Amy's Adventure
Chapter 1
"Amy!"
The tall, thin blonde running up
the front drive was wet, her bonnet askew and dripping, and not an umbrella in
sight. She was laughing and waving her reticule, heedless of the freezing rain.
"Amy!" she called again as she
reached the portico that covered the drive in front of the manor.
Her sister, a darker-haired and
slightly-older young lady standing just inside the front door, fussed over the
girl and did not give her a chance to tell her news until she had been ushered
up to her room, stripped of her clothing and immersed in a hot hip bath.
"Amy! I picked up the post when
I went into the village today and you will never guess who has written to you
and I!"
Amy had no idea. After all, few
people wrote to them or their reclusive parent, even more so in the past year
since their mother had died. The family, which consisted of their baronet
father, Sir Lionel Harte, themselves and their father's Cousin Minerva, had
just gotten out of black clothes.
Amy was one and twenty, and
would have been preparing for another season in London had she not been in
mourning. Lucy, at nineteen, should have been presented the year before. Now it
seemed as if none of that would be possible. Their mother had been the only
person concerned for their futures. Or so they had recently concluded. Their
father was too absentminded to notice and their cousin... It was just after
Christmas and they were certain they were doomed to spend the spring in the
Cotswolds.
"Achoo!" Lucy sneezed. By the
sound of things, Lucy would be in bed for a few days. "Oh, no!" She sneezed
again. "That letter is from Lady Linvale! An invitation to come to her winter
house party!"
Amy assisted Lucy out of the tub
and stood by with a warmed nightrail as her sister toweled dry.
"I'm sure it won't matter.
Cousin Minerva will advise against it and Papa will agree with whatever she
decides," Amy glumly replied.
"But if he should say yes," Lucy
persisted, "you must go. The viscountess has five sons. Five! One is the
viscount, one is a major in the army..."
"...And one is a clergyman, I
suppose," Amy tartly replied. It was the British way. The first son received
the property and the title, the second went into the Army and the third went
into the Church. Amy wondered what the other two sons did for a living.
"Oh, yes!"
"How do you know all this?"
"Lady Linvale. You were at
school, it seemed, whenever she would visit." Lucy, of a more delicate
constitution than her sister, had stayed home with a governess. "She's a lovely
lady, Amy -- you would like her."
"I am sure I should. If only..."
Lucy sneezed again and Amy hustled her into bed, her words forgotten as she
urged her sister to get some rest.
Sir Lionel Harte was a scholarly
gentleman, given to pondering ancient civilizations and not paying much
attention to the world about him. Dinner conversation usually revolved around
Greek government and Roman ruins, and that evening was no exception.
Lucy's ill health was
acknowledged with a nod from her father and an admonishment from her cousin not
to bother Sir Lionel with such things. "But if she is worse in the morning,"
Cousin Minerva said with a simper when the baronet looked surprised at her
words, "we shall send for the apothecary."
Amy hid a smile even as she
politely agreed. Cousin Minerva Blakeley had set her cap at the baronet the
minute she had set foot in the house, cementing her position by handling the
household -- including the young ladies -- agreeing with everything he said and
cutting expenses in half.
Their cousin's cheese-paring
ways, no doubt, accounted for Lucy's illness. The late Lady Harte had kept
umbrellas and such for general use, but Cousin Minerva hated to provide the
servants and the young ladies with luxuries, as she called them, and had not
replaced them when they ripped or broke.
She was also going to disapprove
of any invitations the girls received, which was why Amy had to approach her
father alone. She knew her cousin would expect her to adjourn to the drawing
room with her immediately after dinner, so she had to head that off first.
Stay in the dining room with her
father or follow him to his study...
In an innocent voice her sister
would be proud of, Amy said over dessert (which consisted of a few grapes, a
small wedge of cheese and a piece of melon) that she was sure she had spied a
few peaches in the kitchens that afternoon and she was surprised not to see a
slice on her plate.
Cousin Minerva's parsimonious
nose twitched. She hadn't ordered peaches. What were peaches doing in the
kitchens? Excusing herself, that lady ran off as fast as her size-too-small
slippers could carry her.
Amy heard the footman behind her
snicker, but she did not dare follow suit. The servants did not care for either
Cousin Minerva or her cook, and neither did the Harte sisters. Amy felt no
qualms about turning her cousin onto that particular servant.
Once Minerva was out of the way,
Amy pulled the letter out of the back of her sash. Her father was pondering
Pompeii and polishing off Cousin Minerva's fruit and cheese, his own already
consumed. Amy pushed her own plate over, which caught his attention.
"Not hungry, my dear? You will
keep me posted about Lucinda, won't you?"
"Of course, Papa. And look what
I have!" She held out the letter and he obediently took it. He paused a couple
of times in its reading, but only to beam at his eldest daughter.
"How kind of her. Naturally, you
and your sister must go. Lady Linvale was your mother's dearest friend and it
is less than a day's journey."
Amy was all smiles at this
pronouncement. "Thank you, Papa!" She threw her arms about his neck and kissed
him heartily on the cheek. "Papa?"
"Yes, child?"
"You won't mention this to
Cousin Minerva, will you?"
"Why ever not?"
"She is not invited, for one,
and I did not want her to feel bad because of it," Amy said piously. "If we
could tell her when Lady Linvale's carriage arrives..." The servants would enjoy
the subterfuge, she was certain, as evidenced by the wink she received from the
other footman behind her father's back.
"An excellent notion. The poor
woman has few friends and there is no need to rub salt in the wound. Be certain
to keep your preparations from coming to her notice, my dear. I have some
correspondence to attend to in the study," he added, rising from his chair.
"Including a note to the viscountess."
Amy rose with him and hugged him
once more. She sighed with pleasure after he left the room.
"A house party!" she said to the
footmen as they cleared the table. Wait till she told Lucy! "Would you be so
kind as to inform Miss Blakeley that I have developed an ache in my head and am
retiring for the rest of the evening?"
The two servants bowed their
acceptance of this mission with wide smiles. Miss Blakeley abhorred illness of
any sort.
Lucy, who would have squealed in
delight at the prospect of a visit to Linvale Hall, was too sick to do more
than give her sister a weak smile when she heard about the trip. Amy felt sorry
for Lucy for catching a chill and also for leaving her behind with their
cousin.
"But think of all the fun you
shall have," Lucy said two days later, sitting up in bed and frowning over what
their cousin thought of as appropriate invalid food -- a tiny bowl of jelly, a
piece of dry toast and a cup of weak tea. "Think of the food! Not a custard in
sight!" she said with disgust after searching her luncheon tray.
Amy chuckled and reached over to
squeeze her sister's hand.
"Are you all packed?" Lucy knew
she was -- Amy's trunks had been filled in her room, one their cousin hadn't set
foot in since she had fallen ill. "I plan on feigning illness for a few days
after your departure," she added with a laugh. "Anything to avoid Cousin
Minerva once she realizes she has been thwarted."
"You had better stay in bed
anyway," Amy advised when Lucy's laugh turned into a cough. Her sister was
known for getting out of bed too soon and causing a relapse. When Lucy began to
protest, Amy played her trump card.
"Mama would not be happy if you
did not stay abed!"
Lucy unhappily agreed. "Besides,
I must stay and make sure Cousin Minerva does not get her hooks in Papa."
"I do not think there is any
danger of that." They giggled together. Their father had showed he could be
more observant than they gave him credit for. He was visiting Lucy every
morning and then announcing his activity at breakfast, ensuring that his cousin
avoided him like the plague all day.
"You go, have a wonderful time,
fall in love, get married and send for me. Once we are gone, Papa will send our
cousin away and hire a housekeeper instead."
"I will go and have a good time.
Lady Linvale will see to that. But fall in love? Get married? You may dream all
you wish, little sister, but it's not likely to happen."
Amy left the house almost
without a hitch the next morning. The trunks and bandboxes had been loaded onto
the viscountess' carriage, Amy was dressed in her best traveling clothes and
Sir Lionel was handing money over to his daughter when Cousin Minerva appeared
suddenly in the main hall.
"What is this?" she demanded.
"Amelia has been invited to
spend some time with an old friend of my late wife's," the baronet said at his
absentminded best. "Did I not tell you?"
"No, you did not. Neither did
anyone else." She glared about the room and her gaze landed on Amy. Amy gave
her a sweet smile.
"Isn't it wonderful? A house
party ending with a grand ball!" She was vague on purpose. If her cousin did
not know where to find her or when she was to return, she could not call her
home early on false pretenses. "And I cannot keep the horses waiting too long.
Poor Lucy! I do wish she could have come..." She kissed her father goodbye.
"I have already been in to see
your sister this morning and she has promised to stay in bed," her father
replied. "We want her hale and hearty on your return."
Cousin Minerva, about to protest
these entire proceedings, yelped and retreated back upstairs.
"Thank you, Papa," Amy whispered
as she gave him a hug.
"I shall send Lucinda to you as
soon as I can," he whispered in return.
Amy's smile was bright as she was handed into the carriage, where her ladyship's maid awaited. She waved out the window as long as she could and then settled down for the journey.
The journey was not above twenty
miles and after a stop to change horses, Amy arrived at Linvale Hall in the
late afternoon. The maid Lady Linvale sent to provide for her comfort along the
way, named Sally, handed her over to Porter the butler as soon as she was
ushered into the house. He greeted her with a formal air, one she hoped was not
prevalent throughout the house. After all, she had heard Lady Linvale spoken of
as relaxed and cheerful by her sister. If Lucy thought the viscountess was
anything but relaxed and cheerful, she would have said so.
Her fears were groundless when a
small, plump woman came down the stairs trailed by a tall, colorless young lady
in gray.
"Miss Harte! I would know you
anywhere! You look just like your dear mother..." Lady Linvale sniffled and
seemed as if she might cry, but she bravely hugged Amy in welcome instead. "I
am sorry Lucy could not come with you, but her health, naturally, is more
important." The clock chimed five times and the viscountess jumped.
"Oh, dear! Time to dress for
dinner. Would you like a tray in your room, or will you dine with the family?"
"I should like to come down for
dinner." Amy was not overly tired and she was curious about Lady Linvale's
sons.
"Wonderful! I'd like you to meet
my companion, Miss Eleanor Winters. Ellie, why don't you show Miss Harte to her
room. I'm so happy you are here!" she added, bouncing off to leave a smiling
Amy and a quiet Miss Winters.
Amy liked her first impression
of her hostess, but she had to wonder if the lady's companion could give her
more insight into the Armstrongs. The girl was quiet as she took Amy up to the
second floor, only speaking to explain that Amy, like herself and Lady Cynthia
Shaw, were on that floor with the viscountess.
"The gentleman are on the first
floor." There was no explanation, and Miss Winters gave no encouragement for
the questions going around in Amy's head. But she forgot half of them anyway
when she entered the bedchamber assigned to her.
"It's beautiful!" She had to go
around the blue and white room and exclaim over the toile chair covers, the
pale blue rug so plush she thought she might sink right into it, and the blue
embroidery on the silk counterpane.
There was a tap at the door and
Miss Winters admitted Sally. One of Amy's white gowns hung over her arm.
"I've taken the liberty, miss,
of fetching one of your gowns and pressing it, seeing as your belongings won't
be coming up till you've gone down to dinner."
"That's very kind of you,
Sally."
"Her ladyship suggested it and
said I was to fetch her blue paisley shawl fer you, too."
So Lady Linvale was kind and
thoughtful, as well as energetic and cheerful.
Miss Winters excused herself to
dress for dinner, leaving Amy with the maid. That girl seemed more chatty now
that she was in her own home, but by the time Amy washed up, had her hair done
and was being helped into the borrowed shawl, the gong rang and she was being
met in the hall by the companion. There had been no time for questions.
Downstairs, in a gold and
burgundy salon, she was given into Lady Linvale's care.
"Come meet the family! Ellie you
have met, and my niece is not down yet, but I have five handsome sons!"
Amy was pulled over to where a
dark-haired gentleman in regimentals was pouring drinks and she accepted a
small sherry from him. His mother introduced him as Major Robert Armstrong.
"I understand your sister is
feeling poorly," he said kindly after niceties were exchanged. "I hope she will
be able to join us in a few days. Mama is so happy to have you here, she has
organized more outings than twenty ladies could fit into one visit."
"Such cheek!" Lady Linvale
exclaimed, but gave her son a fond grin. "He is eldest but one," she told Amy
as they continued around the room. "And this is my middle child, the Rev.
Thomas Armstrong."
Amy hid a smile -- her own
estimation of the occupations of her ladyship's sons had been spot on.
"Here is Edward ... Edward, put
that book down and make your bows to Miss Harte! Edward is a terribly clever
educator at the Physicians College in London."
The fifth son was Charlie, a
student at Cambridge where, it seemed, he was not yet certain of a career path.
"In the meantime, I am spending
my holiday tutoring a neighbor's son in mathematics," that young man said.
"And courting that same
neighbor's daughter," the major said with a laugh. Everyone but Miss Winters
and a man standing by the mantle joined in.
"This, my dear Miss Harte, is my
eldest son, Lord Linvale," her ladyship said, leading her over to the hearth.
Introductions were made and then Lady Linvale went off to discover her absent
niece's whereabouts.
Green-gray eyes glittered as the
man Amy had just met looked down his aristocratic nose at his mother's guest.
"I hope you are not here to
catch a husband, Miss Harte. I won't allow my brothers to be taken in so
easily."
Amy gasped. The nerve of him, to
just assume she was a husband hunter! She was no such thing, and she opened her
mouth to give him a stinging set-down when a tall, beautiful blonde in pale
blue silk stepped into the room.
"Cynthia!" The viscount strode
forward to welcome the cold-eyed latecomer, leaving Amy with no audience for her
blistering retort. She could only stand there and stare at the young lady with
the rest of them, the reaction the girl no doubt had orchestrated and
considered her due.
Lady Linvale detached her eldest
son from Lady Cynthia's hand and brought the ice princess forward to be
introduced to Amy.
"Cynthia, dear, this is our
newest guest, Miss Harte. Amy, my niece, Lady Cynthia Shaw."
"How do you do?" Amy asked
politely.
Lady Cynthia yawned and asked
her aunt if there would be any outdoor activities on the morrow. "I hate going
outside," she drawled.
Amy was appalled at the girl's
lack of manners and Lady Linvale was turning an interesting shade of puce over
the cut given to her guest. Without a by-your-leave, Lady Cynthia wandered over
to where her cousins congregated, leaving Amy and her hostess to stare at each
other.
Dinner was no less awkward. Amy
was on her host's left, but he ignored her, spending the meal speaking to Lady
Cynthia, on his right, of people only they seemed to know. Not that Amy was completely
snubbed. Young Charlie Armstrong, on her left, kept up a string of bright
chatter that kept her amused through some tender lamb, haricots vert, roasted
duckling and braised celery, on into an apricot trifle, assorted jellies and a
silver platter of sweetmeats.
Amy ate her dessert with
enthusiasm, even after Lady Cynthia had turned it all down saying she didn't
dare ruin her figure. Amy knew herself to be nicely rounded and also that she
would manage to get in some exercise, so she ignored the other lady.
"I like to see a girl with a
healthy appetite," Charlie said.
"I think someone has an
admirer," Lady Cynthia said in a loud whisper to the viscount. He, in turn,
glared at Amy as if it were all her fault.
"I think it is time we ladies
retired to the drawing room," the viscountess said hastily, rising from her
chair.
"Yes, ma'am," Miss Winters said
meekly. "Shall I fetch a shawl from upstairs?"
"No, dear, I'm perfectly warm,"
Lady Linvale assured her as they headed down the hall.
"Besides, Miss, er, Guest will
be glad to give yours back to you," Lady Cynthia said snidely.
"That will be enough!" her
ladyship snapped. "Or else you may spend the rest of the evening writing to
your father, explaining why you are going home early!" The viscountess stomped
off, Miss Winters scampering behind.
Amy looked away from the furious
Lady Cynthia and hurried after them. She was not surprised, either, when the
other girl slipped into the drawing room a few minutes later, acting as if she
had never been reprimanded in her life. Probably hadn't been, either.
"Miss Harte is definitely a
diamond of the first water!" Charlie said enthusiastically after the ladies
were gone and the covers had been removed from the table.
"You may think that if you
wish," the viscount said stiffly.
"Oh, come now, Marcus," the
major chided. "She's beautiful! Mama says her sister is at least her equal!" He
picked up his glass of port and took Cynthia's recently vacated chair. "It's
going to be a lovely holiday." All his brothers, except the eldest, laughed at
his jest. "Even Cousin Ellie is not without her attributes."
"Cousin Ellie is kind,"
Professor Edward Armstrong said shyly. "Which is more than I can say for some
people."
"You should not disparage our
cousin in such a manner, Ned," the vicar insisted.
"We should pick on the Harte
beauty instead?" Charlie teased.
"Of course not!"
"Why not?" the viscount asked.
Everyone stared at him as if he had sprouted two heads and a horn.
"She's mother's guest!" the
vicar said, as if that settled everything.
"And very nice," Charlie added.
"And beautiful," the major and
professor said in unison.
"And obviously here to find a
husband," the viscount insisted. His brothers all roared with laughter.
"Poor Marcus! Cynthia sets her
cap for him and now he thinks everyone else is, too. Who's next?" the major
cried.
"Cousin Ellie!" Charlie joked.
"I did not say Miss Harte was
here for me," his lordship said defensively. "She might well have her mind set
on any one of us."
"You're the true prize, though,
Marcus," the vicar reminded him. "If she is after a husband, you will be her
target."
"I've already warned her away
from us all," came the angry reply. Again there was silence in the room. The
major was the first to react.
"Tell me you are in jest, that
you haven't already said something to her," he groaned.
"I think he has," Charlie said
in a loud whisper. "She ignored him at dinner."
The other two brothers moaned
and the vicar bowed his head, as if in prayer.
"A few words at the beginning of
a visit will not go amiss."
"And won't you feel foolish,
Marcus, when she goes home empty-handed."
"Not at all. I will consider my
job well done."
If Amy noticed the increase in
brotherly attention once the gentlemen joined the ladies after dinner, she did
not remark on it. It made her curious, but it was not unwelcome. She had been
rather isolated in the past year. Now she began to blossom under the gentle
teasing and open admiration of four out of five Armstrong brothers.
The major and the vicar
expressed sorrow at the passing of her mother, a lady they had met several
times in their youth, and sympathy over her sister's illness and inability to
come to Linvale Hall at the moment.
"You should like Miss Lucy,"
their mother said. "She is such a sweet girl."
Amy was about to agree and
expound on her sister's virtues when Lady Cynthia spoke up from where she sat
with the viscount.
"Sweet usually means no looks to
speak of," she drawled. "After all, Cousin Ellie is sweet." The companion
blushed.
Lady Linvale looked at Lady
Cynthia sharply. Evidently her threat did not mean much to the younger lady now
that the viscount was in the room. That gentleman made no move to correct her,
either, but Lady Linvale came to Lucy's defense.
"Miss Lucy must be an exception,
then," the viscountess replied. "But you may judge for yourself should she come
to us before the ball. If you are still here," she warned her niece before
recalling a piece of news. "Grimsley says the pond is hard enough for skating!"
Charlie gave a shout of joy and
even his brothers looked pleased.
"May I send word to the
Vartons?" Charlie asked. "Will and Teddy have been wanting to skate since our
return."
"And they will bring Miss Varton
with them, most likely," the major said with a clout to his youngest brother's
shoulder. Charlie only nodded eagerly.
"Do you skate, Miss Harte?" the
vicar asked.
"Oh, yes!" Amy readily answered.
"Good! That makes us four, you
and the three Vartons," Charlie said.
"I will come, too," the viscount
suddenly announced.
"You haven't skated in a
donkey's age, Marcus!" the professor exclaimed.
"Don't think you need to come
just to keep an eye on things," the major insisted.
"I'm not," he replied.
"If Marcus is going, so am I!"
Lady Cynthia announced. "But I'm just a delicate flower and I shall need some
assistance," she said in a little-girl voice guaranteed to draw the attention
back to herself and set Amy's teeth on edge. "Some of us are not great,
strapping farm girls."
"No, indeed, we are not," Amy agreed,
deliberately misunderstanding. She would not be drawn into retaliation. "Do you
not skate, Miss Winters?" she asked the companion.
"Cousin Ellie abhors fun and
prefers to make a martyr of herself. She's a poor relation, you know," Lady
Cynthia said in a stage whisper.
"What has that to do with
anything?" Amy asked. "I daresay Lady Linvale can spare you for a few hours,
Miss Winters. Won't you come? There are plenty of us to help you, should you
need it."
Miss Winters looked to Lady
Linvale for approval, and when the viscountess nodded with a bright smile, she
agreed, provided someone had skates for her.
"In a house full of boys?" her
ladyship said with a laugh. "We have plenty! Miss Harte and Cynthia shall need
them, as well. Robert, will you be in charge of that tomorrow? Excellent. Now,
if you gentlemen will excuse us, we will retire. Ellie did a number of errands
for me today, Miss Harte will be exhausted from her journey and Cynthia..." She
paused for effect. "Cynthia needs her beauty sleep."
Amy almost laughed out loud and was glad when several of the Armstrong gentlemen did just that.
The next day dawned clear and
sunny, but cold, and Amy looked out her window to see Lady Linvale's garden
fountain was frozen solid. It boded well for whatever body of water the
Armstrongs skated upon. Putting on a warm woolen gown of a pretty plum color,
she did her own hair and went downstairs in search of breakfast.
A footman directed her to a
small family parlor, empty except for a servant and a sideboard loaded down
with eggs, ham, kidneys, bacon, toast, a large variety of jam pots and a bowl
of hothouse fruit. The man on duty filled a plate with her choices and brought
her a pot of tea. She was alone only as long as it took to pour a cup when Professor
Armstrong and Miss Winters came in together.
"I did not realize until
late last night that you are cousin to the family," Amy remarked to Miss
Winters after she and the professor had been served.
"My mother and Lady Linvale
were cousins. When my parents died, Cousin Beryl took me in as her
companion."
"She took you in," the
professor amended, "but you chose to be her companion."
"I will not be a charity
case!" Miss Winters snapped, the first sign of life Amy had seen in the
other lady.
"You know Mother would
never treat you as such," he replied with a sigh. "If Cynthia became
an orphan tomorrow, she would not be treated thusly, either."
"Lady Cynthia is not
penniless."
"Neither are you!"
Amy's gaze moved back and forth
between the professor and the companion as if they were playing battledore and
shuttlecock.
"I receive an allowance
from Cousin Marcus, which I insist on earning by offering my assistance to your
mother."
"Marcus has offered you a
dowry, as well."
"No one wants plain Miss Winters
when they could have lovely Lady Cynthia." Miss Winters put her napkin on
the table, took a sip of tea and rose to her feet. "I am no longer hungry.
I shall see you again when we go skating," she said politely to Amy and
left the room.
"What was all that
about?" Charlie asked as he sat down next to his brother and began to
tackle the food on his cousin's untouched plate.
"The usual," his
brother said with another sigh.
Charlie shrugged. "So let
her have her way. One of these days, in the unlikely event of her marriage,
Marcus can renew his offer of a dowry and everyone will be happy."
"What do you mean,
'unlikely'?" the professor said indignantly.
"What?" Charlie was
taken unawares, being more interested in food than his cousin. "Well, you
know..." he gestured vaguely. "Plain as a pikestaff, a dowdy
wardrobe, no conversation..."
"Has everyone gone insane
around here?" his brother asked wildly. "Marcus insulting Miss Harte,
you picking on Cousin Ellie... What next?"
Amy looked up in alarm when her
name was mentioned. Did everyone know of Lord Linvale's words to her? She came
to her feet and calmly excused herself. Like Miss Winters, she was no longer
hungry. All she wished to do now was go upstairs, pack her belongings and
return home. At least there she counted her father and sister as allies against
her own cousin's machinations. She was not only out of her league here, but
friendless.
She wished she could approach
Lady Linvale with all her troubles, but she hardly knew her. How, too, would
that lady take a report of her eldest son's rudeness? Thoughts of the viscount
and his snooty cousin kept her from running home. If she left now, they would
think she had been scared off - and she was no quitter.
Ignoring the pleas of the
gentlemen to disregard what had just been said, Amy left the room and wandered
the house, searching for a private retreat. She found one in the conservatory
at the back of the house. It was, thankfully, empty, and she sat on a bench
next to a pond that housed the goldfish that most likely inhabited the outdoor
pool in more felicitous weather. In her own little place, she indulged in a few
tears and strengthened her resolve not to go home. Indeed, Cousin Minerva would
never let her live it down if she did.
Resigned to make the most of her
visit, Amy joined the family later in the drawing room, dressed in her outdoor
wear. A pair of skates had been given to her by Sally, who had also helped to
find half boots thick enough to keep her feet warm and fit the skates.
"I hope you have a good
time," the viscountess said sincerely, tightening the scarf around Amy's
throat, much like her own mother would have done.
Amy, having already had a good
cry, found herself close to tears once more. "Yes, ma'am, as do I."
"Are we ready to go?"
Charlie asked, bounding into the room.
"We are waiting on
Cynthia," his mother said.
"Why don't we head to the
pond?" the major suggested. "Marcus could wait for her. She would not
mind." All his brothers, except for the viscount, snickered at that remark.
"Let's go!" Charlie
cried. "Come on, Miss Harte! We'll take the path past the gardens,"
he told his brother and held out an arm to their guest.
Amy ignored his lordship's glare
as she took Charlie's arm and allowed him to escort her out a pair of French
doors and onto a terrace. Behind her, the major offered his assistance to Miss
Winters, leaving the vicar and professor to bring up the rear.
"I'll have tea and
chocolate ready when you return," Lady Linvale called right before
shutting the door against the cold.
The party trooped out through
the woods, bare and white, to a pond nestled within a grove of ancient oaks.
One or two of the trunks had fallen with the passing of the years, creating
natural benches for summer swimmers and winter skaters to relax upon. A pair of
young men and a young lady in a blue cloak were seated around a brazier,
warming their hands and strapping on their skates. They caught sight of the
party of newcomers and waved.
"Charlie!" they
called. "Thank you for the invitation!"
He grinned and made proper
introductions of the Varton family to Amy before directing her to a log and
offering to help with her skates.
While she and Miss Winters were
receiving assistance, Amy heard the companion moan and looked up to see Lady
Cynthia make a grand entrance.
A vision in white, the lady's
pale blonde hair almost blended in with a little fur-trimmed hat, wool coat and
gown, and fur mittens. To Amy, the girl looked almost washed out. That did not
seem to make a difference to the Varton lads, who could only stare in awe as
Lord Linvale helped his cousin sit. He knelt to pick up one dainty, white boot.
"You are so kind to help me
with my skates, Cousin Marcus," she said in a little-girl voice, even as
she shot Amy and Miss Winters a triumphant glance.
"All set?" In his
enthusiasm, Charlie pulled on a tree limb, sending snow flying. A wet clump of
it landed on the back of Lady Cynthia's neck and she squealed with surprise
before berating her cousin. He, in turn, grinned and egged her on until even
Amy and Miss Winters looked at each other and giggled. That brought Lady
Cynthia's tirade to an abrupt end.
"My cousin thinks he is
amusing," she said to the crowd of onlookers. "This is just a little
game we play. Isn't that right, Charles?"
Charlie made her a mocking bow.
"One I enjoy immensely." Everyone breathed a sigh of relief and began to
make their way to the edge of the pond.
"I had old Gus check for
thin ice earlier," Charlie said. "It's over there in the center,
where the ice has more bubbles," he told everyone. "But there is
enough room around it to skate safely. Shall we?"
Miss Varton stepped forward and
took Charlie's arm and they slid off together, chatting and laughing as they
circled the pond.
Amy went next, by herself,
although she turned down a couple of offers for a partner, including one from
Mr. Nigel Varton, the elder of the two brothers. She was in no mood for
conversation and wished for a little solitude on the ice. Behind her, Professor
Armstrong had cajoled Miss Winters into holding onto his arm. Her skating
skills were such that she needed assistance.
Lady Cynthia made a show of
requiring help, insisting that she could not possibly skate by herself.
"Great, healthy girls can
manage by themselves," she said, her voice carrying across the ice.
"I'm much more delicate..."
Amy had the satisfaction of
seeing Lord Linvale skate off on his own as the major and the Varton brothers
jumped to do Lady Cynthia's bidding. Amy snickered at the chagrin on that
lady's face when the viscount left her to the attentions of the other
gentlemen.
"You skate well," he
said, suddenly at her elbow. She almost faltered, not realizing she was his
goal, but managed at the last minute to keep her balance.
"Thank you," Amy
coldly replied.
"You did not allow one of
the gentlemen to support you," he explained.
"I can skate without any
aid. Some of us are not helpless kittens."
"No," he agreed
mildly. "I don't think you are helpless." There was no sarcasm or
rancor in his voice at all. Without another word, he skated away, leaving a
confused Amy in his wake.
The major and the vicar joined
her and the three glided about companionably for a while.
"I am curious," Amy
said at one point to the Rev. Armstrong. "You have the living here, don't
you?"
"For a year now," he
said. "We keep it in the family when we can, but Marcus was not going to
force out our last vicar. He was getting on in years, but I was his curate
until he finally went to live with his daughter."
"And yet you live
here?"
The vicar laughed. "Oh, no.
There is a vicarage in the village and I live there, but not when all my
brothers are home for a holiday."
"Which suits his old crow
of a housekeeper just fine," the major said with a laugh.
"Be nice to Mrs. Timmons,
Robert," he was admonished. "Or she will quit making that cherry
cordial you are fond of," he teased.
"Oh." The look on his
face was comical and Amy found herself laughing out loud. The sound seemed to
gain the attention of some of the other gentlemen. One of the Varton brothers,
Charlie, and even Lord Linvale, who was conversing with Miss Winters and the
professor, looked her way.
Charlie skated over, always
eager to be in the most jolly group, leaving Miss Varton to fend for herself.
Amy was keeping the young lady in sight out of the corner of her eye, though.
Perhaps it was because of her pretty blue cloak. Whatever the reason, she was
the first to notice the girl was skating closer and closer to the center of the
pond.
"Excuse me a moment,"
she finally said to her group. Lord Linvale looked up as she moved away, took
in the situation and headed their way from the other direction.
Miss Varton seemed to panic, as
if she thought the viscount and Amy were after her. She kept inching backwards
hoping to avoid them both. She appeared to have forgotten about the thin ice,
even if the other two had not, and just as Amy reached her and grabbed hold
with both hands, the ice cracked.
Amy flung Miss Varton away from
the possibility of an icy dip in the pond, falling to her knees as water seeped
up around her, immediately soaking her all the way through her woolens to her
skin.
"Don't move!" his
lordship barked.
Amy heard another crack, this
one from behind her.
"Rob!" he shouted.
"Get a rope! Now!" The major, used to taking orders, didn't hesitate.
He ran off to fetch what was requested.
"Someone see to Miss
Varton," Lord Linvale ordered. She had landed on her backside, and she was
weeping. The vicar went to her side and insisted she come up to the house and
be tended by his mother. The viscount told the professor to take the other
ladies indoors, as well. "You there!" he shouted to Charlie and the
Vartons. "Stay here! I might need you!" He turned to Amy.
"You've stayed still. Good.
Once we get a rope, I'm going to throw it out to you."
Amy nodded, too scared to say a
word. A shout was heard and everyone, from the ladies having their skates
removed to the viscount, looked up. The major had brought rope and a couple of
stable hands. A rope was quickly tossed out to the viscount and he edged the
end of it to Amy.
"Tie that carefully around
your waist, in case you fall through." He had another rope by then and had
tied that one around himself before stretching out on the ice. "They will
pull me in slowly," he explained, "and I will pull you in turn. Lie
flat, Miss Harte, so you put less pressure on one spot. You're going to get
even more wet than you already are," he apologized, "but it cannot be
helped." Water was still coming up through the cracks.
Amy nodded and slid down onto
the ice. The viscount signaled his brother and began to slide backwards,
bringing Amy with him. All the while, he spoke softly, encouraging her to
remain as calm as she had been and praising her for saving Miss Varton from a
sure dunking or worse.
Amy was amazed in the
transformation from arrogant lord to compassionate man and let his deep voice
pull her along as much as the rope around her waist. Even his eyes appeared
warmer - a hint of spring on an austere winter day. She gripped the rope like
the lifeline it was, grateful for her gloves, else she was sure she would have
suffered from burns on her hands. Water soaked the front of her coat and began
to freeze as she was dragged across the ice. She felt like her entire body was
on pins and needles, her teeth began to chatter and she was certain she would
be numb all over in a matter of seconds.
"A few more minutes, Miss
Harte," Lord Linvale assured her, "and you will be out of the
dangerous area."
Once on thicker ice, where they
could stand, he whipped off his cloak and wrapped it around her before picking
her up and carrying her off the surface of the pond. On the bank, when she
expected to be placed on her feet, he kept walking, calling for Charlie to run
ahead and make sure the staff was prepared for a couple of cold, wet people.
Lord Linvale did not set Amy
down until he had reached her bedchamber door, where his mother and Sally
waited to attend her. Amy thanked him, received a gruff reply and was almost
pushed into her room. There she was tenderly ministered to by her hostess and
maid.
Amy wasn't allowed out of bed
for the rest of the day or night, despite the apothecary's assurance that she
had not taken ill, and her own insistence that she felt fine.
"Your family would never
forgive me if anything happened to you," Lady Linvale said, clearly
fretting. "Indeed, I should never forgive myself."
Amy took pity on the viscountess
and agreed to remain in bed until the next morning, providing her condition did
not worsen. To alleviate some of her guest's boredom, her ladyship allowed the
other girls to visit, including Miss Varton, who was to stay overnight rather
than go out again into the cold.
Fortunately for Amy, Lady
Cynthia did not bother to take her aunt up on the invitation. Miss Winters came
with a cup of tea and some biscuits and sat quietly for fifteen minutes. Miss
Varton also stopped by, but she was far from quiet. She had been in the drawing
room with the Armstrongs and now she was absolutely livid.
"How dared you save me like that!" she hissed. "All I hear now from Charlie is Miss Harte this and Miss Harte that! I wish you had never come here, because now he will never look at me again!" With a wail loud enough to wake the dead, the girl ran from the room, leaving Amy dumbfounded and slightly miffed. The next time someone needed their life saved, Amy would step back and let another do the job.
Amy lay awake most of the night
and once more seriously considered packing and leaving. She had been insulted
by several people, but Miss Varton's words were the worst, making her even more
rude than Lord Linvale and Lady Cynthia, if that were possible. Amy had put
herself in danger to save the girl and all she could do was complain. Complain
about something Amy had no control over, at that! At dawn, she came to a
decision. She would find Charlie Armstrong and convince him to pay more
attention to Miss Varton and forget Amy's own part in this entire drama.
Tracking down Charlie was easier
than she expected. When she reached the bottom of the main staircase, he was
waiting for her. Because she wished to speak to him privately, the fact that he
wished to discuss something of the utmost importance with her only played into
her scheme.
"Shall we go into the
library?" he wondered. "There will not be anyone about yet."
Amy agreed. Once settled in
front of the fire, she began to speak, but he cut her off.
"Miss Harte, ever since you
have arrived you seemed to set what was turning into a staid house party on its
ear. Not only did you raise Cynthia's hackles, but you've got Marcus watching
you wherever you go. Now you have saved Miss Varton. That silly prattle would
have gone through the ice but for your quick thinking, and would have surely
drowned. She has none of your sense."
Amy should have told him she had
done nothing to earn neither censure nor praise from anyone, and that the
'silly prattle' might not have been so foolish if he had paid her more
attention. She had no idea what had antagonized Lady Cynthia, but she knew
exactly why his lordship kept an eye on her. He was afraid she would attract
one of his precious brothers. Seated in front of one now, she could not help
but feel a bit triumphant in that department.
"I think we would suit very
well, Miss Harte," he was saying and she realized this situation was going
further than she wished. "I cannot help myself, Miss Harte!" he said
passionately, dropping to one knee in front of her. "I am all admiration
for your heroism!"
Too late...
"Please, Mr.
Armstrong!" she pleaded. "Come up off the floor!"
"But..."
"I appreciate the gesture,
sir. I am honored you should single me out, but I won't put you through making
an offer only to turn you down."
"Turn me down?"
"You are still a student,
Mr. Armstrong. We are of an age ... You aren't even certain of a career path
yet. I doubt you are ready for the responsibility of a wife, let alone the
children that would surely follow."
He gulped. "Children?"
Amy chuckled. "You are not
so naive as to think they would not come afterwards?"
"I suppose I had not
thought of them at all. Perhaps I have been a bit hasty..."
"That is all right, Mr.
Armstrong." She was quick to forgive now that he seemed to come to his
senses.
"Charlie," he
corrected.
"Charlie. You have a few
years yet to worry about a family. And, if I am not mistaken, the lady's
attention you have captured is not yet eighteen. I am certain she needs a few
years to grow up in, as well." If pressed, Amy could almost guarantee it.
"Miss Varton?"
"The very one. I believe
she is a bit put out by your inattention, and while you and I might agree she
is being a bit childish, you could reassure her of your regard before she goes
home today."
"Dare I?"
"I think you should. Do you
believe she is in the drawing room with your mother, perhaps?"
"I'll go look now, before I
miss her." He caught up Amy's hand and kissed it fervently. "Thank
you for being so understanding, Miss Harte. And so wise."
Amy gave him a gentle smile.
"Shall we make this discussion our little secret?" she suggested. The
last thing she wanted was for the viscount to hear of this and ring a peal over
her head. Or Charlie's.
He apologized for leaving her by
herself in the library and ran from the room.
Amy laughed at his enthusiasm,
but not for long. A door leading to another room was open and Lord Linvale
stood in it, clapping slowly.
"Brava, Miss Harte. That
was quite a tender moment, wasn't it? The wise female giving the young pup such
advice as to ensure she will not be forgotten in the future."
Amy turned red. "How dare
you insinuate such a thing?"
"Because I refuse to
believe you are here only because my mother invited you."
"Did it ever occur to you
that I might just want to get out of my home once in awhile and enjoy the
company of other people?"
"No. After all, what could you
be escaping from? You have a loving family, a decent allowance, I daresay, and
a roof over your head. Why leave?"
Amy refused to tell him exactly
why she had left. Cousin Minerva was a pain, but she was Amy's pain and he
would not believe her, or he would pity her, and she could not bear for him to
do either.
"Aren't you going to chase
down your brother and keep him from being caught in someone else's
clutches?" she asked sweetly. "After all, he is running from me to
Miss Varton."
"I know how to deal with
Miss Varton, should the need arise," he dismissively replied.
"Whereas I am an unknown
entity."
"Yes."
"Good. I've never been one
of those before. I think I shall quite like it."
He stared at her.
"And next time I receive a
proposal from one of your brothers, I'd appreciate it if you would alert me to
your presence." Then, perhaps, she could avoid more offers.
"I assure you, Miss Harte,
there will be no more proposals from my brothers!"
"Excellent!"
"Yes!"
"Then we have noting more
to say to each other, my lord." She rose gracefully and left the room,
unsure why she continued staying in such a madhouse.
On her way to the drawing room,
where she vaguely thought the family was situated, she was stopped by a footman
who asked her to join her ladyship in the viscountess' rooms. Amy instantly
agreed, not being at all enamored of her previous destination. A maid met her
at the top of the stairs and led her into a little sun room that overlooked the
gardens, still blanketed with snow.
"It's a beautiful view,
isn't it?" the viscountess asked as Amy looked out over the white, icy
grounds. "When my husband died, I gave the master chambers to Marcus and I
moved up here. I have always loved this suite. It was made for my mother-in-law
when I was a new bride and I used to come up for tea or a private coze quite
frequently. You would have liked my sons' grandmother. She was not one to give
up easily. In fact, she outlived her husband by a good twenty years. I hope to
be able to do the same..." Her voice tapered off.
"Do have a seat, Miss
Harte," she continued after a moment. "May I call you Amy? That is
what I call you to myself, having heard it from your mother for many years. She
was proud to have such sweet, intelligent daughters." A maid brought in a
tea tray. "I do apologize that we haven't had a little private chat
sooner, but you have been settling in - and saving lives!"
"I just happened to
notice..." Amy mumbled.
"You were very brave! Even
Marcus said so, and he is rarely complimentary to our sex these days."
Far from being honored to have
earned one of his lordship's few accolades, however, Amy frowned, her recent
conversation with the viscount still fresh in her mind.
"Oh, dear," Lady
Linvale murmured. "I'd hoped he would not have subjected you to his
bitterness so soon, but I see he has wasted no time."
"My lady?"
"I apologize for my eldest
son, because he will find no need to do it himself. He had a betrothal turn
sour a couple of years ago and has been an absolute bear about love, engagements
and marriage ever since. I have disliked seeing him like this, when his father
and I were so happy together. It pains me to see him make so much of Cynthia,
as well. He is aware of her grasping, manipulative nature, and yet he says she
will make him the perfect wife, because neither of them are under any illusions
as to what the other one wants. It's terribly sad."
Amy could only agree, especially
in regards to his marrying Lady Cynthia. But only for the current Lady
Linvale's sake and for any children they might have.
"If they marry, I plan to
move to Bath. We have a lovely Dower House here, but I'll not live that close
to the perfectly-matched couple." She patted Amy's hand. "But here
now... You didn't come for a visit just to hear of my troubles. Lucy says you
have enough of your own. Don't worry about that cousin, though. Your father is
not the sort to marry so foolishly, or so soon."
"When did you hear from
Lucy?"
The viscountess laughed.
"Didn't she tell you we are regular correspondents?"
"No..." Lucy, that sly
puss, had some explaining to do!
"Ever since your cousin
took possession of the household, she and I have been plotting for you to come
here for a visit. She had hoped to come with you, of course, but I think we
might get her here in time for the ball."
"When did you hear from
her?" Amy insisted.
"This morning! Just one
moment..." Lady Linvale jumped up and ran to the little escritoire in one
corner of the room. "This was the other reason for inviting you up. I have
a note for you." She brought a single sheet of paper over to Amy.
"Here you are. Why don't I just go count linens or something," she
tactfully added, leaving Amy alone to read her letter.
Dearest sister, I hope this
finds you healthy and happy and settled in at Linvale Hall. I miss you so
much! The 'so' was
heavily outlined and underlined and Amy chuckled as she pictured Lucy writing
to her.
Papa sends his love and Cousin Minerva does not. In fact,
she is driving us all mad in her vain, insistent attempt to discover your whereabouts.
Amy giggled.
I have asked Lady Linvale not to reply for that reason and I
must ask you to do the same. Our cousin has increased surveillance concerning
the post, outgoing as well as incoming, and it took some subterfuge to get this
letter out of the house. I don't know what she will do if she learns where you
are, but she is so intent on it, it scares me to think what might happen. Not
that Papa or I would let her harm a hair on your head! In fact, plans are afoot
here to oust the intruder. I shall keep you posted. Then Papa will bring me to
Linvale Hall and we shall all be able to celebrate together.
Much love, Lucy,
Amy hugged the knowledge of a
routing of Cousin Minerva to herself, but she would tell Lady Linvale of it
later, if that lady did not already know. And if Papa could come with Lucy...
"That would be
perfect!" she said aloud, reading that part of the letter once more.
"I beg your pardon, Miss
Harte," the viscount said from the doorway. "I thought I would find
my mother here."
"She was," Amy said
warily. "She has gone to count linens."
"I see. I'll find her
myself."
"You do that." After
all, Amy was not his servant.
The viscount scowled at her and
she scowled back. Even knowing his history, she could find no excuse for his
continued bad manners. Her mother would have been shocked to see her eldest
stoop to his level, but at the moment, her mother's strictures were the
furthest thing from her mind.
Fortunately, Lady Linvale
returned at that moment. She came in around her tall son and beamed at Amy.
"Did that make you feel
better?" she asked.
"Yes, ma'am." Amy gave
her a small smile and excused herself.
"Such a sweet girl, but
such a sad family situation," the viscountess said after Amy was out of
earshot. She waved her son into the room.
"Oh?"
"I hope you appreciate my
sometimes spendthrift ways after what I'm about to tell you," she warned.
"I'll keep that in mind,
Mama." He sat in a chair across from his parent. Since he did not stop her
and she didn't want him to, she jumped right into a narrative of how difficult
Amy's life had been in the past year.
"Surely the cousin is not
that bad," he scoffed when she finished.
"I am not making this up,
Marcus," she tartly replied. "Your father used to say the same sorts
of things..."
"You've been known to
embroider tales when it suited you," he said pointedly.
"But you know how dearly I
loved Lady Harte." She ignored his last comment. "And I don't need
you being so rude to our guest, no matter what you think of young ladies!"
"But..."
"What exactly did you say
to her? All I heard was that you had insulted the poor girl."
"Who said? Charlie?
Ned?"
"Does it matter?" She
glared at him.
"No, ma'am," he said
meekly.
"Then what did you
say?" The sweet, motherly viscountess could turn ferocious on her precious
sons when she needed to, and it never failed to cow them into doing or saying
what she asked.
"I suggested she was at our
home to find a husband."
Lady Linvale groaned. "You
didn't... Oh, Marcus, how could you tip my hand like that?" she wailed.
"I beg your pardon. You
mean to say she is here for a husband?"
"Well, of course she is!
She should do very well for Ned or Thomas, don't you think? So sweet and
gentle... She would make a lovely professor's wife or a vicar's helpmeet...."
she mused.
"Let me get this straight,
Mama. She is here to find herself a husband..." His grin was positively
feral, but his mother's next words deflated any triumph he felt at being found
correct in his assumptions.
"Oh, she doesn't know. Not
that she hasn't guessed now that you've shot off your mouth!"
"I am not sorry, Mama,
believe me," he said dryly.
"Don't I know it," she
grumbled.
"May I ask why you chose
Ned or Tom, however?"
The viscountess smirked.
"Her temperament, of course. She would dislike military life and she is
not quite up to your standards, not if you have already insulted her, so why
not Ned or Tom? Charlie, naturally, is much too young, although Miss Varton
will be at just the right level of maturity for him in a couple of years."
"You don't think your best
friend's daughter isn't good enough to be a viscountess?"
"I didn't say that. She
would be a better one than Cynthia. Your cousin would never give the manor or
the tenants the level of care they deserve and she'd always be flitting off to
Town. No, I said Miss Harte has not measured up to your
expectations." She watched her son ponder a few home truths while she rang
for her maid. It was fun sometimes to reduce the lot of them to a pack of
fidgety lads, but now she wanted Marcus to think about his future like the
intelligent man she knew him to be.
She hoped it would be sooner
than later that he considered his initial reaction to Amy. He would not have
been so cruel to the dear girl if he weren't fighting off an attraction he did
not want to acknowledge. She blessed Ned and Thomas both for telling her of
that little development. It only proved her motherly instincts were correct
where Marcus and Amy were concerned.
As for Lucy ... She thought
about Amy's sister for a moment and knew it was imperative that the girl come
to the manor as soon as possible. How else was she going to meet her own future
husband?
Feeling as if she were well on
her way to fulfilling one of Lady Harte's last requests, she dismissed her son
and went into her bedroom to discuss with her maid what to wear for dinner.
And if her own wishes happened
to coincide with her late friend's fondest desire... all the better!
Another day, another exciting
moment at Linvale Hall, Amy thought with some trepidation, because this was the
day Lady Linvale wished to see what the young ladies were to wear to her winter
ball.
Amy was sure it was only a
formality on the behalf of Lady Cynthia -- she had yet to see that lady in
anything twice. Amy, on the other hand, had already worn her yellow gown to
dinner more than once. However, it was possible the viscountess wished to keep
her other female houseguests from embarrassing themselves with their attire.
Lady Linvale gathered them all
in Lady Cynthia's room first, where that girl's maid produced a white silk
confection so beautiful, everyone sighed. Amy was sure the young lady was going
to look like an angel, even if her heart was as black as night. The gown was
floaty and foamy and glittering with golden threads. All Lady Cynthia needed
was a halo and wings. Too bad she already owned a pitchfork.
"This old thing?" she had
declared, giving the other girls a "top this if you can" look.
In Amy's room, no one but Lady
Cynthia could find fault with the eau de nil satin that Sally had laid out on
the bed.
"Are you certain green is your
color?" Lady Cynthia asked, poking her pitchfork figuratively in Amy's
backside.
"Of course it is!" Lady Linvale
insisted. "And I have the most perfect jade set for you to wear!" she said to
Amy. It appeared this inspection was also a chance for the viscountess to
pretend she had daughters with which to share her jewelry. Amy wasn't about to
burst that bubble.
"But what about me, Aunt Beryl?"
Cynthia whined. "Can't I borrow your diamonds?"
"You are too young for
diamonds!" Her aunt dismissed that notion with a laugh. "Besides, they are
reserved only for the viscountess -- dowager or otherwise."
In a word, Amy thought with
un-Christianlike smugness, over their hostess' dead body. Lady Cynthia glared
at her aunt as if she would like to arrange such a thing.
Miss Winters did not seem
comfortable in her own room, for several possible reasons. The first might stem
from Cynthia's visible disdain for the companion's meager accommodations.
Anything of real value seemed to have been removed -- without permission.
"Whatever have you done with all
my decorations?" the viscountess demanded of her cousin's daughter.
"A companion would not live in
such luxury, my lady, and indeed I am not used to it."
"Nonsense!" Lady Linvale
exclaimed. "Your mother always had nice things around her, so I know you have
not been living in penury all your life."
"A companion would not..."
"Oh, hang being a companion!"
Lady Linvale all but shouted. "I don't want you to be a companion! I want you
to be a privileged member of this family!"
"But..."
"No buts, my dear. I'll wager
you haven't a gown for the ball, either. Come with me!" She took Miss Winters
by the hand and hauled her from the room. Where they were headed, Amy had no
idea, but she followed quickly behind. Lady Cynthia brought up the rear until
she realized they were headed downstairs and towards a green baize door that
separated the family from their servants. She refused to go any further and
wandered off to see what the gentlemen were up to.
Amy trailed behind as Lady
Linvale took Miss Winters into a room filled with fabrics and trims.
"Miss Marvin has graciously come
from the village today to measure you for a new gown, Eleanor. What color do
you think will suit, Amy dear?"
"Pink," Amy replied without
hesitation. "It will go well with her coloring and is about as far away from
gray and dark blue as one can get."
"Perfect!" Lady Linvale grabbed
a bolt of pink sarcenet off a shelf and held a handful of it up against the
girl's face. "Just perfect! Now, Ellie, off with that gown..."
"What?" Miss Winters looked at
the other three and blushed.
"No need to show such maidenly
sensibilities in front of... Perhaps there is..." the viscountess decided, her
cousin's face turning bright red. She motioned for Amy to leave the room with
her. "I forgot Ellie did not grow up with sisters and she is a bit more modest
around other females than we are."
Amy agreed, but when she headed
down the hall that led her back through the servants' quarters and up to the
main part of the house, Lady Linvale stayed her with a touch of her hand.
"Hear that?" There were faint
sounds coming from the other end of the hall. "That's the sound of Ned in his
laboratory! Come see!"
Amy was intrigued. She had never
seen a laboratory before, had never known anyone who had one.
"Ned set one up when he was ten
or so. He has always been interested in science and experiments."
"What sorts of experiments?"
"Chemical reactions, mostly. I
used to be afraid he would blow us all up. Fortunately for the manor, he has
either learned how not to explode things, or else he only causes explosions in
London. I understand they are quite tolerant of his ‘hobby' at the physicians'
college."
"How interesting," Amy sincerely
replied. She had lived such a sheltered life, despite having gone off to
school, so anything that furthered her education in life was a wonder to her.
"Come in!" Professor Armstrong
invited when his mother and her guest reached the threshold of his laboratory.
"Especially you, Miss Harte."
"Thank you." She gave him a
bright smile. She liked all of Lady Linvale's sons, save one, but Professor
Armstrong was even more likeable due to his kindnesses to Miss Winters. "What
are you working on today?" she asked.
He had a small fire lit in a
metal bowl under a metal frame that held a glass beaker.
"I'm trying to see if these two
chemicals are compatible," he explained. One was a yellow powder and the other
was a clear liquid. "Acid," he said, following her gaze.
A footman appeared in the room
and requested her ladyship's presence in the kitchens. "I'll return in a
moment," she said, and left.
"What brings you down to this
part of the house?" the professor asked conversationally.
"Lady Linvale and I accompanied
Miss Winters down to have a gown made for the ball."
"It's about time!" he exclaimed.
"I beg your pardon?"
"Cousin Ellie -- Miss Winters --
could be treated like a daughter of the house if she would just allow it."
"So I gather. But we all have
our pride," Amy gently reminded him. "I daresay she more than most."
The professor nodded. "Would you
tell me the color of her gown?" he requested. "I should like to send her
flowers the evening of the ball to match her dress."
Amy was pleased and told him
about the pink sarcenet.
"I hope you are not boring Miss
Harte, now, Ned," the viscount drawled from the doorway.
"Not at all," Amy assured him.
"And perhaps it is the other way around. While I am not by nature of student of
science, I am not as close-minded as some people. Who could say if today is the
day I embark on a scientific career culminating in a wondrous discovery, all
due to the professor's tutelage?"
"Females cannot be scientists!"
Linvale scoffed.
"Women can be whatever they
wish. Their only limitation, as far as I can see, is men."
"Well said, Miss Harte!" The
professor gave her an encouraging grin.
"You are a follower, no doubt,
of that Wollstonecraft female's principles regarding the equality of women?"
the viscount asked.
"I have not heard of her, but
she sounds intriguing. I must look into this. Is it possible that more than one
intelligent female believes in such things?" she mocked. "Dare I ask if any of
her writings are in your library?"
"You'll find it damn near
impossible to discover any there."
"Mama has a book in her sun
room," the professor said.
"You stay out of this!" the
viscount ordered.
The professor started at the
unexpected fury in his brother's voice and took a step back, loosening his hold
on the acid. It dropped into the liquid on the burner and exploded.
"Bloody hell!" the viscount
roared. Down the hall, a shriek was heard. When the acrid smoke cleared, the
professor had been blown back against the wall, but was conscious and hastily
removing residue from his face, lest the mild acid he was using burn his skin.
Amy was not so fortunate. The force had pushed her in the other direction and
she lay crumpled like a rag doll against a bookcase.
Lord Linvale cursed and ran to
her side just as Miss Winters came in, hastily dressed from her fitting, and
went directly to her cousin Ned.
"Edward! What happened?"
"I'm not quite sure ... The acid
dropped into the bowl and... boom!"
"I told you the acid and the
powder would do this," she said matter-of-factly. "And now you have no eyebrows.
Go change your clothes while I start sweeping up."
"Yes, Ellie," the professor said
meekly. "But what about Miss Harte?"
Miss Winters looked up to see
Miss Harte resting limply in Lord Linvale's arms.
"Cousin Marcus will tend to Miss
Harte. Go change clothes!"
Once again the apothecary was
summoned, but this time the pronouncement was more serious.
"Concussion," he told an anxious
viscountess and her eldest son. "Someone will have to sit with her and wake her
up every couple of hours."
Amy had gained consciousness
just as Lord Linvale was settling her on her bed.
"Her maid and I will," Lady
Linvale volunteered. Hovering behind her, Sally nodded vigorously.
"Mama..." her son said, as if in
protest.
"Not now, Marcus," she snapped.
"She's a guest!"
"But..."
"Go away, Marcus!"
The viscount stalked out without
another word.
"Now that Thundercloud is gone,"
his mother said to the apothecary, rolling her eyes, "what do I need to do?"
While Mr. Thompson gave
instructions for Amy's care to Lady Linvale, the viscount ordered his carriage
ready as soon as could be arranged. His valet was instructed to pack clothing
for overnight, but he dismissed the man's offer to accompany him wherever he
was headed.
"There is no need," his lordship
told the servant in a reassuring voice. "'Tis only a short journey and I shall
return in the morning. In the meantime, why don't you see if there is anything
Lady Linvale requires in regard to nursing Miss Harte?"
He arrived on Sir Lionel Harte's
doorstep in the latter part of the afternoon, after the wintry sun had already
set, and asked immediately for the baronet. A footman dithered, wondering aloud
whether or not he should alert Miss Blakeley first, and Lord Linvale demanded
to know if that lady was the gentleman's cousin. Upon hearing that she was, he
refused to see anyone but the baronet.
The quaking footman left him
cooling his heels in the front hall and that was where Lucy, alerted to a guest
by her vigilant maid, found him moments later. Floating down the stairs in
white muslin, her golden hair gleaming, she looked like an angel. The viscount,
who had taken a seat, stood immediately.
"May I be of some assistance?"
she asked sweetly.
"Lord Linvale to see Sir Lionel
Harte," he told her.
"Lord Linvale!" She should have
known his looks -- the brothers she had met had similar features.
The footman reappeared and said
Sir Lionel would receive him.
"Of course he will! I will show
him in," Lucy said to the servant and tucked her hand up under Lord Linvale's
arm.
"We cannot speak freely, but I
must say, I wish you had not come!" Lucy whispered. "Cousin Minerva will
discover Amy's whereabouts and bring her home and we shall never leave this
place!"
"Miss Harte, I hardly think..."
"Who is this?" Cousin Minerva
appeared in front of them. "Why was I not informed we had a visitor?" she
demanded.
"Because he is not here to see
you, Minerva," Sir Lionel said from the study door. "Come in, my lord, and make
yourself comfortable."
The viscount was led into a
library that was easily twice as large as his own, before Miss Lucy dropped his
arm.
"May I stay, Papa?" she begged.
The baronet looked at his guest.
"Is this visit of an extremely personal and delicate nature, my lord?"
"Yes, but..." For the third time
that day, the viscount was unable to finish a sentence and explain himself.
"You will see him at dinner,
then, my child."
Lucy could only nod and drop the viscount a curtsy and then she quickly closed the library door on Cousin Minerva and herself.
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