Phoebe and the Pea: A Regency Holiday Tale

by Catherine Bilson

  It had been a few years since he had skated. With his first step on the ice, his left foot tried to go in the opposite direction he intended, leaving him wobbling briefly.

  Miss Faraday, close by, skated up and caught his arm with a laugh. “Major Randwyck, are you all right?”

  “Yes, thank you,” he said, a little embarrassed. “It’s been some years since I’ve skated, that’s all.”

  “Would you like to hold my hand a moment until you have your balance?”

  Emerald eyes glinted with mirth as she spoke, but he sensed the offer was sincere.

  “Just for a moment, yes, if you wouldn’t mind. I’d like to skate over the center of the pond, ensure it’s up to a man’s weight before any of the others venture on, actually.” Her small hand in his felt alarmingly pleasant, and he resolved not to get too used to the situation.

  ***

  Major Randwyck was a thoroughly decent man, Phoebe decided, and he was really quite a good skater once he got his feet under him. By the time they reached the center of the pond, he was skimming along smoothly. He released her arm with a remark that if he fell through the ice, he certainly should not wish to drag her in with him.

  “The ice does seem quite thick,” she ventured to say. “I was out here a few days ago with Miss Eleanor having a lovely time, and the weather has barely ventured above freezing since.” Indeed, she had been a lot colder last time she was out here, but then again she was wearing one of Eugenia’s beautiful thick cloaks instead of her own threadbare one.

  The major stood on one skate and stamped the other experimentally a time or two. “I do believe you’re correct, Queen Phoebe.”

  He has a very nice smile. Of course, she shouldn’t be noticing it. Even if she was queen for the day, Phoebe knew her place. Recalling herself even in the middle of smiling back at him, she cast her eyes down.

  “Come now, what’s this?” the major said jovially, and to her surprise, he reached out to take her hand again, this time tucking it into the crook of his arm. “Come skate with me, Your Majesty. Show me some of your moves. Where did you learn?”

  “There was a pond directly opposite my parents’ house in Cambridge,” Phoebe said. “I spent many happy hours skating there while my father met with students or worked on his lectures. Mama would only call me in when she said I had turned the same blue as my coat.”

  He laughed, a rich sound, carrying in the chill air. There were other skaters on the pond now, though, talking and laughing, and nobody looked across at them, no one seemed to care that Phoebe was overstepping her place.

  “I had little opportunity to skate for some years until I came here,” she said. “Then, last Christmas, Ellie asked for some skates, and Lady Eugenia said I might teach her.”

  “You’re very fond of Eleanor, aren’t you?”

  Surprised, she turned her head to look at him directly. “Of course I am. She’s a very dear child.”

  “Intelligent, too, I think?”

  “Oh, very! But then, my father always said young children are like sponges, soaking up every droplet of knowledge which comes their way. Especially with languages. The earlier one begins their education, the better. Ellie had only a few words in French that Lady Eugenia’s maid Anais had taught her when I arrived a little more than a year ago. Today, she converses with me almost as well in both French and Italian as she does in English.”

  “Impressive,” the major said with a nod.

  “Thank you. This year, she has asked to begin German as well, but I have yet to ask Lord Edmund and Lady Eugenia’s permission.” Phoebe’s lips twisted a little as she thought once again of how she might approach the topic. “Lady Eugenia... she doesn’t want her daughter to become, well, a bluestocking.”

  “An educated woman is a blessing any educated man should recognize,” Randwyck said seriously. “I most certainly do, and I hope it will not be many more years until women are permitted to attend university and study whatever they wish.”

  “A progressive! Though some would probably call you a heretic, sir.” Phoebe smiled at him. “My mother would have liked you very much, I should think.”

  “I do not doubt I should have liked her as much as I do her daughter,” he said gallantly.

  Blushing, Phoebe looked away. While years as a companion and governess had taught her how to handle importunate gentlemen who might try to catch her alone in an isolated spot, she had not the slightest idea how to deal with genuine compliments.

  “I will speak to Edmund about allowing Eleanor to learn German,” Randwyck said after a few moments in which they skated in silence, and she looked back up at him in surprise.

  “That would be very kind of you, sir. Thank you.”

  “You need not thank me; it’s something which will clearly be of benefit to Eleanor, in my opinion. Edmund will recognize that and override any objections Eugenia may have. While he may defer to her on social matters, I suggest you should consult with him about Eleanor’s academic education.”

  She had no opportunity to reply as some other skaters caught up with them at that moment.

  “Why, King John, you’re monopolizing our queen!” Joseph Davies declared, and he tucked his arm through Phoebe’s free one with a proprietorial air.

  “Do come and skate with me, Your Majesty!” A pretty girl several years younger than Phoebe batted her eyelashes at Major Randwyck. “You’re such a good skater, and I’m ever so wobbly on my own!”

  Randwyck released Phoebe’s arm with an apologetic smile. “As you like, Miss Cottesloe,” he said gallantly, and Phoebe heard Miss Cottesloe giggle as she took Randwyck’s arm and skated away with him.

  She was fairly sure Mr. Davies had no real interest in spending time with her and had been brought over solely to separate her from Randwyck, probably at the urging of Miss Cottesloe. He took her promptly over to a large group doing more socializing than skating and immediately abandoned her to fend for herself as he jumped back into the conversation.

  I will not be jealous, Phoebe told herself silently as she watched the major skate around the pond with the pretty, golden-haired debutante on his arm. Miss Cottesloe’s laughter rang out again, and she smiled up at Randwyck constantly.

  No wonder she’s a poor skater; she isn’t watching where she’s going. At once, Phoebe felt guilty for the mean thought. She didn’t even know the girl.

  “It’s far too cold out here,” a lady nearby announced. “I’m going back to the house before I freeze!”

  Seizing gratefully on the excuse, Phoebe declared she’d had enough of skating as well. She was unwilling to dwell on her feelings of jealousy over how Major Randwyck’s head inclined to listen to Miss Cottesloe’s breathy giggles. She needed an escape from her own emotions.

  Chapter Five

  Upon returning to the house, Phoebe took the opportunity to slip up to the schoolroom. There she found Eleanor happily ensconced with Anais, reading a French storybook together.

  “Phoebe!” Ellie jumped up, her face wreathed in smiles. “You look beautiful!”

  Anais stood too, glancing a silent query at Phoebe.

  “Lady Eugenia isn’t back yet,” Phoebe answered Anais’ unspoken question first before stopping to embrace Ellie. “Thank you, my darling! It’s a dress your mama has very kindly loaned me for the day, and it’s quite the prettiest gown I’ve ever worn.”

  “I like it,” Ellie declared and then added with a very mischievous glint in her eye, “but you’ll have to borrow another one for tonight. That’s not an evening gown.”

  “I believe you and I will be having a conversation quite soon about today, Miss Holt,” Phoebe said warningly. Eleanor looked innocent until Phoebe leaned close to whisper, “I know you hid the pea in my cake.”

  A little giggle sounded, but by the time Phoebe had straightened to look back at her charge, Ellie’s face was smooth again.

  “I don’t know what you mean, Phoebe,” Ellie claimed, her eyes wide.

  “Three beans?” Phoe
be responded, not believing Ellie for a moment.

  “My hand might have slipped,” Ellie allowed. “Though I also think three kings for Three Kings Day is an excellent idea. Aren’t you having a nice day, Phoebe? Are your kings nice? I’m so glad my Uncle John is one of them. You must like him, at least!”

  “Major Randwyck is everything gentlemanly,” Phoebe admitted, and that praise seemed to satisfy Ellie.

  A maid came hurrying into the room just then, advising Anais that Lady Eugenia had returned. Anais excused herself quickly. Phoebe thought she should probably remain with Ellie, but the maid, Molly, told her she was to take Ellie down to the kitchen for something to eat. “You go back to the party and enjoy yourself, Miss Faraday! We’re all hoping you have a lovely day and will tell us all about it at supper tomorrow,” Molly said with a wide smile, seizing Ellie’s hand.

  “I shall,” Phoebe promised. She was touched by the maid’s enthusiasm and vowed to memorize every detail of the day so she could tell all the stories the maids might wish.

  ***

  Downstairs, she found the rest of the party reassembling in the drawing room where servants were bringing in trays of tea, dainty sandwiches, and cakes. This, Phoebe supposed, was Eugenia’s idea of a light nuncheon with enough food on the trays to fill the bellies of everyone present three times over.

  “Ah, the queen rejoins us!” Mr. Davies announced to the company at large, and to Phoebe’s surprise a number of faces turned to her with welcoming smiles. Eugenia even waved her over to where she was holding court on a couch and pressed a dish of tea upon her, remarking that it was most pleasant to come in to hot drinks after the bitter cold outside.

  The room felt rather too warm to Phoebe, what with a roaring fire in the fireplace and a score of warm bodies surrounding her. She accepted the tea with profuse thanks, however, grateful for Eugenia’s kindness.

  “You must allow me to serve you some nuncheon, Queen Phoebe,” an older lady said with a warm chuckle. “What would you like? I can highly recommend the lemon tarts.”

  “Have you met Mrs. Hamersby yet, Phoebe?” Eugenia asked.

  “I haven’t had the pleasure, ma’am. Thank you kindly, a lemon tart sounds delicious.” Mrs. Hamersby had a nice smile and dancing blue eyes. Phoebe decided she liked the older lady a good deal, especially when Mrs. Hamersby insisted she was hopeless at charades and should like Phoebe for a partner.

  “Undoubtedly you’re a clever creature, and we shall have an excellent chance at winning!” Mrs. Hamersby declared, eyes twinkling.

  “I hope you’ll forgive me when you discover you have vastly overestimated me, ma’am,” Phoebe said apologetically.

  Mrs. Hamersby chuckled. “We’ll see, we’ll see.”

  Miss Cottesloe had already claimed Major Randwyck for a partner, Phoebe saw from the corner of her eye. She chastised herself sternly for feeling jealous. She had no reason to be, after all; he was a guest, and she merely the poor relation.

  Newly focused, she turned her attention to the game. Phoebe gained a little satisfaction on discovering Mrs. Hamersby to be quite an astute partner, contrary to her claims, while Major Randwyck was obviously frustrated with Miss Cottesloe’s failure to actually try at the game. She might do quite well if she put some effort into it, Phoebe thought, but the debutante was more interested in batting her eyelashes at her partner and giggling every time he spoke. Randwyck looked across at Phoebe just then;, caught her eye; and much to her astonishment, smiled while tipping his head to her.

  “What do you think to this one, Phoebe?” Mrs. Hamersby asked.

  Phoebe started, blushing. Why, I am just as guilty of inattention as Miss Cottesloe, she thought, furious with herself, and she begged Mrs. Hamersby’s pardon.

  “I should be quite distracted too, if I were your age,” Mrs. Hamersby murmured in Phoebe’s ear a little while later. “And if a fine figure of a man were paying me such attention.”

  Bemused, Phoebe stared at her companion. Mrs. Hamersby tilted her head, and Phoebe followed the motion to find Major Randwyck’s eyes on her again.

  This time, when he caught her eye, he winked. Phoebe felt a scalding blush beginning to rise up her cheeks. Wrenching her gaze away, she said quietly, “I’m afraid no good can come of a gentleman’s attentions to a governess, ma’am.”

  “Goodness, let me set your mind at rest on that score, my dear! I’ve known John Randwyck since he was a babe, and he’d never show such disrespect to a lady as you imply.” Mrs. Hamersby kept her voice low so that none of the chattering throng around them could overhear. She leaned closer and laid her hand on Phoebe’s wrist for emphasis. “Besides which, you’re Eugenia’s cousin, aren’t you?”

  “The connection is distant,” Phoebe insisted.

  Mrs. Hamersby shook her head. “You value yourself too poorly, Phoebe, and if you do not hold yourself to be of value, why should anyone else?”

  Eugenia clapped her hands just then and declared it was time to end the game and set up to play cards, leaving Phoebe with something else to ponder. Perhaps Mrs. Hamersby was right, she thought. It wasn’t as though she was officially Eleanor’s governess. She’d just been sent to stay with Edmund and Eugenia, had realized how lonely Eleanor was, and fallen naturally into the role of nurturing the little girl. She’d even asked to have her things moved from the pleasant guest chamber she’d been allotted to the simpler room beside Eleanor’s.

  Had a desire to make herself useful relegated her to the position she now occupied? It was certainly something to ponder as Mrs. Hamersby abandoned her to seek a whist partner among the gentlemen.

  “What would you care to play, Queen Phoebe?”

  She looked up to find Major Randwyck standing before her, a smile on his handsome face.

  “Oh, I don’t know. Aren’t you going to play with Miss Cottesloe?”

  “She declared a passion for the game of lottery tickets, which I’m afraid I despise.”

  Phoebe hummed in agreement. She found the game boring as well. No skill or strategy was needed, the winner being entirely down to chance.

  “Do you play piquet?” Randwyck asked. ‘“We can play for tokens; Eugenia has baskets of them ready.”

  Piquet was her favorite card game, but she hesitated. “It’s only a two-player game, should we not…” She gestured toward the tables filling up with players.

  “Why? Remember, you’re Queen for the day, and I’m one of your kings. Let us please ourselves by enjoying a game of piquet, if you should enjoy that?”

  “I should, very much indeed.” Making up her mind, Phoebe accepted his offered hand and let him lead her over to a small, unoccupied table. “I must confess, however, that it’s been some time since I played against an opponent over the age of eight.”

  Randwyck threw back his head and laughed, displaying even white teeth. “Considering Eleanor’s precocious tendencies, I consider myself duly warned!” Picking up the deck of cards waiting on the table, he quickly rifled through and discarded the low cards, shuffling the remainder and offering the pack to Phoebe to cut.

  She cut to find a nine and made a face. “Not a wonderful start; that bodes ill for my luck.”

  Randwyck put the pack down and made his own cut, chuckling when he found the seven of clubs: one of the lowest cards remaining. “If your luck is poor, it seems mine shall be worse! Will you deal?”

  Phoebe couldn’t recall the last time she’d enjoyed herself so much. The major was a skilled opponent, and he did not hold back in his play. They were, she thought, evenly matched, or they would have been if she were not quite so rusty. As their first partie came to an end, she was behind but only by a few points. Phoebe felt she had acquitted herself well. She had gotten over the Rubicon, at any rate, but felt glad they weren’t playing for money when she had to slide a large handful of Eugenia’s tokens over to the major’s side of the table.

  “What wonderful fun this is,” Randwyck said, rising to his feet.

  Phoebe looked up in sudd
en disappointment. Everyone else was still playing, and she’d thought they might have time for another partie. “Oh. Yes, thank you for the game, Major.” She began to rise from her chair.

  His voice stopped her. “Well, I’d hoped we might play another, if you’re agreeable? I thought I might fetch a drink. Would you care for a glass of sherry?”

  “Oh, I… yes. Yes, please, that would be very pleasant.” Surprised yet oddly buoyed, Phoebe busied herself shuffling the cards until he returned, placing a glass at her elbow.

  “You’re a worthy opponent,” Randwyck said, taking his seat again. “I don’t know when I last enjoyed a game so much.”

  “You played a great deal while on the Continent, did you?” Phoebe tried for a light tone.

  “More than you’d think. In war, there is a great deal of time spent sitting around waiting in sheer boredom, punctuated by short periods of intense, terrifying action. A pack of cards was always a good way to pass the boring times.” For a moment he sat, chin on his hand, eyes distant.

  “I know nothing of war,” Phoebe said quietly, “save that I think you would be the kind of leader soldiers would follow into the very fires of Hell itself if need be.”

  “Waterloo was not dissimilar to Hell, in truth, at least how I have always imagined Hell to be.” Randwyck’s smile was weary. “I thank you for the compliment, though. England’s common soldiers are not always the most couth of men, but their courage under fire was humbling to see. I considered it an honor to lead them.”

  She lifted her glass to him. “The honor was England’s, sir. We all owe you a great debt of thanks.”

  Phoebe was surprised to see he looked a little embarrassed and quickly changed the subject. A humble man at heart, she thought, glad he was not puffed up with his own consequence.

  They had just enough time to finish a second partie, which Phoebe won handily, much to her delight. Major Randwyck insisted she had won overall since her total of points exceeded his over the two games, and she accepted his concession with grace.

  At the next table over, Eugenia rose to her feet and announced her intention to retire to dress for dinner. “Do come with me, Phoebe,” she lowered her voice and stepped closer to their table. “I have a gown in mind I think would suit you well.”