasing. She described the old woman, aware all the time of his eyes on her face. “The boy’s grandmother lives in the oddest cottage. There was hardly any furniture, but the garden was full of herbs.”
Lord Thatcham listened, thoughtful. “Miss Martin, I’m delighted that you enjoyed our woods. However, I think you would be well advised to take a companion with you in future. Although there is no reason to think young Daniel’s accident was more than tragic carelessness, still I should hate any harm to come to you. It can be all too easy to lose your way.”
His sister interrupted. “Really, Hugh, there’s no need to fuss so. The woods are perfectly safe, are they not, Mr. Roberts?”
“I would be more than willing to offer myself as an escort next time Miss Martin wishes to take a walk.” Mr. Roberts smiled so innocently, as though their encounter had never taken place.
Olivia gritted her teeth, fluttered a lace fan and offered a smile. “You are most kind.”
Lord Thatcham looked from one to the other, one eyebrow raised. “I am glad, though, that you have discovered one of the most interesting of our neighbours. My wife has often tried to persuade Grandmother Caxton to move into a more convenient cottage, but the woman refuses to budge an inch.”
Lady Thatcham shook her head. “Grandmother says, ‘My husband brought me here when we first met, and I’m too old to be finding a new home at my age.’ So we must let her remain where she is, content. Her husband carved the table and chairs and she will allow no other furniture in the cottage.”
A footman proffered a sauce-boat. “No, thank you, Stephen.” She went on, “The garden, though, is a wonderful place, is it not? Grandmother Caxton grows remedies for all kinds of illness. We often send for her when John has a cough or one of the servants contracts a fever. She was a great help when baby Charlotte was born last year. She soothed the child’s colic even when Nurse and I could not. I’m sure she provides better remedies than Dr. Thompson, although the good doctor is as knowledgeable as any medical man can be.”
Olivia was intrigued. She had once attended an evening lecture for young ladies on the use of herbs in medicine. Perhaps the woman in the cottage would teach her a little about the plants.
Lady Thatcham was still talking. “As for young Theodore, he is Grandmother Caxton’s grandson. His parents, sadly, are both dead. Indeed, his mother died when he was just a baby and his grandmother has looked after him ever since. He helps out in the farms at busy times, at lambing or harvest, and has a gentle way with the animals.”
Mr. Roberts had leaned forward, listening with close attention. His mouth opened once as though to speak, then closed. Olivia allowed a glance to linger on him, unnoticed, for a moment. Tiny lines around eyes and mouth hinted, like the faint scar, at some accident in the past. What could have happened?
The conversation moved on to discussion of the Ball, due to take place in only two days. Several guests would arrive the next day in readiness. Miss Dainty checked the list on her fingers. “Captain Weston and his brother, Lord Hadden, will arrive tomorrow. They have long been friends of the family. Then, there is Miss Philpott and her sister Jane.” Miss Dainty rolled her eyes at Olivia. “We are always polite to the Misses Philpott, although,” she leaned across the table to whisper, “to tell the truth, they are the dullest people in Berkshire.”
“Selena!” Lady Thatcham spoke. “I think we should leave the gentlemen to their port.”
Miss Dainty, not in the least abashed, took Olivia’s hand as they left. “The Misses Philpott were very rude to Philomena when she first married Hugh, but she will never let me treat them with the incivility they deserve. She insists we are kind to them because they are aging and plain and have little before them but lives of spinsterhood.” Miss Dainty appeared entirely unaware of the parallel with Olivia’s own situation.
The ladies drank tea for a half hour, in high spirits, their concern for Daniel’s family set aside for a while. “I would sometimes like to be a fly in the dining room, to hear what the men discuss when we leave,” said Lady Thatcham, “though I’m sure I would be disappointed. They will doubtless spend the whole time discussing boxing or horse racing. Perhaps we are fortunate to be spared. I would far rather think about our dance.”
Olivia’s stomach fluttered at the thought. She had only attended one or two private dances, so a small ball at Thatcham Hall was an engaging prospect. Miss Dainty and Lady Thatcham were full of plans. “If only the weather remains fine,” said Lady Thatcham, “so we can walk in the garden. I would hate to see our guests in their finery all soaked to the skin.”
She smiled at Olivia as she sipped from a bone-china cup. “You know don’t you, my dear, Hugh and I will be travelling to the New World soon after the ball? He so longs to visit the farms there and I must confess, I am as excited as he at the prospect. We have meant to go every year but since Charlotte was born I could not bear to leave her. Now that she is old enough to travel, we will leave you and Selena here with Hugh’s mother. We expect her arrival tomorrow, in time for the ball.” Lady Thatcham hesitated. “Do not be anxious, Olivia, for the Dowager has the kindest of hearts, does she not, Selena—despite her attempts to hide it?”
Miss Dainty giggled. “She hides it extremely well. There’s no need to worry, Philomena. I can manage Mama.”
Lady Thatcham’s eyes twinkled. It was common knowledge she had crossed swords with her future mother-in-law on first arriving at Thatcham Hall. She continued, “After the ball, you and your mother will be able to settle comfortably at Fairford Manor, although I hope you’ll remain at the Hall for as long as your mama can spare you.”
She squeezed Olivia’s arm. “You’ve hardly had time to unpack your boxes. I wish your mama had agreed to attend the ball, but I quite understand her wish to lead a quiet life for a little longer. I expect you’ve missed her this afternoon.”
Olivia lowered her eyes. She had hardly thought of poor Mama all day, there had been so much excitement. What’s more, she realised that Lady Thatcham’s forthcoming journey would help her to carry out the grand plan. This evening, she would write to Mr. Mellow, suggesting she travel to London after the Ball. If Lord and Lady Thatcham were leaving in a day or two, there would be such a bustle that Olivia could slip away with little comment. She would simply tell Mama her return to the Manor was delayed.
“I am so pleased that you’ll be li
ving there, my dear,” Lady Thatcham went on. “The Manor needs someone to look after it.”
Chapter Eight
“May I brush your hair, madam?” Olivia’s reflection blushed as Violet slipped silently into the room. How embarrassing to be caught thinking of the stranger. At least the maid had no idea how Mr. Roberts had invaded her thoughts.
The opinion of Lord Thatcham’s lawyer could mean nothing to Olivia. Their time together would last such a short time, in any case. In a few days, he would leave the Hall and Olivia would return to Fairford Manor with Mama to begin the process of finding a position as a governess. Unless, that is, her plan to play for Mr. Mellow and persuade him to publish her work succeeded.
Eyes closed, Olivia imagined a wonderful life as a musician, playing and composing. The move from London to the countryside had made any such prospect seem even further away. At least there, she would have some opportunities to perform.
She tried hard to look on the bright side. Music would feature in the life of a governess, taught along with drawing, languages, and mathematics. With luck, she might teach a child with some musical talent. At least then there would be time to play the piano. Olivia bit her lip. She was no worse off than many another impoverished young woman and luckier than most. The trouble was, she couldn’t bear the thought of anything but a life in music.
Violet removed pins from Olivia’s hair with the skill of long practise. The maid’s hands were trembling. “Are you quite well?”
Violet’s eyes were rimmed red and bright with tears yet to be shed. “Yes, thank you, miss, quite well.”
Olivia drew a breath. It was none of her business, but she couldn’t ignore such misery. “I am very sorry for your troubles.” She spoke with care. The girl had a right to privacy. Olivia didn’t wish to overstep the line between guest and servant, but as everyone knew of the dreadful situation of Violet’s fiancé, James, she didn’t see why she shouldn’t show some sympathy.
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