by Martha Keyes
“It is better today than it was yesterday, though still not strong enough for me to walk on. And quite as swollen as you predicted, my lord.” She glanced at him with a self-deprecating smile.
Lady Anne sat down next to her and took Kate’s hands in hers with an apologetic look. “I’m very sorry that it was my suggestion for a walk that led to your injury.”
Kate brushed away her apology with an impatient hand. “Oh, don’t be sorry. I’m persuaded that the view was quite worth it. And it is a wonderful excuse for receiving visitors.”
“Have you been cooped up here since I left you yesterday, then?” asked Lord Ashworth.
Kate raised her eyebrows at his question, remembering that she had a grievance to air. “And this comes as a surprise to you? Knowing, as you do, Doctor Attwood?”
Lord Ashworth bit his bottom lip but failed to stifle a guilty smile.
“Indeed,” she continued, “I have it on his very trustworthy authority that I can expect my—” she squinted her eyes, bringing back the memory of his visit “—willfulness and pridefulness I believe he called it, to bring me to my deathbed.” She sighed and shook her head melodramatically. “My pride has always been a sore trial. I’m sure the blood-letting he prescribed was entirely merited.”
A laugh broke from Lord Ashworth, and Lady Anne cried, “Blood-letting?”
“Surely he did not suggest such a thing for a twisted ankle,” Lord Ashworth said, enjoying Kate’s performance immensely.
Kate looked at him with wide, sincere eyes, “But, of course. He assured me that blood-letting is standard practice for a twisted ankle.”
“Standard,” he snorted. “There is nothing standard about the man or his practices.” He looked at Kate, unable to keep from smiling. “Perhaps I did you a disservice in leaving before his visit.”
“Perhaps?” Kate said, brows again raised, determined to continue teasing him. “It was a horridly selfish thing to do. I had the most appalling nightmares last night and live in constant fear of his return.” She laughed. “In truth, I doubt he will after the rebuke he received from me. I only hope Lady Crofte doesn’t hear of it from him.”
Lord Ashworth shook his head. “It sounds as though I did myself a disservice in leaving before his visit. I would love to have heard this rebuke you mention. The man has needed a solid set-down for some time now, and I feel very put out to have missed it.”
Lady Anne erupted in a laugh. “The two of you are incorrigible.”
Kate broke into a large smile. “I don’t deny it. But I hope you won’t leave, despite that. Your entrance coincided with my attempt to find a fourth book to begin reading today.” She glanced at the pile of discarded books. “I thought I quite enjoyed reading, but I suppose it is different when it is one’s only choice, isn’t it?”
“Quite so,” agreed Lady Anne. “I am convinced that nothing is as sure to take the enjoyment out of an activity as the feeling of obligation.”
“How true that is,” Kate exclaimed, experiencing a small epiphany. “In fact, you have convinced me, I think, to revisit embroidery. It was something I detested in my years at seminary, but you have persuaded me that I might like it above all things. I am sure I shall if only it will save me the trouble of attempting another book.”
Lord Ashworth nudged his sister urgently with an elbow, and a teasing pair of eyes twinkled at Kate. “Anne, do go and fetch some embroidery materials. Miss Matcham’s artistic abilities cannot be overstated. I have personally witnessed the masterpieces she can create.”
Lady Anne was smiling but looking confused. Kate glared at Lord Ashworth, but the glare was devoid of effect, since she struggled to school her mouth into a properly serious expression.
“What on earth are you talking about, Will?” said Lady Anne. She looked from her brother to Kate. “If you are teasing Miss Matcham, it is quite infamous of you and not at all what we came here to do.”
Lord Ashworth was hugely enjoying Kate’s attempts to stare him down and showed no evidence of having heard his sister. He donned a serious expression and shook his head at Kate, reaching into his coat pocket.
“No, no,” he said, pulling out a quizzing glass and offering it to her. “If you really want to give me a set down, you will have much greater success using this.”
Managing to control her mouth’s unruly desire to smile, Kate raised her head higher and continued glaring at him, determined not to encourage his antics nor give into her own inclination to laugh.
He tilted his head to the side and nodded approvingly, saying, “Yes, that is much better already, but only imagine how enhanced the effect would be with the aid of this.” He turned his lips downward in an exaggerated expression of disdain, looked down his nose at her, and put the quizzing glass up to one of his eyes, which it magnified to appalling proportions.
“Will!” Lady Anne said, slapping his arm.
Kate burst into reluctant laughter.
“Well,” Lord Ashworth said, cleaning off the glass on his coat hem before replacing it in his coat pocket, “we will have to work on that a little more another day. But today, Anne and I insist on escorting you out of doors.” His cordial smile was replaced with an expression of feigned seriousness as he added, “Naturally, though, there is no obligation whatsoever. We wouldn’t want to risk sapping the activity of enjoyment by making it an obligation.”
“Ah, I see,” Kate said, nodding her head in mock understanding. “Insistence but no obligation. It is a fine line, is it not?” She smiled but shook her head. “Unfortunately, neither insistence nor obligation are sufficient in this instance. You perhaps noticed from the avalanche of books toppling onto my head when you arrived that I am currently unable to complete even the simplest of tasks, including but by no means limited to, walking. I might attempt it for the alluring prospect of going outside, but I think I shall decline to make a further spectacle of myself by imitating a rabbit.”
“Don’t decline on my account,” said Lord Ashworth. “The picture you paint is very enticing, is it not, Anne?”
“Do stop your teasing, William.” She shot him a disapproving but not unkind glance. “Of course we would be happy to assist you outside, Kate. I think it would do you good to take air.”
Kate hesitated. Her desire to be outdoors was strong. Her primary concern was how they intended to help her there. Knowing as she did that her feelings were not as immune to contact with Lord Ashworth as she could wish, she hesitated. She looked out the window. The sun was out, accentuating the bright green of the grass and the deeper hues of the boxwood hedges.
“I would very much like that, thank you,” she said, deciding that she could at least temporarily steel her heart.
Lord Ashworth rose from his seat and bent down next to her, wrapping her arm around his neck and his arm around her waist. Lady Anne came to her other side, providing her arm so that Kate could rest her weight on it. They exited the glass library door, with Kate hopping between them.
Kate did her best to hold her own weight instead of resting it all on her friends, but she soon began to tire from the exertion of hopping while holding her ankle in a position that kept it from being knocked about.
“What do you say, Anne?” said Lord Ashworth. “I think the rabbit has hopped its last hop.” He scooped Kate up into his arms and walked in the direction of the French garden.
Kate had felt quite proud of her steely heart prior to being swept off her feet and into Lord Ashworth’s arms. However, the moment he picked her up was so unexpected that her lungs jumped into her throat.
Lord Ashworth was watching her expression with a mischievous smile on his face. He seemed to be enjoying her discomfiture. She hated that he could see how his actions affected her. She had always prided herself on her control and reason, so it was terribly provoking that he should see her acting like a girl just out of the schoolroom.
“Quite unnecessary,” she said as he let her down, “though appreciated. You underestimate my hopping skills.”
Lord Ashworth and Lady Anne kept her company in the garden for half an hour, talking and laughing. The contrast in personality between the siblings brought them into frequent yet good-natured conflict, Lady Anne chastising her brother for his provoking comments, and Lord Ashworth taking no small delight in scandalizing her and bringing Kate nearly to tears in laughter.
During a lull in the conversation, Kate leaned back on the bench and closed her eyes, inhaling the fresh air. It was every bit as refreshing as she had imagined it would be from the confines of the manor. She didn’t know how long it would be until her next venture out of doors, and she inhaled again, wishing she could store the smells somehow.
She looked toward the manor and noticed the figure of Lady Crofte looking out one of the windows.
“Perhaps I should go in now,” she said, shooting another glance at the window. “I believe Lindley was trying to persuade the cook to assemble a nuncheon, and she must be wondering where in the world I have gotten to.”
The three young people re-entered the library, Lord Ashworth carrying Kate whose muscles were taut and her expression impassive but for the warmth in her cheeks. He had insisted on carrying her back inside.
Lady Crofte was in the library, and her face transformed with alarming rapidity from a smile to alarm when she saw Kate in the arms of Lord Ashworth.
Kate felt the need to explain, but the door opened to reveal a slightly disheveled Clara.
“Oh, I’m so sorry, Mama. Only I somehow came to fall aslee—” she stopped, seeing that her mother was not the only occupant of the room. A fading, pink handprint on her cheek and the slight drooping of her eyelids confirmed her words.
Lady Crofte’s mouth smiled at her daughter, but her tone held reproof. “How careless of you, Clara, to leave the entertaining of guests to Miss Matcham—and in her injured state!”
Clara’s cheeks reddened at her mother’s words. “Oh, I do apologize, Kate! I had no notion that we had visitors.”
Kate put out her hand, inviting Clara to grasp it. “Please don’t apologize. It is my fault, Lady Crofte. I knew Clara was resting and didn’t wish to disturb her. Lord Ashworth and Lady Anne came to see how I was going on, and I cajoled them into taking me outside. Very selfish of me!”
Lord Ashworth shot her a quizzical look, and Lady Anne said, “Not at all, Kate. It was our pleasure.” She glanced at the mahogany clock. “I’m afraid, though, that we have stayed longer than we should have and must take our leave.”
Seizing the opportunity presented her, Lady Crofte encouraged Clara to see them out so that Kate could rest from the exertion of her expedition out of doors—a venture Lady Crofte took no pains to hide her disapproval of. Lady Anne shot Kate an apologetic glance.
“You look rather flushed, my dear,” Lady Crofte said, walking toward the bell. “I shall call for Doctor Attwood. We would not want you to become feverish.”
Kate sat up straight. “No!”
Lady Crofte’s brow shot up in surprise at the outburst, and she paused with her hand on the bell.
Kate cleared her throat, adopting a softer tone and a smile. “That is, it is so kind of you, but I actually feel quite well. If my cheeks are flushed, I am sure it is only from being out in the sun with no bonnet. I will take some time to rest here—"
"—Perhaps a bit of reading?” suggested Lord Ashworth, wearing an expression of exaggerated innocence and handing her one of the books she had complained of earlier.
Lady Crofte had looked ready to do battle over the issue of a call to Doctor Attwood, but upon seeing the novel offered by Lord Ashworth, her thoughts were diverted. “Oh, indeed! I cannot recommend Elvira enough! I only finished it yesterday, but it is the most brilliant piece I have ever laid eyes on. I have no notion how I shall wait for the sequel.”
Kate, too aghast at Lady Crofte’s depiction of the novel to formulate a civil response, took the novel feebly from Lord Ashworth’s hand.
He flashed a roguish smile at her before turning to Lady Crofte.
“Yes, Miss Matcham mentioned earlier how engaging she has found it. We found her loath to put it down when we arrived.”
Lady Crofte looked at Kate with apparently reluctant admiration. She seemed eager to pursue the subject. Torn between the desire to box Lord Ashworth’s ears and the fear of extinguishing the thrilled light which Lord Ashworth’s comment had ignited in Lady Crofte’s eyes, Kate found herself speechless.
Looking aghast at her brother’s behavior, Lady Anne tugged on his arm and, through a forced smile, said, “Whatever her feelings on the novel, I am sure she is wishing us away so that she might rest. Thank you for a lovely visit, Kate.”
She inclined her head and, with an inexorable grasp on her brother’s arm, guided him toward the door, preventing him from anything more than a parting glance at Kate over his shoulder—a glance of mixed apology and mirth. Clara followed closely behind.
Once the door had closed behind them, Kate braced herself for a discussion of the novel she had so vehemently disliked after only a few painful pages. She was spared, however. Lady Crofte only inquired politely after Kate’s injury.
“Such a shame to become injured so soon after your arrival,” said Lady Crofte with a few clicks of her tongue and a head shake. “Here, my dear.” She arranged a pillow behind Kate’s back. “It was quite kind of Lord Ashworth and Lady Anne to come see how you do.” She continued fluffing the pillow.
Kate thanked her with a grateful smile. “Indeed, you—and they—are too good to me.”
“Yes,” Lady Crofte replied, “they are quite proper and meticulous in observing social niceties. Lady Purbeck has always been a stickler about such things, no matter how beneath her a person may be.”
Kate gripped her lips together to avoid smiling at the implied insult. She wasn’t sure if Lady Crofte had meant it as a set down or if she was simply stating things in a matter of fact way, but something about Lady Crofte’s manner gave Kate the impression that there was a particular reason for her continued presence in the room.
“I haven’t had the pleasure of meeting Lady Purbeck,” said Kate amiably, “but I am sure she is every bit as kind and good as her children.”
“That she is,” said Lady Crofte, speaking with authority on the matter. “She and I are quite well-acquainted, you know.” She laughed suddenly. “After all, two mothers do not make a match between their children without being on very close terms indeed.” She smiled at Kate until her eyes became bare slits.
Kate’s eyebrows tugged upward. She had known that Clara intended to marry Lord Ashworth. She had not been aware of an arrangement between the families, though. Her heart sank.
She dismissed her feelings and returned Lady Crofte’s smile saying, “Indeed! And how fortunate they both will be.”
“Yes, I fancy so. After all, it is a very smart match, to say nothing of how besotted the two are with one another.” She laughed indulgently.
The door opened, and Clara walked in, eyes bright and fingers clasped together. She was so very engaging. Small wonder, then, that she should be the one to capture Lord Ashworth’s fancy and future.
“What a scheme we have conceived, Kate! On Thursday we go to Weymouth.”
Kate laughed. “What a scheme indeed. And who is ‘we?’”
“All of us, of course,” Clara said, as though the answer should be obvious. “Lord Ashworth has promised to take me up in his high-perch phaeton and let me handle his chestnuts!” She turned to her mother. “You see, Mama, it is quite a good plan because Henry and I can pick up the parcels for the dinner party in town instead of sending one of the servants.” She waited for the gratitude which she clearly expected.
“Your concern for the exertion of the staff is quite moving,” Lady Crofte said dryly. “They are indebted to you. Miss Matcham, however, is hardly in a condition fit for such an expedition. To be bouncing around in a high-perch phaeton would only exacerbate her injury.”
Clara looked at Kate with sudde
n doubt in her eyes. It was unclear to Kate whether the expression was due to a fear that her plot would be ruined by Kate’s injury or because she worried that Kate would have to forego it.
“But it is for Kate’s particular pleasure that we decided upon such a scheme,” Clara insisted. “She hasn’t seen Weymouth—at least not recently. She needn’t ride in the phaeton,” she suggested. “There isn’t room anyway. I thought we might take one of our carriages as well?”
Kate looked at Lady Crofte who seemed strangely hesitant. Her smile looked more like a grimace, and she looked to be thinking quickly about Clara’s proposition. At Clara’s suggestion of using the carriage, though, her eyes showed sudden interest.
“I suppose,” Lady Crofte said, “that Henry might take her up in his curricle if Miss Matcham is enticed by the idea of an outing to Weymouth?” She raised her brows at Kate in a question.
Kate smiled. “I admit that I have been wanting to see Weymouth since we arrived. I shan’t be able to walk around the town as I would normally do, though, and I don’t wish to be a burden—"
This time, it was Lady Crofte who interrupted. “Nonsense, my dear. You may see a good deal of the town from the curricle, and I’m sure Henry will be quite willing to indulge you should you wish to step into a shop or two using his arm as support.”
Kate looked at Clara, expecting to see her excitement rekindled now that her mother was supportive of the scheme. But Clara was biting her lip, brows drawn together in vexation.
“What is it, Clara?” Kate asked.
“Well, it is only that, between the curricle and the phaeton, there are only seats for four, which leaves Lady Anne with nowhere to sit.” Her brows stayed knit in thought until rising suddenly. “We might take the landau instead. Then there will be plenty of seats and room for packages.”
The enthusiasm Lady Crofte had shown at the prospect of Henry escorting Kate in his curricle dampened at the mention of the landau. She looked not at all pleased with the adjustment, but she nodded her agreement with an oddly shaped smile.
Having thus arranged things, Clara bounced out of the room, her mother following in her wake, giving her daughter instructions on what she should wear.