Clementine
Chapter 14: Temptresses and Other Troubles
Clementine
packed some clothes for herself and Julia, gave her servants some more
instructions, and then walked towards the manor. Julia, of course, had been
taken by Muncester to sit on his horse with him. He had mounted and he had
asked for her to be handed up to him. Julia had been very eager.
"People
would not think you gallant if they saw us," Clementine commented as the
horse trotted slowly beside her. A gentleman should never ride while a lady was
walking. She did not mind, but she longed for some conversation and anything
was an opening.
"Should
I deny Miss Julia this pleasure?"
She
looked at Julia. There was a delighted grin on the little girl's face as she
sat so high above the ground, safely held in place. "No, you should
not." Whatever he might do, he was always good to Julia. It was no wonder
that Julia liked him; she looked no further than that. But he wad not denying
himself any pleasure either, she noticed.
Their
destination gave her some food for thought. It was his home, that enormous
manor. Villagers might see them go there together. Her neighbours might notice
that she would not return today. Villagers and neighbours alike would wonder
what she was doing there and why. Being taken there by the duke himself could
only encourage such questions. She was not being picked up to entertain the
duchess -- servants would have come for her in that case, not the nephew. What
indeed could the duke personally want with her?
"By
the way, did you realise you are offering me your protection?" she
inquired.
He
did now, but it caused him no more than a second of fear. Then he recovered
himself and decided he would not think about it. "Yes, I did."
"But
you did it anyway?" That surprised her. He must not be caring much about
the village's opinion. Perhaps he was above all that. She was not. She was a
woman and not a duke. Perhaps he should employ some more circumspection and
care when it came to her reputation.
That
was her rational side speaking, of course. Another side was not at all
concerned. She was aware of having such a side, a side that did not care very
much because nothing was amiss and the alternative was worse. It had not
surfaced very often, only a few times in the course of her entire life, yet
trusting in it had never had a disastrous effect. She would have to trust in it
this time as well.
"I
did." Inwardly he had already begun to imagine people's questions. They
could not know or understand the sense of duty and obligation he felt. They
could not know that this was the only thing he could have done, save for
staying at Mrs. Rigby's house himself, but that would have been infinitely
worse and that option had not even occurred to him.
Not
much had occurred to him, it seemed, and he winced. He should get a firmer grip
on matters of gossip. He was not used to considering whether any solutions of
his might set all tongues in the village wagging. It aggravated him a little,
since he was not planning to do anything to Mrs. Rigby at all and nobody had
any right or cause to talk about it.
He
looked down at Julia, who sat there with a mute grin, enjoying herself. She had
been gripping his arm with both her little hands, but she felt comfortable
enough by now to wave and point.
All
he had wanted to do was to remove them to a safer location. Yet what he might
have accomplished was a blemish on Clementine's reputation. He straightened his
back. She did not have to be afraid of that. He was the Duke of Muncester and
nobody could be allowed to invent stories about him. He would simply not do
anything to give them that idea, whatever Clementine might be thinking. He
could not imagine any villager thinking he was taking a mistress simply because
he was offering her a room in his house because of a dangerous situation. If he
were asked, he would call such a deduction utterly stupid.
Now
that he had decided it would be stupid, he could no longer take the possibility
serious. It was not worth any consideration.
"Did
you not invent the escaped prisoner?" She did not think so, but she had to
rule it out. Some people were devious enough for it.
"Why
would I do that?"
She
was glad he did not appear insulted. "So you could whisk us off to the
manor because there is no other possible reason for us to accept an
invitation."
"I
am really not as..." Muncester frowned. "...as simple as that." Nor
was he that desperate. Should he want to invite them in some dishonest manner
he would be able to think of something better.
"Have
you invited the whole village or only Julia and me?" It might be thought
significant if she was singled out, living in his former house. There would
already be some connection.
"Only
you." He did not feel any obligation towards the rest of the village, not
to the same extent anyway.
"What
would people think?"
"Nothing.
They would not dare." He looked as if he would personally submerge any
villager who dared to cast aspersions on Mrs. Rigby's character or his own.
"We
can still turn back," she offered, not so certain that people would not
dare to think anything. "And pretend this was nothing but a pony ride.
They know you like Julia, but whatever they will make of it will have to do
with me." She had to say it, in case he could not see it himself. It was
her duty.
She
wondered why she did not want him to turn back and choose the safe way
out. She must have a taste for trouble. If she was sensible at all, she would
order him to turn back, but her indignation at the unfairness of gossip, at the
ease with which people could be unjustly accused, prevented her. Perhaps she
wanted to prove all of that wrong.
Muncester
was too proud to bend. Besides, he trusted in people's common sense and not in
their stupidity. "So be it. I am only escorting you. I have found the
manor large enough to avoid females."
Clementine
smiled at the implication of his words. She needed something to smile at and
any change of topic was welcome to distract her. "Lady Iris?" Perhaps
it was good that the vulture was at the manor. People might think the duke
would be monopolised by her and the presence of another female might be
overlooked.
"And
her mother, to be more precise. If Lady Iris is in good spirits she is
tolerable. The mother, on the other hand..." He had avoided her so far and
he was not sorry. She had been rather tiresome at dinner.
"Is
she determined to make a match for her daughter before she goes away?"
"She
might succeed with my brother, but that might not be what she had come
for," Muncester said dryly.
"Your
brother? Oh? Do tell!" Clementine asked in spite of herself. It would be
good if Lady Iris was distracted by someone else -- for Julia, not for herself.
These matters were always far from being either black or white.
"I
found them singing sea shanties earlier today."
"And
you think that was directed at your brother?" she cried. It sounded
more like an attempt to impress the duke. Who was the Navy man, did he think?
"But
that was where she was successful, not with me. Consider that they practised it
together. Why should my brother do such a thing against his will? I think they
might be well suited. I also think he might be in danger of associating more
with her than he ought," he said cautiously, feeling this was unfamiliar
territory to him. He was not acquainted with the possible results of a dangerous
association.
"Surely
if he thinks she is your future fiancée he would not do such a thing?"
Clementine asked with a frown.
"I
may have dispelled that notion. Or not. I do not know. You know how I do not
always convey what I intend to convey?" It might have happened again this
time. He could not be certain until he asked.
She
gave him a little smile. "Your displeasure always comes across very well,
Your Grace. If you intended to convey that, I am sure you did not fail."
"I
do not know what they think. Perhaps nothing," he mused. "Neither of
them think very much, I believe."
"And
certainly not too far ahead. How boring that would be!" she remarked.
"Precisely."
He felt they were finally agreeing on something openly. It should happen more
often, because it was a pleasant sensation.
"Hence
your question earlier? Which would be a very bold notion to have where they are
concerned, if I may say so." Clementine had not seen much of them. It did
not seem very generous to assume the worst, especially of a brother. To anyone
else she would not have dared to be so frank, but he was His Gracelessness and
he ought to think it fair to get back what he handed out so freely.
"You
may say so. I do not know precisely what I was asking." He blushed a
little, feeling annoyed that he should not know. "But it would be
negligent of me not to avail myself of the information if it could help to
prevent something or other. I believe both of them might be prone to whatever
my cousin was prone to. Excitement? Secrecy? Curiosity?"
"Hmm..."
she said thoughtfully. There were similarities between Daniel and George,
certainly, but she did not know Lady Iris at all. "If those sentiments are
equal on both sides you may have a point. Either make them marry or keep them
apart. There is no other safe way. But I cannot see a girl with other options
succumbing to this."
"I
hope not. But if not with her, then he will succeed elsewhere. He has, only he
could not afford it. I am not planning to increase his allowance, but..." He
supposed George would continue as he had been doing, perhaps with more
discretion now he sensed that his brother disapproved.
"You
should not be telling me this," she reminded him in a gentle voice.
"No,"
he agreed. "But I have. Would you suggest I share my worries with other
people next time?" She was the most accessible person to ask and the one
most likely to keep a secret.
She
tapped his boot. "No. They will be safe with me." He had worries and
he admitted to having them. There was nothing strange about that. She ought to
admire his honesty. "But why did you not ask your brother the question you
asked of me? He is the dallying kind, whereas I have never felt it necessary to
avoid anything. He might even have an answer."
Muncester
looked down at her with wide eyes. "No! There is a difference in opinion
as to whether I ought to know, I believe." He had no idea what George
might say, but it would certainly make him uncomfortable.
"Ah,"
Clementine understood. George would jump at the chance to mock or he would
assume his brother needed only half a word. She thought it would frustrate him
immensely to receive only partial explanations and implications. "I do not
think you ought to know."
"I
understood as much, since you will not enlighten me."
She
tapped his knee now. "Now, do not pout, Your Grace. I meant that I do not
think it ought to have been a part of your education. It was not part of mine
and look at what a lovely little girl I made! Education is completely
unnecessary."
"I
do not find that a very satisfying answer," he said darkly. "I doubt
that my brother has been educating himself with the purpose of procreation in
mind." It was odd how certain subjects were incapable of leaving one's
mind for too long. He was glad she could not know he had already spoken about
this with his aunt.
"That
will have been for other purposes," she agreed.
"Suppose
I find my brother has...children? Illegitimate children?" He wondered if he
should be doing the same for them as for Julia. He could not. It was different.
"If
he does not have one particular woman, you could almost be sure that his women
do not have one particular man either," Clementine speculated. "And
if your brother is not their wealthiest benefactor, they would not make him out
to be the father, even though he might be." She had heard of someone who
had tricked a gentleman that way.
The
duke looked at her in disgust. "I suppose so. I thought that sort of
behaviour was restricted to sailors -- I do not mean captains," he added
quickly.
"They
ought to control the ship, including themselves, I agree." She thought she
had best not tell him too much. He should not revise his opinion of her, even
if it had only been other women who had done these things. He might think she
ought not to have spoken to them at all. "Do not concern yourself with it.
Consider it behaviour to avoid. Unless you mean to provide for
everybody's...er..."
"I
do not."
"Thank
you."
Arriving
at the manor, the housekeeper was requested to show them to their rooms and to
find a maid to keep Julia company, as well as to restore some life to the
long-unused nursery. A serious-looking girl was relieved of her other duties
and taken upstairs to become Julia's minder.
Julia
ran ahead. She knew the way, having been there once.
Muncester
had disappeared while Clementine was speaking to the housekeeper about Julia's
needs, but they found out soon enough where he was, because Julia ran straight
to his door and threw it wide open. It was the only room she had been to
upstairs and she remembered its location with perfect clarity.
Whatever
Julia saw there was not visible to Clementine, the housekeeper and the maid,
but it was to Lady Iris who was just approaching them from the other direction.
She raised a hand to her mouth and cried out at the sight. "Oh God! Come
away from him, you temptress!" She made a great show of averting her eyes
and then she sank onto a chair, clutching her hand against her bosom as if she
had trouble breathing. "The lengths people will go to! In his dressing
room!"
Clementine
was much intrigued by all of this, especially when the duke -- perfectly
dressed if one discounted his loosened cravat --came out of the room to stare
sternly at the dramatic heap in the chair. "I heard some noise," he
said.
Julia
appeared beside him, pulling at his trousers. "She did it!" she said,
pointing at Lady Iris. "We are not deaf!" That was the thing to say
to people who spoke too loudly. Repeating her mother's words, she remembered
she had been with her mother and she skipped back.
Clementine
did not know what to say. She took Julia's hand as she ought to have done
before the girl ran off, but she could not have known Julia's plan beforehand.
It was perhaps not a good start to come here and immediately have Julia branded
as a temptress.
Muncester
had not stayed to see whether Lady Iris had fainted, but he had gone back into
his room and closed the door. There was now no need to persist in her weakness
and Lady Iris miraculously revived, returning to her room to avoid the other
people in the corridor.
"That
was Lady Iris, Madam," said the housekeeper, who was still looking a
little bewildered by the theatricals. "She is also a guest. How did Miss
Julia know His Grace's room?"
"We
had tea here recently. Perhaps he took her there on that occasion? I heard she
had a little accident then that required tending to. Ah, and is there someone
named Jones?" she asked on a whim.
"Jones
is the clothes man," Julia supplied.
"Very
good, Miss," the housekeeper praised. "Jones is His Grace's valet. Do
you know him?"
"Jones
put me on the pot. Jones lives there," Julia pointed at the door of the
duke's dressing room. She wanted to go there again.
"No,
Julia," Clementine admonished. "We are going to our own rooms. You
must not be chasing men. It is a bad thing, chasing men."
Clementine
was shown a room while Julia was taken to the old nursery one door down the
corridor from her room. She giggled to herself when she was alone. What a silly
girl that Lady Iris was for calling Julia a temptress, in front of Muncester no
less. He had not been impressed by her act, fortunately.
She
should have kept a closer eye on Julia, but she could not have foreseen that
she would run off straight to his dressing room. It was good that Julia was not
dining with the adults, but with Sally. That would prevent a lot of mischief.
When
Clementine had changed for dinner she looked into the nursery, where most
sheets had been removed from the furniture already and where Julia was playing
the memory game with Sally.
"Madam,"
said Sally, getting up respectfully. "I am not sure. Can she visit His
Grace?" Apparently Julia had spoken of wanting or going to do that.
"I
want on the horse," Julia announced. "I want to say hello."
"Julia,"
said Clementine. "You have already said hello. You will have dinner with
Sally and then you will go to bed."
There
was but one response to the word bed. "I am not tired."
"She
speaks her mind very decidedly!" said Sally, a little afraid of the
opposition she was going to get. She was not certain how strict she was allowed
to be with a guest, even if it was one as young as this one.
"She
does, but that does not mean she must have her way. She should stay in
here."
"But
Madam, she can open doors. Must I sleep here?"
"She does not wander at home," Clementine said uncertainly. "I do not think she will do so here. If she does, you are not to blame."
Before
dinner Clementine would have the opportunity to meet the other guests. She was
not looking forward to it. The prospect of meeting them had gradually filled
her with dread. While she had been dressing, she had imagined herself going
downstairs and enlightening them about her reasons for being there, but it had
felt horrible to her. She could not imagine them doing anything but slight or interrogate
her, neither of which made her feel equal to the task of going downstairs in
search of them.
Of
course this particular consequence of staying at the manor had slipped her mind
entirely when she had accepted the offer and Muncester had not revealed what he
would tell the other guests about her. She had been able to pack a nice gown
without thinking any further, a great accomplishment when people here might
well be more severe than those in the village.
How
could the duchess approve? She recalled their first meeting, which had ended in
tears, and then their second meeting, when the elder woman had implied that
they were only meeting because the village expected them to meet. It was one
thing to treat a visitor with civility for an hour, but quite another thing to
have her stay in the house. She might not want such a woman as Clementine under
her roof. She might fear for her nephews. Perhaps if Clementine could speak to
her about Daniel, the duchess would realise it was not her character, yet she
would never be given any opportunity to speak about Daniel to his mother.
She
contemplated having dinner with Julia and Sally instead. That would be carefree
and easy. For five minutes she sat with her hand on the bell chord, alternately
calling herself sensible and weak. Then she pulled.
"I
should like to have dinner in the nursery instead," she said to the
servant who had come in response to her call. She felt very relieved now that
she had said it. It was indeed a much better idea and its appeal grew every
second.
The
servant bowed and left, but it was not long until that same servant returned,
looking slightly anxious. "His Grace insists that you have dinner
downstairs, Madam. It will be served in twenty minutes."
Clementine
looked unhappy at this disclosure. She had no option but to be courageous -- or
go hungry. His Grace would not indulge her.
A few
minutes later the servant returned with a note.
Should you leave your room at a quarter past, you might encounter somebody to
take you downstairs.
She stared
at it. "Thank you," she said, absentmindedly dismissing the servant.
It would be nice if that person also took care of explanations, but the note
did not specify who it was. It might be a servant.
At a
quarter past she left her room. Nobody was there and she supposed she was not
precisely on time, but as she turned a corner she yelped in surprise when she
all but walked into Muncester, who was standing there without purpose.
"What
was the problem?" he inquired bluntly, finding himself rather taken aback
at her appearance. She obviously had a greater variety of gowns than he had
seen so far.
"You
are so friendly!" she complained, her already shaky confidence taking a
blow. She had not come out to be berated. "Now I really want to
dine in the nursery."
"My
apologies. You look different. What was the problem?" he asked in a kinder
voice.
She
frowned a little at looking different. She hoped she at least looked well
enough to pass muster in a duke's household. "How could I present myself
to your guests without any explanation? Good evening, I am staying here
too?"
"If
you had any reason to worry about that I would have told you."
That
did not yet reassure her. "You have told your aunt, then." She wanted
to know what had been said.
He
kept an eye out so nobody could appear too suddenly. "It is my house. I
should not have to tell anybody whom I invite and why, but yes, I have told my
aunt."
"What
did she say? How will she treat me?" Clementine could still imagine being
slighted. Being informed of her presence was no guarantee that the lady
approved of it.
To
her surprise the corners of the duke's mouth turned up. "Undoubtedly
better than she treated me."
"Was
she displeased?" That did not bode well for her. "Then she will
slight me."
"I
tend to slight her guests too, so it would really only be fair, but I doubt she
would carry fairness to such small-minded lengths. I do not know her opinion.
However, if she visibly slights you, you can sit by me and we can pretend to
converse."
"Pretend
to converse?" she exclaimed. She had never heard anything stranger,
yet he appeared to think it was the height of kindness.
He
looked surprised. "Well, what I like to converse about will not interest
you, I am sure, and the latest fashions for ladies do not interest me."
Clementine
stared at him. "A woman's understanding is not capable of any greater
interest, is it?"
Muncester
winced. He had not meant that. "I..."
"Will
you not underestimate either yourself or womanhood, Your Grace? May I remind
you that you seem capable of conversing with a young lady of minimal
understanding? Or does this mean that grown up specimens are too clever for
you?" She could now say this teasingly rather than angrily, for she
supposed he did not really mean any harm. He had been kind enough to meet her
here, after all.
"Minimal
vocabulary," he corrected. "I am not sure her understanding is
minimal. She is a great mind reader."
"We
frighten you," she remarked with a grin. "You should converse more
with us and see we are harmless. But your aunt -- I do not think she is. I was
her son's mistress," she added in a whisper. "Remember what
you said to me at first! How could she want someone like that in her
house?"
"My
house," he said stiffly. "And you were his widow, only he
forgot to marry you. At least, I assume that is all that sets it apart?"
"All!"
she exclaimed in astonishment. "Society does not consider it such a minor
detail!" In fact, it was rather the opposite. Yes, she would probably
agree more with him than with society at large, but she could not overlook the
fact that theirs would be a minority opinion and one despised and condemned at
best.
"But
it was not your offence."
"Even
so, which mother would enjoy a living reminder of her son's offences?" She
turned away to hide her face, which suddenly dejected. "I want to eat in
the nursery."
"Was
your brain eaten up by sea water?" the duchess had cried when her nephew
had informed her of his guests.
The
duke, already not in a very confident mood, had retreated into harshness.
"Apparently so, Your Grace!"
"And
you will leave it to me to explain, when you fail to explain it to me."
"You
need not explain anything. I will do so if required." He had hoped that
either nobody would dare to ask or that his aunt would have seen to explaining
it tactfully behind his back.
She
had shaken her head without confidence. "All this praise about men of the
Navy is such nonsense," she muttered.
He
had stood rigidly, too proud to show he did not know what else to do. "I
only ask that you treat your son's widow with civility."
"Out,
Julian. Out," was all she had been able to say.
What
was one to do with a reluctant female, one that was not open to reason?
"You
cannot. The table will be set. Your absence would spoil the seating
arrangements. You cannot stay away." He looked at her in distress as she
was walking back to the nursery in spite of the soundness of his argument.
"You cannot."
"I
must humiliate myself instead," she said bitterly.
"Do
not be so foolish!" Muncester cried. He tried to come up with another
reason for her to listen. "What would be said?"
"I
refuse to come."
"You
are so stubborn! There is nothing I could say to convince you. Nothing! All you
can do is come and see for yourself." He was certain that it would be all
right, but only if she did not pass up this opportunity.
"I
will not."
He
would make her. It was easy to lift her up; she seemed too stunned to react. He
was wise enough not to take the main route to the sitting room and he spoke to
her as he walked, because that changed the situation into an ordinary chat.
"You are being very foolish. You must not give anyone the impression that
there is something wrong with you or that you find yourself unworthy of the
company. I can assure you that nothing could be farther from the truth. I hope
you will not be so foolish as to run away from me when I put you down."
She
was unable to respond to that, but kept staring back in astonishment.
"I
would catch you again," he assured her. "You are being too silly, you
see. How would it look if you failed to appear?" He set her on her feet
when he deemed that possible. "There we are. Abuse me if you like."
Perhaps she would say she was not a little girl like Julia and that ladies of a
certain age were no longer lifted and carried, but he would reply there was
very little difference in their behaviour.
Clementine
remained silent. She also did not run, but smoothed her gown down meticulously.
"Well,
good," he decided. "Your sense has returned. Now, come with me. I did
not see any point in being so well-mannered as to allow you to be stupid."
The
duchess was seated in one of the rooms with Mrs. Black and another middle-aged
woman she introduced as Lady Carson. That was clearly Lady Iris' mother, with
the same blonde curls. Muncester moved instantly to hover on the edge of the
room in a recess, leaving the ladies to themselves.
Clementine
did not feel unwelcome, although he had not wanted to tell her what he had said
to his aunt and what the duchess had said in response. His ill-mannered
insistence on her attendance had not failed to affect her a little. The
duchess' manner was not unkind and she performed the introductions with ease,
but there were one or two reproachful glances at her negligent nephew.
If
the duchess should slight her now, it would be very difficult to seek the duke
out to feign a conversation with him. Polite conversations in drawing rooms
seemed very out of character for him. It was no wonder that he thought ladies
spoke only of the latest fashions -- he had never been near enough to hear any
speak.
From
her blank expression, Clementine deduced that Lady Carson did not yet know what
she was doing here, but she was given no explanation by either the duke or the
duchess. All that remained for the lady to do was to eye Mrs. Rigby
suspiciously. Since Mrs. Rigby did evidently not have fashions to be emulated,
nor a title that could be used as a valuable connection, Lady Carson's interest
in her person gradually waned.
Mrs.
Black proved to be a friendly woman, inquiring if the view from her room was to
her liking and advising her, if she woke early, to look out for deer.
Clementine could feel no apprehension towards her and supposed it might even be
better to converse with Mrs. Black rather than feign anything with the duke.
They
might not stop at feigning. She might, after all, feel the urge to question his
actions, since she could not push from her mind that he had actually lifted her
up and carried her down the stairs, and that thought would wish to be
expressed. Such an interrogation of him might prove to be animated, since he
would undoubtedly not explain himself and she would undoubtedly become
frustrated. But even supposing that he did explain himself, he would claim to
have acted within the bounds of propriety. Either option would lead to
something a little more animated than a feigned conversation and people would
be interested.
Mr.
Lenton and Lady Iris were the last two to arrive of the residents, coming in
together and obviously ending an agreeable conversation at their entrance. Sir
William and Lady Pritchard were also expected with young Mr. William and Miss
Evelina, but their carriage had not yet arrived.
Lady
Iris was sensible enough not to mention the temptress upstairs. In fact, she
looked as innocent and graceful as if nothing had ever happened. She pronounced
herself delighted to meet Mrs. Rigby, but she slowly gravitated in the
direction of the duke, who had taken to studying the aquarium.
"I
think it is so marvellous that you have seen some of these in the wild!"
Lady Iris gushed. "Tell me again how you escaped a shark?"
"By
not diving in if they were around," he answered in an indifferent voice,
but regretting that he had ever mentioned sharks to anyone.
"You
are being modest, I am sure! Did you not fight it hand and foot?"
"That
would be foolish. It has enormous jaws and could swallow a man whole."
"Whole!"
Lady Iris clutched her bosom again. She appeared to have a habit of doing that
to underline her words in a dramatic fashion.
"After
biting off the extremities as appetisers."
"Stop
being so ghoulish, Julian," called his aunt, who had been keeping an eye
on them. "You have probably never been near a shark."
"I
have a scar to prove it," he responded with reluctance.
"Where?"
Lady Iris cried out in excitement. She was the only one who dared to ask.
"How romantic!"
"Your
Ladyship betrays an improper enthusiasm for my disfiguration," he said
stiffly.
"Disfiguration?"
she said breathlessly. That sounded even more intriguing and romantic than a
scar.
Clementine
wondered where that disfiguration was. His visible extremities had not been
bitten off, as far as she could tell. His fingers and hands were intact and he
did not limp. His feet and legs must not have been injured then. She looked him
up and down. It needed not be an extremity.
"Where
is it?" Lady Iris inquired.
"It
would not be proper to tell you that."
"Are
you very disfigured?" Everybody but Lady Iris herself winced at that
question. At least four people wondered why Lady Carson did not call her
daughter to order.
"That
is a matter of opinion. One could say I came off lucky, extremely lucky."
There was a distant look in his eyes.
Clementine
thought she could detect that the barrage of questions brought back unpleasant
memories. Everyone except that silly creature might realise such a thing. She
got up to walk around, hoping to distract the girl. Perhaps having competition
near the aquarium might cause her to abandon her foolish interrogation.
"An unmarried young lady should keep her thoughts firmly on the outer
surface of a man's garments, My Lady," she said to Lady Iris under her
breath.
Lady
Iris nearly gasped, but she was speechless.
Clementine
gave an elegant shrug. That had worked.
Muncester,
who had heard the exchange, was looking lost for words. "I should prefer all
ladies not married to me to keep their thoughts firmly on the outer surface
of my garments," he said eventually.
Take
that, Lady Iris's smug
expression communicated to Clementine.
The
latter smiled condescendingly. She was not going to lose her superiority.
"My dear, if you have seen one, you have seen them all."
The
duke fingered his neck cloth nervously. "That is not really true."
"You
are a special case, Your Grace," Clementine smiled. Someone ought to tell
him that his carrying ladies was not compatible with his apparent modesty.
"Your rank is such that we do not need to resort to studying your
figure." Some would take him with disfigurations and all.
"Very
grateful," he mumbled, but evidently clueless.
Lady
Iris was not very pleased with the turn the conversation had taken, but Mr.
Lenton, who had been slow to follow, soon came to her rescue. Talking had
stopped while they waited for him to reach their small group. "What is the
topic?" he said. They were at the other end of the aquarium now and even
while straining his ears he had not been able to catch any words. Not everybody
spoke as loudly as Iris.
Nobody
responded, two of them hoping that another would come up with a good invention
and the third feeling it might not be proper if she was the first to mention
it.
"Julian
was being mean," Iris complained. She hoped Mr. Lenton would now procure
the answers to her questions for her. He ought to punish his brother for using
her so ill.
"That
never fails to work well with ladies. Or so I heard," he added quickly
after a look from his elder brother.
Fortunately
the Pritchards chose to arrive at that moment and introductions had to be made.
There was nothing remarkable about them, but Clementine thought she might like
them better than Lady Iris. Miss Pritchard was not as pretty, but she looked to
be more sensible. The same applied to her mother. She had of course seen all of
them at church, but they had not spoken. Young Pritchard was a bit of a fool,
but the rest of his family could not all be foolish.
Dinner
was rather agreeable. Clementine always preferred to listen and in this case
she could not be too talkative anyway, but enough people were talking. She was
grateful for this adult company. It had been a while since she had last dined
in company of people who spoke coherently. While not all of these people had
coherent thoughts, there was at least enough in their conversation to entertain
her.
Lady
Carson, seated to the duke's right, was so solicitous about his access to the
various plates and dishes that it was almost amusing. Between Lady Carson and
Lady Pritchard, he could not be enjoying his dinner very much.
Clementine
was more happily situated among the sensible people. Miss Pritchard and Mrs.
Black were near and they provided enough interesting talk. The young men, Mr.
Lenton and Mr. Pritchard, one to Miss Pritchard's right and one to Clementine's
left, tried their hardest, but neither young lady could be fully captivated by
their efforts. Miss Pritchard's stubborn devotion to the conversation in the
middle of the table amused Clementine. She was a sensible girl, not swayed by
Mr. Lenton.
After
a while it occurred to Clementine that many people were unhappy with their neighbours.
It was not a very bad thing; soon they could leave the table and speak to
whomever they liked, but now they were forced to give some attention to someone
else for a change.
Seated
between the two siblings, she felt a little sorry for Mr. Pritchard. With
Clementine almost monopolised by his sister, he was completely left to the
mercy of middle-aged ladies, of whom Lady Carson was only interested in the
duke. It was not long before Clementine felt more sorry for him -- her
own unresponsiveness to Mr. Pritchard forced the young man to speak to his
mother, which in turn forced the duke to listen to Lady Carson.
She
observed it, but could not interfere. Her standing was not such that she could
address him from where she was sitting. Besides, if his preferred type of
conversation was pretended, there was little hope of an answer to any
subject she might raise. He did not look too troubled, though, and he was
probably more accustomed to dealing with boring neighbours than she had
assumed.
Since
she now had lost track of what Miss Pritchard and Mrs. Black were discussing,
she focused on her plate. She had no Lady Carson to advise her and had to
decide on the taste of the courses all on her own. This led to a stifled
chuckle that sounded like a choke.
"Are
you all right, Mrs. Rigby?" Mr. Pritchard exclaimed.
"Merely
some private amusement, Mr. Pritchard," she could assure him with her eyes
still sparkling. It could have been even worse if Lady Iris had been sitting at
that end as well. Then her amusement would have been more than private. She
might have been forced to act in that case.
"Amuse
us!" he said invitingly.
"I
could not possibly," she declined. Mentioning that one mother and her
child were thrown together to prevent another mother from being too close to
her child was also out of the question, amusing though it was.
"But
now you may be laughing at us in secret!"
She
smiled politely. "Would you really want to know in that case?"
"Perhaps
not," he conceded. "But if it is about everyone else except me, then
I would!"
"Do
you think that is likely?" she asked, still smiling. Was she really only a
few years older? "Are you less amusing than the rest of them?"
"Mama,"
Miss Pritchard said pleadingly past Clementine, evidently thinking her brother
a fool who ought to be silenced.
After
dinner she retired with the women of the party and the duchess asked her about
Julia. Clementine had been wondering what others would think if that name was
used, but here it was used literally and nobody save Lady Pritchard even turned
her head. The name might not even be news to Lady Pritchard if she had kept up
with village gossip, but if she was not in the habit of calling the duchess by
her given name, she might not yet have made the connection. Lady Pritchard did not
display any deeper interest, however.
Still,
Clementine was cautious in her response. "I hope she is being a good girl,
Your Grace."
"She
is a very sociable girl, I heard."
It
was too soon to tell whether that was considered good or bad. "Indeed, Your
Grace." She wondered if it had been the duke who had told her that. It
must have been.
"She
is not shy of people, is she?"
If
the duchess, who was after all her grandmother, wished to visit Julia in the
nursery, Clementine could only encourage that. They had wandered away from the
others, towards the aquarium. It was always a good excuse to wander there and
perhaps she could now be less circumspect in her replies. "No, she is
not."
"Daniel
was always running away from me," his mother reminisced with a
faraway look. "Even when he was so little. He always had to speak to
everybody. Everybody was his friend."
It
had still been a little like that when he had grown up and Clementine nodded in
recognition.
The
duchess pulled herself together. "George is a little like him. Julian...is
not."
Clementine
wondered why she had paused for a split second. Again she was curious if this
was good or bad -- for Julian -- and even what significance it had that the man
was referred to as Julian and not as the duke. His aunt was supposed to refer
to him more formally to a stranger.
The
duchess seemed to note a resemblance between Daniel and Julia, however. That
was good. She was not denying a relationship or resemblance there. Not denying
it was the first step towards acceptance.
But
the duchess did not seem to want to dwell on either her son's character or her
granddaughter's. Apparently she had another purpose. "Julian thinks more.
He thinks before he speaks -- which is why I was surprised to hear him mention
a scar. I would have thought he would have been able to predict that Lady Iris
would ask about it. Did he elaborate on the scar? I could not hear what
followed upon your speaking to Lady Iris."
Clementine
shook her head. The switch to a dissection of the character of the nephew
required an adjustment. She had to search for words. "He did not."
"No,
I did not really expect him to. I doubt that he would even tell me if I asked
him." Here she looked searchingly at the younger woman. "It might be
as much on his soul as his body."
"Oh,"
Clementine said involuntarily, hearing what she had been thinking too.
"Yes. I did think it brought back an unpleasant memory, but..." She did
not know what purpose the duchess could have in confiding in her, so she did
not finish her sentence. She had a feeling that the duchess and the duke both
subjected people to many tests before they conveyed their approval and trust.
To be too easily drawn into a discussion of the duke's body might not meet with
approval at all. Perhaps this was a test to see how easily she could be trapped
into revealing her immoral character. She was determined not to say anything
for which she could be reproached.
"Yes,
I thought you might, since you went to rescue him. You must have known he is
not the type to invent they bite off extremities, only to intrigue Lady
Iris." Still her eyes were fixed on Clementine searchingly.
It
occurred to Clementine that she was speaking privately with Daniel's mother,
who appeared to be more concerned about possible scars on her nephew's soul
than about her son's death. That realisation deserved some thought. Did she
live in the present, looking towards the future, or did she care more for one
young man than for the other? At first she had assumed the duchess did not deal
in emotions, but now she was no longer certain.
And
what could be the purpose of her queries? Was she still ascertaining
Clementine's sense of propriety? Her rescuing the duke from Lady Iris was
apparently not frowned upon, although Clementine herself had not thought of it
as a rescue. Any person of sense who was slightly prejudiced against Lady Iris
would have done the same.
She
examined her willingness to rescue the man. Yes, perhaps she was more willing
than before, but that was because she understood him better than before. He
needed rescuing now and then, but from himself mostly.
"Well,"
said the duchess after a few moments when there was no answer. "I did not
mean to distress you, Mrs. Rigby. He is quite obviously still in possession of
all his extremities himself."
Clementine
stared when the older woman walked away. She was not sure what to make of that
parting shot. Indeed, no limbs were missing, but she did not know that she had
looked to be in doubt of that. She had looked him up and down, to be sure, but
not too noticeably.
And
why should she be thought to care to the point of distress about a missing
extremity?
One
did not follow a duchess as she walked away, so Clementine stayed at the
aquarium, looking at the fish and pondering the relationships within the Lenton
family. The Dowager Duchess of Muncester behaved more like her nephew's mother
than like her son's, yet she was more detached than one would expect a mother
to be. She had mentioned her son only briefly, although it could well be that
thinking of him for too long was still painful.
It
could also be that her nephew's character suited her more. It was evident that
they got along, even if they hardly communicated in company, and that Her Grace
was either very tolerant or very understanding of the duke's odd decisions,
such as his inviting a woman and a little girl into his house.
He
had been correct; coming down to dinner had not been awful. He had odd ways to
make a point, though. Lifting her up and carrying her down the stairs -- what
would his aunt have to say about that?
Evelina
Pritchard joined Clementine soon. "We have a pond in our park, but the
water is so murky that I can never see any fish. My brother swims in it and
rakes up all the mud."
"And
scares the fish."
"That
too, probably! I like the yellow one." They started discussing the fish
and missed the entrance of the gentlemen later on. Evelina was indeed more
sensible than her brother and Clementine was in no hurry to abandon her
company.
It
was evident that the younger men had pressed for a return, since the duke and
Sir William seated themselves apart and continued speaking of estate business,
as if they were far from done. The duchess gave them coffee, but did not bother
them in any other manner.
Clementine
and Evelina had to return to the rest for their drinks -- since only the
gentlemen were done the favour of having their cups brought to them -- and they
were just in time to hear Mr. Lenton beg Lady Iris to play for them. The lady
did not require too much begging to display her talents and any hesitation on
her part was false modesty.
The
doors to the music room were opened and Lady Iris took her place at the
instrument. Lady Carson beamed at this opportunity for her daughter to shine,
but His Grace was still talking to Sir William. It was not until the first
notes had sounded that they reluctantly rejoined the ladies and Mr. Pritchard.
Mr. Lenton was busying himself turning Lady Iris' pages.
This
was probably not how it was supposed to be, Clementine deduced. She had never been
present at such a scene that she could remember with any certainty. At any
rate, it would not have been so apparent to her as it was now that in Lady
Carson's mind it was quite the wrong man who was offering his services at the
pianoforte.
She
studied Mr. Lenton and Lady Iris together. They were a pretty pair, but she did
not know whether they would be as thoughtless as Muncester was fearing. They
had not given any indication of any deeper interest in each other.
The
duke was silent, as good manners required, but he was looking at his brother as
if he expected him to misbehave. With such an audience that would not happen,
however, and Lady Iris played well enough to keep everyone's attention.
When
Lady Iris took a break, people moved about to have their cups refilled and
Clementine found herself next to the duke. "I have too much to say to
feign a conversation," she said in a low voice.
"Should
I then perhaps not pretend to listen?" He responded, keeping his eyes on
the rest of the company.
"I
am sure you are equally good at both." She did not waste any time, lest
someone should interrupt them soon. "Your arrangements with regard to the
rent scared me at first."
"I
thought they were rather clever."
"One
of many instances in which our interpretations differ," she said, hiding
her smile, for no one could be smiling where there appeared to be no
conversation. "Although afterwards it appeared more clever to me than
before. But I could understand Mrs. Newman, even if I had never met her."
"What
about her?"
"You
wanted to send her husband to have tea with a woman of dubious character,"
Clementine spoke from behind her coffee cup. Thankfully they were on a settee
for two and nobody was near enough to overhear.
He
was all innocence. "Did I? Who?"
"Do
not be such a --" She sighed. "I knew you would frustrate me."
"How
did Mrs. Newman know about that dubious character anyway?"
Clementine
used the opportunity wisely. "Good husbands let their wives read their
mail and good wives do not like their husbands visiting young widows of any character."
"That
is why I suggested he take her along."
"But
she had just had a child."
"He
told me that when I arrived here," he muttered. "Not that it would
have made any difference." He had no idea how long women were incapacitated.
That was a matter he had never given any thought.
"Common
sense would have got you some way," she soothed. After all, he already
knew where to look for signs of pregnancy. The rest would follow easily enough.
"Do
I have that?" He did not know whether they would agree on that point.
"Be
careful!" she said with a snort at his pitiful tone. "We are
supposedly not talking. Do not make me laugh at seemingly nothing again."
"What
were you laughing at during dinner?" the duke asked curiously. He had not
been able to ask her then.
"I
thought it was amusing how Miss Pritchard ignored your brother and spoke to me,
so I had to ignore Mr. Pritchard, who was in turn ignored by Lady Carson, who
was so attentive to you, who was lucky that Lady Iris had on purpose been
seated far away from you."
"I
knew you were laughing at me, after all I went through to get you there."
"That
was my other point..." Clementine said cautiously. "Would you ever tell
your aunt? You never told me what she said to you about my being here. She was
not unfriendly to me."
"I
noticed. She sent me out of the room before she could reveal her opinion."
He shrugged. "That reminds me. She is looking at us now and I have not yet
done my duty in speaking to Lady Pritchard before she goes away."
"But
what about..." she said, thinking of the disfiguration but not really daring
to bring it up.
Muncester
could read her intentions perfectly. "Mind that your thoughts do not
penetrate too many layers," he said, getting to his feet.
When
the Pritchards had left, Clementine thought she could go to bed without
offending anyone and she retired. It was late already and she was not used to
it. Julia was asleep and Sally was not there, so presumably everything had gone
all right. If Julia woke before Sally returned, she might start exploring.
Clementine was not overly worried about that: Julia would come to her room or
she would go to her big friend's.
Part of her enjoyed imagining the surprise of the duke if he was awakened before his time by a wild little girl, although another part of her would feel slighted if he was chosen instead of her. She was not concerned about his reaction. If he could suffer Lady Carson at dinner, he would surely be able to suffer Julia before breakfast. Only women of a marriageable age flustered him, did they not? She should not assume that he did not know how to deal with any women at all.
Julia
had been a good girl during the night, but when she woke she was anxious to
play. The nursery playroom was deserted and she carried Grace and the rag baby
into the passage. Here she stood for a few seconds, wondering which direction
to take. There was Mama's room here, but around the corner there was Julian's
room. She remembered how she had had fun chasing him. That sort of fun appealed
to her now.
She
ran around the corner and opened his door. It was the dressing room, but she
did not know it was called that. There were two more doors to go through. She
remembered that all these rooms belonged together. That would make a chase
especially fun. In the last room there was a bed and she approached it with
caution, in case it was not Julian. She jumped back when he made a sound, but
then she came closer again.
There
was a small table beside the bed and on it sat his baby. "No!" Julia
cried out in a wailing voice. "Baby wants to sleep!" It distressed
her tremendously that he should have put his baby there, so lonely and so cold.
She laid Grace and her own rag baby on the bed and picked up Julian's baby doll
to comfort it. "Oh my baby! Poor baby! You are cold. Come sleep with
Julian," she said soothingly.
She
climbed onto the bed and arranged the dolls under the covers beside him. Then
she sat on her knees and stuck her fingers in his mouth. Mama had forbidden her
to stick her fingers in eyes and noses, but she had not yet said anything about
a mouth. "I want to play," she informed him when he opened his eyes
with a start.
"Good
morning, Julia," he said, quickly resigned to an early start of the day.
"Do you want to play with me?"
"Yes.
We can run. Hush. The babies are sleeping." She pointed beside him.
"Your baby was cold. Your baby wants to sleep in the bed."
He
turned his head and observed the three dolls. "I...am truly sorry," he
said gravely. He had not known what to do with the rag doll, so he had put it
on the table. Never would it have occurred to him that it might get cold that
way.
"Come
run." She stood up and jumped on the bed. This was more fun, actually, and
she postponed the chase to jump.
"Do
not jump on the babies," he warned her, sitting up straight and pulling
his legs out of the way. She might hurt herself if she fell on them.
"Where
is your night dress?" she observed curiously.
It
was impossible to slip anything past this little one. He would still not
believe she had only a minimal understanding. She saw too clearly what was out
of the ordinary. "I do not have one."
"Mama
make one for you?" Julia offered.
He
suppressed a snort. "Your Mama can make everything I do not have, can she
not?"
That
was a difficult question, so she made the baby sleep again. "Sleep. Baby
is tired. Play with me. Catch me!" She jumped off the bed and stood
waiting.
"Julia,"
he said warningly, swinging his legs out of the bed. "We shall stay in
these rooms. Other people do not like me with only trousers on." He
supposed not, at any rate, but he could not imagine coming on deck in a dress.
"Yes,
ugly trousers," she agreed and ran away with loud giggles.
"Do
not squeal!" he said in concern. "People might hear." Julia
looked back at him blankly, of course. She reserved the right not to understand
anything that was not in her best interest. He sighed and began the chase,
hoping that nobody in the house would hear.
After
Julian had told her to go to her mother, Julia had not been daunted by the long
passage and the many rooms, but she had found her mother's room easily,
remembering that it was right next door to the door with the glass panelling.
Clementine
was not yet awake and thus it did not occur to her to ask if Julia had done any
playing already. Since Julia was now a little tired from running, she was
content to lie with her mother for a while. It was early enough for her to fall
asleep again.
After
dressing they ate breakfast in the nursery with Sally, who confessed hesitantly
that her charge was a little more work than she had expected. Dressing was all
right, but Julia kept wanting to leave the room.
Clementine
reassured her with a smile. "I do not expect you to handle her perfectly,
Sally. I have had her for more than two years and her behaviour still takes me
by surprise sometimes." All the girl would have to do was to keep her
occupied and that would not be for more than a day. Then they would return home
and the task would fall to Julia's mother again as usual. She did not expect
they would have to stay here very long.
Sally
looked relieved. "She talks a lot, Madam. I do not know what to say in
response most of the time." There were many mentions of His Grace, for
instance, and in an all too familiar tone, Sally believed.
"You
will find out soon enough if she wants an answer. She is very good at repeating
my words at the wrong occasion. If I call someone a bad man, she will tell him
that to his face. I never knew she would. You had best mind your words,
Sally."
Julia
looked proud of that, hearing only that she was good at something, but Sally
giggled.
His
Grace had walked out to the boathouse where he kept a small boat he liked to
row up and down the river. He could always think well if he was busy. It was not
until he was on the river that he realised he should have approached the
boathouse with caution -- it might have been where the escaped prisoner was
hiding.
That
reminded him he needed to send a man to town if they were not informed of any
progress. He would not mind keeping Clementine and Julia a little longer, but
it might be wiser to keep them only for as long as it was strictly necessary.
Especially the mother inspired such conflicting sensations in him that he
should not expose himself to her for longer than he could handle.
Yesterday
she had first been afraid, then he had carried her, and then later she had been
kind and understanding. Yet she had also made that very puzzling comment, if
one had seen one man, one had seen them all. How did she know? He was not
certain that she had not only been trying to put Iris in her place. She was at
times also trying to put him in his place, he felt.
At
least she had not asked about the scar. He rowed a little more vigorously when
he thought of that.
It
had pleased him to see that his aunt had treated Mrs. Rigby with civility,
despite her previous opinion on mistresses. He had hoped she would sway, but it
pleased him nevertheless. Her sending him out of the room the day before had
troubled him a little, although he had never believed that she would take her
vexation with his stupidity out on his guest. It had made him more inclined to
come to Clementine's assistance, although he would perhaps have done that
regardless.
Perhaps
he should not tell his aunt that he had lifted Clementine up to carry her
downstairs. Now he wished he had paid better attention while doing so. She
would not be so stunned as to allow him a next time. He recalled her look --
and the lack of protest. She had not even said he had no manners, but perhaps
it became annoying to repeat.
He
increased his pace when he realised there were some things that were definitely
not annoying to repeat.
When
Muncester returned, sweaty and fatigued, he first encountered his aunt and
Julia walking through the flower garden. He bowed to both of them with the
intention to walk on, not knowing what to comment on this development, but
Julia insisted on giving his leg a hug.
"Oh
oh oh!" she cried, finding his trousers were a bit wet. "Take the
clothes off! You were bad. Bad man!"
"Julia
now thinks I wet myself," he quickly explained to his aunt, who looked
uncomprehending. "Bad people have wet themselves and need to change their
clothes. Do you remember when she visited and we disappeared for a while?"
"Yes?"
the duchess said, tentatively drawing conclusions.
"She
had an accident while sitting on my sleeve."
Julia
lifted her skirts to show she had not done it this time. "I am good!"
"Indeed
you are!" he complimented, patting her head. "You are a big girl."
His
aunt snickered. "Did you tend to her, Julian?" She did not expect
that he had and said it merely to tease him. He would have called a servant.
"I
am not stupid," he said with dignity. "Why should I have spread the
news? She helped me. If she lifts her skirt I can see what needs to be done. It
is fairly obvious." He refused to speak about the terror and helplessness
he had felt. He had overcome that successfully. It would no longer occur.
Julia
grabbed his leg again. "I am good!"
The
duchess began to smile. She pried Julia loose from her nephew's leg and could
not help but feel that it was not wooden. Her smile widened, although she had
never feared that he had a wooden leg.
"Aunt
Julia?" Muncester inquired with a frown. He did not see what was amusing
her precisely. Perhaps she smiled at his opinion that he was not stupid.
"A
private amusement. Listen to the girl. Change your clothes, Julian. You are
wet."
Muncester
walked on, feeling pleased that his aunt had taken the little girl for a walk.
His aunt was not unfeeling. The girl was more her flesh and blood than he was.
It would have depended very much on the mother, however. If the mother had
never passed muster the two would never even be here.
He
remembered how he and his aunt had agreed that he would visit her. It had been
so different from what he had expected. He blinked now at thinking of all the
different emotions he had experienced then -- apprehension, relief, anger,
confusion.
He
had reported to his aunt that Miss Rigby had all the appearance of being
respectable and that she seemed to want to be left alone, that in fact she
would even hit him to achieve that aim. That was not at all what they had been
expecting. Subsequent visits had not altered their opinion, however.
His
aunt had wanted to see for herself after she heard there was a child and
although he had not known precisely what she had felt, she had not objected to
any of his plans. She had not voiced anything that resembled an objection until
yesterday.
The
next pair he came across consisted of his brother and Mrs. Rigby, who were
strolling closer to the house. They bade each other a polite good morning. He
wondered what his brother was doing with Mrs. Rigby rather than Lady Iris, but
presumably Lady Iris would not settle for George when there was a chance of
going with the elder brother. It was a pity for Iris that he had gone out
before they were up, but it was good to know that she would still be on the
prowl.
"What
have you been doing?" George asked, pulling up his nose. "Taken a
dive?"
"Rowing.
Enjoy your walk," he said with a nod, but he did not mean it. He did not
want them to get along too well. Then again, if Mrs. Rigby was assessing
George's likeliness to get himself in trouble, he should be glad. How would she
assess such a thing?
With
Julia off her hands, having left her in the nursery with Sally, Clementine had
accepted Mr. Lenton's suggestion to go for a stroll through the park after
breakfast. Unlike Lady Iris she had no sampler to work on and no mother to see
to it that she did. Regardless of what the pair said, Clementine supposed they
were not staying indoors to finish their work, but to wait for the duke to make
his appearance. They had not seen him at the breakfast table. She had not eaten
downstairs herself, so she had no idea where he might be.
She
could not hide a small smile when they encountered him during their walk. He
had already been out! It would be another while before Lady Carson and Lady
Iris would see him then. She assumed he would not join them with wet trousers.
He would make use of that excuse to avoid them for a little longer.
"Rowing?"
she asked Mr. Lenton when they were sufficiently away from him.
"There
is not much sailing to be done here, but we have a small river traversing the
park. He says it keeps him fit."
Clementine
involuntarily glanced over her should to check that, but the duke had already
gone into the house. She was silly. There was no reason to doubt the man's
word. He had lifted and carried her as if she weighed very little, when anyone
trying to squeeze her into her old gowns would have a good reason to think
otherwise. "Do you disagree?"
"Oh,
he is very fit," Mr. Lenton said readily.
She
should not voice her opinion on this matter. "I meant to ask if you do not
think rowing would keep you fit."
"I
have tried it in the past because as a boy one tends to do everything an older
brother does, but I do not like it much. Well, not at that pace. We would
frequently take a boat onto the river at university, but the purpose of that
was to look at girls."
"And
you do not see them if you glide by very quickly," she deduced. "I
thought universities were for serious and studious young men." Something
she believed he was not.
Mr.
Lenton was surprised. "Really? What boring places you think they must be!
They are really quite fun. I think back with fond memories."
"Did
you learn anything?" she asked with a smile, supposing the true answer was
negative.
"I
suppose. It is all useless stuff, but at least I can say I learnt it at some
point and say I am educated. I say, Mrs. Rigby, would you rather have married
an educated gentleman or a sailor who is never home?"
He
was too transparent for her. "You want me to say educated gentleman, so I
shall humour you." In reality her answer would depend on too many things
he would not understand -- the character of the gentleman, the nature of their
attachment.
"Thank
you. Most kind!"
"But
really, I do not like to speak about marriage and related topics. They still
give me pain." That, she hoped, would head off any inquiries into her
past. He might want to ask her about her husband's occupation and then she
would have to invent something.
Mr.
Lenton offered his sincerest apologies and was silent as he tried to think of
something else they could speak about.
She
helped him out, remembering something that always seemed to serve as refuge.
"Whose is the aquarium?"
"My
aunt's."
It
was good that it was not the duke's. "I have never seen one like it
before. Will your aunt keep on living here? It must be difficult to transport
to a new house."
"Yes."
Mr. Lenton rolled his eyes in exasperation. "She is allowed to stay. I am
not."
"You
are not?" This surprised her. She knew he was going to get himself an
occupation, but not that it had been ordered with such immediacy.
"I
told you about the commission. I must procure one as soon as possible. I have
been looking into it, I swear, but I must soon have something serious to
appease my brother. He does not like idleness, but I do not think the brother
of a duke should be relegated to being a mere officer," Mr. Lenton
complained.
"But
the brother of a mere naval captain?" She was not sure the duke saw his
brother as the brother of a duke. If he saw his own position as an unfortunate
nuisance, he was not very likely to let his brother benefit from it.
"Yes,
but he left that behind now. So should I. Or do you agree with him?" he
asked, not feeling enough compassion on her side.
"It
is none of my business," she said politely, but she felt herself
tentatively leaning towards the duke in this matter. How odd that was.
"Perhaps you will like it."
"Perhaps,"
he said without enthusiasm.
"It
might be as much fun as university. I like this park," she said to change
the subject. She did not want to be forced to take sides openly on this
subject. "It is lovely to walk here."
"Had
you not been here before?"
"No,
never. I have only been to the manor once, when you first met me, but we stayed
indoors then."
"I
remember. I am afraid it was not explained to me why you are here now, not that
I am not very pleased that you are."
"Did
you not hear about the escaped prisoner?" Clementine asked. "It was
thought," she did not specify by whom, "that I might be in some
danger if I stayed home. What if he observed some houses to see where the
easiest people lived? The easiest people being widows with small children,
naturally, because they are the least capable of defending themselves."
"Oh,
indeed!" Mr. Lenton cried. "You were quite rightly removed!"
"So
now I am awaiting the news that the prisoner has been caught. I do not intend
to stay here forever."
"Why
not? That would be fun. My brother would be greatly vexed at having you
underfoot." He almost rubbed his hands in anticipation.
She
smiled at that. His brother had invited her. Did he not know that?
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