“On the veranda,” Simon told her. “I was just going back outside.”
“I’ve put our guests in the front parlor. I don’t think after a long journey they should be asked to come outside. On the other hand, John will not want to be carried into the room in such a way as they can see him. I know that.”
Maggie could see her dilemma. “Simon and your butler could take Lord Cambrey into another receiving room, the drawing room, I suppose. Then in a minute, you could lead your guests in there to visit with him.”
“Splendid,” Lady Cambrey said. She gave Maggie a long stare. “You have a good head on your shoulders, my girl. Why don’t you go greet them in the parlor, and I’ll find Cyril. Simon, please prepare John and tell him to be on his best behavior. I’ve noticed he’s had a tendency toward crankiness lately.”
Maggie made eye contact with Simon, trying to add that to the list of uncharacteristic behaviors. But her brother-in-law only sighed.
“Yes, Lady Cambrey. Don’t worry about a thing.”
“Hurry along, Miss Blackwood,” the older woman ordered her. “Someone has to see to the guests.” Then, she disappeared through a doorway, no doubt in search of her butler.
Simon nodded to her. “Hurry along, Miss Blackwood,” and with a parting smile, he left her standing there.
Glancing down, Maggie realized she was still in her riding habit. However, it was not dirty and it was a becoming shade of burgundy. As she walked down the hallway, she paused only to check her reflection in a mirror. No smudges on her face, and her hair was still neatly pinned.
With that, she crossed the domed main hall and thrust open one of the front parlor’s double doors, entering the room decorated in pea green and white. There, seated on one of the two sofas was Lady Emily Chatley and her daughter, Jane.
Oh, joy!
The ladies stood, both with equally perplexed expressions at seeing Maggie.
“How lovely to see you both,” Maggie exclaimed, moving in for the obligatory cheek kiss.
Neither said anything for a moment, then Jane recovered from her surprise.
“We had no idea you were here, Miss Blackwood. Your family’s home is not in Bedfordshire, is it?”
“No, when not in Town, we are in Sheffield. Please, sit down. Lady Cambrey will return shortly. My brother-in-law, Lord Lindsey, is Lord Cambrey’s dearest friend. We came as soon as he could tear himself away from his new baby.”
“Oh, a baby,” the senior Lady Chatley said with a wistful smile Jane did not share.
“Yes,” Maggie intoned. “My sister had a boy about a month and a half ago.”
“How lovely.” Again, it was Jane’s mother who spoke, clearly desirous of a grandchild of her own.
Knowing it was simply not done to have any guest feel uncomfortable, Maggie turned the conversation to something that ought to please Jane.
“I wish to offer my congratulations on the success of the benefit for the orphans. The banquet was very smoothly run, and it was glorious weather for cricket.”
However, her mention of the banquet did not produce the desired results of bringing a smile to Jane’s face. It served only to remove the one from her mother’s. Their gloomy countenances were so obvious and pronounced Maggie nearly remarked upon them, catching herself only just in time from rudely questioning them.
Jane merely nodded. “The orphanages will be built, and many children will be removed from the street. They are the only thing of importance,” she said as if her mother had said something to the contrary.
Luckily, Lady Cambrey returned at that moment.
“Please, ladies, follow me to the drawing room. Much cozier in there. I have refreshments awaiting you, as well as my son, who was determined to arise from his convalescence to visit with you.”
Arise from his convalescence? Maggie barely stopped herself from rolling her eyes. It wasn’t as if John were Lazarus, for pity’s sake. He hadn’t even been in his bed, but simply relaxing on the veranda.
Following the others to the drawing room, Maggie couldn’t imagine how any room with eleven-foot ceilings could be considered cozy. Last to enter, she waited for everyone to sort themselves out. The ladies Chatley had to exclaim at John’s appearance and offer their sympathies for what had befallen him. Finally, as Cyril moved out of the way, and the ladies took their seats, Maggie found John in a wingchair, with his leg raised upon a matching ottoman stool.
“Excuse me for not standing upon your arrival, ladies,” John said, slipping instantly into the polished gentleman she knew him to be. When he wasn’t kissing her. Or holding Jane close.
Maggie sat next to Lady Cambrey since the Chatleys were upon the other sofa, and at last, Simon took the other wingchair.
“We were thrilled your mother invited us here,” Lady Emily Chatley began, addressing herself to the earl. “Turvey House, for its grounds alone, is worth the trip from London. We didn’t realize you would have other guests, like a country party. Are there others coming, too?”
“You’ll have to ask my mother, as I wasn’t aware anyone at all was coming,” John said.
He offered a pleasant smile Maggie took to be false.
“All four of you have been quite a surprise.”
“Oh,” Emily Chatley exclaimed while John’s mother laughed, though no one had said anything remotely funny. “I do hope we are a welcome surprise.”
“Indubitably,” John said. “Like a dream.”
Simon coughed, and Maggie cleared her throat, guessing he was mischievously referring to the morning’s escapade.
“No,” Lady Cambrey said sharply, as if aware of their thoughts. “No one else is coming. This is enough company for my son while he recovers.”
Maggie was grateful John’s mother hadn’t seen fit to mention she hadn’t even been invited. Of all of them, Maggie was the only interloper. Jane was a welcome guest, on the other hand, and it was obvious why Lady Cambrey had wanted her to come. Undoubtedly, she hoped by spending time outside of the pressures of London, Jane and her son might form a solid attachment.
If that were the case, the last thing any of them wanted was Margaret Blackwood in the middle of things.
“When are we leaving, Simon?” It popped out of her mouth before she could rein herself in.
All eyes turned to her and then swiveled over to Simon, who returned her a slightly puzzled look.
“I hadn’t thought of exactly when. I don’t want to be too long away from Jenny and Lionel. Perhaps another few days.”
And then the ladies drank tea and pummeled Simon with inquiries about his wife and baby, going over every detail of Lionel’s appearance and Jenny’s health.
Maggie sat back and hoped, after the tea, a good claret would be brought in or, at the very least, sherry before dinner. Swinging her leg under her gown, she tried to keep interested in the chatter, but she’d heard all the stories before.
Maybe she should go speak with the housekeeper, Mrs. Mackle, about the drink. Or should she ask the butler?
Sighing quietly, she hadn’t yet got it straight at Belton Manor and certainly not at Turvey. She supposed it didn’t matter. She would be gone before working out the hierarchy of the Cambrey servants. Without question, an earl’s daughter such as Jane knew precisely whom to ask about getting a glass of something deliciously relaxing.
At that moment, somehow her glance collided with John’s. Instead of either of them politely and intently listening to the conversation in case they were called upon to offer some contribution, they stared at one another. Ever so slightly, his left eyebrow rose. Maggie had the absurd notion he was using his left brow because it was in better shape than his sadly savaged right one.
A small bubble of amusement began to float around inside her. Oh dear. She mustn’t burst out laughing or these ladies would think her truly mad. But then John was doing something with his lips. Was he? Or was she imagining it?
Jane’s mother laughed and the others, including Simon, joined in, giving Maggie
the distraction, she needed to lean forward and see if … yes, he was pursing his lips. Was he pretending to blow her a kiss?
“Do you agree, Miss Blackwood?”
Sitting back quickly, glancing around, at first, she wasn’t even sure who had addressed her. One of the two older ladies, she guessed. Usually people only asked if they wanted you to agree or assumed you did, and thus, it was probably safe to do so.
Looking between the women, she decided to tilt her head and speak to the very high ceiling as if pondering her answer, rather than look at the wrong person.
Glancing up, after a brief hesitation, she said, “Yes, I do agree.”
“I’m shocked!” came the immediate response from the elder Lady Chatley. “A girl of your breeding and upbringing.”
Oh dear! Now what infamy had she brought down upon herself.
Glancing at Simon for clarification, all he did was shrug unhelpfully. A look at John gave her nothing but widened eyes in return. Sighing, she tried again to focus on the conversation. Half an hour later, they were finally released to change for dinner.
Their small party was increased by the addition of Grayson O’Connor. Therefore, they had an equal number of single ladies to bachelors, no matter the status of the gentleman, lord or commoner.
With Cam at one end and his mother at the other, Maggie sat next to Simon on one side of the table, and the ladies Chatley sat across with the estate manager between them.
The elder Lady Chatley spent the evening trying to understand exactly who Mr. O’Connor was, what his place was at Turvey House, and why, if a servant, he was seated at the table with them, especially next to her precious daughter.
Maggie had to admit Jane was a good conversationalist, easily discussing topics from agricultural practices to the revolutions overseas to the latest acts of Parliament. The latter grabbed John’s attention, and Maggie watched as the two conversed about the recent public health act.
“But surely they must make it compulsory,” Jane was insisting.
“I wish it were the case,” John agreed. “I fear only like-minded individuals will voluntarily make improvements.”
Maggie thought his to be an overly pessimistic view.
“I believe people are basically decent,” she stated quietly.
When she realized everyone was looking at her, she continued, “With the establishment of a central Board of Health, I think towns will do what is right for the greater good to provide, at the least, clean drinking water.”
Jane did not smile condescendingly, though she did shake her head slightly as if disagreeing.
“I pray you are right. Nevertheless, I think cholera outbreaks will continue and refuse will still run in the roads as long as landlords can get away with it.”
“Refuse,” exclaimed Jane’s mother, as if she couldn’t even bear the word.
“Or until some consequence touches those in power or their family,” Grayson added. “If the greater good suits someone’s private interest, then people may act.”
“All right,” Maggie conceded. “I agree. There are those who will do nothing for their fellow man unless it impacts either them personally or their bank account. However, that is precisely another reason I think this bill will make an impact. Mr. Chadwick has made a valid economic argument to that effect. The fewer sick poor people there are, the fewer poor seeking relief. Whatever is done to prevent sickness is money well spent, and even the most selfish and self-interested can see such a benefit.”
“Bravo,” cheered John, who’d been listening intently.
Maggie felt her cheeks warm. You see, she wanted to tell them, I’m not merely a flighty female who likes fashionable gowns and dancing. Though she did, of course.
“Margaret is correct,” Jane agreed. “The economics will be the compulsion we need, even if the bill has no teeth, as they say.”
“Economics,” John agreed, “and people like you. What you did for London’s orphans was a wonderful thing.”
Back to Jane’s accomplishments, Maggie thought unkindly, then sipped her wine. What a horrid person she was not to be pleased with Jane’s success. And she was pleased for all the children who would end up with roofs over their heads. Why, though, couldn’t Jane have organized her banquet with someone other than John Angsley? Clearly, his admiration for the earl’s daughter had grown because they’d worked closely together.
Maggie couldn’t think of anything she had done or would do that could equal Jane’s charitable work. True, she’d tutored Simon Devere’s young cousins in French before he’d married Jenny. But they were only half orphans and lived in the lap of luxury. Thus, most likely, they didn’t count as evidence of her philanthropy.
What’s more, Maggie had been well paid. Clearly, she didn’t compare to the altruistic Lady Jane Chatley.
Sighing aloud, Maggie realized the room had become quiet at the same time.
“Are you unwell, Miss Blackwood?” Lady Cambrey asked.
Looking around the table, Maggie considered her answer. Her stomach was full and she’d definitely had enough wine. Moreover, she’d had enough of some people’s company. With an intense desire to be away from Jane so she wouldn’t have to compare her own useless existence and find herself lacking, Maggie did something she almost never did. She lied.
“Actually, I believe I had a little too much sun today. From riding, I suppose.”
Mr. O’Connor cocked his head, looking puzzled. Only he knew they’d spent much of the time shaded by huge aged trees.
“I believe I have a headache coming on. Would you all excuse me if I retired for the evening?”
The men, except for John, stood as she rose.
“Will you be all right?” Simon asked.
Maggie wished she hadn’t needlessly worried him.
“Fine. I think I’ll go to bed early, and I’ll be good as a shiny penny by morning.”
Curtseying first to the three titled ladies and then to the three gentlemen, including Mr. O’Connor because to do otherwise seemed rude, Maggie made her escape through the door a servant now held open.
If she were living in one of the popular romantic novels, perhaps written by one of the Bronte sisters or that clever Jane Austen, then her heart’s desire, John Angsley, would come after her. He’d find an excuse to leave the dining room and surreptitiously run into her in the hallway outside her room.
Unfortunately, Maggie couldn’t recall any heroes in casts who needed assistance for a tryst. It would hardly be romantic if Simon or Grayson were carrying John around to meet her.
Climbing the stairs while feeling as if her satin slippers were made of stone, Maggie considered whether a bath would help. However, it seemed an unnecessary imposition to the housemaid. Instead, she let the maid who’d accompanied her from Belton Manor help her undress and take out the pins from her hair before braiding it. Then, much to the woman’s surprise at having her duties end early, Maggie excused her for the night.
As soon as the maid left, Maggie realized she should have asked for some books from the library. Standing there in her shift, she considered. It had only been about half an hour. Surely, the guests would still be in the dining room. If not, they would be in the drawing room having an after-dinner drink. At least, the ladies would, and maybe eating some little fondant cakes, while the men had cigars and brandy elsewhere.
Drat! Now she wanted cake, too. Such was the price one paid for lying. She could ring for books. Yet, how ridiculous was that really. To bring some poor servant upstairs only to send her back down to the library.
Deciding to move swiftly, Maggie donned her wrap and slippers. Despite her hair being in a loose braid over her shoulder, she was presentable enough if anyone should glimpse her running about Turvey House.
And run, she did. Dashing and sprinting until she was in the Cambrey library. Smaller than the one at Belton, it was still far more than adequate, and she was confident there would be something with intrigue and excitement. Or even a novel filled with intense
relations and aching romance.
Perusing the shelves, Maggie had just pulled out a thin book of the collected works of Edgar Allan Poe when she heard footsteps. Heart pounding, clasping her wrap together tightly over her chest, she tried to shrink against the wall behind the door.
It opened slowly, and a familiar head appeared. Simon peered around the room and spotted her.
“What on earth are you doing?”
Sheepishly, she held out the book. “Getting something to read.”
“I went to check on you. Jenny would be furious with me if there was something really wrong and I didn’t let her know.”
“I’m fine,” Maggie admitted with a wave of her hand.
“Why are you hiding behind the door?”
“I heard men’s boots and thought it might be … Oh.”
“It could only be me.”
“Or Grayson, or the butler, or a footman.”
“Unlikely. Why would Gray be haunting the library, or Cyril for that matter? Fess up, Cam’s the person you didn’t want to run into.”
“Most certainly, not in my nightclothes. Not after this morning.”
Simon grinned. “And you forgot he was in a pushchair, didn’t you?”
“Stop it. It’s not funny. If you could have seen the look on his mother’s face when she found us.”
“I should have let her force you two into marriage. I think it would have done you both some good.”
Maggie felt her cheeks grow warm.
“Why would you say such a thing? Only think how happy he seems now Lady Chatley is here.”
“Lady Chatley is old enough to be his mother.”
Maggie made a face. “You’re teasing me again. You know I mean the other Lady Chatley. The pretty one.”
Simon shrugged. “I’m a fairly decent judge of women, and I think you’re prettier than Jane.”
Even if it was only her brother-in-law’s opinion, his words gave her a boost of happiness, until he added, “She does have a nice disposition though. Somewhat reminds me of Jenny.”
“Are you saying my disposition isn’t as nice as Jane’s?”
“I didn’t say that. Though I don’t think Jane would leave the middle of a dinner party, even if she’d been stabbed and shot, not if she thought it might offend the hostess. Especially if she merely wanted …” He tilted her book toward him until he could read the spine. “Not if she liked the man at the head of the table, who looked a little morose after she departed.”
Beastly Lords Collection Page 51