Amy's Adventure

Chapter 16

Lucy was still giving Sir Bart a billiards lesson when the major reappeared and asked if he could speak to her for a moment. She readily agreed and excused them both, but not before admonishing her pupil to practice.

She then followed Robert to the conservatory without a murmur, because if he planned to repeat his advances of the other evening, she was in full accord. He led her to their usual bench and sat her down.

"Miss Harte ... Lucy..." he said, clearly nervous. She was instantly curious. This brave, adorable military man of hers was never at a loss for words or confidence. "Do you recall what I said here two nights ago?"

"That we would formalize everything after you received your posting," she summarized.

‘Yes." He pulled the still-sealed packet out of his coat. "Here it is." He set it down on the bench next to her. "However, I would be a fool if I based an offer on my orders."

Yes, you would, she agreed, but she wasn't about to point it out -- especially at a time like this.

"That is... What I mean to say is..."

Lucy was delighted by this anxious suitor. It was a side of him she had not seen until now. "Yes?" That did not mean she was going to make it easy on him.

"I love you, Lucy, and I want you to be with me wherever I am posted. I don't care if that makes me selfish or not."

Lucy reached out a hand and pulled Robert down to her side, both of them ignoring the fact that he was seated on his orders.

"Are you asking me to marry you before you open your letter? Or do you just want me to run away with you when you leave?" she teased.

"Lucy! I want you to marry me!"

"I accept." She tugged on the lapels of his coat and pulled his mouth down to hers, to seal their betrothal. It was, she thought, extremely satisfying.

"And now," she said, blue eyes soft from the kiss, "you need to open that packet. Let us see where we are going." Please let it be India, she said to herself as he laughed and pulled the letter out from underneath him.

"I had to ask before I read this," he told her, breaking the wax seal, "because it is more important that we be together, regardless of where we go."

"I understand, and I appreciate that more than you can know. But I was going to get you to propose and go with you wherever you went," she confessed. "I dare anyone -- even you -- to separate us."

"My little dragon," he said fondly, giving her another kiss. A kiss that continued for quite a while, the orders forgotten in his lap. Lucy felt quite smug about that when they finally parted, content in the knowledge that she was more important than his new post.

The next moment they were both eagerly opening the missive, both breathing the magic word, "India," together as they read.

Lucy was thrilled. Her physician had recommended a warmer climate for her, and this was about as warm as she could imagine. She was fascinated by the country too. She had found several books on the subject in Lord Linvale's library. Library...

"Robert! You must speak to Papa! I cannot imagine him refusing your suit, but he must be told first!"

The major squeezed her hand in his. "Of course I will speak to him first. In the meantime, you should get back to your pupil."

Lucy giggled, having forgotten about Sir Bart. "Yes, Major!" She saluted him, giggled again and offered her lips up for another kiss before they had to part.

The next day, it was a large party that set out on horseback into the snowy landscape surrounding Linvale Manor. Three sets of betrothed couples in the lead -- Major Armstrong and Lucy, Professor Armstrong and Miss Winters, and Sir Bart Owens and Lady Cynthia.

Amy held back with the unattached gentlemen, her horse at a slow walk. Lord Linvale brought his own mount up to hers.

"Not too cold, Miss Harte?" he asked kindly.

"I am fine," she assured him. "Just not willing to intrude on the couples."

"I understand. Your father was quick enough to give his blessing to my brother."

Amy chuckled. "Lucy said ancient Egypt was more interesting and your brother was less so -- a nod of agreement was all he had time for." She was smiling, quite used to taking second place to her father's research. "He would not have been so fortunate if my mother had been here."

"Tell me about her," the viscount urged. "My mother thought she was the most wonderful person in her life, after her own family."

"She was wonderful," Amy said with a misty smile. "She ran the estate so that my father could work undisturbed, and yet we did not want for her attention. She had friends everywhere, but she rarely left our home. Her correspondence, however, was extensive. She was level-headed and calm, and everyone came to her or wrote for her advice."

"You are like her, then."

Amy blushed. "I would like to be so some day. Lucy is the one, ironically, who has the wanderlust in the family. I have had to leave home by necessity -- to school and on family visits -- but she is the one who wished to go. And now she is going to India! She could not be more happy, and I am pleased for her. Hopefully, the climate will improve her state of health."

She looked up to see her sister spur her horse into action, the major keeping up with her easily. The professor and Miss Winters were moving at a sedate trot, but Lady Cynthia was urging Sir Bart to catch up with her cousin and Lucy. Even the vicar and Charlie had moved forward, leaving Amy and the viscount behind.

"You do not seem to be protesting this latest engagement," she said.

"For all the good it would do me, even if I did not approve. Your sister is a formidable opponent in everything else and I would surely lose. Yet, I do not disapprove, so you may rest easy that you and I will not disagree on this, Miss Harte."

"Oh, dear," Amy said in a teasing manner. "I was so looking forward to an argument, my lord."

"My clothing has sustained enough damage."

Amy laughed. "You are gaining wisdom in your old age."

"I am not yet eight and twenty, Miss Harte," he protested, but he was smiling.

"I..."

What Amy was going to say was forestalled by a rabbit hopping suddenly across the road in front of Sir Bart. A bit shaky on horseback, he shied away from it, startling his horse, which bolted. Lord Linvale urged his horse to follow and Amy watched as he rode down the knight and caught hold of the reins, slowing down both mounts.

Amy was hailed by Lucy and realized she had stopped her own horse to watch the scene unfold.
"Amy?" Lucy asked. "Are you quite the thing?"

Her sister shook herself out of a daze. "I am fine." More than fine, she thought. That had been a brilliant move!

They all had tea and chocolate in the warmth of the drawing room afterward. Everyone was fairly tired and silent, but Cynthia seemed torn between asking her betrothed if he was recovered from her fright, and scolding her cousins for not keeping a better eye on the wildlife.

Lucy and the major exchanged amused glances until she noticed her sister alternating between staring into space and watching the viscount. Her fiancé noticed it as well.

"What is wrong with your sister?"

"I am not certain. Could it be she finally noticed your brother? Every time he looks her way -- which is frequently -- she looks away. I shall try to talk with her later and see what is going on. If they have crossed swords once more..." She left the threat hanging and the major chuckled.

"My little dragon will make him pay?"

"Most definitely."

"Just remember he is to become your brother soon."

"Oh." Lucy had forgotten. "In that case, I promise to hear his side of the story before I make him pay."

Robert grinned. "That is my girl!"

Porter opened the drawing room doors, gaining everyone's attention. "Lord Edward Shaw, the Earl of Farnham," he announced, and Lady Cynthia's father stalked in.

"Where's this blackguard who has publicly compromised my pride and joy?" he bellowed.

"Papa!" Cynthia squeaked. "You were not supposed to be here yet!"

"Not supposed to be here?" he hollered, advancing on his daughter. "You are mauled at a ball in front of hundreds of people, forced to become betrothed to a farmer, and I don't ride out immediately to find out why your cousins have failed to protect your honor?"

"What in the world did you say in that letter?" the major asked his brother.

"I was as diplomatic as possible, but you know him..." Marcus rose smoothly and placed himself between the earl and Lady Cynthia. "Welcome to Linvale, Uncle."

Amy sighed, catching Lucy's attention. Why, she looked as if she thought the viscount was a gallant knight in shining armor. When had that happened? It explained her earlier actions, as well.

"Why don't we gentlemen adjourn to my study and discuss this calmly," Linvale suggested. "Oh, and I must introduce you to our guests." He took the earl's arm and propelled him toward Amy.

"Miss Harte, her sister, Miss Lucy, and you know Cousin Ellie." The earl bowed to the sisters and nodded to Miss Winters. "And this is Sir Bart Owens."

Sir Bart had stood and was bowing easily to the earl. Lucy felt like applauding.

"Sir Bart Owens?" the earl asked sharply. "You did not say he was a baronet!"

"I shall explain everything, Uncle, in my study."

"I shall stay and keep the ladies entertained," the professor offered, giving his younger brother a speaking glance. The other gentlemen, including Sir Bart, were filing out of the room.

"I wouldn't miss this for the world!" Charlie cried and followed them out, closing the drawing room doors behind him.

"Well!" Lucy exclaimed. "That is bound to be interesting!"

"Papa is so angry!" Lady Cynthia said, burying her face in her hands.

"Cousin Marcus will take care of everything," Miss Winters assured her.

"He will!" Lucy agreed. She looked for confirmation from Amy, but her sister was staring at the closed doors. Lucy grinned and sidled over to where she sat. "Lord Linvale is rather amazing, is he not?" she teased.

"Amazing," Amy repeated, not tearing her eyes away from their current focus.

"Did you see the way he saved Sir Bart from certain injury earlier today?" Lucy asked.

"Amazing," Amy dreamily replied.

Lucy smirked at the other two ladies and even Cynthia, seemingly resigned to her future, did not take offense. Apparently she had given up all claim to her cousin, which was just as well, Lucy thought. She did not approve of close relatives marrying.

"It was quite masterful," Cynthia said, getting into the spirit of the game.

"Amazing..."

Even Miss Winters joined in. "He deserves a medal for bravery."

"Amazing..."

The others laughed and Amy, just realizing she sounded like a mooncalf, blushed.

"Now that we have some privacy, I want to hear what happened," the earl demanded. "From you!" He pointed one plump finger at Sir Bart.

"Uncle..." Marcus began. Poor Owens was shaking in his boots.

"You stay out of this!" the earl demanded of his nephew. "Now talk!"

"I ... You see..."

"It was the pig," Charlie said, coming to his rescue. "He gave a pig to Cynthia and it escaped during Mother's ball." He glared at his uncle, as if to say that he should have attended his sister's ball. Marcus put a warning hand on his shoulder.

"The piglet -- it really is not very big," the major said, picking up the thread of the story, "got into the dining room and tried to pull food off the table." He chuckled.

"A roasted pig head landed on her little head," the vicar added, "and she could not see where she was going. It had scared her..." He made the pig sound like a sympathetic character, and the earl seemed to melt just a bit.

"She ran into the ballroom," Charlie said dramatically, "and began knocking over guests!"

"And some of the other guests hit myself and Lady Cynthia," Owens said apologetically, speaking smoothly for the first time. Marcus smiled at him in encouragement. "And I fell over on top of her. In the ballroom. In front of many people," he added with a blush.

"If this was just an accident, then," the earl said jovially, "We should be able to take care of the damage without a wedding!"

All the other gentlemen shook their heads. "It was in front of very many people, Uncle," the viscount admitted.

"And you did not say anything at the time?" The earl's already-florid face was taking on a ruddier hue.

"It was too late!" Sir Bart exclaimed. "He was too far away to help cover up any embarrassment, and I did not know what to say."

"Well, what do you have to say for yourself now?"

"That I wish to marry your daughter for herself, not just her reputation, and I can afford her, as well."

"Owens has been knighted by the regent," Marcus interjected.

"What has that to do with any bloody thing?" the earl wondered. "He don't pay his bills on time! Everybody knows that!"

Surprisingly, Owens nodded in agreement. "He is notoriously late with them. Fortunately, I supply hams to many other people. If you will give me a moment of your time later, my lord, you are more than welcome to come look at the bookkeeping."

"Squire Owens keeps a ready supply of your favorite whisky," Marcus whispered in his uncle's ear.

"Squire? Whisky?" he whispered back. Marcus nodded. "I shall attend to the matter after a meal and a bit of a lie-down," he told the room at large. Everyone relaxed.

Elsewhere in the house, after the teasing of Amy had died down, Porter returned to the drawing room doors. There were visitors to announce.

"Lady Ffolkes and Miss Blakeley, to see his lordship," he said somewhat apologetically to Professor Armstrong.

Before the professor could reply, the two women pushed past the butler and into the room.

"Darlings!" Lady Ffolkes cried dramatically, her arms sweeping wide. Then she realized she knew no one assembled. "Oh."

In the meantime, Amy and Lucy looked at each other in alarm. Cousin Minerva!

Chapter 17

Cousin Minerva!

Amy put on her company face as the professor stepped forward and introduced himself to Lady Ffolkes.

"I am certain my brother will be available soon, my lady. Will you have a seat and some tea in the meantime?" He sent a quick look to the waiting Porter, who bowed and left the room, leaving the doors open behind him. Whether or not he went to alert Lady Linvale, fetch hot water or both, Amy was not sure.

"And your companion is very welcome, as well," the professor said kindly, indicating Cousin Minerva. Amy and Lucy exchanged amused smirks.

Miss Blakeley shot her cousins sour looks and took a place next to Lady Ffolkes.

"We were in the neighborhood and thought to pay a call on my dear Linvale," Lady Ffolkes gushed.

"I am astonished he would remain your friend after you jilted him," Amy said calmly, taking a slice of cake from a plate in front of her. Everyone but Lady Folkes gasped, and that lady shot daggers at Amy.

"And who are you, pray tell, and what are you doing here?" was the snippy reply.

"Miss Harte. I am a guess of Lady Linvale's for the holidays."

"How remiss of me, Lady Ffolkes," the professor said hastily. "These are the Harte sisters, my cousin, Lady Cynthia Shaw, and my fiancée, Miss Winters."

Lady Ffolkes ignored everyone except Amy. "So you are Lady Linvale's guest..." Her tone implied that Amy was nothing to Lord Linvale. Perhaps she was not, but that did not mean Amy was any less welcome in the house. Not anymore.

Lady Linvale took that moment to breeze into the room, a wide smile on her face.

"Lady Ffolkes! How kind of you to call! I am certain you wished to assure yourself that Marcus is getting along just fine without you! I am so happy to report that he is! Splendidly. And you are Miss Blakeley? What a coincidence that you should call with Lady Ffolkes. I was just telling Lionel this morning that you ought to be in Scotland by now. The weather has not been cooperative, has it? So now you are on your way north and wish to bid your family farewell! How exquisitely polite of you!"

A footman entered with a pot of hot water, followed by Porter with more cake.

"Tea time already?" Lady Linvale gave no one else a chance to speak. "You must stay for that. Edward, darling, be a dear and bring me that book on ancient Egypt I was reading this morning. You will find it in the study. Such a sweet son. So devoted to me. And Ellie, of course," she said once he had left the room. "You have a son now, do you not, Lady Ffolkes?" she queried. That lady shook her head. "No? Any children at all? No? How sad. Children are a blessing. I have five sons, you know, and I am so proud of them all!"

She paused to make tea, but when Amy half rose to leave, gave her such a quelling glare, she sat right back down. She only hoped Lady Linvale knew what she was doing.

"Miss Harte, be a dear and hand around the tea. Lucy, love, pass out the cake."

All the gentlemen suddenly appeared en masse in the doorway, causing Lucy to squeak and drop the cake plate. Amy was reminded of the night the pig messed up Miss Varton's gown and was hard pressed not to laugh.

"I understand we have company," the viscount said smoothly. Coming in, he approached Cousin Minerva. "Miss Blakeley! A pleasure! Did you enjoy the journey?"

"Sussex!" she hissed in reply.

"Did I say that? How forgetful of me. My mother has family in Sussex..."

"Indeed I do!" Lady Linvale interjected. "My sister lives in Brighton. She keeps me notified of all the gossip down there." She smiled sweetly at Lady Ffolkes, who had been the basis of some of the news. "I vow, she is up on every rig!"

"Uncle, allow me to introduce Lady Ffolkes and Miss Blakeley..." the viscount said and the earl stepped forward. He bowed to Lady Folkes, but he took Cousin Minerva's hand and kissed it. Lucy giggled. Cousin Minerva goggled at him.

"And my brothers..." He introduced the rest of his family, including Sir Bart and Sir Lionel. The baronet had emerged from the library at the urgings of the professor.

Cousin Minerva seemed on the verge of joining her cousin on a love seat near the fire, but the earl began a conversation with her and she was forced by good manners to reply. Amy felt like giggling, but refrained herself.

The other gentlemen found seating throughout the spacious room and the last to sit was the viscount. To Amy's surprise, he chose the stool at her feet.

"It was almost like I was watching a play," Amy confessed to Lucy as they dressed for dinner. Lady Linvale seemed almost possessive of Papa. The earl took a fancy to Cousin Minerva. Lord Linvale..."

"Paid you marked attention, as it should be. You are by far the most beautiful lady in the house and you are also kind, not like Lady Ffolkes. Did she truly jilt Lord Linvale a couple of years ago? And why was Lady Linvale baiting her about children?"

"You noticed that, as well." Amy sat in front of the dressing table as Lucy lovingly brushed her sister's hair. They were well aware that the time they could spend together was coming to an end. Lucy was to sail to India with her new husband two days after the wedding, which was to be as soon as the banns were completely called. "It sounds to me as if the lady has failed to provide any children to her husband. What a shame." She smirked at her sister's reflection.

"How sad," Lucy commiserated, winking back. "But what are we to do about Cousin Minerva?"

"Nothing for now, I imagine. I confess I am tired of having to deal with her. Lady Linvale invited her to stay. Lady Ffolkes, too." They were both a bit confused by that. "It would not surprise me if she has a plan."

Lucy agreed. "She is very good at plans. She matched the major and myself up before we ever met! And you and..."

"Yes?"

"I mean... That is... Well, you never know what might happen."

"With whom?" Amy's eyes closed dangerously, even though she was willing her sister to say the correct name.

"With the viscount." Lucy looked at her sharply when Amy breathed a sigh of relief. "Whom you like!" she squealed. "And might even love!"

"Love," Amy echoed. She was not replying in the affirmative, or at least thought she was not, but that is how Lucy took her answer.

"Ooooh! Amy is in love!" She hugged her sister tightly and proceeded to sweep all her hair into an elegant chignon. "You have to look extra special this evening. Lady Ffolkes may be married, and she may not be Lord Linvale's most favorite person, but she is still competition."

"Lucy..." Amy warned. "This is not a competition."

"Of course is it. Now, you sit here. I'll ring for Sally and I know between the two of us and Lady Linvale's maid we can make you look absolutely perfect!"

Amy looked absolutely perfect, Marcus thought as she came down the stairs for dinner with her sister. Her dark hair was pulled back with just the tiniest of tendrils trailing over her bare shoulders, her gown of peach sarsenet covered in spangly net made her skin glow and she cast her blue eyes downward when he reached for her hand.

"Good evening, Miss Harte. May I say you look lovely this evening?"

"Thank you." She allowed her hand to linger in his, and he wondered over the development until Miss Lucy cleared her throat and held out a white kid glove for him to bow over.

They went into the drawing room together where everyone else, except for Lady Ffolkes, was already assembled. The earl was once more monopolizing Miss Blakeley, leaving Cynthia to sit with her fiancé without a comment from her father. Marcus rather thought his uncle was resigned to the match, after their discussion earlier that day.

"I hope I am not late for dinner," Lady Ffolkes said as she made an entrance into the room, an entrance worthy of Cynthia's earlier days. She looked like a frightful peacock in several different colors that did not quite match. "I was fatigued by the journey and could not wake up!"

"Some people need more beauty sleep than others," Lady Linvale said soothingly, leading her over to where Robert was pouring sherry for everyone. Porter entered at that moment, and Marcus expected him to announce dinner, but the usually staid butler came in and slammed the doors as if the hounds of hell were behind him.

"Lord Ffolkes has arrived," he said breathlessly. Lady Ffolkes blanched.

"Well, don't just stand there, Porter. Show him in!" said Linvale.

"I fear he is not dressed for dinner, my lord."

Marcus sighed. "We will excuse him that. I suspect he has come to collect his wife, and he is more than welcome to her."

"Linvale!" Lady Ffolkes wailed. "Do I mean that little to you?"

"Yes," he said succinctly, ignoring the audience they shared, except for one person. She was seated in her usual calm manner, sipping sherry and watching the proceedings with a small smile. He did not need an excitable wife. She was going to be perfect. She already was. "You gave up all rights to me when you married Ffolkes. Is there a specific reason he is here, no doubt wanting my head, if Porter is any indication?"

"I did send him a note telling him where I was headed..." she said in a small voice. "And I might have hinted at a few things."

"What?" Amy came out of her chair. "You implied that you and Marcus are ... That you..." Everyone stared at her, but Lady Linvale was smiling like a cat in the cream pitcher. "How dare you!"

"What is it to you?" Lady Ffolkes demanded.

"You are using the gentleman that I love as a pawn in your petty little games and I want it stopped this instant!"

The Armstrong brothers except Marcus all applauded just as Lord Ffolkes came into the room.

"Linvale! I ought to call you..." He stopped when the applause registered and the fact that there were so many people gathered in what his wife intimated was a love nest. "That is..."

"How do you do, Lord Ffolkes?" Amy stepped forward with her hand out. He took it out of automatic manners, still looking at Marcus. Marcus looked blandly back at him. It seemed that his darling was taking matters into her own hands, and he was perfectly willing to let her. Especially after such a confession.

"I am Miss Harte. I am so pleased you are here to collect your wife. She is causing some trouble and I believe it is time she went home. Spend some time with her, my lord. Give her a few children to worry over. Have her open the county fair. But please, keep her at home, will you not?"

"I, er, actually ... Claire!" he said sternly to his wife. "You are leaving with me right now."

"But my clothes are upstairs! I've been invited to stay! I am dressed for dinner!"

"You may have your clothes sent on. We are leaving. We will spend the evening in our London house, where you have plenty of clothes."

Lady Ffolkes stood up, but she did not budge. Marcus watched as Rosebud slipped into the room, came around behind the lady and bumped into her legs, sending her sprawling forward into her husband's arms.

"That is more the thing," he said gruffly. "Shall we?" he asked his wife politely, although no one could mistake his determination. They left together, Rosebud trailing behind them as if to make sure they were gone. One down, and he was content to let Miss Blakeley stay, as long as the earl was interested. It was a bit too convenient a solution, but he was not one to look a gift horse in the mouth. Or a gift pig, for that matter.

Porter returned moments later with a rare smile. "Dinner is served."

Amy wanted the floor to open up and suck her in, so she did not have to face Marcus. What he must think of her declaration! She got through dinner well enough, having been placed toward the center of the table. It appeared that the newly engaged ladies were to be given the best seats, a fact she did not mind at all. It was a surprise that she should be so at ease here at Linvale Hall now, when everything seemed to be a slight when she first arrived. She snuck a peek at Linvale, but he was smiling and listening to Lucy relate some tale or other.

Afterwards, when the ladies went to the drawing room together, Lady Cynthia held her back a moment.

"Miss Harte ... I have been a horrid person to you and I wish to apologize. And no one is making me say that either!" she said somewhat proudly.

"It is all right, Lady Cynthia. May I wish you ever happiness in the future?" Amy was too nice a person to hold a grudge for very long, and Lady Cynthia seemed to improve every time she saw her.

"Thank you. I think I am going to be very happy," the other girl said brightly and continued on to the drawing room. Amy was about to follow when Lord Linvale called her name.

"A word with you, please?" he asked. She nodded, but was afraid to face him, and stared at their feet as he led her where she knew not. It was into his study. She would have preferred the conservatory, but that seemed to be the exclusive territory of Lucy and her major. It was too cold for the terrace, she surmised.

"Yes?" she asked when he had closed the door.

"You said something interesting earlier this evening, when defending me so well to Lord Ffolkes."

"You thought it was interesting?" Amy looked up for the first time.

"More than interesting. I found it delightful. Amazing."

"Amazing?" She was more hopeful by the minute. "You did not mind?"

"How can I say I am perfectly capable of defending myself when I have such a lovely champion?" She found him suddenly by her side, holding her hand in his. He lifted it to his lips. "If you were completely honest about your admission..."

"I was! I am!" This was definitely going well.

"Then I have a confession of my own. I love you, Amelia Harte. Will you join the growing number of Hartes wishing to align themselves with my family?"

Amy frowned. "Growing? Lucy..."

"Is not the only one interested in Armstrongs. Your father approached me right before dinner with a request to court my mother."

Amy laughed. "I am surprised!"

"As am I! It seems that while we have all been playing our own games of courtship, so has she -- by making herself indispensable to his work. She has been a capable secretary, and even shares his interest."

"Even my mother did not do that," she said in wonder. "It seems I am the last in line, then. But I was going to accept at any rate," she said with a shy smile. It seemed a kiss from the viscount was to be her only answer.

Epilogue

Two weeks later, Edward Armstrong and Elinor Winters wed in the old chapel at Linvale Manor, followed in a week by Sir Bart Owens and Lady Cynthia Shaw. After a sennight, there was a triple ceremony in the village church, the chapel deemed too small to accommodate those wishing to see Major Armstrong take Miss Lucy Harte to wife, for Lady Linvale and Sir Lionel Harte to tie the knot and Viscount Linvale and Miss Harte to be leg-shackled for life. All five weddings were presided over by the Rev. Thomas Armstrong.

Several of the brides, not worried about Charlie Armstrong's future, began to worry about the vicar. He should be accorded the domestic felicity they were going to strive for in their own lives. But his love life will have to wait for another story...

The End

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