by Sahara Kelly
“Just have to prime the pump,” he said. “Here. Hold this.”
Obediently, Ivy held out her hands as he slipped from his jacket without a thought to the proprieties. However, since she had no idea if it was appropriate for a Duchess to be holding a guest’s jacket while he did something with a length of pipe and spigots, she said not a word, just watched.
He walked to the front of the fountain and flashed her a wicked smile. “Now for the miracle…”
He leaned in, put his hand and his mouth inside the nymph’s jar, and she could see his chest expand as he sucked in a breath of air.
“What the devil are you doing?” She spurted out the question, her gaze glued to the back of his head.
“Starting the process,” he said, backing away. “Look.”
“Ohhh…” Ivy whispered in surprise. “Oh how perfect…”
An arc of droplets tumbled into the large upturned cockle shell at the nymph’s feet, shining tiny rainbows in the sun and making a delightful soft tinkling patter on the marble. Exactly the sound she’d hoped for.
“’Tis simple science,” remarked Ronan, a satisfied look on his face. “Make sure the bowl is carved to the right thickness—not too dense or too shallow. Start the water running through the pipes and gravity takes care of the rest.”
She shook her head. “I will accept that as a good explanation. Anything more and you’ll spoil the magic.” She reached out and touched the stream of water. “I had no idea it could be so perfect. Thank you.”
He came to her side and took his coat. “No thanks necessary. This was a fun job.” He slipped his arms into the sleeves. “Besides, you’ll be getting the bill for it.”
She laughed. “Worth every penny. I can’t wait for Prudence to see it.” She dragged her gaze from the water and looked at the lovely little garden that now boasted flowering shrubs, arranged to show off their beauty, and—if she was any judge—to flower from season to season.
They had dug up the center of the small courtyard, but enough was left to form a charming path around the flowerbeds and the fountain itself. To one side there was now a covered walk, featuring stands of gleaming rhododendrons, and one or two benches for shaded comfort.
“Just perfect,” she smiled. “Just perfect.” She trailed her hand over brilliant blue lobelia, sniffed at a fragrant trail of honeysuckle and rubbed her fingers over the stalks of lavender hiding in the dappled shade beneath a stand of rhododendrons.
“We’ll start the door today,” he said, turning at the sound of wheels rumbling. “And here are the lads now. I’ve put three on, so no more than a few hours with this. It’ll be all done before you know it.”
She followed him to the windows that were covered inside by those thick draperies she’d moved earlier. “The staff is expecting you, I believe.”
“’Tis all in hand,” he reassured her. “Besides, a Duchess like yourself now, shouldn’t be concerned with the little details.”
She frowned. “I will always be concerned with the little details, Sir Ronan. That will never change.”
He led her back to the fountain, out of the way of the lads who were setting out their tools and various pieces of lumber.
“The way I hear it, you’ve some big details to concern you, Ivy lass.”
His tone was almost paternal.
She ignored the familiarity. “You’ve heard those rumours, then, I take it? About my husband and the northern rebel situation?”
“That I have.”
She bit her lip. “They’re not true, Sir Ronan. My husband would never countenance or support violence. No right-thinking man would.”
“I believe you,” he answered quietly. “It doesn’t work with what I know of your husband and his reputation.”
Ivy sighed in relief. “You believe him, then.”
“I do, but I can’t answer for others.” He stared at the fountain. “Seems you’ve gotten yourselves some enemies, your Grace.” His voice was sombre. “Somebody started those rumours.”
“I wish I knew who,” she muttered, clenching her fist. “I’ve a piece of my mind I’d like to share with them.”
Sir Ronan laughed. “I knew it. Ye’ve got the Irish in you, lass. That temper like fire when stoked the right way.”
“Maybe,” she acknowledged. “But still…” A thought struck her. “If I may ask, how did you hear about these things, Sir Ronan?”
“I heard it from a lady. During a cotillion at the Porrell soiree a couple of days ago.” He glanced at her. “And before you ask, it was Miss Beatrice Ringwood.”
“I know the name,” she frowned.
“Not being an utter nincompoop, I asked where she’d heard talk of such matters.”
“You did?” Ivy’s gaze shot up to his face.
“Of course. But the answer…well, it surprised me.”
“Why?”
He looked at her, his expression as serious as she’d ever seen it. “The lass said she’d heard it talked about at the Sydenham Wednesday ball.”
*~~*~~*
“I shall be forever in your debt, my Lady,” smiled Ivy as she and Maud set off for Lady Glenowen’s home. “Sir Ronan and his workers have done a remarkable job in creating the loveliest fountain and the plantings are going to be magnificent I think. Now Prudence is going to have the best outdoor garden party for her birthday.”
“I’m so glad.” Maud leaned back against the squabs. “That’s one worry off your mind, at least.” She laid her hand on Ivy’s. “How are you managing, dear girl?”
Knowing the question was asked from the heart of a friend, Ivy shrugged. “I spent yesterday wandering around Hartsmere, annoying the staff and trying to get a picture of the rooms and corridors in my mind.” She sighed. “’Tis much larger than it looks from the outside.”
Maud chuckled. “I know what you mean. But I was asking more about you and the Duke and this damned rumour business.”
“I miss him,” said Ivy bluntly. “I wasn’t sure about our marriage—the circumstances were unusual, to say the least. But today? Yes, I miss him quite dreadfully. And knowing he’s trying to find out who started these rumours is unsettling.”
“Have you heard anything from him yet?”
“Too soon,” Ivy shook her head. “But I am worrying. This isn’t a jaunt to a Northumberland country estate for a shooting party, my Lady. This is going into places where emotions are running high. Passions have been ignited in a variety of areas, and it’s my understanding that people are starving.” She stared from the window. “We cannot imagine such things. Nor can we imagine what lengths people will go to for their families and their lives.”
Maud was silent for a few moments, and Ivy wondered if her words had sounded too dramatic.
“Laurence is concerned that violence may erupt,” said Maud finally. “It’s not something he talks about, but I know that thought is there. He too deplores the prospect of Britons starving.”
Ivy turned to her. “I don’t pretend to understand the ins and outs of the political situation, my Lady. But how can this happen on such a scale?”
Maud looked at her sadly. “My inclination is to put the blame squarely on the shoulders of those worshippers of the greed demon. But they’re everywhere.” She sighed. “Reform, of some sort, is going to have to happen. Until then, I’m not sure what we can do.”
“This whole matter of Maidenbrooke being accused of supporting what sounds like an uprising…it’s utterly absurd,” mused Ivy.
“I know. Laurence knows. Anyone who’s ever met your husband knows that such insinuations are ridiculous,” scoffed Maud with disgust.
“But it is London. It’s the Ton snapping up the latest morsel of gossip, true or not.”
“An excellent analogy. Sometimes it’s like living in the middle of a bunch of carrion-loving crows.”
Ivy bit her lip, hesitation for a moment or two. “Sir Ronan had heard the rumours.” She spoke quietly, knowing they were nearing their destination. “I asked h
im the source.”
“You did?” Maud’s eyes widened. “What did he say?”
“He said he’d heard it from his dance partner. At the Wednesday Club.”
Maud’s jaw dropped, but before she could respond, the carriage drew up in front of Lady Glenowen’s residence. There were several other vehicles already there, so Ivy knew they wouldn’t have much more time alone.
“Beatrice Ringwood,” she murmured, as she and Maud prepared to alight. “That’s who told Sir Ronan.”
“Hmm.” Maud nodded and allowed the footman to help her out.
“This way, ladies, if you would?” Another footman showed them into the hall and a maid took their outer garments.
The hum of conversation lessened as Maud and Ivy were announced, the words “Her Grace the Duchess of Maidenbrooke, Lady Sydenham” making more than a few heads turn in surprise.
“Maud, darling,” gushed a woman hurrying toward them. Ivy assumed this was Lady Glenowen. “How very wonderful of you to join us.” She turned to Ivy, her eyes alight with enjoyment. “And my goodness…Duchess. I’m very honoured, my dear. Please tell your husband it has been too long since I’ve had the pleasure of his company. We’ve missed him.”
Knowing a curtsey would be incorrect given her new, highly elevated status, Ivy merely smiled and dipped her head in acknowledgement. “I will relay your kind words to him, my Lady. I know he’ll be happy to rectify the error he’s committed in neglecting you for too long. He’s travelling on some urgent business at the moment, so what better way to pass the time while I await his return?” Her smile turned into a grin. “Although now he’s married, he will be a little bit busier than usual when he gets back.”
The surrounding laughter was general and good natured, and Ivy found herself settling down on a comfortable sofa, next to a Miss Curry and her Mama.
To her surprise, the time passed quite quickly, since everyone attending had an opinion on their current reading assignment and was more than willing to share and discuss it.
Maud spent some time arguing the finer points of one of Miss Edgeworth’s novels, while Ivy and Miss Curry lost themselves in a conversation revolving around the Romanticism movement, and whether poets had a place alongside novelists.
When Lady Glenowen’s butler announced that refreshments were prepared, everyone rose, eager to quench the thirst their morning activities had created.
“Well this is more fun than I’d anticipated,” muttered Maud as she and Ivy walked together into the dining room.
“I agree,” chuckled Ivy. “And not a spiteful nor inappropriate comment from anyone.”
“Just goes to show,” said Maud. “People who read are much more intelligent, and mannerly, than those who don’t. Give me a reader to talk to any day.”
Lady Glenowen beckoned to them, and they joined her on one side of the room, taking the seats next to her around a small drum table loaded with delightful tasty tidbits. “Come, my dears. Tell me how you’re enjoying this little gathering.” She helped herself to several pastries.
“It is truly delightful, my Lady,” said Ivy. “I have been most challenged and intrigued by my conversation with Miss Curry, and I noticed that you, my Lady,” she nodded at Maud, “were gesticulating most energetically, so I have to assume you are also well pleased with this morning’s discussions.”
“I’m so glad.” Lady Glenowen delicately touched a napkin to her lips. “And I’m pleased at the wisdom behind your appearance,” she said quietly.
Ivy, uncertain of how much to say or not say, merely inclined her head in response, while Maud casually sipped tea.
“Colborne needs to walk carefully,” added Lady Glenowen. “I was his Mama’s closest friend, my dear. I adore that boy. Have done since he was born.”
“I was given to understand that you were close to the family, my Lady,” corroborated Ivy.
“Indeed yes. So you may imagine my concern at the current situation.” She quickly assumed a broad smile and exchanged a few brief comments with another lady who passed them by.
Ivy and Maud glanced at each other.
“Anyway,” continued Lady Glenowen, “it is my understanding that much of the fire stoking the flames right now is coming from one source.” She shot a speaking look at Maud.
Who lifted one hand gracefully. “Don’t tell me. Miss Ringwood?”
Lady Glenowen’s lace-covered breast rose and fell as she took a big breath and moved her head in a subtle but affirmative gesture. “Family’s good Ton, but that girl’s brother… well, he doesn’t always move in the best of circles. And a little bird told me there are some financial difficulties as well.” She leaned forward conspiratorially. “I had to hint Gladys McAdams’ youngest away from him. Not a good match at all, although the Ringwoods are keeping their losses quiet for now.”
“Not quiet enough,” muttered Ivy, frowning.
“Probably hoping to recoup,” said Maud practically. “But what they can hope to achieve by maligning Maidenbrooke is beyond me.”
Lady Glenowen looked at Ivy. “It might comfort you to know that few people actually place any credence in the rumours. Your husband has acquired a fine reputation. Amongst those who matter, it will take more than unproven allegations to tarnish his name. But we’d all like to know where they are originating. Any thoughts, my dear?”
Ivy sighed. “Not a one, I’m afraid.”
“Well, in time it will all die down, I’m sure. And coming here today, with Maud, allowing yourself to be seen out in public…well, it’s a very clever move. By this afternoon, everyone will know that the new Duchess of Maidenbrooke is paying no attention to any gossip. And there are more than a few who will follow your lead. Well done, my dear, well done.” She patted Ivy’s hand.
Ivy couldn’t help grinning. “I can’t take credit for it, Ma’am. But I will make sure that my husband’s butler, a man of great wisdom and experience who rules Hartsmere House, receives my grateful thanks. He’s the one who suggested it.”
Both Maud and Lady Glenowen laughed, attracting more than a few approving smiles and glances.
“It just goes to show,” remarked Maud thoughtfully. “No matter what we think, most of the time our servants are smarter than we are, and our butlers truly do run our lives.”
Chapter Sixteen
“Is there any news from Uncle Colly?”
Prudence ran up the steps of Hartsmere House to take Ivy’s outstretched hands. The carriage had just arrived, and the young woman was out in a trice, rushing toward Ivy with a look of eagerness on her face.
“Not yet,” sighed Ivy, shaking her head. “But we have to remember he’s not travelling for pleasure, Prudence.” She turned for the hall. “He will send word when he can.”
Stripping off her bonnet and gloves, Prudence nodded. “I know, and I’m trying to be calm.” She shrugged out of her spencer. “But I’m failing at that, I’m afraid.”
Ivy smiled. “Me too.”
“It’s good to be back home. And I was wondering on the way down if I should call you Aunt now?” She blinked at Ivy. “It would be a correct acknowledgment of your position, but since I’ve been calling you Ivy for quite some time, it would also sound a bit silly…”
“Yes it would, you goose.” Ivy hugged her. “I would much prefer to continue to be Ivy. I’m formally your Aunt, but I hope I’ll always stay your friend.”
“Oh, what a lovely thing to say.” Prudence stopped short and stared at her.
“Yes, it was rather, wasn’t it? I’m quite proud of it myself.”
Prudence’s lips curved into a giggle. “You are such a jester. But I am going to write that sentiment down.” She assumed a virtuous expression. “I might need to use it someday.”
The two of them exchanged a laugh, and then Prudence hurried upstairs to change and supervise the unpacking of her baggage and contents to the right place.
When she returned, it was almost lunchtime and Ivy was already in the parlour.
“I
t’s just the two of us, Prudence. I thought we’d lunch informally together, if that’s all right with you?”
“Oh goodness, yes,” grinned the younger girl. “Much easier to talk, as well.” She allowed the footman to serve her and eagerly set to. “Now,” she munched on a slice of ham and swallowed. “I want to know what’s happening with Uncle Colly and these rumours.”
Ivy ate slowly, wondering what and how much to reveal to Prudence. Then she decided that honesty was the best policy. “He left the day after we arrived. And I haven’t heard from him yet, although I’m awaiting a note… or something. Anything.” She swallowed.
“You must be worrying,” observed Prudence quietly. “I cannot imagine sending one’s husband away into danger after only twenty-four hours of married life.”
“I would worry even if we weren’t married,” responded Ivy. “Now that this whole business of reform and what’s happening in the north has become real to me, instead of just a casual comment here and there—yes, I worry. It is not a healthy situation for anybody at the moment.”
“Are you—or is anyone for that matter—trying to trace the source of these horrid rumours?”
“I’ve asked everyone to keep an ear open,” Ivy toyed with a stalk of asparagus. “We have one sketchy sort of lead. And believe it or not, it was from someone attending the Wednesday Club.”
“That seems highly unlikely…”
“I couldn’t agree more, but apparently Miss Beatrice Ringwood was overheard discussing your Uncle’s alleged involvement.”
“Could that be credited to what she’d already heard?”
“If so, then she heard it a lot earlier than anyone else.”
Prudence frowned. “I can’t place her, although I recognise the name…”
“Second daughter of Lord and Lady Ringwood. Fairly good lineage, from what I read in Debrett’s, but not top of the trees.”
“Obviously good enough for Lady Maud to find her acceptable.” Prudence chewed thoughtfully. “What’s the connection, Ivy. Is there one?”